Chapters (51)
- Dedication
- Contents
- PREVIOUSLY …
- PART I
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- PART II
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- PART III
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- PART IV
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
- About the Author
- ALSO BY DAVID WRAGG
- About the Publisher
Spider was moving away from the stairs, striding toward the centre. He steered Gurgen aside, taking the floor.
‘Brothers and sisters,’ Spider said in mocking imitation, ‘the old girl is right, we need unity. Torht played power games and lost, and took the rest of those sorry fuckers with him. I can make you a promise: the Spider will never seek the throne, nor political favour.’
Rennic was snarling. ‘Because the Spider seeks only bloodshed,’ he growled. Chel jerked a curt hand to shush him.
Spider circled around again. His followers, half a dozen by Chel’s count, were spreading around the base of the pit, axes heavy in their hands.
‘Let me make this clear to you all. We can sit here and drink wine and spout platitudes about unity and common understanding, but there is no common fucking understanding. Not between this jostling bunch I see before me. So listen carefully, because there is yet one thing we can agree on: death to the royals. Death to the church.’
The muttering fell away, and Spider repeated himself.
‘Death to the royals. Death to the church.’
He said it again, and this time others picked up the refrain. He chanted with the bulk of the crowd, while those who kept their silence looked around nervously.
Death to the royals! Death to the church!
Spider continued the chant, moving between the tables, reaching out a hand. One of his people handed him the haft of an axe. Chel looked back at Tarfel. The young prince was pressed back against the wall, shaking beneath his cloak. Chel grabbed Rennic’s arm. ‘We need to get out of here. They’ll kill him!’
Rennic shook him off. ‘Not before I kill that fucking rat.’
Loveless was on her feet before them. ‘Fuck’s sake, don’t draw any more attention. We can probably sneak him out if we go now.’
‘Brothers and sisters! There will be no election, no selection! I will be direct, because these times call for directness, and the Spider is nothing but direct. I will make you this vow: pledge to me, and I will bleed the church, and murder every crown-wearing bastard in this land. The Spider vows it! Death to the royals!’
Death to the church!
Spider’s minders were shuffling closer, their slack gazes falling on any failing to chant.
Chel reached back and grabbed the prince’s cloak. ‘We’re leaving, highness. Keep your head down.’
They began to shuffle around the pit’s edge, ducking away from the lights of the braziers, heading for the stairs. Chel kept the prince’s hand in his, gripping against the fearful grease of his palm. His gaze rested on the bottom of the wooden staircase, counting the steps in his head. Thirty paces would do it. They were past one of Spider’s men already. Twenty-nine. They were past another. Twenty-eight.