Free The Spider's War (The Dagger and the Coin series) by Daniel Abraham

that had recently conquered all its immediate neighbors and had an army camped at his southern border. Or that the last dragon roamed his street. Come to think of it, he had more than enough reason to be uncertain of himself.
    “I think he will not,” Clara said, accepting a cup of mulled wine from Komme Medean’s thin hand. There were no servants in the withdrawing room, and none in the hall without. It was not a conversation to be overheard. “It would have been too pretty, I suppose, to have the Lord Marshal and the master of the fleet both in our confidence.”
    “Shouldn’t get greedy,” the old banker said. If it was meant to be ironic, he hid it well.
    The room was colored with gold. It was in the tapestries on the walls, woven into the carpet beneath her feet. There were other colors—the shining green and indigo of the cushions, the scarlet of the wall hangings, the gentle yellow of the lanterns—but all of them seemed there to offer contrast to the gold. The air was mulled wine and incense, rich without being cloying, which was much rarer in a palace than Clara thought it should be. Incense was too easily overdone. It spoke well of Tracian that he knew to restrain it. There was a plate of raisins and cheese to go with her wine, though she couldn’t bring herself to taste them. Not yet.
    The king of Northcoast paced, four steps along the wall, then back the other way, hands clasped behind him. Komme Medean sat beside the wine with his fingers woven together and a calm expression in his eyes. She had the sense that the world might turn to fire and ash, and the banker would have the same calm about him. The king turned again. For a moment, she wasn’t certain what he reminded her of. Ah, yes. A captain pacing his deck.
    “It would be a kindness to put him in a larger cell,” she said. “One, perhaps, where he could walk a bit.”
    “Did he ask for that?” Tracian said.
    “No,” Clara said. “He was quite careful to ask for nothing.”
    “We have Barriath’s pirates,” Komme said. “And the shipsof Northcoast, of course. I’d be surprised if we couldn’t convince Narinisle and Herez to step in as support at the least. Though they may balk at open battle.”
    “Is open battle our plan?” Tracian said. “Because last I checked, we still had an army to the south with orders to bring Cithrin bel Sarcour to Camnipol in chains.”
    “Jorey won’t come north,” Clara said. “We’re safe here. For now.”
    “With respect, Lady Kalliam,” Komme said as he poured himself more wine, “are we sure of that? Have we had word from the army since you came?”
    “I haven’t, but neither was I expecting any. Jorey has no intention of marching on Northcoast. He knows I’ve come, and he will wait until I return.”
    “You’re making some assumptions,” the old banker said. “By your own report, the soldiers are overtaxed. There are two of the priests there at least.”
    “Only two,” Clara said.
    “Only two if no others have arrived in your absence.” Komme’s voice was gentle, but firm. “We speculate on what’s happened in the winter camp, but we can’t know. And though I hesitate to point it out, Lord Marshal of Antea hasn’t been an invitation to a long career since Palliako took the crown.”
    “Why didn’t Skestinin come to us?” Tracian said. “He has to know what the priests are. We have showed him the one we have, haven’t we? The actor?”
    “He’s known since Porte Oliva,” Komme said. “It isn’t at issue with him.”
    “Why not?”
    Several thoughts collided in Clara’s mind:
He is bound by his honor
and
He has reason to fear Palliako
and
Men of a certain age can only understand the world they were boysin
. She was left with an impatient grunt as the most eloquent answer she could give.
    “More to the point,” Komme said, “is what we can do about it. You know the court in Camnipol better than any of us. Will they rise against the priests? When they know, will