Ternigan cleared his throat, and Geder nodded toward him. The conversation was open now until such time as Geder closed it. Dawson wondered whether the boy understood that. Surely he had a protocol servant, but what the new regent remembered was an open question.
“There must be a real settling of blame,” Ternigan said. “Asterilhold has a long tradition of coddling its own.”
“Of course it does,” Bannien said. “What kind of king sides with foreigners against his own lords? Lechan hasn’t sat that throne so long by inviting strife in his own court.”
“If I may,” Ashford said, “he hasn’t done it by inviting invasion and war either. It’s not in the interests of Asterilhold to take the field any more than it is for Antea. This wouldn’t be a little gentleman’s skirmish on some tradable soil. You want the conspirators. Stay within your borders, and the king will deliver them to justice. But if you violate the sovereignty of Asterilhold, it changes the aspect of things.”
“Wait,” Lord Skestinin said. “You said deliver to justice. Whose justice are we talking of here?”
Ashford nodded and raised a finger.
“We cannot turn the nobility of Asterilhold over to an outside court for judgment,” he said, and the table erupted, voices riding at once, each trying to shout over the other. The only ones who remained silent were Dawson himself and Geder. Palliako’s brows were furrowed, his mouth set in an angry scowl. He wasn’t listening to the others, which was just as well as the audience was descending rapidly into bedlam.
Tell them to be quiet, Dawson thought at the boy. Make them see order.
But instead, Palliako pressed his hands to the table and rested his chin on them. Dawson, disgust filling his throat, shouted.
“Are we schoolboys? Is this what we’ve come to? Squabbling and barking and calling names? My king isn’t cold in the crypt, and we’re descending to melee?” His voice sounded like a storm, the force of it rattling his throat. “Ashford, stop trying to sell us something. Say what terms King Lechan wants.”
“Don’t,” Geder said. He hadn’t raised his chin from the table, so when he spoke, his head bobbed slightly like a toy sailboat on a pond. “I don’t really care what the terms are. Not yet.”
“Lord Regent?” Ashford said.
Geder sat up.
“We must know terms,” Ternigan began, but Palliako shut him down with a glance.
“Lord Ashford. Was the plot against Aster known to you?”
“No,” Ashford said.
Geder’s gaze flicked away and then back. As Dawson watched, Palliako went pale and then flushed. Geder’s breath was coming faster now, like he’d been running a race. Dawson tried to see what had caused the change in his boy’s demeanor, but all he saw was the guards at their attention and the priest at his prayers.
“Was it known to King Lechan?”
“No.”
Dawson saw it this time. It was a small thing, almost invisible, but as soon as the word left Lord Ashford’s lips, the priest shook his broad head. No. Dawson felt the air leave him.
The Lord Regent of Antea was looking to a foreign priest for direction.
When Geder spoke again, his voice was ice and outrage, and Dawson barely heard it.
“You’ve just lied to me twice, Lord Ambassador. If you do it again, I’m sending your hands back to Asterilhold in their own box. Do you understand me?”
For the first time since Dawson had met the man, the ambassador from Asterilhold was dumbfounded. His mouth worked like a puppet’s but no words came out. Geder, on the other hand, had found his voice and wasn’t about to give it up.
“You’ve forgotten who you’re talking to. I’m the man who knows the truth of this. No one else stopped Maas. I did. Me.”
Ashford was licking his lips now, as if his mouth had suddenly gone dry.
“Lord Palliako…”
“Do you think I’m stupid?” Geder said. “Do you think I’ll sit here and smile and shake your hand and promise peace while you try and kill my friends?”
“I don’t know what you’ve heard,” Ashford said, battling to regain his composure, “or where you’ve heard it from.”
“You see now, that’s truth,” Geder said.
“But I assure you—I swear to you—Asterilhold had no designs on the young prince’s life.”
Again, the flicker of eyes, and the priest’s subtle refusal. Dawson wanted to leap to his feet but he seemed rooted in his chair. Geder seemed to calm, but his heavy-lidded eyes were dark and merciless. When he spoke, his voice was almost conversational.