by Terry Brooks
Most had decided immediately that the suggestion Belladrin Rish had offered made good sense—even if she hadn’t been the one to propose it. The attendant guilt she experienced at having won them over was something she would have to live with, because the charade she was orchestrating would see them all dead. Every last one of them.
At the moment, her suggestion of a way to move forward seemed a choice they could live with. Only later would they understand that this decision would mean the exact opposite.
TWELVE
Once she had their reluctant permission to act on the Skaar king’s offer of a truce, Belladrin gave them no time to change their minds. She did not want to risk anyone rethinking their agreement to her plan and trying to persuade the others to back out, so she immediately dispatched a messenger with a handwritten note for Cor d’Amphere, requesting a meeting at the Skaar encampment by sunset that very day. She claimed she was writing him at the Prime Minister’s behest because he had fallen ill, and so she, as his personal aide, would attend in his place. Three senior Federation commanders, all of whom were invested with the authority to act on his behalf, would accompany her. The message ended by asking for a written promise of safe passage for the negotiators.
On the surface, the contents seemed straightforward enough, but in reality they conveyed much more than what they revealed on the surface. They told Cor d’Amphere that Ketter Vause was dead. They did not reveal Kol’Dre’s fate, but that would come later. They let the Skaar king know Belladrin had succeeded in the plan he had devised for ridding him of any further serious threat from the Federation. Most important, they assured him everything he sought to achieve was going the way he had hoped.
Again, her sense of guilt surfaced, but she tamped it down. It grew more difficult each time to do this, but she understood her situation and what it required of her. Duty sometimes required restraint. It was necessarily so here.
She promised the messenger before he departed that no harm would befall him by going into the Skaar encampment, and ordered him to wait for the Skaar king to provide him with a written reply.
But she was not out of the woods yet. Aarcobin and a few others demanded to be shown the body of the dead assassin, just to verify that what she had told them was accurate. Substitute true for accurate, and you understood their intentions. To avoid suspicion, she took them to where Kol’Dre had been wrapped for burial, along with Ketter Vause, and ordered the bodies unwrapped for viewing. What they saw was what she hoped they would see. Ketter Vause wore his death mask and the marks of his killing. His assassin was darkly complected, his hair was brown rather than blond, his eyes a cinnamon shade rather than blue, and his overall appearance nothing like that of the Skaar they had found among the dead attackers. He was also wearing a Federation uniform, as she had said. A cursory glance was all it took to persuade them that she had told the truth. To all appearances, the assassin did not appear to be a Skaar, and whether he was a Southlander and a soldier in the Federation army or someone else entirely was strictly a matter of conjecture.
It made her smile to hear their muttered responses and see the shaking of their heads as they trooped away. People were so easily fooled. All you had to do was give them a reason to believe something and they would almost always do so. It was the result she had been working toward right from the beginning, but it had required a complex and fluid combination of maneuvers only she could manage.
At least, that was how she saw it. Because that was the way she had managed to stay alive this long.
From the moment she had first appeared before Ketter Vause to apply for the position of personal assistant, she had known she could manipulate him. She was young and pretty, and he was clearly drawn to her. She was also confident and intelligent and willing to work hard and do what she was told. She had embellished her false story with just enough eagerness to learn at the feet of a master of leadership and success. She included a dab of flattery and a blushing dismissal of her own abilities as being anywhere near as significant as his. She provided a quick and assured reply to a hypothetical question about how she might handle a difficult situation to cap things off.
She projected a pleasant personality.
She offered the promise of being a loyal follower.
She gave evidence of the depth of her commitment.
She flattered him by insisting only he could teach her to be anything close to the politician he was.
It was what she did best—and was exactly what she had shown Cor d’Amphere she could do when she sought to save her father’s life eight years earlier. Her assignment to act as the king’s personal Penetrator would have placed her at odds with his daughter and Kol’Dre, but she was not required to encounter them directly and risk exposing herself, nor would she be asked to do so. She was there to provide the Skaar king with his own, separate source of information, and she would never be asked to report to anyone else.
And now, any concerns she might have harbored over a chance encounter with either one were over. Ajin was banished and Kol’Dre was dead at her hands. Besides, she was too deeply involved in the king’s scheme to bother with any of that.
“Are you sure you know what you are doing?” Choten Benz asked her once the others had gone.
She gave him a look. “You seemed ready enough to support me. Have you changed your mind?”
The other’s hard features tightened, but he shook his head. “Unless I discover I was mistaken. Don’t let that happen.”
“Just do what you promised,” she snapped. “Stand with me. Watch my back. Give me your support against these stiff-necked fools.”
She had almost wandered over a border that she wouldn’t have been able to cross back from, so she gave him a smile. “Nothing is going to happen that you don’t already know. We will speak with the Skaar king. We will listen to what he has to say. Then we will discuss it and make a decision. If he says the right things, and we can sign an agreement to that effect, we should be fine. After all, the attacks launched against us were provoked, weren’t they? Didn’t we go after them first?”
