"And when this war is done with," Andrew said slowly, "I'll personally see to the task of shoveling your body into the ground."
The envoy said nothing, but for the briefest of moments his control seemed ready to slip. Then, turning away, he beckoned for Andrew to enter the great tent.
Alone, he walked into the shelter, its soft darkness a relief after the glare of the sun. Pausing to let his eyes adjust, Andrew looked about, trying not to let his inner fear show. If they wished to kill me, he reasoned, they would have done so by now; or could they be saving me for something far worse? His heart suddenly started to race at the thought.
"
You
who are named Keane, come forward to my presence."
His eyes adjusting, he could see several shadowy forms sitting before a softly glowing brazier in the center of the tent. Taking a deep breath, Andrew strode forward. There were only three in the vast cavernous shelter, the entire effect of the large empty space making him feel even smaller and more vulnerable.
I would try to create the same effect, he reasoned inwardly. This is all part of the game within the game, to deceive, to intimidate, and to learn. The realization calmed his fears, and when he came to a stop a dozen feet away from the three Tugars, his heart was calm again.
The one standing to the right he felt he had seen before, and then the realization came that he was the Namer of Time.
The one to the left appeared old, his long shaggy hair nearly all gray with broad streaks of white.
Andrew immediately recognized him as the Tugar warrior he had seen before the pass, and riding almost every day on inspection around the siege lines.
Andrew nodded slightly in recognition, and to his surprise the Tugar returned the nod.
The old one's eyes looked at him with open curiosity, which were a contrast to the sense of caution he felt from the powerful, towering Tugar who sat between the two.
"He is the one," the Namer said to Muzta, who sat quiet, without any outward show of emotion.
"It is traditional," the Namer said in Russian, looking back at Andrew, "for cattle to abase themselves before Muzta Qar Qarth, and before
all of the
Tugar race when summoned to appear."
"I remember you," Andrew said quietly, "and you will recall I did not abase myself then, nor shall I now, nor will I be addressed with the word 'cattle.' "
The Namer started to speak, but Qubata extended his hand for silence and spoke quickly to Muzta.
"I know some of your tongue," Qubata said evenly, motioning for the Namer to withdraw. Without comment, the Namer strode from the tent.
"As a child I had a Rus pet, and I have decided to learn it again," Qubata said, sitting down beside Muzta. "You call yourself Keane and are a Yankee?"
Andrew nodded in reply.
"You are the one who created the army of Rus?"
"I and the other Yankees who came here with me merely guided them. The rest they did themselves."
"I am impressed by what you have created, Keane."
Somewhat surprised, Andrew nodded
a thanks
.
"Ask him why he and those with him did not bow down to my rule," Muzta asked, and Qubata delivered the question.
"Because we will not submit to your slaughter pits," Andrew said evenly.
"Our rule has been fair and just," Muzta said. "We take but two in ten, even though it is in our power to slaughter all."
"It is not justice," Andrew replied, "it is keeping men as herds, to be culled and harvested at your wish. That to us is worse than slavery."
"Yet the vast majority still live," Qubata replied. "Yet the vast majority could still live, if you submit."
"Is the purpose of this meeting, then, to offer terms?" Andrew asked.
"That is the wish of my Qar Qarth," Qubata replied. "Submit now, and we will take but the traditional two in ten. Your machines must be turned over and you will be forbidden to make more. Do that and you will be boyar, and granted the right of giving exemption to any you choose, within reason."
"No."
Muzta bristled at the simple, curt response, not needing a translation to explain, but Andrew could sense that his answer had been expected.
"You know you will all die if you resist. Some may die, or all will die. I see no sense in that."
"I am surprised at this offer," Andrew said evenly. "Would you submit to us, if it were we who owned the slaughter pits? You are a proud race, and I think you would fight to the death as well."
Qubata translated to Muzta, who looked at Qubata as if he had not heard correctly.
"But these are cattle," Muzta said. "Such a thing is unheard-of."
"The cattle we know have always been trained, already subjugated by our forefathers. These Yankees are different. We see how they fight and have trained the Rus. When we thought we had them trapped, I was stunned at how many sacrificed their lives so their companions could escape. That is something a Tugar would do to save his clan, and now we see it in them as well."
"I am almost glad he did not take our offer," Muzta said evenly, still looking at Andrew. "They are too dangerous. We must annihilate them all."
"That is what we have been trying to do," Qubata said dryly.
"See if you can find out the other things I wish to know."
Qubata looked back at Andrew, who had stood patiently during their hushed conversation.
"When did you come through the tunnel of light?"
The new subject caught Andrew off guard.
"When I met your Namer he spoke of that as well," Andrew said. "Then you know of the tunnel?"
"It is how all men arrive here," Qubata replied.
"Have any men ever gone back?" Andrew asked, unable to contain his curiosity.
So this one would like to leave, Qubata realized.
The answer to the question he did not know, and feeling some desire to be honest, he shook his head.
"Would you like to go back?"
"Some would," Andrew replied. "Some might wish to stay."
It could be an answer to these troublesome creatures, Qubata thought, and then he turned his direction back to Andrew.
"My Namer reported that it was early in the summer of the previous year that you arrived."
"That is correct."
"Then you did all of this, built your machines, made your army, and overthrew the rightful rulers all in that time?"
