by John Marco
“We’ll talk, my lord,” she said finally. “In a while.”
Surprised, Ravel had to stop himself from pushing her. She was a silly woman, this Diamond Queen, obviously preoccupied with fun and pretty things. Ravel cultivated his patience. With a snap of his fingers he summoned a serving girl, who placed a platter of gravied meats under his nose for inspection. Ravel retrieved his fork and dragged slices of the meat onto his plate. A teenaged boy refilled his wine glass. The baron settled back into his chair. He made small talk with the queen, complimenting her on her good taste and the remarkable way she had managed to bring so many fine foods to such a desolate place. At this Jazana Carr sniffed. She told him with a wan smile that Hanging Man fortress was not really remote.
“If you have money, nothing is remote,” she said. “You must know that, Lord Ravel. You are a man of means, after all.”
“True,” Ravel replied. “I bring the best spices across the continent for my kitchens, the best wines, the best oils. Anything I want. The cost is unimportant.”
Jazana Carr raised her glass to him. “People like us should have no concern of such things.”
Like us. The phrase irked Ravel.
“You are indeed wealthy, my lady. This celebration proves that. Still, it must be very expensive for you.”
The queen shrugged. “I suppose.”
Again she turned to the tumblers, who had been joined by an obnoxious juggler who took four plates off the dais and began tossing them into the air. The crowd cheered and so did Jazana Carr, but not Ravel. The baron looked around the room and considered the expenses. How many soldiers were there in Hanging Man, he wondered? And how much did it cost to feed them all? Just the transport fees alone should have been ruinous.
A ruse, he decided. Her ease at paying for such grand opera was a pretense. It could not be anything else. Almost unconsciously he stretched out his hand, laying it across the table near Jazana Carr so that she could see his many rings. She glanced down at his hand for a moment, but only because it distracted her. Still, he seized the moment.
“Ah, you admire the rings,” he said. He wiggled his fingers and smiled. “I know you’re an expert on gems, my lady. Here . . .” He slipped a ring off his index finger, a fat band of gold with an enormous diamond. “Tell me what you think of this.”
Jazana Carr raised her eyebrows politely. “Oh, yes, it’s very nice,” she purred. “Diamonds with cuts like that are from Marn. We don’t do that cut in Norvor. Look, let me show you the difference . . .”
Now she proceeded to slip off a ring, this one larger than Ravel’s with an even more stunning diamond. “Here, you see?” With her long fingernail she pointed out the differences. “Mine is Norvan. See how fine the cut is? Facets like that reflect more light.”
“Mine came from a Marnan duke,” said Ravel. “You may have it if you like.”
The hint of a crack appeared on the lady’s alabaster face. “You’re very kind, Baron. I think, though, that I have enough diamonds.”
Ravel pushed the ring closer to her. “Please, my lady, take it. It is nothing to me. If I wanted a hundred like it I could snap my fingers and make it so.”
“Yes,” drawled the queen, “I’m sure you could.” Still, she left the ring there on the table, right next to her own. Her sparkling eyes regarded Ravel peculiarly. “You seem eager to talk about wealth, my lord. I suppose it is always so with great men of business like yourself.”
“Forgive me, my lady,” said Ravel. “I have so much of it, you see. It preoccupies me. To run as many holdings as I have requires all my attention, day and night.”
Jazana Carr gritted her pretty teeth. “I see,” she said tightly. “Baron Ravel, perhaps you are right. Perhaps we should talk now and discuss what brought you here.”
“Oh, I agree, my lady. And I assure you, you have nothing to worry about. We’ll come to an arrangement that is generous to you.”
Jazana Carr put down her glass and, with her free hand, took hold of Rodrik Varl’s arm. Varl snickered, shaking his head, and sipped his own drink. Ravel smiled at the queen, confused, as the music and merriment went on around them.
“Baron Ravel,” chuckled Jazana Carr, “have you come here to offer me something?”
Ravel hesitated. “My lady, forgive me. I’m not sure what you’re asking. I came to Hanging Man because you agreed to talk with me.”
“That’s right,” replied the queen. Her smile never waned, and Ravel could not decipher what was amusing her. “Baron, you’re right. I did accept your offer to come speak with me.” She looked at him expectantly. “And?”
