Page 2 of Given to the Black King

At the granary steps, the widow catches up with me.

“Will you kill my grandsons?”

Her voice shakes. She does not.

“No.”

The older boy glares from behind her skirts. The younger one is crying without making a sound.

“My husband defied you,” she says.

“Your husband is dead.”

“And when they grow?”

“Teach them numbers.” I look at the older boy. “Their grandfather counted on my laziness. It was poor arithmetic.”

The boy’s glare sharpens.

Good.

“Feed them from the garrison stores tonight,” I tell Ghenn. “Tomorrow they eat with the city.”

The widow stares at me, uncertain whether to thank me. I do not wait for her to decide.

Ghenn finds me on the west wall after dark. Below us, wagons roll out of the granary yard under guard.

“Seven hundred sacks,” he says. “Less than the tribute. More than the town can spare.”

“Leave them seed grain.”

“I already did.”

That is why he is still my second after twenty years. He leans his forearms on the parapet. “Rider came through the south gate before it closed. Serathi colors.”

I look south, though there is nothing to see beyond the black hills.

“They finally want terms?”

“Peace, tribute, border guarantees.”

“They should have asked before my border lords smelled weakness.”

“They did. You ignored three letters.”

“I was busy.”

Ghenn glances at the city below. “Clearly.”

“What are they sending?”

“A minister. Six guards. A clerk.” He pauses. “The envoy is a woman.”

I turn my head.

Ghenn’s mouth moves as if he almost smiles. “That got your attention.”

“It got my suspicion.”