The Phoenix Thief

TWENTY SIX

THE CHANCELLOR SCREAMED and all the Squad Watchmen charged, but before they could reach Dmal and Kilter, Kolas cocked the pistol again.

"Stand back! Stand back, or this time I'll shoot to kill!"

Blood was scattered on the floor, and, to his amazement, Kilter realized it was not his own. Kolas was no longer standing over him, but over the fallen Chancellor, one black boot on the man's chest and the still-smoking pistol pointed at his face. The Chancellor was clutching his shoulder, where a dark, seeping stain marred the red and gold braid of his status.

"Kolas!" he hissed through clenched teeth. "You traitor! How dare you risk the future of Istravol, the future of your own family? Don't you want them to find freedom beyond the walls of this dying city?"

Kolas' hand trembled around the rifle, but his jaw tightened. He shook his head, never letting his eyes leave the Chancellor's face.

"No. I love my daughter too much to let her grow up in a world where the freedom of a few is more important than the lives of hundreds of innocents. Either we're all free, Chancellor," he flung the title at the man as if it were mud from the streets, "Or none of us are."

"So you presume to know what is best for us all, do you? What do you know of true leadership?"

"I know what is good for my daughter and my wife, and the children and wives of every man here. And I know enough about leadership to understand that you've abused it too long. Master Dmal and this young man speak the truth.

"This plan with the Phoenix – it's not about protecting Istravol any more, is it? You said you wanted to watch the Reavers burn. That was never part of any plan you shared with us. You told us that the Phoenix and your missiles were going to obliterate the Hestvlan Plague, to cauterize it from the world. You lied. You want revenge – no, not peace – for the loss the Reavers cost you. But you didn't tell any of us. That's not leadership. That's manipulation.

"For too long you've fed us revenge as self-preservation, control as protection, sir, and I'm ashamed to say I swallowed it like the rest of us, because I wanted to believe you. I wanted things to change. But I can't just will myself to believe your good reasoning when all your actions speak against you. Not any more."

"So what are you going to do, then? Shoot me?" The Chancellor made his gasping, bark-like laugh again. "Would you stain your hands with the same blood you say must stop being shed? Yes, now you feel the weight of command. We, the men of power, must make the difficult choices, must know when and where the axe must fall. Sacrifices must be made."

"You're right." Kolas held the pistol in both hands now. "But not the ones you're thinking of. You there," he glanced over his shoulder at Kilter. "The Phoenix, it's up on the observation platform above us. He's been hiding it there, out of sight, all morning. Call it down, take your flying thing, and carry it far away. It only ever comes for three months, and that time is nearly up. If you take it far enough away, it will go on its own soon enough, and that will give us twelve years yet to deal with the Chancellor."

"No! Watchmen, stop them!" The Chancellor lunged as if to rise, but Kolas kicked him in the chest and he fell back against the floor again, coughing.

The first pair of black gloves to take hold of Kilter jerked back at once as another bullet from Kolas' pistol splintered the wooden wall just above the Watchmen's heads.

"I don't want to kill anyone," Kolas said, not lowering the pistol. "But I won't hesitate to land lead in your arms or legs if I have to. Put your weapons on the ground, kick them to me, and stand by the wall opposite me. You all up there in the observation deck, come down and do the same! And don't try hiding any of your weapons. I'm one of you – was one of you – and know where they're all kept."