“And . . . well, I’m here.” Ravel returned her questioning glance. “Aren’t you going to offer something?”
Jazana turned to Rodrik Varl and started laughing. “You see, Rodrik? What did I tell you? All men are like this!”
Baron Ravel leaned back, wondering what was happening. Next to him, Colonel Bern went stiff.
“My lady,” began Ravel, “the most unpleasant thought occurs to me. Have you brought me here to offer me terms?”
Jazana Carr couldn’t control herself. She put her hand to her mouth to stifle her laughter. “Oh, why, why wouldn’t such a thing occur to you, Baron? Tell me, please, what makes you think you are so much above me?” She picked up the ring he’d left on the table, holding it out before her. “This is supposed to impress me, is it?” She flung the bauble toward the juggler. “For you!” she laughed, urging the entertainer to take it. Ravel watched, mortified by the act.
“Great Fate, woman!” he cried. “I came all this way to hear your offer, to make a just peace with you! Surely you don’t expect me to bend to your demands.”
“No, Baron, you’re right,” said Jazana Carr. “I didn’t expect you to give up so easily. After all, you’re a man, which means you suffer from boundless arrogance. A just peace, you say? What were you going to offer me? What could you possibly offer me, Baron Ravel?”
Ravel growled, “Woman, you misjudge yourself to think yourself my equal.”
“I am not your equal, sir, I am your better.”
“You are a woman! You and your wealth are nothing compared to me!”
The sound of Ravel’s rant silenced the gathering. All at once the many gathered faces turned toward the dais. The music stopped. Jazana Carr twirled a thin finger in the air to start them up again. The musicians obeyed, but the soldiers in the room continued staring. Ravel was breathing hard. His face flushed with embarrassment.
“My lady, you presume too much. I am not a man who yields. I came here in good faith, to strike a bargain that benefits us both.”
“I didn’t bring you here to bargain, Baron Ravel. I brought you here to show you what you’re up against. You’ve seen my men, the army that I have at my fingertips. I should think my intentions are clear, even to a fat-headed merchant like yourself.” Jazana Carr stopped smiling. “I made a promise to an old friend to take Liiria and make it mine. I won’t be stopped by some horse-trader looking to make a deal.” With one finger she flicked the remaining ring on the table under Ravel’s nose. “This is my offer, Baron—this ring for Andola. You may remain governor, and that is all.”
“What?” Ravel erupted. “Witch! This insult is inexcusable!”
“I don’t dicker like a fish monger, Lord Ravel. That ring is the only payment you’ll ever get from me. Take what I’m offering and you’ll live a long, fat life.”
“And if I don’t?” hissed Ravel. “What will you do? What can you possibly do to me?”
Jazana Carr leaned back in her thronelike chair. “Look around.”
“Ha! Yes, I’ve seen your army, woman. A bunch of cutthroats. These men that you’ve massed here; my forces could best them in a day. You think you’re rich? You think you have an army? You have nothing compared to me!”
“I have the means to defeat you, Baron. Somehow, you should force yourself to believe that.”
Ravel struggled with her words. What she was saying was imp
ossible. “My lady, if you mean to test my coffers, you will lose.”
Jazana Carr replied, “I would enjoy that test very much.”
The statement was unbelievable. Ravel could not fathom her conceit. He rose, looking around the chamber. The shocked faces of his men stared back at him.
“This is a trap,” he gasped. “Is that why you brought me here? To force this bargain on me?”
“I told you, my lord, I brought you here for you own good. I intend to take Liiria. I have a point to make, you see, and you’re standing in my way. But it doesn’t have to be that way. You can join me and keep the good life you have.”
“As your lapdog? You must be insane.”
Rodrik Varl rose slowly to his feet. Bern did the same, locking eyes with the mercenary. The silence in the chamber grew deathly. But Jazana Carr remained placid, madly confident.
“You have a choice to make, Baron Ravel, and you need to make it right now. You can’t believe that I’m more powerful than you. I know; I’ve seen so many men like you that I no longer blame them for it. You’re not really at fault. It’s a product of your arrogance. But this is a time for clear thinking. You may be the richest man in the world, Baron Ravel, but I have the resources to bury you. Please believe that, for your own sake.”
