But what did that really mean?
He knew he should wait, but he also knew he would not sleep until he’d written. So he dipped his pen, and pulled a cut square of scroll-case paper from the little case.
Evred: Your goal sounds worthy, but if I am to wield words as weapons, I need to be on firm ground. Did I just mix metaphors? Blame Princess Kliessin’s Wine Cup. Please tell me precisely what you mean by “establish order.”
As always, it took a day or two for a reply. Evred was far too reserved to write spontaneously, at least to Tau.
How can the words be made more clear? In Sartoran: inaugurate harmony. It seems logical to assume that if the southern world looks to Inda to establish order, they must look to him to maintain it—first in the strait, and then in the harbors. He has sworn before the Jarls to achieve this order, for the good of the southern world. Of all people, Inda will be most scrupulous about establishing our laws and justice, no difference between their people and ours. Everyone under the same law.
Tau sat back, stunned. “Under the same laws?”
He’s ordering Inda to take control of the strait in the name of Iasca Leror.
Tau dashed out and nearly ran into one of Queen Wisthia’s house runners. “Two messengers from the harbor, my lord,” the girl said to Tau.
He forced himself to stop and even to smile. On Tau’s arrival, Wisthia had said, I have instructed the servants to address you as Lord Taumad Dei and to introduce you as the same.
Lord of what? he’d exclaimed, imagining what Jeje would say. I’m not lord of anything.
If you were ten years younger, I would send you to the archive to write down just how many overlapping grants-for-heirs-in-perpetuity your family, in all branches, has had of courtesy titles. Just because you don’t place value on a social advantage, I trust you will not throw one away if people insist on granting it to you. Not if you expect to succeed in the world of diplomacy, which is one layered in symbol and hidden meaning.
Wisthia appeared right behind the servant and dismissed the girl with a touch and a soft word. “Taumad? You appear to be in a trance.” And when Tau’s gaze snapped upward, “When you look like that, you had better speak to me before going anywhere.”
“It’s Evred.” Tau handed her the letter.
When she’d read it through, she tapped it against her palm, her compressed mouth and wide, intense gaze sharpening her resemblance to Evred.
“He means for Inda to take control of the strait,” Tau said in Sartoran, testing the words. “Doesn’t he?”
In answer, Wisthia thrust him inside her chamber and shut the door with her own hands. “The timing is ill,” she said. Then added under her breath, more to herself than to Tau, “I’m afraid it was inevitable.”
“The timing is ill with half the city evacuating?” Tau tipped his head toward the window.
“No, I consider that a removal of problems, but I don’t have to concern myself with Bren’s interrupted trade and revenue. I mean the tension between the princess and the prince is already considerable. How much will it worsen and threaten our own trade?”
Tau made a polite gesture of regret. Despite the social attempts to maintain civilized flow of discourse, all winter long everyone felt the pressure of negotiations going on far away. Bren wanted its supposed allies to come to its defense; the supposed allies did not want to risk their navies in the strait so far from home; Prince Kavna had championed the maritime alliance as Bren’s only hope, and Princess Kliessin did not trust any of them to come to Bren’s defense.
Now, Inda was coming to the rescue of the alliance, if not directly to Bren’s defense . . .
And he was bringing a new threat.
“What do you intend to do?” Wisthia asked.
Tau sighed. “Not quite certain. I know Evred as well as Evred lets anyone know him. He wants Inda to actually take the strait by military force and govern it, but he really is motivated by good intentions.”
“And, being a Marlovan, he would not be able to see that even a benevolent tyranny is still a tyranny.” Wisthia pursed her lips. “All right. There’s no time for more, not that we can do much. As it happens, Guild Fleet Master Chim just sent word that Jeje’s vessel entered the harbor.”
“Jeje,” Tau whispered.
“You had better stir about your business,” Wisthia responded, seeing his anticipation in his tense hand gripping the door latch. “But listen to me first.”
Tau let his hand fall.
“The Venn constitute the biggest problem before us now. Evred’s intentions will have to wait. So you have time and your wits. Evred expects you to explain him to the world. It could be that you are called upon to explain the world to him.”
