Wolf's Blood (20 page)

She resolved to speak to Plik before leaving. Otherwise, no matter how quickly she ran, Plik could send a message ahead carried by one of the winged folk, and she would find more questions waiting her for upon her arrival.

Aloud all she said was “On foot, then on boat. Before I go, I will carry messages for Harjeedian if he wishes. To his temple, to his sister. I think is best if I not try to hide my coming. Someone might see boat crossing waters out to Misheemnekuru, and this would then make questions.”

Derian agreed. “You keep saying ‘I.’ Are you going alone then? I thought Blind Seer would be with you.”

Firekeeper glanced at the blue-eyed wolf. “
Do you come with me?
”

“
Oh, yes,
” the wolf replied. “
Someone must take care that the Meddler does not too easily have his way with you.
”

“Blind Seer come, too,” Firekeeper said, but for the first time since the wolf had crossed the Iron Mountains with her five years before, she did not feel comforted by the knowledge that he would be beside her, close as her shadow.

X

  KING BRYESSIDAN ARRANGED that the meeting with the Once Dead would take place midmorning of the day following the general reception.

Tactful inquiries on the part of various members of his staff had made certain that none of the various ambassadorial groups would be offended if asked to keep their contingent to two people. This meant that the meeting might actually provide productive discussion. However, Bryessidan wouldn’t count on it. According to his spies, flurries of carrier pigeons had taken off from just about every embassy with the coming of dawn. Probably, those newly arrived emissaries from countries more than a few days’ ride distant had been given guidelines on what decisions they could and could not make. However, those such as Tishiolo and u-Chival would doubtless need to await instructions.

Seating for the gathering had been one of those protocol nightmares that demanded a meeting which had gone into the late hours of the night before. The deliberately informal arrangement of the previous night would not work again, since there would certainly be those who would jockey for what they perceived as favorable positions. The seat at the table’s foot, where King Hurwin had been the night before, would surely be hotly contested.

Another protocol complication was offered by the attendance of the Once Dead. Were they to be treated as members of the meeting, or as experts offering testimony? Should they be seated with the contingent from the land in which they resided, or in their own group? Each option had its own tactical advantages.

Various suggestions were made and rejected until a very tired junior steward suggested, “Even though we’re going to need a larger room, I suggest that we have each group sit where they did last night. From what I can see, no one ended up right next to someone they couldn’t stand. No one can complain about being given a seat he or she originally chose.”

Bryessidan nodded. “We’ll do that. As for the Once Dead, after reviewing all the proposals, I think we’d do best treating them as experts giving testimony. If we seat them as a group, they’ll be inclined to view themselves as a separate nation. If we seat them with the nation in which they have residence, then they’ll certainly worry about what their sponsor wants. This way, we’re treating them as what they are: specialized advisors. This may insult one or two, but right now I’m too tired to care.”

He pushed back his chair and rose, only to be interrupted by his own senior steward.

“Your Majesty we haven’t settled the question of whether or not we should take precautions against treachery on the part of the Once Dead.”

Bryessidan knew what the man was referring to. The matter had come up earlier and been discussed at great length.

“You mean the fact that we’ll have important representatives—and in a few cases rulers—of several allied nations crowded into a relatively small room with a group of potentially dangerous spellcasters.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. That’s exactly the matter to which I am referring.”

“We have no choice but to trust the Once Dead,” Bryessidan said. “However, we’ll take some polite precautions. Make sure the ‘ceremonial’ guards that would be present in any case are bearing cold-forged iron weapons rather than steel. We have some in the armory. Dig them out and have them sharpened. They won’t hold an edge as well, but the presence of iron will make spellcasting more difficult.”

“The Once Dead might sense this and take offense.” the junior steward said.

“Right now,” Bryessidan said. “I’m too tired to care. Let them. Let everyone get offended and go home and deal with this on their own. They came here. They threw this problem in my lap. They all but accused me of treachery and treaty breaking. It’s my turn to risk offending someone. Does anyone have any objections?”

If there were, the gathered stewards and ministers were too aware of their king’s mood to raise them.

Bryessidan moved toward the door, pausing to point sharply at four of the figures who had politely risen to their feet.

“You and you and you and you, I hereby command you to go and get some sleep. I’m going to need you alert and clearthinking by midmorning tomorrow. Assign a couple of your subordinates to deal with those arrangements that will keep them up all night.”

He wheeled and looked at the middle-aged woman who was the very effective head of his spy service.

“You make sure my order is obeyed. If I hear that my order has been disobeyed, there are going to be demotions across the board. Training competent subordinates is part of your job. Understood?”

His glare was met by nods and a few sheepish smiles.

“Good. Thank you for your intellige it contributions. See you in the morning.”

DESPITE THE HASTY planning—or perhaps because of it—the meeting the next morning started with minimal problems. A few ambassadors tried to pretend that they hadn’t understood that the limitation on the size of their contingents didn’t include secretaries or other flunkies. A few protested the separation of the Once Dead from the rest. Others tried to shift seats for some obscure reason or another.

Bryessidan left his stewards to deal with this, knowing they would find following orders easier if he was not present in person for the various diplomats to appeal to.

When the appointed time came. Bryessidan arrived promptly, stood on the most minimal ceremony possible, and opened the meeting by standing. A hush fell instantly, and into that Bryessidan spoke.