"Yes to the first two," Andrew replied, "but it was the people of Suzdal themselves who rebelled and asked us to lead them."
Qubata looked back at Muzta and translated.
"The boyar Mikhail is lying then, as I suspected," Muzta replied. "This is another first—cattle rebelling against the lords we appoint over them."
"The presence of these Yankees tipped the scales. It is as the few prisoners we took have said."
"What is the tunnel?" Andrew
asked,
when the two had paused for a moment and were looking back in his direction.
"You do not know?"
Andrew felt there was no sense in playing a game of lies and simply shook his head.
"Perhaps someday we will tell you, for a price," Qubata said evenly, gaining satisfaction from seeing the frustration in the man's eyes.
"Is there any further purpose, then, to this interview?" Andrew retorted. "I have told you we will not submit. I will offer you these terms, though. If you withdraw from our city we will not hinder nor attack you. That is the only agreement I will offer. I suspect that rather than we, it is you who are growing short of food. You could find more elsewhere, but your pride or perhaps your desperation prevents you from leaving us unpunished. Do not let your pride destroy you."
The audacity of this one, Qubata thought, feeling a sense of admiration for the man.
"You know that we shall defeat you," Qubata replied softly, without any threat in his voice.
"And when you are done, where will be your victory?" Andrew replied. "We will leave no bodies for you to feast upon, for as we die we will burn or bury our corpses. You will have nothing in the end.
"I know this," Andrew continued, venturing a stab. "You have come here two years early, something unheard-of before. This was not at first because of us, though your arrival with just your warriors was obviously a response. You were driven here by something else. I have heard of your rivals the Merki."
"How do you know that?" Qubata asked in surprise.
"Our great ship sailed to southern waters and there met people who do not expect their enemies for yet two more years. But I do not think it is the Merki that brought you here early."
"Then please tell me," Qubata replied coldly, not wishing to show interest but unable to contain himself.
"Starvation," Andrew replied. "You have allowed yourselves to become dependent on us alone for everything you need. When was it last that Tugars found or raised their own food? No, you have lived off our backs and our sweat. And then your cattle," and as he said the word his expression flared with anger, "started to die."
Andrew paused for a moment to let Qubata translate.
"A disease always seemed to be just ahead of you, and that is why you rushed onward, desperate to outrace it. As fast as you marched, still the disease spread before you. If you know of the Wandering People who flee before you, you should know as well that the disease travels with them. If you slow, the disease slows. Go quicker and the disease spreads faster. I think,
Qubata, that
you and your people are at the end of your rope. It is you who are starting to starve, not we.
"And I might add," Andrew said dryly, "we Yankees know the way to prevent the disease, for you should know by now that only those of Suzdal have been spared its ravages. We offered it to the rulers of Vazima, and they spurned us. A third of them died, and few are left healthy, enough for your pits or to bring in the vast amounts of food your people need."
Stunned, Qubata turned away and spoke to Muzta.
"Can it be true?" Muzta asked in surprise.
"There is most likely no other explanation," Qubata replied. "It was all so simple—we should have seen it. We could try to hunt down the Wanderers, but you and I know there are always more of them."
"Then we are truly doomed, even if we win here," Muzta said softly. "Send him away. We need to speak of this, and I wish him not to know of our concern."
"I think he senses that already," Qubata replied.
"Send him away."
Qubata nodded and looked back at Andrew.
"We shall speak again," Qubata said softly. "You are free to go, one named Keane."
"And your name?"
Andrew asked.
"I am Qubata, sword master of the Tugar horde," he replied, not feeling any insult at such a question.
"It was you whom I saw in the first battle, and have faced on the field."
Qubata nodded.
"A masterful move before the passes," Andrew said ungrudgingly.
"I should have had you all, except for the courage and sacrifice of your men," Qubata replied, surprised that he was speaking so to a human, but unable to respond in any other way.
"You are free to go," Qubata said, "though we might speak again."
Andrew nodded and to his own surprise came to attention and saluted before turning to leave.
"Keane."
Andrew turned to look back.
"You know you will lose in the end."
Andrew did not reply.
"If need be we'll sacrifice fifty thousand to gain your walls, for there is no alternative for us but victory," Qubata said softly.
"As is the same for us," Andrew replied grimly.
* * *
"They are a pestilence and must be destroyed,' roared, and his cry was picked up through the gathering of clan leaders.
"If we let them live," Zan said, coming to his feet, "then what they are will be ten times worse than the pox that ravages our cattle. Surely you are mad to think of terms with the likes of them."
Muzta sat quiet, while all about him was chaos.
"We can take their city now!"
Tula shouted.
Qubata came to his feet.
"Yes we can take their city," Qubata said softly, "and there are two ways. We can wait to starve them out, and that can take months and we shall starve, or we can assault them, and thousands, tens of thousands, of ours will die."
"We are dying anyhow,"
Tula roared.
"Or we can come to terms," Qubata said quietly.
There was a moment of stunned silence, and then bellows of rage. Muzta, who sat to one side, looked straight ahead, and as Qubata looked in the direction of his Qarth, Muzta's eyes lowered. The old general stared at his friend and then looked away and stepped to the middle of the tent.
"As sword holder of the horde, I demand to be heard, in the circle of speech," Qubata said evenly.