“Quiet, dammit!”

Gavin had seen men whose hamstrings had been cut who didn’t fall so fast. The prophet simply dropped. Gavin bent over the man—

Who blinked up at him. Then stood, shaking his head. His eyes stuck on Gavin’s, and he stood, transfixed. He swallowed. Tried to speak. “You’ve come face-to-face with truth, and refused to see it. You’ve chosen cowardice when you had it in you to choose courage. You’ve chosen black instead of white. You’ve failed, Guile.”

“I’ve failed?! You sent me those dreams, didn’t you? Through some magic I don’t know, some kind of will-casting. You did this to me. You, and him.”

“Tread lightly, o Son of Am.”

“I’ll tread how I please! I didn’t fail. God failed.”

“Those two words cannot be put together in any way that makes sense.”

“God failed me.”

“Because an earnest prayer cannot be answered no?”

“Lies!” Gavin hissed.

“Then Orholam will give it to you plain: you keep up your lies, and you’ll be stricken blind.”

It was such a bizarre threat that Gavin was taken aback. “I already am blind.”

“Perhaps that much is true,” Orholam said. “He who refuses to see is no better off than he who can’t.” Then he hobbled away, carefully avoiding sleepers on deck.

Must have smacked his leg in his fall. Lucky I didn’t smack more than that.

The boy would be up on deck any time. Then Antonius would follow Gavin like a puppy. Though he wasn’t stupid—he’d certainly proved that in convincing the sailors to go to Rath—he was ignorant. He had no idea that his family hated Gavin. No idea that his uncle had become a god, that Gavin had killed him. No idea that Gavin had stymied his cousin Tisis’s entry to the Spectrum. Either he had no idea about any of these, or he didn’t care.

But hoping that Eirene Malargos would share her nephew’s lack of concern was a bridge too far.

Might Eirene be turned into an ally? She was known to be fiercely protective of her family, prone to anger and jealousy, but scrupulously fair in her business dealings. Never broke her word, but went out of her way to crush those who broke their word to her, whether in business or in bed. She’d held her own family to bad business deals they’d made with others, even when she could have used her burgeoning power to overturn them. In short, a woman to be feared and admired. She was exactly the kind of person to remind Gavin that not all power was magical. If Gavin could survive her rage … no. He’d injured her family too many times.

If he were still a Prism, it would be one thing, but now? What exactly did he bring to an alliance?

“What were you talking with the godmonger about?” a voice asked, low. Gunner.

The crew had found a cage in the hold, last used to carry a cheetah from the edges of the Verdant Plains. They’d tied the cage down on deck and stuffed Gunner in there, after giving him a good beating. His eyes were swollen to slits. Gavin had stopped them before they killed him.

“Don’t talk to me,” Gavin said. “I’ve had enough with crazy men today, and the sun isn’t up yet.”

“Gunner ain’t crazy,” Gunner said. “Gunner’s mad! It’s differnt.” He chuckled to himself, but quietly. He was obviously in pain.

Gavin looked to the city, aglow, catching the first rays of the rising sun. The city had grown around a massive fortress on the hill overlooking the Great River Delta. Long ago, Oakenshield Fortress had become Castle Guile for a single generation and then as the family’s fortunes had waned, it became Corinth Castle, then Rath Skuld. Now it was simply known as the Castle. During Taya Oakenshield’s time, it had extended two great walls like legs down to the harbor so that it couldn’t be cut off from supplies. Later wars and lulls between wars had seen walls built out farther from those original walls, the original walls plundered for their stones, the new walls demolished by a Blood Forest army, and the original walls rebuilt.

The city’s petitions to the Spectrum to rebuild the wider walls after the Blood War was finally over had been turned down time and again. Andross Guile had been at the center of that denial, preaching peace through mutual vulnerability—for others, as always. Of course, the army this city had to worry about now wasn’t Blood Foresters but Blood Robes. The enforced vulnerability of the city was another thing that wasn’t going to make a Guile popular with Eirene Malargos.

More worrying was how anyone in power felt about the way Gavin had ended the Blood War. It had been bold, bloody, and effective. To a younger Gavin, the only thing that mattered was that it had worked. He wasn’t likely to find allies here.

Gavin looked around the ship. The Bitter Cob indeed.

“You give me that rifle, I’ll punch a hole in that portmaster for you,” Gunner said. “One shot, no tricks. From here, they wouldn’t even think it came from us. They’ll be looking on that ship for the shot’s original.”

“Origin,” Gavin said. “And what the hell’s Rifle? Family name?” Men named weapons all the time, but that wasn’t a language he was familiar with.

“A rifle. Not a name. It’s the spirals inside the barrel. Knew me a smith was working on the idear. Worked real good, but you had to cast your musket balls perfect, file off the seams, make exact globes. Don’t think this one shoots globes. That smith’d give his dick hand to see my girl here.”

He ignored Gunner. In the distance, the portmaster boarded another galley half a league west. The shore was half a league north. A long swim, the last few hundred paces covered in scum that was likely sewage. It wasn’t simply gross. Gavin had known good swimmers during the war who’d gone through muck like that to return from scouting. A day later, they were fevered and shaking. Three days later, dead.

“That’s half a league,” Gavin said. “Gotta be close to two thousand paces. Those boys kicked whatever sense you had left outta you.”

“Two shots, maybe. No more’n three.”

Give Gunner this, the man never doubted himself. It had been something they’d had in common, once.

Gavin didn’t have to make it all the way to shore here. There were river barges and the rowing galleys favored for transport up and down the Great River all throughout the delta. With the sun coming up and dazzling the eyes, it was possible Gavin might not be seen.

And there weren’t only sharks and crocodiles in this water, right? Gavin recalled hearing something about friendly river dolphins. Maybe that had been a myth, though. He’d heard they were pink. Friendly pink dolphins?

Right, those sounded real.

“’Ay. Fukkelot,” Gavin said. The man was waking, not far away. “And the rest of you.” He didn’t raise his voice, and he held a finger to his lips. He didn’t want Antonius hearing. “This here’s my musket. As some of you know, I paid all my magic to get it. I got nothing now, nothing but this. Time was, I would have demanded your service. Now, I just ask. If I ever done you a good turn—” He couldn’t help it. ‘If I ever done you a good turn’? It was a formulation to make him seem more like them, to fit in. Dissembling was as natural to him as drafting had been. “Hold on to it for me, would you? Don’t want nothing else. No share. You know I pulled my weight when it was time to pull. You know that without me cutting those lines free, we’d still be on the oars. I can’t compel you to do this thing, and I wouldn’t if I could.” Well, there was another lie. Harmless, though. “Hide this musket from the boy, and from the Malargos woman, and from my father, and from this one.” He nodded to Gunner. “Time comes, if I can, I’ll repay you a hundred times. But I can’t carry it with me.”