"Faustben has no future unless the one most like Pathacles assumes the throne. That meanst you, my prince," and Brand's smile returned. "So while we are here, the downtrodden will take back the kingdom from the oppressors."
"You've gotta be fuckin' kidding me," Skandra spoke for everyone.
Now, Ithacles might not have been the brightest when it came to games like chess, but he was wily the way you had to be to survive on a field when it was hailing arrows and trebuchet stone. The whole thing was coming into focus and the Prince blinked once as if literally staring at it. But he was watching Brand's mouth as he continued.
"We're fucking fools!" he exclaimed.
Brand was doornail cold with a right uppercut. Bound to a chair he couldn't do anything about the punch but Ithacles turned his whole weight into it anyway. The chair fell back heavily with its newly be-snoozed fellow and Ithacles wheeled around.
"Cavras!" he called. Any sound at all and he'd go charging up to save the man. But a feeling of doom had settled in down deep in his limbs: Cavras would have already made that sound. If there had been anyone to make a struggle it would have been that man, yet there hadn't been any noise. That meant what Skandra had said was true. Cavras was in on the plan.
And to anyone who saw this, no matter what they did, it would look like Ithacles was as well. He drew the dirk from his belt.