"Good. We want peace with our neighbors, whoever they be. But trade could not hurt us, either." Luap stretched, easing tight shoulders. "Do you know anything of the way they spend the days? Would it be better to meet in the morning or evening?"
"I would think morning, not too early. Perhaps after an early breakfast?"
"Very well. I'd like you and Seri both to be there."
Luap chose to receive the ambassador in the great hall, where he had had two chairs and a table placed near the dais. The banner Dorhaniya had embroidered hung behind it. He awaited the ambassador in his Marshal's blue, which the Council had agreed he should wear even though his title was Archivist, not Marshal. He had shaved his face, since Seri reported that the captain had not had a beard, but the soldiers did.
Aris's messenger had brought word that the ambassador was on his way, and had withdrawn hastily. Luap's heart pounded; he felt a great weight on his shoulders. If he failed, if this man became an enemy, all his people would suffer. He turned to the doorway, struggling to appear calm. A moment more . . . then Aris paused in the door, standing very straight. It had not occurred to Luap before just how impressive a man he had become.
"My lord . . . the Khartazh ambassador." Or how formal; in Aris's deep voice, that sounded as courtly as anything he'd ever heard, and his bow was as smooth as if he did it every day. He said something in a foreign tongue; Luap assumed he was repeating his announcement.
The ambassador came through the door, and seemed to freeze in place an instant, his eyes roving up and around. Then he bowed very low, spoke, and waited in that position for Aris's translation. "Great prince, it is an honor . . ."
"We, too, are honored," Luap said smoothly. "Will you come forward and take a seat?" Seri, not Aris, translated for him. He was surprised; had they worked this out between them? The ambassador looked paler than he had expected, and almost frightened. What had he thought he would see? He himself noticed the long moustaches, the face otherwise cleanshaven except for a tuft at the chin, the hair hidden in an embroidered cap. He was not quite Luap's height, and his build was impossible to determine, robed as he was in richness that reminded Luap of the wealthiest mageborn women. Layer upon layer of cloth, slashed and puffed, embroidered and decorated with chips of shell and polished wood . . . he rustled as he walked forward, then bowed again. But for all that, his eyes were shrewd, the eyes of a man used to judging others. They were a strange golden-brown Luap had not seen before.
Luap waited another moment for the man to seat himself, then realized why he would not: he, Luap, was assumed to have the higher rank here. Slowly, as if that were part of his own protocol, Luap stepped back and seated himself. Slowly, eyes watchful, the ambassador sat in the other chair. Aris moved to stand at the ambassador's right hand; Seri came to Luap's. In the doorway, the ambassador's servants knelt, laden with their boxes and bags. The ambassador spoke again, looking at Luap. Aris translated: "I have brought gifts from our king, not worthy for one of your rank, but we beg you will accept them." The ambassador gestured, as if for permission, and Luap nodded. The servants came forward on their knees, and once in the hall began laying out an array of gifts.
A length of glowing scarlet cloth, edged in gold, tossed out to lie fanlike on the stone floor . . . a wide collar of black fur . . . a set of small pots of brasswork, with brilliantly enameled lids . . . a wide silver tray, on which a servant heaped mounds of preserved fruit, and smaller mounds of spices so pungent Luap could smell them from his seat. A belt of scarlet leather, stamped with gold sunbursts . . . matching scarlet gloves, deeply fringed with a gold sunburst on the back of each hand . . . and tall scarlet boots, stitched in sunburst patterns; the tops turned down to dangle tiny gold disks from them. Luap could not imagine how one could ride or work in such boots—they must be intended for ceremonial occasions. Finally, with a musical ringing, the eldest servant drew from its padded bag a necklace of many gold links and pendants, and laid it carefully on the black fur where it showed to best advantage. Luap tried not to stare like any farm child, but found it difficult. And what could he give in return? He had expected an exchange of gifts, but nothing like this. He had a few things from Dorhaniya's house that she had left him, but nothing so grand.
He nodded, smiled, and said "Our thanks for your graciousness; your people's workmanship is remarkable." That was too flat; he hoped Seri's command of their language was equal to improving it. He waited while she translated, then heard the ambassador answer, then finally heard Aris's translation of that.
