“We agreed readily,” Lord Aodán said.
Lord Cu Comán came from the smallest and weakest family on the Council of Divines. He had no doubt seen this as his big chance to move up.
“This wasn’t part of some internal politicking, was it?” Kip asked. “This was really for me?”
“Yes, my lord,” Lord Comán said. A flicker of doubt crossed his face, but it was too late. “A gift.”
“Hang him,” Kip said.
The words hit the rest like a grenado in the face, as the Mighty grabbed the man.
“Irritating me is not a hanging offense!” Kip bellowed. “But murder is!”
“What are you—you can’t do this!” Lord Cu Comán said. “What, do you think you’re Gavin Guile himself? You’re just a goddam child! You can’t do this!”
Kip tilted his head. “Funny,” he said, “this city must be special indeed, because I hear a dead man speaking.”
Big Leo and Ferkudi dragged the lord down the steps bodily.
“Stop!” Comán shouted. “Fine! It wasn’t for you! We had a feud with the Hills. Colm had ruined my sister ten years ago. They were engaged to be married and, and, and! He could have made peace, but instead he—”
“And you thought to use my coming as a cover for your vengeance,” Kip said.
“It was my only chance! The Hills were stronger than us. They were going to get away with it!”
“Like you almost did,” Kip said from the top of the steps. Everyone always has a good reason why the law shouldn’t apply to them. Quietly, he said, “Lords Appleton, Willow Bough.”
“Yes, my lord?” they said quietly.
“You lied to me.”
“We said nothing!” Lord Willow Bough said.
“Indeed,” Kip said. “You let him lie to me, and you stood by silent and hoped it would benefit you.”
“We—we weren’t really lying?” Lord Appleton said.
“Oh? Let me guess: you were just pulling my leg.”
They said nothing.
“Then now you can pull your friend’s leg. One on each side.”
They looked at each other like they didn’t understand.
“Go,” Kip said. “Pull his legs to help him strangle quickly. He almost made you richer and more powerful; it’s the least you can do in return.”
Less than a minute later, in utter silence, a noose was thrown over the gallows and tied to a saddle. With his hands bound behind his back, Lord Cu Comán was lifted from the ground by his neck. His legs kicked and flailed until Lord Willow Bough and Lord Appleton each grabbed one and hugged it to their chests.
Lord Comán tried to kick them free. The body wants to live. But they held on, throwing all their weight into it, and his neck cracked and elongated.
A dark stain blossomed at his groin and spread down to where the lords held him, eyes clenched shut as if they hadn’t felt all the fight go out of him. Nor did they feel the warm wetness for several long seconds.
They stepped back, revulsion and horror painting their faces, and then again as they took in Comán’s head bent too far to one side, his neck inhumanly long.
Kip beckoned them back, and they came, painfully aware of the massive presence of Big Leo and Ferkudi.
The crowd was still as a tomb.
Strangely, it hadn’t seemed to even occur to any of the nobles to try to call forth the city’s own fighters to defend them. Not that it would have done them much good, but these nobles were men who couldn’t even conceive of their privileges being abrogated, or on what those privileges rested, so they had no mental recourse when they were.
The lords rejoined the circle, holding their hands out, disgusted by the foulness they’d touched and done, but unwilling to wipe them on their clothes. Rich men, then, but not so rich as to defile their finest clothes.
Kip said, “I’m going to tell you how things are going to be, and you are going to surprise me with how quickly you make them happen. Do we understand each other?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Here’s what’s first.”
And on Kip’s orders, the family of each of the Seven brought forward its chief accountant or secretary. Kip had fourteen horses saddled and waiting. In front of him, so that the lords could send no secret message, each was ordered to go to his employer’s home or business and retrieve all his account books. He gave no more detail, and each was paired with a trained accountant from Kip’s camp.
With no idea exactly what Kip was looking for, and no time to forge accounts, it would at least minimize the ability to obfuscate. Before the accountants left, Kip said, “Oh, and if you’re not back in one hour, both you and your lord hang. No excuses.”
“This, this is preposterous!” Culin Willow Bough said. He was a distant cousin of the satrap’s.
“Yes, that I should need to do this is an outrage,” Kip said. He turned sharply to the accountants, who were frozen, wondering if his command would be called off. “One hour, minus one minute,” he said. “Shall I shave off another five minutes for impertinence?”
They galloped off in every direction.
“This is… most upsetting, Lord Guile,” Lord Golden Briar said. His moron son Dónal had set a trap for the Blood Robes at the Earthworks of Martis. The ambush had been turned back on them, and five thousand of his men were massacred in the muddy maze. He was new to the Council of Divines, brought in only hours ago to replace Conn Hill. Doubtless he was on the side of Willow Bough, Appleton, and Comán, but he hadn’t been around long enough for Kip to hold him responsible for anything.
“For that I apologize,” Kip said. “But the problems here are significant, and you seem to be a people who appreciate the value of sharp action, are you not?”
“I… I suppose,” Lord Golden Briar said uncertainly.
“Your friends hanged a man within a couple of hours so you could be brought onto the Council to change the balance of power in a city. That’s sharp action,” Kip said.
“Yes,” Lord Golden Briar admitted. “It is, my lord.”
He didn’t look afraid, and Kip wondered for a moment if he’d hanged the wrong man. But then, Comán had confessed to murder, and you can’t hang men simply for being dangerous.