Wolf's Blood (17 page)

“And so you are here,” Bryessidan asked with smooth politeness, “to assure us that Hearthome will not suffer if the gate network is disabled. We are all very grateful, I am sure.”

The emissary’s brows lowered, and his tone became nasty.

“I was sent here to gain assurance that the Kingdom of the Mires is not up to her former games. You were so swift to inform us that your access to the gates had been blocked. My queen found herself wondering if this was the assurance of the boy whose ball has broken the window.”

“Are your spies then so incompetent,” Bryessidan replied sharply, “that you could entertain such suspicions?”

King Hurwin’s soft chuckle, answered by those of several other delegates, defused what might have become a shouting match. The honest fact was that Queen Iline was notorious for her spy corps—created, it was said, so she could keep an eye on her horde of ambitious relatives.

The emissary raised his eyebrows as if he deigned not to reply, but Bryessidan saw the flush on his cheeks and knew—and had the satisfaction of knowing everyone else knew as well—that the man knew there was nothing he could say.

Loris Ambler, newly arrived emissary from Azure Towers, the land east of the Mires that also bordered on Hearthome, cleared her throat.

“Invasion remains a matter for discussion,” Loris said. Her voice, although pitched no louder than any other, carried in the sudden hush that fell following her first word. “Invasion from the Nexus Islands.”

“Ridiculous,” said Kembrel of Hearthome. “I’m not denying that the Nexans control the gates, but they lack the means for an invasion.”

“What means?” Loris Ambler’s voice was silky, and Bryessidan remembered reports speculating that the bandit raids on the border between Hearthome and Azure Towers had very little to do with bandits and a great deal to do with jockeying for position and resources in those border areas.

“Well,” Kembrel Speaker replied, “troops for one. Arms and weapons for another.”

“You forget,” Loris Ambler said, as all the others continued in silence, content to let these two rivals articulate what many had thought, but none had wished to be the first to state, “the Nexans have all the gates at their command, where each of our lands has but one. I see two fairly easy ways that they might acquire what they lack.

“One, they might ally themselves with one land that holds the end point to a gate. You have cast the Mires in this role, but I do not think the Mires would serve the Nexans’ needs for the obvious reason that all of us keep rather a close watch, just in case King Bryessidan matches his father in military fervor.”

Bryessidan frowned, and Loris Ambler smiled reassuringly as she spoke on.

“However, we have seen not the least indication of renewed military action. Moreover, the Mires are not the best location from which to start a military action. King Veztressidan was some years acquiring the resources he needed—and he had the advantage of stockpiles laid in by his father, and the previous ruler as well. Those stockpiles are depleted, the remnants paid out in retribution following the war.

“If I were a Nexan, I would seek an ally who was known to be restless and ambitious. Perhaps a king—or queen—with a surplus of edgy progeny. I would seek a land where there were ample metal and mineral resources, a good source of timber, and a population that had not been depleted of its soldiery by past wars. Then I would do my very best to cast suspicion elsewhere, so that no one would take too close a look at what comings and goings there might be in my own lands.”

This was such an apt description of Hearthome that Bryessidan felt himself studying the uncomfortable emissary more closely. Although quite likely guiltless, both Kembrel and the resident ambassador from Hearthome shifted uncomfortably. Loris Ambler smiled too sweetly and continued her monologue into a room hushed with the doubled silences of personal interest and fear that speaking might draw suspicion to oneself.

“I did say that there were two fairly easy ways the Nexans might acquire what they lack. Alliance with a gate-holding land on the established network is the first. The second is simpler. They could open gates until they located a land where what they need is available. Remember how startled we all were when Veztressidan’s armies suddenly swelled by the addition of those dark-skinned peoples? The Tey-yo, I think they were called. Most of us had never seen their like. Some of our lands retained tales of their existence from the days of the sorcerer monarchs, but that’s not the same.

“What is to keep the Nexans from doing something similar? I have been to the Nexus Islands on an inspection tour. I know many of you have done the same. Remember all those structures containing gates that had not yet been opened? Remember how the Spell Wielders reported their interest in someday gathering the resources to reconstruct the entire network? Who is to say that in their explorations they have not found some people interested in expansion?”

A chill silence met this announcement; then Bryessidan broke in with what he hoped was the voice of reason.

“I agree that both these scenarios are well reasoned, and quite possible. However, we should remember the limitations of the gates, as well as their powers. To the best of my knowledge, no more than two living creatures at a time may pass through any gate. True, the pause between passages is not long, but even so, I cannot believe more than two or perhaps four could pass before alarm would be cried.

“My father’s advantage.” Bryessidan continued, hoping his words would be taken for matter-of-fact analysis and not floating, “was that none of the lands into which he and his allies opened gates were aware of what was happening. In most cases, the gates were in structures that were locked and shuttered. Many had not been opened since the days when querinalo thinned the ranks of the sorcerers, and the gates were sealed until the crisis had passed and business as usual could be resumed. In time, they were forgotten, and the sealed structures were either declared off-limits or their original purpose was forgotten and they were turned to other uses.”

King Hurwin gave one of his belly laughs. “The one in my land, as I recall, had been turned into a barn for sheltering dairy cattle in winter. We were unprepared for armed warriors emerging from among the cows.”

“precisely,” Bryessidan said, grateful for his father-in-law’s support, even while he wondered what price would be extracted for those cheery words. “The Nexans cannot expect to have that advantage. What good would come from recruiting even vast armies if we will see them as they arrive’?”

Bryessidan was pleased to see nods of agreement and a certain amount of general relaxation.

Wantoniala, the emissary from far Tishiolo across the eastern mountains, commented, “Certainly my own land has taken precautions to secure our gate. Any invader might find a certain irony that our security is patterned after what our spellcasters observed when balked upon arrival at the Nexus Islands.”

