A hedgehog would have had a grand bed here, Sorza thought, feeling the spines of Alpheo's stare prickling through his fine armor. He couldn't even summon the dignity of anger for the insult. The All-Knower was his only witness to the humiliation, but the god surely knew which of the two princes had more to lose in this parlay.
They were at an impasse, quite an ugly thing that sat between the two hosts like a wall of ice. Alpheo knew it, Sorza knew it, and even the raven circling overhead seemed to caw in recognition of the stalemate. All that was missing was the rain. Sorza looked up at the leaden sky, half-expecting the heavens to drop a final turd upon his gilded helmet.
The Prince of Yarzat meanwhile shifted in his saddle, his blackened plate creaking, and for a terrifying second, Sorza thought he had lost him. He saw the shift in Alpheo's weight, the subtle turn of his mount; he saw the end of his city, his reign, and his life galloping away.
