Raven's Strike (Raven #2)(54)

"I'm noble born." said Toarsen. "If someone gave me a uniform and expected me to disappear except when they barked out orders, I'd resent it." He grinned, and this time his eyes lit up, too. "Come to think of it, that's how the Raptors treated us, and look what it got them."

"That doesn't mean we'll let discipline go," Phoran told Avar, who was looking unhappy, "quite the opposite, I think. Tier said there isn't a man among them who isn't a decent swordsman. We'll find more experts, though, and teach them knives, staves, fighting dirty, and anything else we can think of. Tier said that they needed to be valued." He knew how that felt. He knew these young men who were looking for a purpose; he'd been one until very recently.

"So you make them think they are valued," said Kissel. "And then they become loyal."

Phoran shook his head. "I do need them, Kissel. All I have to do is show them that. They don't replace the castle guard - hopefully that won't be necessary, but if it is, I can find replacements elsewhere. I need them to be my eyes and ears, my hands and feet." He started to get enthusiastic. "Look how much trouble the city guards have with the wealthier merchants and lesser nobles. Let them appeal to the Emperor's Own - noblemen, gentlemen, men of rank who are listened to and respected."

"Noblemen," said Avar dryly, "who were thieves and vandals until just recently. I hope. Of whom your captains can find only what - fourteen trustworthy men?"

"Ten," said Kissel. "Including Toarsen and me."

"Noblemen who serve an emperor who was a drunkard and a screwup," said Phoran. "I certainly hope it is possible to change - and if you don't, you'd better pretend you do, or you might offend Us."

Avar grinned. "All right. But you need to keep at least one of them who is on the captains' shortlist of trustworthy souls near you."

Gerant chuckled. "They'll work out. Phoran's hit upon it, I think. That's what happens when people are around Tier for too long. They start expecting miracles - and usually get them."

"Before you came here, my lord," said Kissel, "you hadn't seen Tier since the Fahlarn War. Do you always answer summonses from commoners who served in your command two decades ago?"

Gerant smiled and ran a finger over his moustache to smooth it. "I answered a summons from my emperor, lad. Make no mistake."

Phoran tilted his goblet toward Gerant. "And they say you don't know how to play politics."

Gerant let out one of his soft chuckles. "No. What they say is that I don't like politics." To Kissel he said, "I do understand your question, though. Tier and I haven't seen each other since the war, but we've exchanged letters two or three times a year for twenty years and..." He shook his head. "You've met Tier. I'd trust his judgment before I'd trust my own - and I've done so. I expect that if I'd not heard from him since he left Gerant, I'd still come running if he asked."

"You've got it, too," observed Phoran. "That something that makes people want to do as you say. I don't know what it is, exactly. Avar has it upon occasion, but you and Tier carry it about your shoulders like a mantle of authority."

Gerant bowed his head. "Thank you. I've had to work at it. Tier was like that when he was a snot-nosed boy leading around men twice his age and experience and not a one of them thought to question it."

Toarsen laughed. "The Path didn't know what they were doing when they threw him down among us, did they, Kissel? I think they expected us to cow him or torment him like we did that poor Traveler bastard who was there before him. But instead Tier took us and made us into a weapon for the Emperor." He nodded at Phoran, who raised his goblet in acknowledgment.

"See that you serve him well," said Avar.

"Speaking of service," said Phoran, changing the subject. "I need an heir."

Avar grinned at him. "Do you have a lady in mind?"

Phoran rolled his eyes. "Please don't be stupid, Avar. Any wife I can contract right now is as likely to kill me in my sleep as anything. A blood heir will have to wait until I have a few more allies than those who are now present. Besides, a child would be of no use anyway. Too vulnerable."

He sipped at his drink and let them roll the idea around in silence a while, then said, "If I have a legal heir, an adult heir, the first thought in my enemy's mind won't be - if Phoran could just take a fall off his horse... or down the stairs, then I wouldn't have to worry about him."

Avar got it, but Phoran could see that Kissel and Toarsen were still working through it.

"It's not so much that I'm less vulnerable with an heir," he explained. "It's that there is less to be gained by my assassination - especially if my heir is likely to be more trouble than I am."

"It won't help with Gorrish or anyone else with a personal grudge," said Avar. "And, if you'll excuse me for saying so, you've gone out of your way to offend a lot of people, Phoran. But political enemies will be less likely to consider assassination as a solution. Do you have an heir in mind?"

"You," he said, and could have laughed at Avar's blank face. Avar wasn't stupid, but sometimes you had to grab him by the shoulders and make him look before he saw the wild boar charging him. "Come now, who else would it be? Your mother and mine were first cousins or some rot - which is how your father took over as regent when my uncle died. You're as close to family as I've got - you and Toarsen."