“But I did,” Tau protested. And winced when the next thought occurred. “I wonder if I’m in some wise to blame? I’ve been trying to be entertaining with my reports . . . maybe exaggerating some of the worst qualities of our fellow diplomats.”
“If they didn’t have those worst qualities, you wouldn’t be able to exaggerate them,” Wisthia said. “I will reflect a little, then attempt to write to Evred myself.”
Tau dug in his pocket and handed her the gold case. “Then you should take this.” When she hesitated, he said, “If Evred wants to communicate with me, or I with him, Inda surely has some means.”
Wisthia accepted the case. Tau smiled and then gave in to impulse and kissed her.
It was a chaste kiss, from a son to a mother. Wisthia colored, laughed, and patted Tau’s cheek. “Go on.”
He whirled his caped coat around his shoulders and left with light step, thinking, Jeje is here.
Behind, Wisthia closed herself in her room. So much to say, and she could give in to impulse and satisfy herself with pages of reasoned prose, but how much of it would he read? Motherhood had taught her that no matter what you say, your children don’t always hear it, and then they don’t always heed what they hear.
Keep it short, she decided.
Still, it took a night and a day of crumpled attempts before she satisfied herself enough to copy out her message in fair:
Evred, my beloved son. No one knows better than I how conscientious you have always been about doing your duty as you perceive it. Let me remind you of a lesson the great Connar Landis wrote: that a king is as good as his word, but a great king knows how to admit to a mistake and finds a way to fix it. If you wish to communicate with me, you have only to write. Taumad has given me this scroll-case, as he knows Inda will have some means of communicating with you.
Your loving mother,
Wisthia
She put it in the case, did the magic, and it was gone.
Chapter Fourteen
THE Vixen lowered sail and anchored near the main dock, a rare privilege. Tau elbowed his way through the small crowd gathered. When Jeje hopped up on the dock, brown and solid and inexpressibly dear, Tau gave a strangled sob of laughter. She looked up, a big grin slashed across her face, and hurled herself into his arms.
They kissed with desperate, gasping passion, right there on the pier, for a few white-hot, ecstatic moments oblivious to the cheers and hoots of sailors, dock-workers, guards, and everyone else around. He hugged her closer because he couldn’t get enough of her smooth skin, her silky short hair that smelled of the sea, of her solid warmth. His knees weakened with tenderness at the growl like a hunting cat deep in her chest. No, it was a purr.
Then she pushed away enough to let a little air between them. “Put that gaff away for later. In my hammock.”
Tau let her go, laughing unsteadily. “Where’s Inda?”
“He’s on the Death. Coming as fast as they can. Vixen is still the fastest thing on the water, save only Skimit. And that’s gone somewhere else.” She jabbed her thumb into the cold east wind. “Inda sent me here ahead, since I lost my gold case thing.” Her gaze took in his beautiful, fashionable clothes, then strayed back to her scout cutter.
“So did I. Mine went overboard the winter after
the war.” Tau caressed her cheek. “No, I am not going to become a duke.”
Jeje smiled up at him, but her brow stayed furrowed. “I was just afraid you’d get mixed up with kings and, you know, like it.” She indicated his caped coat. “Here, let’s go talk to Chim, and . . . whee-yoo! Bren took an even bigger beating than Danai, if this is from that storm last year. They lost the entire rope walk.”
Tau indicated the half-deserted wharf with new storefronts here and there, and piles of brick and stone awaiting rebuilding projects that had been abandoned because of the expected attack. “The people got this end of the harbor sandbagged pretty well. We could feel it coming. But the west end got swept clean.”
“The ghost yards, where the poor live,” Jeje said grimly.
“Well, no one lives there now. The point is the winds were stronger there, and it sits lower. By the time the guards got down to the wa terfront, it was too dangerous to approach. The waves were breaking halfway to Fish-Spine Alley. Your old tavern vanished in the first wave. They’re rebuilding closer to Schooner Hill.”