“I’m not so sure about that. We might never know. But I agree with the rest. Just know that if you are playing a game, I will drop you as fast as the others.”
She smiled. “Oh, I know that much about you. But I won’t give you cause.”
“Best not, Belladrin. I am not the forgiving type.” Then he turned and went out with the others.
She had decided right away she would have to watch him and perhaps even eliminate him entirely if he proved to be too troublesome. Or if he somehow guessed the real truth about her, which up to now he hadn’t.
An uneasiness crept into her thoughts. Things weren’t the same anymore. With Ketter Vause dead, everything was changing. She wasn’t the same. Having killed one man, she was already thinking she might have to kill another, and she was fully prepared to do so. But not without strong doubts. The guilt was overwhelming already, and she was not sure she could handle any more. She felt an anger toward Cor d’Amphere for bringing her to this. She knew she had to share responsibility; she had offered to serve him. But the Skaar king had manipulated her until she felt used up. She remembered herself as a girl and wondered how she had managed to discard so much of who she once was. Rationally, she understood it. Emotionally, she was beginning to wonder what would become of her.
* * *
—
But there wasn’t much time to think about it or much reason to bother. She was stuck in a situation of her own making and she had to deal with how matters were, not how she would like them to be.
The messenger she had dispatched returned unharmed and with a response from the Skaar king, inviting her and her three companions to attend him as requested at sunset. In the hours before departing, she arranged for the burial of both Ketter Vause and Kol’Dre. There was griping about tradition and proper treatment for a Prime Minister, but s
he was quick to brush it off by pointing out that Vause was being buried in the field, like any other fallen soldier.
Aarcobin and Messit, who came with a few others in tow, suggested that flying Ketter Vause home and allowing him to be buried there would be more honorable and more in keeping with tradition.
“He was not a common soldier,” Aarcobin argued. “He was a Prime Minister of the Federation and a great statesman. He deserves to be carried back to his family and laid in state in his coffin and given full honors. You deny him all of that by hauling him away to some hole in the woods!”
Belladrin almost laughed out loud. This was the same man who could barely stand to be in the same room with Vause—who had thought him an incompetent statesman and an idiot. There had been little love lost between the two, and claims of affront on a pretense of respect were ridiculous.
“Consider this,” she replied calmly. “Someone would have to accompany him home and act at spokesman for the rest of us. This would mean facing the Coalition Council with the news that, while accomplishing nothing in the field other than fighting a battle and losing a great number of men, we have allowed our Prime Minister to be assassinated. But if we return home with an agreement for a truce, we can offer some good news that will help mitigate the bad.”
“He could be kept with us until then,” Messit chimed in.
She looked at him coldly. “We could be here for days, Commander. What do you think the body would smell like after a week?”
So the matter had been dropped and the hours had passed, and as the sun dropped toward the jagged, mountainous line of the horizon, the four negotiators set forth. There was clear tension among them—in part because the senior commanders did not much care for either Benz or Belladrin, and in part because all four of them were flying right into the lion’s den. There was no guarantee that Cor d’Amphere would honor the promise of safe passage and allow them to fly out again, so the risk they were taking was clear.
Except for Belladrin, who risked nothing. She already knew exactly what was going to happen, so for her there was no uncertainty. By the time this day was ended, the fates of the three with her—and the remainder of the Federation army advance force—would have been settled.
And with them, in all likelihood, the fates of all the peoples of the Four Lands.
No one talked during the flight until they had almost arrived. At that point, with the enemy camp in sight, Aarcobin reminded the others of his senior status in the Federation army and announced that he would be handling the negotiation. It would be best if the others made it a point to agree with him, as a strong show of support would give them the best chance of succeeding in their efforts.
Belladrin said nothing. She had encountered this sort of behavior from Lieutenant Fillian when she traveled to the Dwarf village of Crackenrood. Such blowhards could always be undone in the moment, and there was no point in saying anything now. Plus, she already knew how things were going to proceed, so there was no reason to argue. He would discover the truth for himself quickly enough.
Still wrapped in silence and wariness, they landed their airship on a designated open space near the foothills of the Dragon’s Teeth, where they disembarked to be met by a handful of Skaar soldiers and relieved of their weapons.
“You will need to be blindfolded, as well,” the leader of the escort advised.
“Isn’t this supposed to be a peaceful meeting?” Aarcobin demanded at once.
The soldier smiled. “Your previous visit was a surprise attack on our camp, Commander. You would have seen us wiped out to the last man. I think you might understand our precautions, given your past behavior.”
