Principles of Desolation

by Randall N Bills

  So, despite the fact that looking up at him made her old neck stiff, she put up with the surroundings. After all, she always made certain to travel with at least one highly skilled masseuse. Muscle stiffness could be dealt with later.

  She was still figuring out the best approach to talking to Daoshen. Questions of a personal nature—"How are you? How is the stress of war affecting you?"—were meaningless. In his mind, he was the state. He fared exactly as well as did the state. He seemed to have no personal emotions, no desires, no anything beyond what the state needed and demanded. If he had ever had a distinct personality, Erde thought, it had long been swallowed up by the Celestial Throne upon which he sat. After all, what god worth his salt had a personal life to worry about?

  So conversation was pretty much limited to matters of state, but even there she had to tread carefully. He did not seem to appreciate direct questions about his military adventures, and if she was too blatant with information she had picked up through her personal network of eyes and ears, he tended to close up. He liked to distribute information as he saw fit, and did not like his face rubbed in the fact that people could learn things without having to talk to him. She had to be circumspect, indirect and above all never appear to be questioning his wisdom.

  It was exhausting and it made her passionately look forward to her neck massage.

  Still, despite the difficulty of the conversation, she must be doing something right as he had now allowed her to come back for a third meeting. She wouldn't say he was beginning to like her, but at least he saw talking to her as something of use. For what reasons, she didn't know.

  She was dressed simply in a sky blue gown that buttoned down the back. Her white hair was caught in a net at the top of her shoulders, and she thought she looked like a dignified elder stateswoman, though she would be happier if she could remove the word "elder" from that description.

  It had worked the first time, so Erde was holding on to her strategy of complimenting Daoshen at the beginning of each discussion.

  "I was just watching the news coverage of the demonstration outside the Forbidden City," she said after making the proper obeisance to the chancellor. "It was impressive—two hundred thousand people, by the most recent estimates, all engaged in a spontaneous demonstration of support for you. It must be extremely gratifying to see such concrete proof of your subjects' affection."

  Daoshen gave a brief wave with his right hand. "It's a puppet show," he said. "Arranged by the Maskirovka. A public relations event, really." He paused. "Still, such a thing would be impossible to organize without people willing to attend it. In that sense, then, yes—it is gratifying."

  Erde could not be sure if Daoshen was trying to fool her or if he had succeeded in completely fooling himself. She had no doubt the entire affair was engineered by the Maskirovka—she'd suspected that the moment the news coverage began—but she didn't for a second believe the Maskirovka simply found people willing to demonstrate and gathered them together. While some of the demonstrators clustered just outside the Forbidden City might have harbored genuine affection for the chancellor, many of them were motivated by fear—fear of accusations of disloyalty, fear of what would happen to them and their families if they weren't at the demonstration. Actual support for the chancellor had little to do with their attendance.

  But Daoshen seemed to appreciate her pointing out her subjects' support, so she had started the conversation on the right foot.

  "I imagine your recent military successes have much to do with that," Erde said. "Retaking the planets once owned by the Republic seems to be a popular move."

  "It was, and remains, the right move," Daoshen said, his funereal voice seeping into every corner of the throne room. "These planets belong to the Confederation. They are the lands of our ancestors. They never should have been lost in the first place. It is my duty to reclaim them."

  Erde blinked a few times, surprised. Daoshen, for a moment at least, had dropped his customary royal "we." Maybe she really was getting somewhere with him.

  "I certainly understand that in the case of Aldebaran," she said. "That planet plays such a rich role in your history, I can imagine you wanting it back under Capellan control."

  "Indeed," said Daoshen. "Its historical value is great. If its strategic value was as high, I would have retaken it long ago."

  "I take it the current mission is going well, then?" Erde actually knew the answer to this question, but she didn't want to let Daoshen know she had heard something from someplace besides his own mouth.

  He paused slightly before answering. "The first stage of the mission has gone acceptably well," he said. "However, there has been a small delay that might push back our final conquest of the planet for some short time."

  "A delay? Really?" Erde sat up straighter. "I hope there's nothing wrong with Danai."

  "Sao-shao Liao is fine," Daoshen said, adhering to his customary rule of ignoring the last part of Danai's surname. "She acquitted herself admirably. But for the time being she has been recalled."

  "Recalled?"

  "Yes. She will be returning to Sian shortly."

  "Was she that badly beaten?" "No," Daoshen said flatly. "However, there were other concerns that necessitated her return to Sian."

  "Are those 'other concerns' something you could tell me more about?"

  "No," Daoshen said.

  "I understand. I just hope Danai will understand, too."

  "She doesn't need to understand," he said. "She only needs to follow orders."

  "Of course. But you know as well as I do that confidence makes a commander a valuable warrior. After Danai's involvement in the retreat from New Hessen, and now being recalled from her first assignment, I'm worried about how her confidence will be affected." Erde didn't mention all that had befallen Danai on New Hessen. As far as she knew, Daoshen had not been told about Caleb Davion's rape of Danai, and she did not intend to pass along that piece of information. Danai could tell him herself when she wanted to, though she suspected that day might never arrive.