Over the noise of caulking hammers, sails flapping, bells, the thump of goods being loaded and unloaded, and the halloo of marine voices, Jeje heard clattering and banging in the distance. She hoped some of her old friends had employment and a place to live. But Tau had never known those people, so she just said, “Glad we missed that storm. You and me will catch up soon’s I deliver Inda’s messages to Chim.”
“I’ll get my gear and meet you there.”
Jeje gripped his wrist. “You’re coming back with me?”
“Yes.” He smiled wryly. “My career as a trade envoy is over, at least for now.”
Wisthia was in conference when he arrived. He left his chambers scrupulously neat, his trunks of good clothing labeled and awaiting paid movers to stow, his papers all burned. He was dressed in his old deck clothes, though the shirt was too tight, the inevitable result of crossing Iasca Leror as Inda’s sparring partner and the strenuous exercise he’d performed since, though he hadn’t sparred; Fox will no doubt amend that with bone-crushing vigor, he was thinking as he shut his door.
There was his hostess. “You’re ready to go?”
Tau said, “You’ll find a letter of apology for Princess Kliessin on my desk. It’s a good letter. Has three references to current plays, and I threw in some Old Sartoran allusions when describing her generosity and kindness, not to mention yours. Which is quite appreciated, by the way. I thank you for everything.”
“Fare well,” Wisthia said.
He hoisted his gear bag over his shoulder, spoke to each servant (handing them a handsome vail) and then left.
He hitched his gear bag more securely as a cold, wet wind straight off the water buffeted him on Dock Street. How much did traffic block winds, he wondered, looking around the mostly empty street. Even in winter, under ordinary circumstances, it was usually thronged.
He reached the Fleet Guild building to find it ringed with guards. Not just the city guard, but the fellows in burnt orange with the tall hats: Royal Guards.
They passed him through. Tau entered to find yet more guards, and wide-eyed workers behind the counters self-consciously doing their jobs. The guard captain somewhat ironically waved Tau upstairs to Chim’s office, where he found Princess Kliessin herself seated in Chim’s chair, Chim and Jeje standing in front of the desk. There were no guards in the room, just the two posted outside the door.
They shut Tau in, and he heard them take up stance outside the office.
“I should think you could afford a better chair than this,” Kliessin said to Chim, thumping the arm with her fist. “There is no comfortable way to sit.”
“Makes me work faster, yer highness,” Chim said.
Kliessin gave a proper princess sniff, then turned on Tau. “And here’s our envoy. What’s your excuse, my lord?”
“Excuse for what, you highness?” Tau bowed as if he still wore his velvets, his manner formal.
“For being here, in those clothes.”
“I am going to join Inda’s fleet,” he said, as if that ought to be obvious.
“Which is going where?” Kliessin had been extremely angry ever since the discovery that the so-called Sartoran Alliance was abandoning Bren. Tau had not been present when the foreign diplomats were forced to admit the truth to her, after weeks of sumptuous parties and compliment-thick hedging; Wisthia had encouraged him to stay home, emphasizing to all that he had nothing to do with the decision.
“Who ordered you to leave? That horse-riding king over the mountains?”
He felt the weight of all three gazes. Explain Evred to the world . . . “Evred-Harvaldar directed me to serve as Inda’s aide.”
Kliessin struck the battered chair arm with her palm. “Excellent. So tell me exactly what that means. Do you speak for the Marlovan king, or for your Inda, or both?”
Tau grimaced. “I can’t speak for Inda as I have not yet seen him. It’s been several years since we had any communication.”
“You’re beginning to sound like those damned sugar-mouths from Everon and the rest.”
“I really haven’t.”
“He hasn’t,” Jeje cut in. “He doesn’t even know what I just told you, about Inda saying you should surrender if you have to, but postpone and delay and argue as much as you can beforehand.”
“Inda said that?” Tau asked Jeje.
“Yep. Says don’t waste lives. Stick it a few months until we sweep the strait clean of ’em.” Jeje faced the princess. “Your other ambassadors ought to have told you by now that the alliance is gathering at The Fangs.”
