"We have sent a request for Ambassador Sro Kenalt to help us in our inquiries," Jusson said. "But we were dismayed to find that the ambassador is no longer in our city.” Captain Suiden stiffened and turned in his seat to stare at the king—only to find Jusson watching him back. "I take it, Captain Prince, that you know nothing of either the flow of slaves to Tural or of your cousin's whereabouts.”
"No, Your Majesty," Suiden said. "I haven't seen Kenalt since your reception—"
"Where you did disappear with him.”
"—nor am I in collusion with Gherat or Teram." Suiden caught up with the king. "We were—drinking, Your Majesty." A faint flush shone under his dark skin. "And we were in sight of many.”
"So you were," Jusson said, his eyes gleaming at Suiden. "And we've been told you have a very pleasing baritone and know the most amazing songs." He raised a brow. "But during your bacchanal your cousin did not spill any secrets about Tural's involvement?" The gleam increased. "Or would you tell me if he had?”
"I've been sworn to your service, Your Majesty, for the last twenty years," Suiden replied. "Yes, I would tell you."
"Would you?" Jusson repeated. "Always 'Your Majesty,' never 'sire.' Perhaps we should have you stand in the Witness Circle and give your oath once more. Would you?”
"Yes, Your Majesty. I have sworn to your service," the captain repeated.
"Would you?" the king pushed. "You had once sworn to the Amir of Tural.”
"
I
didn't break faith, Your Majesty. The amir decided he no longer wanted my fealty.”
"The amir cast you, his eldest sister's son, out? Why was that, Captain Prince?"
"He didn't like that I withstood him, Your Majesty.”
"Oh? And this is a desirable trait we want in our own sworn men?”
"I have learned tact, Your Majesty. My 'no's are more diplomatic.”
Jusson laughed in spite of himself. "You will not call us a fool to our face, Captain Prince?”
A faint smile crossed Suiden's face. "Yes, Your Majesty. Besides, I don't believe that you'll ever dispossess an entire village just because you wish to build a pleasure garden for your favorite concubine.
Complete with fountains, for which you will divert water, causing several other villages' crops to wither, their orchards to fail, their cattle to die of thirst—”
"We see, Captain Prince." Jusson considered Suiden. "So altruistic! Willing to face down your amir for the sake of peasants and cows."
"My ship's first mate came from there, Your Majesty—"
"Ah.”
"—and I also thought the concubine and her family were getting a little too fat while others went begging—"
"Politics too.”
"—and I was sure that my uncle would listen because I was right." Suiden shrugged. "What I was, was young and naive.”
"A volatile combination," Jusson agreed. His gaze then swept the table. "After twenty years of service, Prince Suiden has proven his fealty to our throne, so let there be no more questioning of his intent. Even by us.”
A few shifted at the king's declaration, casting uneasy, looks at Suiden's glowing green eyes.
"Also," Jusson said, "let there not be any questioning of whether or not we have violated the treaty with the Border. Though it appears that the majority of the smuggling revenue was used for Teram-turned-Locival's pantomime rebellion, there were others involved who just wanted fat purses. We need to discover what we can do to avert war.”
"Just because we lost the first war doesn't mean we will lose the next, sire," an advisor said. "Besides, we shouldn't be held responsible for the actions of brigands, no matter how highly placed and whatever their motivations.”
"Well said, indeed," Lord Esclaur said. "Though, of course, if the situation was reversed and brigands based in the Border were raiding our kingdom, it would be intolerable.”
I watched color creep up the advisor's face. He glanced over at Laurel. "Do we want to air our differences before the ambassador?”
Laurel immediately pushed his chair back and stood. "You're right, honored sir. I will withdraw. But think on this. The Qarant are trading partners with the Border, and if they didn't know about the smuggling before, they will very shortly. Do you want them to also know that you refuse to take responsibility for what happens within your realm? How comfortable do you think they would be trading with you?” The Faena bowed, never taking his eyes off the assorted stunned and outraged faces, then turned and walked out the door.
"How dare he threaten us—" the advisor began.
"He's right," King Jusson said. "If we become known as a kingdom of cutthroats and thieves, the Qarant and others would be very leery about dealing with us.”