“Or what?”
“Or, you can go back to Andola and make ready for war. It won’t do any good, but at least you’ll have the chance to act brave. Men love doing things like that.”
Ravel studied her face and knew she wasn’t bluffing. She was insane, he concluded. “And you’ll just let us walk out of here? Just like that?”
Unbelievably, she replied, “If that’s what you want. Why would I stop you?”
“Because that’s what I would do, kill my enemies. I wouldn’t let them just walk out of here!”
“Perhaps, if I were afraid of you, I would do that,” said Jazana Carr.
The unnerving answer came with a smile. Too surprised to react, Baron Ravel simply stood there for a moment, his eyes darting around the room, waiting for an attack that never came. His own men sat unmoving in their seats. Bern and Rodrik Varl still stared each other down. It was decision time, and Ravel made it quickly.
“You are a wild child, Jazana Carr. You may be something special in this dust bowl called Norvor, but in Liiria you will be nothing but a troublesome gnat. Let my men and me out of here and I’ll prove that to you.”
Gesturing toward the doors, the Diamond Queen said, “It was nice meeting you, Baron Ravel. I’ll see you again.”
Still, Ravel didn’t move.
“This is no deception, Baron,” Jazana Carr assured. “No one is waiting to assassinate you. You’re free to go, all of you. Your horses and carriage are in the yard.”
Ravel looked at Bern, who in turn looked at his waiting men. He told them to rise and they did so. To their astonishment none of the Norvans moved to stop them. Even Jazana Carr remained seated. For a moment Ravel thought of plunging a dagger through her breast and ending her mad existence, but he knew he’d only die in the effort. Slowly, he inched his way off the dais with Bern. Again no one moved. Finally sure that the queen wasn’t bluffing, Ravel stepped into the center of the chamber, told his men to leave, and remained behind while they exited.
“You’re a very brave woman,” he told her. “But you are only a woman, and there are lessons you need to learn. When you come to Andola I will teach you these things.”
“Other men have tried, Baron,” countered Jazana Carr. “But if you want your chance to instruct me, I’ll oblige you.”
Her arrogance was hateful; Ravel could stand no more of it. He thundered out of the chamber with Colonel Bern close at his heels, following his men through the hallways of Hanging Man and into the courtyard. Remarkably, Jazana Carr had kept her word. They found their horses there, fed and watered, along with Ravel’s private carriage. Norvan soldiers remained at their posts, but none moved a finger to stop them.
In the shadow of the great fortress, Baron Ravel climbed into his fancy conveyance and prepared for the long ride home.
17
THE BATTLE OF ANDOLA
“Mountains don’t need men. But men need mountains sometimes, I think.”
From her place across the room, Simah puzzled over the brooding words and did not know what her master meant. Ravel ignored her, continuing to stare out the window of his chamber. In the hills surrounding his city he could see countless pinpoints of fire, lighting up the night like stars. They had come like a noose to encircle Andola, building day by day until he could see nothing else on the horizon. Tonight, though, Baron Ravel knew there would be no more of them. There were enough, finally, so many that even Jazana Carr was satisfied.
“I wish I could go to the mountains,” he said. It was a lament, because his mountains didn’t really exist anymore. They were a memory from his boyhood, and certainly could never be so sweet again. “I would hide there, and when I came down from the mountains this would all be over.”
His slave said nothing. She had said very little in the hours since he had sent for her. At first he had thought she would be a nice diversion, something to take his mind off the coming horror, but his lust had shriveled up and died, and now all he wanted was to stare out the window at the Norvan hordes. He wondered how long his own forces could hold out, and if Colonel Bern could keep his men loyal. He wondered how Jazana Carr had mustered so many troops, marching them so quickly across the border. In little less than a month she had made good on her promise to take away his city.