“I have been informed about this putative alliance,” Kliessin said, her expression wry. “But so far, all it’s done is sail around somewhere east and talk. No one sees fit to actually aid us. And yet they want my little navy to reinforce them.”
“Inda says that’s our strongest position, at The Fangs,” Jeje stated.
“Which brings me to him. What concessions does your Inda expect from us?”
“Nothing.” Jeje shrugged, her indifference plain.
Kliessin turned to Tau, who was, as she expected, as unreadable as he was beautiful. “And? You’ll just tell me again that you haven’t seen Inda.” She sighed. “Look, I know you two mean well, or we would not be here so comfortably. You, Jeje sa Jeje, I know are as politically naive as it’s possible to be. Lord Taumad, you are not. But I have respected your good intentions, so let’s not fence words. This is what I want. If your Inda Elgar steps on my dock, then within a watch he had better swear before my father or brother or me that he will not attempt any interference with my kingdom whatsoever, and that his authority over my navy—my navy, not his—extends only to the end of this conflict with the Venn.”
Tau’s chest had gone tight. He met her steady gaze, flicked a sideways look at Jeje, whose expression was uneasy, and wily old Chim pursed his lips.
“Inda is not coming ashore,” Chim said. “Sailing straight past, Jeje sez. Got to get east as fast as he can. With us or without us. I say ‘we’ because that was always my purpose, to command the Guild Fleet. The five guilds have put together their fleet, and though ye took some of ’em, yer highness, there are still Guild ships from Ymar, Everon, and our other signatories gathering out at The Fangs. One thing I do know, it’s gonna take every ship we can find to confront them damn vinegar-pisses.”
“And Elgar the Fox is to lead this armada.” Kliessin spoke slowly, her eyes narrowed. “Guild Mistress Perran thinks he’s risking his life for nothing more than goodwill. The Everoneth believe he wants to establish a seagoing empire. I want to know the truth.”
And a lie came to Tau’s lips, easy and mild after months of diplomatic dodges, “Inda won’t want to touch land. He knows how threatened everyone feels, how ambivalent about his past.”
Kliessin’s brow, a straight dark line unexpectedly like Jeje’s, lifted, then furrowed. “How do you know that? You just told me you haven’t had communication
with him in years.”
“No. But I know him.”
Jeje nodded slowly. “It’s true. Inda never wanted anything to do with any kings. Except that Marlovan one. On account of them being friends when they were little.”
Kliessin smacked her hands down on the chair arms again, but this time with an air of decision. “All right. Will you two swear to me that you will carry this message to him, just as I spoke it?”
Jeje shrugged again. “Sure. But it’s a waste of time, he doesn’t want anything to do with—”
“Lord Taumad?” the princess cut across Jeje.
Diplomacy was like a play in real life, Tau had once told Evred. He could hear the echo of his own voice, sickening in its careless self-satisfaction. Diplomacy is like a play. I’m good at plays.
“I promise to carry your words to Inda exactly as spoken.” And there was the thrill of danger, of risk. Tau recognized it with a weird amalgam of excitement and self-hatred. Human beings love the hunt an old Colendi play observed through the character of a drawling duke. And what is better to hunt than the hunter?
Kliessin sat back. “Then you may go. Chim, you’ll take my message to High Admiral Brasvac. Verbal orders. I’ll have nothing in writing, because officially my father is too ill to consider the Venn proposal, and I am going to twist and hedge and dance as hard as I can to put off committing myself, exactly as Indavun Algraveer requested.” Her smile was sour. “His orders happen to coincide with my plans. So far. I want to preserve lives, and livelihood. If the biggest city in the kingdom was not this harbor, who knows what we might have done?”
Tau bowed.
“So. Hurry along. Set sail. Carry your messages. I’ll wait for an assurance either in person or in his own writing from your commander stating his agreement to my terms.” Kliessin thumped her fist on the arm of the chair. “But if he walks on my shore without it, I’ll order my Guard to shoot him where he stands.”
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