Other of the newly arrived emissaries hastened to comment that similar precautions had been taken in their own lands. Bryessidan had noticed that the emissaries were more likely to speak than the resident ambassadors. This made sense, since they were the ones who had been in more recent touch with their rulers and so could answer more appropriately.

Before the discussion could veer off in the direction of which techniques were best, Bryessidan thumped the table to call the meeting back to order.

Predictably, Kembrel Speaker, still stinging over his treatment earlier, was the one to pour vinegar into the sweetened mood.

“Very good,” he said, twisting his lips into the sort of smile people make when they’ve just bitten into a sour apple. “We are safe, just mildly inconvenienced by the gates being shut down. Shall we wait a few days, see what happens? We might send an embassy across, two people at a time, per gate, of course. We might say, ‘Excuse me, gentles, but when might we expect gate service to resume? You see, we have perishable goods we need to ship and my wifey wanted to take the children to visit the folks.’”

They do have good spies, don’t they?
Bryessidan thought wryly.

Kembrel paused, then leaned forward, elbows on the table, almost as if he were about to jump to his feet.

“But haven’t we rather overlooked a key resource the Nexans have? One we cannot match by their own design?”

Bryessidan watched as expressions shifted from confusion or neutrality to understanding. Kembrel continued on relentlessly, stating what everyone must be thinking.

“They have a plethora of Once Dead … both those with highly specialized talents and spellcasters. After the Veztressidan incident, we were all too glad to be rid of them, to think of them as exiled and dependent. They were for a while, but ten years is a long, long time. Ten years is sufficient time to stockpile resources, to open new gates, to train followers about whom we know little or nothing.”

Laloreezo of u-Chival interrupted before Kembrel could heighten the intensity of his harangue.

“You forget, sir, that we had to make a compromise with the Once Dead. Granting them the Nexus Islands was the only way we could convince them to moderate their alliance with King Veztressidan.”

Kembrel nodded. “That’s right. It was the best decision at that time, for those situations. I was one of those who signed the agreement. I would not have done so if I had not believed it was the best solution for us all. When battled and beleaguered, one thinks about ending the war promptly, before further loss or damage is incurred.”

Or,
Bryessidan thought,
before you actually need to commit more than a token force to the field. Your queen was more interested in indignation and reparations than actually encouraging conquest of the Mires. I remember that, and I was hardly more than a boy. I am sure that others here remember much more clearly.

But if they did remember, no one chose to comment, and Kembrel Speaker continued with loud eloquence. “Visions of what may happen ten years later are not so clear—or more accurately, there are many visions, and you cannot tell which one will come to fruition. At the time, most imagined the Nexans would scrape out a living trading gate service for necessities. That they so often requested goods rather than coin reinforced the impression that they were a threadbare community simply scraping by. I wonder now … I wonder …”

Skilled rhetorician that he was, Kembrel Speaker did not state exactly what it was he wondered, but left each listener’s imagination to color in with his or her own private fears.

Bryessidan spoke with a flat bluntness he hoped would stop the wilder imaginings. “So, you think the Spell Wielders may have found some other way to harm us, some route that does not involve the gates.”

“I think it is a possibility we cannot overlook.”

Kidisdu Laloreezo spoke, his voice tight and nervous.

“What about the Once Dead who did not join the Nexans, but remained to serve on this side of the gates? Can we trust them? Do you believe we cannot? Is that why they are not part of this meeting, although they might know best what we could expect?”

Bryessidan dammed the flood of questions by raising one hand. “I thought we might sort out less esoteric matters first. I, for one, trust my resident Once Dead as much as I do any of my advisors.”

That is,
he thought,
not much at all, but no need to tell them that.

“While we have held our reception, the Once Dead have been holding one of their own. I would not be at all surprised if they have discussed many of the same matters.”

In fact, he knew they had, having been given a preliminary report by one of his own spies before calling this more exclusive meeting.

“Shall I call the Once Dead to us so we might ask their opinions?” Bryessidan asked.

There was nervous shuffling, as each man or woman present tried to decide whether summoning the Once Dead would be good policy or an invitation to disaster.

Bryessidan gave a sardonic smile. “How about tomorrow, then? We have already had a long day, and doubtless the report of the Once Dead will be filled with esoterica we would do best to consider with fresh minds and bodies. Perhaps it would be best if we rejoined the larger reception.”

There was general agreement to this, and the various emissaries and ambassadors departed, heads low, faces thoughtful, voices murmuring.

Only King Hurwin lingered. “I see you did not swear them to secrecy.”

“No reason in extracting a useless promise,” Bryessidan said. “My stewards report that most of them brought carrier pigeons, ostensibly to restock the local coveys. One way or another, word will fly, quite literally, with dawn.”

“I agree with your decision,” King Hurwin said. “Nothing is more divisive than swearing politicians to an oath each sifts through lying teeth.”

“So I thought as well,” Bryessidan agreed.

“And the Once Dead?”

“And?”

“Do you sincerely trust them?”

“I think we will do best if we treat them as advisors rather than acting as if we anticipate enmity. I cannot forget that each one could have joined the Nexans, but had reason for preferring some mainland alliance.”

“True.” King Hurwin used heavily muscled forearms to shove himself to his feet. “Let us go join the reception before everyone decides we are conspiring.”

Bryessidan laughed. “As if that hasn’t been decided already, grandfather of my sons and daughters.”

And sage old warrior who arrived speaking of war. I have noticed that for all our talk of peace and compromise, still your prophecy seems all too likely to come true.

IX

  TINIEL WAS CERTAIN something important had happened while they’d been away on the trading trip to Gak.