Page 119 of Given to the Black King

Callas looks up from his confession.

“I will not remove you.”

“No. You won’t.”

She points to the four company stones.

“The Blue Gulls are mostly coastal. They will understand the seals are bad. The Red Pikes will understand they cannot all be first. The Split Sun may follow once the others move.”

“And the White Horse?” I ask.

“Eastern free lances. They hate Osk, but they hate going unpaid more. We give them the same terms.”

“If they remain?”

“They chose his war.”

That answer is mine enough to make Ghenn smile.

We write the offer in two languages.

Iona drafts the legal protection. I dictate the military terms.

Withdraw before the black banners rise and leave armed.

Remain in Osk’s line after the signal and be treated as his men.

No second offer.

Perr and six black-country clerks make copies until their fingers stain black. Callas seals each packet beneath his written confession.

An hour later, we carry the completed packets to the west wall. At dusk, four riders leave the north gate under white cloth.

Iona watches beside me.

The cut at her throat has stopped bleeding. I can still smell it.

“You broke his army without touching it,” I say.

“Not yet.”

“You will.”

She leans both hands on the parapet.

“Paper only works when men believe what happens if they ignore it.”

“They know what happens.”

“Yes.” She looks at me. “That is why the offer is credible.”

The wind pulls one strand of hair across her face.

I move it aside with one finger.

“You should sleep.”

“So should you.”