“I’m not going to make any speeches. I’m not going to waste time thanking you for being here or telling you how grateful I am. Last night we discussed why we are here and our concerns regarding the current situation. This morning’s meeting is an attempt to acquire answers to some of the questions we raised. If there are any other matters you would like to discuss, make a note of them and we will deal with them later, if such proves necessary.”

No one offered comment, for which Bryessidan was grateful.

“Steward, have the Once Dead shown in so they might advise us.”

A semicircle of chairs had been set on a raised dais at the same end as Bryessidan’s own seat, thus avoiding the risk of insulting someone or other by forcing them to turn. Bryessidan shoved his own chair back so that he could face either the dais or the assembled dignitaries with equivalent ease.

The Once Dead filed in, each dressed in the gaudy attire typical of their calling. A few gave the impassive “ceremonial” guard sharp glances. and Bryessidan guessed that these were sensitive enough to the presence of iron that they sensed it. even though weapons were sheathed and spear points held high.

Bryessidan permitted the Once Dead to seat themselves before addressing them.

“Thank you for coming to advise us on this complex matter. In anticipation of making this meeting as efficient as possible, I asked that you appoint one or two of your number who could speak for the whole on general matters. Have you done so?”

Amelo Soapwort rose and said. “Yes, Your Majesty. Rae of Pelland and I have that honor.”

Rae of Pelland was a short woman whose age and build were both concealed by her elaborate yellow robes embroidered with a weird sigils worked in a variety of clashing colors.

Bryessidan admired Amelo for his choice of associate. Pelland had once been the name given to the landmass that had now fragmented into four independent nations. Rule’s Right, the original capital, had been near the northern edge, and the people there—especially those who resided in the city itself—managed to extract a degree of grudging deference from their neighbors.

In choosing Rae, Amelo had turned that respect to his king’s service, or at least so Bryessidan hoped.

“Very good” was all Bryessidan said aloud. He heard rustling among the assembled diplomats, but did not need to turn to see who was reacting. His stewards had made certain a highly polished ornamental shield was placed where it served as an admirable mirror. “Now, I wish you all to understand that Amelo and Rae are not the only members of the Once Dead permitted to speak. Any of them may offer an opinion if they feel some essential point has been overlooked. However, the appointment of official speakers should eliminate the need of speech by those who would be speaking only because they fear that otherwise they might be overlooked.”

There was a chuckle at this, from both elements in the room. Bryessidan was pleased to sense a general relaxation of tension. Who knew? A few delegates might even hold their tongues rather than risking being thought blabbermouths. He doubted it, but it was a pleasant idea.

Bryessidan turned to face the delegates. “This gathering has occurred because over the last few moonspans the gates have been blocked. Do we need a summary of those events?”

No one requested such, and Bryessidan continued. “Very well. Could we hear what theories you Once Dead have evolved to explain this altered situation?”

Rae rose.

“Most honored auditors, my associates in the Art and I first wish you to be most assured that not a one of us had any idea that this was about to happen.”

Kembrel Speaker of Hearthome interrupted with gruff grumpiness. “I don’t see how this could be. I know that use of the gates for trade was limited by expense, but surely it was not limited for you of the Once Dead. You know the spells to make the gates work. What’s to stop you?”

Rae gave a very tight little smile. “Honored One, you say ‘you of the Once Dead’ as if we are one people, of one mind. If you but consider, you will see that this cannot have been so. Even before the Reprieve, we were very different peoples—differences that went beyond nationality to matters far deeper, to considerations of religion, family structures, personal codes of behavior. Before the Reprieve, there was one essential thing that bridged all these differences, one thing we shared. In our homelands, we were considered criminal monsters, sometimes killed outright, other times merely ostracized and forced to wear bands of iron about our wrists and brows.”

The bitterness in Rae’s tone was undisguised, and Bryessidan saw in his polished shield how many of the delegates shifted uneasily, knowing the fitness of her rebuke, taking it without protest because they needed what the Once Dead could offer.

Not all the Once Dead were comfortable with Rae’s expression of bitterness, perhaps fearing retribution at some future date, but for now they held their peace.

As in the days of which Rae speaks
, Bryessidan thought,
we are bound by a common need. I must not forget that. This alliance is fragile, barely forged, and repercussions for an unwise word or act may come home to me or my children.

Rae pretended not to notice the varied reactions, but went on, her attitude part that of a storyteller, part that of a minister giving a report.

“Those conditions drove many of us to take refuge beneath the shield of King Veztressidan. None of us need recap what happened then, or how it ended, but with King Veztressidan’s surrender we Once Dead were each forced to make a decision. Should we accept the invitation of one of the suddenly welcoming nations or should we join forces with those who were taking control of the Nexus Islands? All of us here chose for one reason or another not to join the Nexans.

“I will not pretend that we do not have ties to them, ties of friendship or long association or sometimes blood relation. However, so do each of you with people from other lands. Does that mean you think of yourself as ‘we diplomats’ rather than as members of your homeland? I think not.”

Kembrel Speaker looked as if he might bluster, but something—Bryessidan was willing to bet a skillfully placed kick on the ankle from the Hearthome ambassador—made him hold his tongue.

Rae permitted herself a tiny smile. “Ten years is a long time. Ten years transforms an infant into a youth ready to be apprenticed. In ten years, a pup becomes a stiff old dog. In ten years, alliances shift and what were close associations become strained. So it has been for those of us Once Dead who chose not to become residents of the Nexus Islands, in regard to the Nexans themselves. Time and distance played their part, but the primary reason for this estrangement is that over the years the Nexans have come to be ruled by those among them who are …”