Aarcobin glowered but said nothing more as he and his companions were blindfolded. With a soldier positioned to guide each of them safely, they were marched a rather long distance over rough terrain and into what was easily discerned as a shaded woods, to a place where the blindfolds were removed and they were permitted to see again. What they discovered was a tented camp too small in size to be of service to more than a few dozen Skaar. They stood around for a few moments in the company of their escorts, then Cor d’Amphere abruptly emerged from one of the tents and walked over.
He glanced from one face to another. “Belladrin Rish?” he addressed her.
“Your Majesty,” she replied.
“Who are your companions?”
She introduced them in turn, but none deigned to address the king formally or offer any sort of verbal recognition. Even Benz stood frozen in place, his expression unreadable, his posture rigid.
The Skaar king looked them over when she had finished and nodded to himself. “Commanders,” he said, “your presence is welcome, but I think I will limit any discussion to your Prime Minister’s personal aide. When I am done with her, she will tell you what I am asking and then you can consider the matter in depth. Until then, this negotiation will be kept to the two of us.”
The three Federation commanders looked at one another. Aarcobin opened his mouth to speak, but the Skaar king silenced him with a gesture and a look.
“Spare yourself the trouble of objecting, Commander,” he said softly. “This is not a point of negotiation. It will be done as I have said, and if you do not approve, you will be taken back to your airship and sent home without any discussion at all.”
“Your Majesty,” Messit began, then faltered when the king’s gaze shifted to him.
“The matter is settled,” Cor d’Amphere stated. “Would Ketter Vause allow you to be present in any discussion if he were here? I think not. He showed no inclination to do so in the past, so we will continue that practice now.” He beckoned for Belladrin to follow and turned back toward the tent. “Come this way, if you please.”
She glanced at her three companions and shrugged. “I will be back to tell you everything. No agreement will be offered until you have heard whatever I have been told. So be patient.”
Then she hurried after the king, leaving the commanders to stew. That, at least, was overwhelmingly satisfying. She had known all along she would end up alone with Cor d’Amphere, and there would be no discussion of an agreement. The king would want to discuss any adjustments she might need to make to the plan he had already settled on.
Still, her stomach churned unpleasantly as she followed the king into his tent. For the Federation, this was the beginning of the end.
* * *
—
Once inside the tent, Cor d’Amphere beckoned her to a chair and then seated himself across from her. “Congratulations. You seem to have won the day.”
“For now.”
“Details, please.”
“There’s not much to tell, Your Majesty. I slept in the tent as we planned. Kol’Dre appeared as expected. I saw him enter, but he did not realize I was watching him. So he proceeded into the sleeping chambers of the Prime Minister and killed him. I was waiting for him on his way out. It was over quickly.”
“You gave him my message? You whispered it in his ear as he was dying? Word for word, as I asked you to?”
“Cor d’Amphere thanks you for your service and bids me tell you it will no longer be required. Did I get it right?”
The king clapped his hands softly. “I wish I could have been there to see it! That self-deluded pretender to the throne. As if he could ever be king! As if I would ever allow him to wed my daughter! What a fool.” He looked closely at her. “But you are not happy about any of this, are you? Your expression gives you away.”
She shook her head. “It is not my place to judge or to question your decisions, my lord.”
He nodded slowly. “You are so tactful, Belladrin. I respect you for that. But you are wise, too. I cannot imagine how either one of us would succeed in this world without the other.”
Belladrin masked a surge of rage, but managed to say placidly enough, “You would be fine on your own, Your M
ajesty.”
The king gave her a long look. “Indeed. Well, to business, then. We will spend some time playing at negotiation so those fools out there will think we are discussing the terms of the truce they expect. What we must do, however, is review where matters will go from here.”
“What do you want me to say?” she asked.
“Tell them what we agreed to before: that we are signing a truce stating we are laying claim to the territory they refer to as the Northland, which then becomes our responsibility. We agree not to venture into the other three lands to lay claim to any part of them, or to attempt to build settlements or homesteads. Any travel we do will be confined to trade. We will bring our people over from their homeland in small groups until we are settled, and we will permit regular visits from a Southland delegation to show we are in compliance.”
He paused. “We will agree to respect their territories as long as they agree to respect ours. The same will be true in our dealings with the other lands and their inhabitants. There will be no encroachment and no overt acts of war so long as we are left alone. Any violations of this agreement will be referred to the appropriate Skaar and Federation authorities to be dealt with accordingly.”
He paused again. “Is that everything?”
She nodded. “I think so.”
“The proposed agreement of truce is already prepared.” He rose and retrieved a multi-page document from a nearby table and handed it to her. “You should read it. Just to be sure. We have time.”
She did as he asked, not rushing the effort. They had to be inside this tent long enough so no one would question that they were actually doing anything. Reading the truce was boring, but it was better than wasting time with small talk. She read it carefully, taking the better part of an hour, then handed it back to him. He shook his head and refused it.
