The Blinding Knife(13)

There was that.

Gavin came onto the deck, and Karris was struck once again by how every eye turned to him. She supposed that most of the people on this ship were common folk, and they would have turned to see even Garriston’s Governor Crassos, hated as he had been. And perhaps they would have stared as worshipfully at any Prism, but she doubted it. Gavin’s title was special, but something in her believed that he would have attracted every eye on deck even if he’d been a cabin boy. Now that he’d saved all their lives again, she was surprised that they didn’t spontaneously burst out into applause.

The sailors burst out into applause.

Son of a bitch.

Two Blackguards fell in beside him as he came out the door. Someone must have shouted the word that the Prism was making an appearance, because in moments, people were piling out onto the deck. The captain, a stalwart rotund Ruthgari, made no attempt to stop them or get his sailors back to work. They nearly trampled each other on their way out of the cabins below, and sailors, soldiers, traders, nobles, and refugee peasants alike came out to get a look at their Prism.

He’d been on board with them for the last week, and he’d been in Garriston with them before that. It wasn’t like he’d changed. But somehow where he’d been an important man before, now he was theirs. Their savior. Pitting himself against a sea demon and winning had made Gavin larger than life.

If Karris hadn’t seen with her own eyes how close Gavin had come to getting eaten, she might have had the cynicism to think he had arranged the whole thing.

The people were packed on the deck—every ship had been filled to bursting in order to get the refugees out of Garriston before the Color Prince took over—and all of them were talking to each other, sharing inanities like, “Do you see him? Is he saying anything?”

Gavin made his way over to Karris, Blackguards in tow. They, like she, scanned the crowd for threats. Gavin said, “Milady, would you do me the honor of accompanying me on a small expedition?”

What do you do when someone asks you kindly to do what you’ve already wheedled and schemed for? “I would be… delighted,” Karris said.

“Excellent.” Gavin smiled without any hint of irony. He did have a nice smile. The worm.

He raised his hands. “My people!” he said. He had a commander’s voice, an orator’s voice with the trick of somehow speaking so loudly and clearly that everyone could understand him without his seeming to shout. “My people! I leave you today, but only for a time. I go to make a place for you. I go ahead of you. And now I ask you to be fearless and grow strong. There are days ahead that will test us all. There is work that only you can do, though I will help as I can. I’m leaving General Danavis in charge. He has my full trust. He will lead well.”

The words walked a narrow line, and he surely knew it. What he was describing without precisely saying was that he was their promachos—the title a Prism could be given during war. But the promachia could only be instituted by the order of the entire Spectrum. Gavin had been promachos during the war with his brother, and had been relieved of the title in less than six months. To be a promachos was to be emperor in truth.

It was one of the very things the Blackguard had been created to protect against.

At the same time, what else was Gavin going to tell all these people? That he was leaving and they were going to have to fend for themselves? They had nothing. They’d left everything in Garriston.

He kept talking, and Karris kept scanning the crowd. Ironfist had taught them the telltales for spotting an assassin, of course. Someone who was sweating profusely, shifting awkwardly, anyone who was keeping their hands concealed in such a way that they might be hiding something. For Karris, it was more of a feeling. An assassin would feel out of place. Someone who wasn’t listening, because they didn’t care what was said. Someone who only cared about his own mission.

Karris realized two things at the same time. First, that was exactly what she was doing. Second, there were at least fifty Blackguards on deck. Not to mention a couple of hundred fanatical common folk who would tear apart anyone who even dared offend their Prism. If there were a perfect moment to not attempt an assassination, this would be it.

Gavin drafted a set of steps from the deck down to the water and drafted a yellow-hulled scull onto the water, complete with rowing apparatus for two.

The Blackguards on duty were Ahhanen and Djur. Neither man looked pleased, but they saluted Karris, transferring protection to her. Life, light, purpose.

Gavin descended the steps and took his place. He didn’t offer Karris a hand onto the scull, which she appreciated. Now, in this, they weren’t some lord and a lady. She was his protector, thank you very much.