The advisor cast another look at Suiden, stopping at Captain Javes on the way. "Not if we win against the Border.”
"Win against magic?" Jusson asked. "We didn't last time, and we were a whole kingdom then, with all our Houses united." The king leaned forward. "And then there's the Turalians with their involvement in our offense against the Border, just when Teram decides to start his rebellion. Do you think that's just happenstance? We are sure they are watching very closely. What do you think they'll do if we go to war?”
"His Glory the Amir would wait until you're at your weakest and most distracted, then strike," Suiden said.
"Yes," Jusson said. "Using all his Court wizards.”
"But wizards and djinns and afreets are just a child's tale—" The advisor broke off, staring at Suiden again.
Suiden shook his head, his green eyes afire. "No, they're not.”
"Once we could pretend that Iversterre was the center of the universe and that the sun, moon and stars revolved around us," Jusson said. "That time has passed. " He looked at Lord Commander Thadro.
"Please have Ambassador Laurel join us again.” It was quiet enough to hear the tap of Laurel's staff as he approached the table and his chair scraped loud as he pulled it out from the table to sit down. The king glanced around at everyone. "Evil has been done in our kingdom and we will address it. Understood?"
Everyone nodded.
"Good." King Jusson settled back in his chair. "Chancellor Berle?”
"I've spoken with the ambassador to see how we can rectify this, Your Majesty," Chancellor Berle said.
"I have given you our recommendations.”
"We have received them," Jusson said. He took a breath before turning to Laurel. "A heinous crime has been committed against your people, Ambassador. We beg your pardon here, and will send a letter of apology to your Council. Rest assured that we will bring to judgment any and all who are involved in this ring, no matter their station."
"Thank you, honored king," Laurel said.
"We have also reviewed your recommendation to send an emissary to the Border both as a gesture of goodwill and to establish an ambassadorship with our neighbor—an action long overdue. But we are concerned. With what has happened, can you guarantee the safety of whomever we send?"
"Yes," Laurel said.
Jusson's face lightened as a smile flashed across it. "Well, you're confident.”
"I was given full discretion, honored king," Laurel replied. "Your representative will be safe. My oath on it.”
The rune on my palm grew warm at the truth of his words, and the king looked my way. He then turned back to the Faena.
"All right. We name Foreign Chancellor Berle as our emissary.” The chancellor did not look surprised but bowed her head in acknowledgement.
"We wish to see the list of those you choose for your retinue, Chancellor," the king said.
"Yes, sire.”
"We have also reviewed your recommendation that all the remains that are found be returned to the Border, Ambassador." Jusson's gaze dropped down to Berle's grisly finds still on the table. "This also concerns us as we wonder if sending so many back would not precipitate the very thing we wish to avoid.”
"I have considered this carefully, honored king, and believe that not doing so would be worse. This will at least allow their families and friends to mourn and perform the proper rites." Laurel sighed. "It will also help stifle any rumors of you keeping our dead for use as tables or coats. I'll accompany the bodies back and hopefully be able to ease the anguish their arrival will cause.”
"We see." Jusson was silent once more. "All right. It shall be done.” He turned to the Lord Admiral. "As by sea would be the fastest, Admiral Noal, please arrange for a ship to carry Chancellor Berle, Ambassador Laurel, and his—cargo back to the Border.”
"Yes, sire," Admiral Noal said. He looked at Laurel. "Where, Ambassador?"
"Elanwryfindyll, honored admiral. A city-state on the
"Also arrange for a convoy, Noal." Jusson's mouth twisted. "What now to us is a ship of horrors will be considered a rich prize to pirates and other sea powers.”
"I recommend that Captains Suiden and Javes and their troops escort Ambassador Laurel and Chancellor Berle, Your Majesty," Lord Commander Thadro said.
I stared at the Lord Commander, stunned, as I'd been certain that our assignment would end as soon as I heard that Laurel was returning home. But, like the church at Gresh, the Lord Commander was removing the embarrassment of two obviously talent-touched troop units, one apprentice mage, and a ghost, from the instability caused by Teram's failed rebellion. No matter Jusson's avowed embracing of the magical.