Simah waited, her eyes heavy with exhaustion. In a few more hours it would be dawn, and so far neither of them had slept at all. Remarkably, Simah did not seem afraid. Though everyone else seemed to tremble at the impending invasion, Simah’s dispassion was constant. Ravel supposed she would relish his destruction. In the month since he had bought her, she had not warmed to him as he had hoped. Yet he adored her, and did not want her to go. She was perhaps the most beautiful thing he owned, and he wanted to look at her before he lost everything. He could see her image in the glass, wavy and confused, unsure why he had brought her here if not to dance or share his bed. She wore a dress that sparkled with gold thread. Her eyes watched him as he gazed out the window, and there was no contempt in her expression.
“Would you leave us?” she said suddenly. Surprised, Ravel turned to look at her. She sat perfectly still in a chair near his vast bed, an undisturbed glass of wine on the table beside her. Not once had she joined him at the window, as if she already knew what had gathered out there to crush them.
“What?”
“If you could, would you go to your mountains and leave us?”
It was her impertinence that made her special, Ravel supposed. He had wanted her to love him, but now she never would.
“The city is surrounded,” he told her.
She nodded. “But if it weren’t, I mean. If you could, would you flee?”
“If I could I would flee and take you with me,” he said. “But there’s nothing to be done for it. You’re as doomed as I am, and for the same reason.”
“My lord?”
“Pride, girl,” Ravel sighed.
His admission surprised Simah. It was very quiet in the room. It was though he could hear the thoughts in her head.
“I’ll give you what you want, Simah,” he said, “and tell you what you so badly want to hear, what all you bitches live for. Your master was wrong, and there’s the proof of it.” He pointed a fat finger toward the window, the long hem of his sleeve snapping. “Look, damn you!”
Simah rose from the chair and glided toward the glass. He put his hand on her back so that she could not pull away, not until she had seen all the horror and had her fill of his failure. Ravel laughed hysterically.
“See them? See them now? It’s what you wanted, I know it. And now you have your wish. Now all of you can see that I am imperfect. It must be grand for you.”
The campfires of the Norvans stretched into
the hills surrounding Andola. Simah’s blue eyes watched them impassively. Her indifference infuriated Ravel. He wanted to strike her. Instead he started weeping.
“There’s not a god worth praying to that can get me out of this now,” he said. He still could not comprehend Jazana Carr’s power. Simah turned to him, her face without pity, and Ravel knew finally that he had never understood women at all, or how fierce they could be. He sneered, “Is it so much better to die than to be in my company? Is that what makes you so contented?”
Simah did not quickly answer him. Since the coming of the Norvans, she had stopped her sycophantic replies.
“My lord, your argument is with the Diamond Queen, not me.”
“She wants me to surrender, girl! Don’t you understand? Well, I will not! I have men, and they will fight. And if need be, they will die.”
“Will they, my lord?”
The question haunted Ravel. Colonel Bern had posted men throughout the city, in the streets and at the bastions. They were soldiers brought and paid for, but what kind of pledge was that? Baron Ravel sat himself down at the edge of his bed. In all his life, he could never recall a time when he’d felt so alone.
“I have been kind to you,” he said softly. “Maybe you don’t think so, but I have. Can you not be kind to me tonight? This will be the last chance you’ll have to show that you do not hate me.” He looked up at her. “Are you so cruel, child?”
Simah—his slave—glanced at the door, then back at him. Clearly, she contemplated leaving. But then pity—another unfathomable trait of womanhood—warmed her blue eyes. She did not leave him. With the gathering storm outside the window, she sat back down in her chair.
Jazana Carr had made camp at the foot of a tall hill near the southern tip of Andola, across a wide plain that afforded a good view of the city and her men surrounding it. Here she had set up her pavilion days before, when she herself had arrived from Hanging Man to see the progress Rodrik Varl had made. It had been overcast the day she arrived, but she could still see her men massed in the plains surrounding Andola, preparing themselves for the coming battle. There were thousands of them, each company summoned from a different part of Norvor. The banners of their varied cities snapped ominously in the wind. Mercenaries by the hundreds had answered her call, as had lifelong soldiers from the conquered Norvan cities of Rolga and Ard and Poolv and Vicvar. The Diamond Queen was pleased. She was sure that Baron Ravel quaked this night, hiding somewhere in his fabulous castle, dreading the dawn.
