Sure. Simple as that. Of course, for Gavin Guile, it probably was as simple as that. Things were so easy for a man of his powers, he probably thought they were easy for other people. “What are we trying to do?” Kip asked. “Ultimately, I mean.”
“War is a spreading fire. And every old grudge is dry wood, begging for flame. When I fought my brother, men joined me who hated me, but they hated their neighbors more, and those neighbors then sided with him. We killed two hundred thousand people in less than four months, Kip. I had a chance to stop this new war at one city, a few thousand dead. I failed. There are satrapies that wouldn’t mind seeing Atash burn, that wouldn’t mind that fire spreading to Blood Forest, that don’t want their sons to die defending Ruthgar, that don’t want their daughters to have to be Freed after defending Paria, that don’t want to raise their taxes for Ilytian heathens, that don’t want to send their crops to those filthy Aborneans.”
Kip understood. “Which leaves no one.”
“We’re trying to stop the war before it engulfs everyone.”
“How do you stop a war?” Kip asked.
“You win. So you do your part, and I’ll do mine.”
“How long do I have?” Kip asked. A small part of him rebelled. It wasn’t fair to ask a boy to do this. It wasn’t what you’d ask of a son. But Kip was only a son by his father’s grace. He was an unwanted bastard, and if Gavin held the boy he’d never known at arm’s length, how could Kip blame him?
“Depends on how long the Color Prince licks his wounds in Garriston. It’s probably too much to hope he’ll stay the winter, so he’ll most likely head west. I imagine Idoss will hold him off for a few months. Losing Idoss should be enough to move the Spectrum. If not… six months, Kip. Eight if we’re lucky. If we don’t save the city of Ru, he’ll get their saltpeter caves and iron mines and we’ll be plunged into a war worse than the False Prism’s War, and unlikely to be as brief.”
Kip was in so far over his head he couldn’t even see the surface. “Why me?” he asked.
“Because audacity is a young man’s sword. Daring is a gun. And, to be blunt, if you fail in non-spectacular fashion, you’ll merely look like a petty child. That would damage your reputation but not mine. And it won’t get either of us killed. You’re a good weapon because to look at you, you look like a child, an affable boy who wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
Affable. Code for “fat and nice.” Next I’ll be “jolly.” “I’m so unlikely that I’m perfect?” Kip said.
“Exactly.”
“I thought that once, right before I ran away from Garriston.” Kip had thought no one would think a child would come to spy on the Color Prince and rescue Liv. That had turned out well.
“But you’re stronger now.”
“That was two weeks ago!”
Gavin laughed.
“Doesn’t that tell you something?” Kip insisted.
Gavin smiled. “It should tell you something, too.”
“What?” Kip asked.
Gavin got serious. “That I believe in you.”
Kip wasn’t sure what to do with that, not when Gavin delivered it straight. He couldn’t laugh it off, couldn’t make a joke out of it. It was too obviously true, and it warmed him. Kip grimaced. “You’re really good at this, aren’t you?”
Gavin rubbed Kip’s head. “Almost as good as I think I am.” He grinned. “You know, Kip, when this is all over…” He let the words fall away, and his good humor went with them.
“It’s never going to be over, is it?” Kip asked.
The Prism took a deep breath. “Not the way I’d like.”
“Are we going to lose?” Kip asked.
Gavin was quiet for a while. He shrugged and smirked. “Odds are.” He wrapped an arm around Kip’s wide shoulders, squeezed, released him. “But odds are for defying.”
Chapter 8
Karris had all the gear packed and ready. Gavin, she assumed, would draft another skimmer rather than take one of the ships. He always was an impatient man. She checked her gear again to calm her nerves. She hated thinking she’d forgotten something. Hated not knowing what to prepare for but trying to pack light.
Of course, Gavin would come out and say, “Let’s go!” and try to leave immediately. As if, having invented a way to cross the entire Cerulean Sea in a day and save a month of sailing, he didn’t have an extra hour or two for packing.
Why had she volunteered for this again?
Because you don’t have anything better to do than saving the world and revealing the cancer at its heart.