“Thank you, Your Lordship,” King Orden said with another bow, then turned to leave. He felt he had just got a handle on how Dreis’ counselors must have had to work him.

“Ah,” Dreis said, “do not leave. If I might ask: I understand you are recruiting men for a serpent ring?”

“Yes, Your Lordship,” Orden answered, dreading the next question.

“I will be in it, of course. I should be the head.”

“And expose yourself to such risk?” Orden asked. “ ’Tis a brave and noble sentiment, but surely we will need you to direct the battle.” He could not help but put a little whine in his tone, as Dreis’ counselors must have done.

“Ah, well, I believe in teaching men correct principles, then letting them direct themselves,” Dreis countered. “I will not need to direct the battle.”

“Then, please, milord, at least consider the safety of your lands after the battle. Heredon has suffered losses enough. Should you get killed, it would be a terrible burden. Let us not have you serve as the serpent’s head, but only somewhere near the head, in a place of honor.”

“Oh, no, I insist—”

“Have you ever killed a man, milord?” Orden asked.

“Why, yes, yes I have. I hanged a robber not three years back.”

Of course the Earl had not hanged the man, Orden knew. He’d have let the captain of his guard perform the feat.

“Then you know how difficult it is,” Orden said, “to sleep at nights afterward. You know how it is to look another man in the eye as you seize his very existence. Guilt. Guilt is the price we pay for leading our people.

“I killed my first man when I was twelve,” Orden added. “Some mad farmer who tried to cudgel me. I’ve killed some twenty men in battle since.

“My wife . . . grew distant over the affair, cold and unresponsive. You would think they’d love you better for it, but the women imagine that a little blood on your hands makes you grow more callous and cruel. It stains the soul, so. Of course, I am no Raj Ahten. . . . Who knows how many men he has personally killed. Two thousand, ten?”

“Yes, the guilt . . .” the Earl mused. “Nasty business, that.”

Orden could see the slow wheels of the Earl’s mind begin to creep, as he wakened the man’s fears. Orden was not at all concerned with guilt. He needed only to remind this fool how many men had died at Raj Ahten’s hands. “It does stain a man’s soul.” Now the Earl had a way out of battle. He could flee it in the name of righteousness, rather than fear.

“Very well, they are your forcibles,” the Earl said. “Perhaps you should be the serpent’s head.”

“Thank you, milord,” King Orden said. “I will try to serve with honor.”

“But I will be next in line.”