Then, as the meeting turned to the logistics of the trip, I saw Javes and Thadro speaking together, and realized that, also like the Gresh church, Thadro had just placed someone he trusted inside Chancellor Berle's entourage. Wondering how that was all going to play out when they reached the Border, I glanced at Laurel Faena—and blinked at how he looked like the proverbial cat in the creamery as he worked out the details of our journey.
With the threat of war hanging over it, the military juggernaut moved swiftly and the troop was at the harbor docks that afternoon, milling about as we waited to board our ship. Laurel had disappeared earlier with Chancellor Berle and a man introduced as the dockmaster to inspect what was in Losan eso Dru's warehouse. King Jusson had decreed that, as it was corrupt dock workers who had helped store the contraband, it would be dock workers who removed it and loaded it on the ship—after Laurel explained to them exactly what each piece was, and who it had once been a part of.
I was staring out at a trio of graceful windriders anchored in the harbor, my mind on how to get out of going to the Border. Besides not wanting to be on a death ship for the three weeks' journey, I was a runaway apprentice and the High Council wouldn't care that I was a trooper in the Royal Army, thrice sworn to King Jusson IV. They'd give me over to Magus Kareste as soon as I stepped ashore—if he wasn't there waiting for me himself.
A commotion sounded behind me and I turned around. Admiral Noal was coming up the docks, accompanied by Lord Commander Thadro, Captains Suiden and Javes, Lieutenant Groskin, and—I closed my eyes and actually rubbed them before opening them wide—Ryson.
"What the poxy hell?" I turned to Jeff standing next to me. "Did you know?”
Jeff shook his head, his eyes also wide. "When the troop left the garrison he was still in the stockade.”
The party saw me and veered my way as Jeff and I joined the rest of the troopers in standing at attention.
"At ease," Thadro said. He turned to the admiral next to him. "Admiral Noal, this is Lieutenant Lord Rabbit. You saw each other at the meeting but weren't introduced.”
Admiral Noal nodded at me, his eyes wandering over Basel. "Hello, Lieutenant. I know your uncle, Vice Admiral Havram ibn Chause, a fine officer.” What I murmured must have satisfied the admiral because he nodded again, then turned to the Lord Commander. "A few more details to settle, Thadro, and then we'll be ready to start loading up.”
"Go on ahead, Noal," Thadro said. "I'll be with you in a moment.”
Admiral Noal looked at Groskin and Ryson, then back at me. "Sure, take your time." He nodded once more and walked away toward the dock offices.
"Captain Suiden, gather all the men together, please," Thadro said and waited until we fell into formation in front of him. "Well?" he said to Groskin and Ryson, still standing by him.
First Groskin, then Ryson, apologized to me and to the rest of the troops, just as if we all had a nursery squabble and were now being made to kiss and make up. I kept my head down the entire time and concentrated on how the water lapped against the hulls of the ships at dock, the cries of the gulls, and the smell of salt in the air.
"Risking the part to save the whole, Lieutenant," Suiden said after everyone had been dismissed. His fury was a physical force.
I was having a hard time controlling my own anger. "I sodding didn't mean this, sir. The only thing Ryson can call uncle is a mangy weasel. Why was he released?”
"Because if we slap Groskin on the wrist, we have to do the same for Ryson," Javes said, coming up to us, "as he's guilty of the same thing—allowing his fear of magicals to make him act unwisely. Or so says Archdoyen Obruesk.”
He growled the last part, his eyes yellow and hard. "The Lord Commander wants to see us, Suiden.”
I did not watch the captains move off. Neither did I watch Groskin and Ryson standing over to the side. I walked over to where my new trunk lay in the shade of a building and sat down on it. (My old one was left behind just in case any Pale Deaths had taken up residence in it.)
"Don't they care?" Jeff asked as he followed. He made me scoot over and sat also. "I can see Groskin as he sort of lost it, but Ryson was Slevoic's suck-up ever since the lieutenant came to Freston."
I made a sound of assent.
"And they're going to send him to the Border?”
"Politics, Jeff," I said. "The archdoyen is bucking against the king, maybe because of me or because of Dru, maybe both. Or maybe just because he thinks he can." I remembered Obruesk's glares at Laurel and me. "He doesn't like Border folk much.”
"They haven't found Slevoic, have they?" Jeff asked after a moment.
"No, not that I've heard."
"Think he met up with Gherat?"