"Excuse?" whispered a noble.
"Certainly!" Rayth grinned. "As a public-spirited gesture, we assemble our personal guards and march them down there to restore order. With the Temple occupied by us, your election to the slide rule becomes a certainty, Jastur."
"There'll be fighting," said the Engineer nervously. "The young Engineers are—were—almost all on his side, you know; they won't receive you kindly—and then there are the commons—"
"Bah! Engineers and mobs against trained blades? Certainly there'll be bloodletting, but it won't be our blood—at least, if we can get down there before they have time to organize."
Rayth lifted his voice to a shout, and a guards officer stepped in and saluted. There was something like terror under his hard-held mask. Rayth snapped swift orders and he ran off.
"We'll unite all our personal forces," said the prince, biting the words out as he paced from wall to wall. "The Mayor's men and the regular city guards aren't to be relied on; I wouldn't be surprised if half of them swung to the Temple's side if they get a chance. Most of the regular army is out of the city, on garrison or combat duty, and it wouldn't be too safe either. But between us we've got three hundred trained bold men ready to follow us down there."
"Us?" squeaked a noble.
"Oh, stay if you want. I'm going down!" Rayth turned to clap Rikard's shoulder, "You too, my friend. You've done well, oh, excellently well, and you'll have a rich reward!"
The Nyracan shrugged. Inwardly, he was filled with a sudden wonder as to whether he had done the right thing or not. He didn't much care, really, who won; they were all Copers to him—but the prince's payment was more certain and tangible than the Temple's, and—
Too late now.