"Prince, we are relieved to find you accepting these few gifts, all we had time to collect. It is the king's hope that you will grant us your blessing—" Aris looked uncertain; he turned and asked the ambassador something in his own language. Finally he resumed. "—the favor of those we think may be more than human, if not the gods themselves."
Luap had the uneasy feeling that he and Aris had both misunderstood something. But he went on as best he could. "We, too, would offer your king what trifles we have . . . nothing to equal this magnificence, but tokens of our friendship." The ambassador listened to Seri's translation of that with close attention; he seemed to relax a bit, and offered a tentative smile. Luap sat back in his chair, and sent Seri to fetch the gifts he'd made ready.
These she lay on the table between the two men. Luap himself unwrapped and displayed them—he hoped this would be taken for honor, not weakness. A sea-green bowl, in which Dorhaniya had once kept dried rose petals, filled now with the precious selon beans Eris had given him, a blackwood bow, and a richly decorated sword, part of the spoils of Fin Panir, which no Marshal would carry because of its origin and decoration. Luap had always enjoyed looking at it, but had to agree that it was better to look at than use.
The ambassador's eyes widened; he stared at the sword. "And the horse you rode yesterday," Luap added, "if it pleased you." Seri translated; the ambassador gave Luap a desperate look, then stood, his rich clothes rustling, and grasped the sword. Aris and Seri stared at him, both alert but unmoving. Luap wondered what he had said wrong. The ambassador said something that sounded formal, drew the sword quickly, and held it poised for an instant. Luap had that moment to think he was being attacked before the ambassador plunged the tip towards his own body.
"No!" Luap yelled, grabbing for the sword. Decorative it might have been, but it was sharp; it cut his hand to the bone. Aris and Seri tackled the ambassador and wrestled the sword away; Luap squeezed his wrist with his good hand and wondered what had gone wrong. Blood soaked his best gray trousers and splattered the floor; he could not wipe it up without letting go his wrist. He had bloodied the ambassador, too. . . .
"Sir!" The young men Seri had been training crowded the door. "What happened?"
"I don't know," Luap said through clenched teeth. His hand hurt more than he would have thought. "Help Aris with the ambassador—and don't hurt him. He wasn't after me; he was going to kill himself." In a few moments, two solemn young men were holding the ambassador, an easy task since he did not struggle. Seri had the sword; Aris came at once to Luap and took his hand.
"I can heal this," he said, with a sideways look at the ambassador. "Should we have him taken away?"
"No. Let him see." Whatever had gone wrong, Luap sensed, would not be made worse by a show of power. With Aris holding his arm, he dared to look at his hand. Two fingers dangled by a shred of skin; he saw bone and tendon laid bare.
"It's all right," Aris said. "Just relax—" Easy for him to say. Luap thought—but he knew better. He leaned back in his chair, trying to relax, and let Aris work. The pain eased; he felt something tickle his hand, a feather-touch on the palm. When he looked again, his hand looked almost normal, if pale: the long gash was closing smoothly. It made him dizzy to watch; he looked past Aris to Seri.
"Do you know what happened?" She shook her head, and said something to the ambassador, whose reply was long and broken as she asked questions repeatedly. By the time she turned to him, Aris had released his hand; he felt no pain, and it looked normal except for the blood on his skin. The ambassador, he saw, was staring at it, wide-eyed; the man's servants had all put their foreheads on the floor.
"I think he thought you wanted him to kill himself," Seri said.
"What?"
"He keeps saying, 'He gave me the sword and told me to ride away.' "
"But that's not what we—what I—said."
"I know. But it's what it means to them. I think." Seri sighed, smoothing her tumbled hair. "He says if a king gives a servant such a sword—not a soldier's sword, but one with gold and jewels—it means the servant has displeased his lord and should kill himself. He was not sure that's what you meant, since you are not of his people, but the gift of the horse made it clear, because where could he ride that horse from here but to the afterworld? There is no trail back to his land."
"But I said the gifts pleased me," Luap said. "Isn't that what you told him?"
"I thought so." She asked the ambassador a question, and listened to his reply. "Yes, he heard that, but thought it was a joke—sarcasm. You liked the gifts so well you told him to die." Luap thought about that. What kind of people would think that way? Did he want to befriend people who thought that way?
"Tell him," he said carefully, "that among our people we do not make such jokes—we do not lie about things like that. The gifts pleased me. And among our people the gift of a sword is a gift of trust. Do you think he will understand that?"
"I hope so," Seri said. She talked, and the ambassador spoke to her, and she talked again. Luap watched the servants, who knelt motionless all this while. What kind of people had such servants? Abruptly, the ambassador yanked his arms free of the two young men, as if they had not been holding him at all, and threw himself at Luap's feet. All down his back, Luap saw, his outer robe buttoned with tiny black buttons . . . he realized the man could not reach those buttons himself; he could not get dressed without servants. Luap looked down; the ambassador had taken his boots in his hands and was kissing them. He felt sick.
"Tell him to rise, and sit in his chair," he said to Seri. He could feel the hot flush on his cheeks. "Does he still think I'm angry?"
"He thinks he's disgraced his king, and will bring war on his people," she said, before speaking again to the ambassador. This time he rose, shook himself to resettle his clothes, and sat once more in his chair, his hands linked in apparent composure. Those strange amber-yellow eyes stared at Luap as if trying to penetrate his mind.
"I'm sorry," he said, directly to the ambassador. "I am not angry with you. Please do not injure yourself. As you can see, I am not hurt." Bloody, yes, and confused, but not hurt. "Please ask your servants to rise; I will have someone show them where to take the gifts."
Seri translated that, and the ambassador spoke a few phrases to his servants. They set to work repacking the gifts, without looking up. The ambassador continued, speaking slowly, and waiting for Aris to translate each phrase. "It is my shame. It is my mistake. Do not be angry with my king. Great lord, let your vengeance fall on me, and not on my king. Great prince, your wisdom excels all; be merciful."
Luap put out his hand; the man flinched but did not pull away when Luap touched him. "Do not fear. I am not angry." He smiled, and thought of a joke of Gird's. "Don't worry: when I am angry, you will know it." Seri gave him a look, but translated that. The ambassador blinked, and stared, and then essayed a tentative smile. "That's right," Luap said, as he would have encouraged a frightened child crossing the rapids.
The ambassador spoke again, this time more fluently. "He asks about the healing," Seri said. "And perhaps I should have told you before, but Aris healed a soldier: the captain may have mentioned that."
"Tell him we have various powers, but this we consider the gods' gift," Luap said. The man listened to Seri, and made a curious but graceful movement with his hands as he spoke again.
"He says his king would be honored by our friendship," Aris said. "But, sir—there's a problem with that word. The captain told us there were different words for friends—if I understood him—according to rank and intention both. I'm not sure what this one really means."
Luap smiled at the ambassador again. "I'm not sure we need to know at the moment, and any kind of friendship is better than war. Tell him I wish to bathe and change, and have the blood cleaned up; perhaps he would like to rest, or walk outside, for awhile, and we can meet later." This suggestion, translated, seemed to calm the man more than anything else. He rose, bowed deeply again, and seemed rooted to his place. Luap finally realized he was waiting for the "great lord" to leave first. He was afraid to insist on anything else, for fear of causing another dangerous misunderstanding.
Even a bath and a change of clothes did not completely dispel his shakiness. Seri had evidently assigned her entire group of trainees to help him; one of them took his blood-stained clothes away to wash, and two more hovered outside his door, eager to help with anything he could imagine. He asked for something to eat, and got a tray of bread, sliced meat, and fruit. While he was eating, Aris came in.
"Seri or I will stay with the ambassador until we're sure he's not going to hurt himself," Aris said. "He seems better, but—"
"He scared me," Luap said. "I never saw anything like that."
"You saved his life," Aris said. "We were impressed." Luap found himself smiling. "You never saw me in the war, did you? I spent most of it as Gird's scribe, but he trained me, and his training stays." He looked at his hand. "And I'm glad you were here, Aris; I'd have lost those fingers. I hope I'm doing the right thing."
"Saving him?"
"No. Talking to him at all. Making agreements, or thinking about it." Luap shook his head. "What kind of people can they be, to take a gift as a command to kill themselves?"