  "Her confidence should not be affected," Daoshen intoned. "As long as she holds her rank, she will know she holds the confidence of the chancellor, and therefore the confidence of the entire Capellan Confederation. If that is not enough to bolster a warrior, then perhaps that warrior did not have enough strength for command in the first place."

  "That sounds harsh," Erde said. "How can Danai be sure she has your confidence if you pulled her away from her first battalion command task? Not that I'm suggesting you should not have done that," she added, backpedaling as she saw Daoshen's brow start to furrow in anger. "I'm just saying that when you bring her back here, you need to remember that she may be in a fragile state. That her confidence needs bolstering, not undermining. Just remember that when you speak with her."

  Giving advice to the God Incarnate of Sian did nothing to assuage his wrath. Daoshen stood and raised his arms so that his black robes, flecked with threads of imperial gold, would unfurl in all their glory, and spoke in his most imperial tones.

  "We will treat the commanders of our military as we see fit. They are warriors of House Liao, not infants. They will demonstrate their strength or they will be removed from our service. Sao-shao Liao will have every chance to prove herself, and we hope she proves worthy of the tasks we have for her, and of the journey that lies ahead of her. The way will not be made easy for her, as it has never been made easy for any Capellan warrior."

  He sat back down, his face becoming an expressionless mask. Two servants arrived to take Erde's chair out of the throne room. Erde took this as a clear sign that today's discussion was over, and that she had quite spectacularly failed in her purposes.

  Jojoken, Andurien

  Duchy of Andurien

  "Who requests what?"

  Matthew Brand, the duke's chief of staff, read the request again. " 'Magestrix Ilsa Centrella of Canopus cordially requests the opportunity to extend her respects to Duke Ari Humphreys of Andurien at any time of t
he duke's choosing. I await the graciousness of your reply.' "

  The duke shook his head. "And you say she's here?"

  "Yes," Brand replied. "She sent this message shortly after landing."

  "Why didn't she tell me she was coming?" he demanded. "I could have arranged a proper reception!"

  "I think she's telling you now," Brand said. "So you can arrange whatever you would like."

  Humphreys stood. He paced back and forth in front of his grand window overlooking the gardens, though he couldn't see much through today's fog and drizzle. He stopped at one end of the room and ran his hand through the few strands of hair left on top of his head, then patted the strands back into place.

  "Perhaps we should have a formal reception," Humphreys said. "Bring in all the state officials to greet her."

  "Sir, may I remind you that this is not just the Magestrix of Canopus we're talking about, but also the sister of the Capellan chancellor? What would your subjects think of you treating her to a formal reception?"

  Humphreys blanched. This was why he kept Brand near him as often as possible. "You're right, you're right, of course you're right. That would never do. But I must do something. This is . . . this is . . . well, you know who she is. You've seen her—seen her on holovid. And now she's here?"

  "Yes, sir. Might I suggest a private meeting with the magestrix would be the wisest course of action at present?"

  Humphreys swallowed, practically gulping. "A private meeting. With Ilsa Centrella."

  "Yes, sir. Is there something . . . wrong with that?"

  "No, no," Humphreys said, shaking his head so rapidly he could feel the wiggle of his jowls. "Nothing wrong with that at all. Send a reply. Tell her tomorrow morning. No—this afternoon! Say I await her at her earliest convenience. Yes, yes, that should work."

  Brand nodded and walked out of the office. Humphreys waited until the door had closed behind him before he took out his handkerchief and wiped away the beads of sweat that had sprung out on his brow.

  * * *

  As it turned out, Ilsa's earliest convenience was a mere two hours from the time Brand sent the reply to her inquiry. In the early afternoon, with the rain still slowly falling, Brand returned to Humphreys' office to announce that the magestrix of Canopus was there to meet with the duke.

  Humphreys had taken some time to control himself, and though his insides still felt jumbled, his face was (he hoped)calm.

  "Show her in," he said in his fullest tones. Brand nodded, walked out for a moment, then returned, followed by a woman who looked like she had stepped directly out of a classical painting of ancient Terran royalty. She wore a black dress of modest cut that still managed to cling to her waist and hips in a way that kept making Humphreys' eyes drift downward. He steeled himself to look only at her face—this was a diplomatic meeting, after all.

  Besides, her face had plenty of features to occupy his attention. The thin, even nose, the wide brown eyes and the round, well-defined cheekbones gave her a distinct air of nobility. Duke Humphreys knew only too well what his own face looked like—features more suited to a neighborhood butcher, perhaps, than Andurien nobility. But he was what he was, and so he held his chin high and smiled graciously as llsa Centrella approached.

  "Duke Humphreys," she said, gliding ahead and grasping his extended right hand with both of hers. "So good of you to see me on such short notice."

  "Not at all," Humphreys said, trying to keep from sounding pinched. "I only regret that I could not arrange a reception more appropriate to your station. Please, sit down."

  Magestrix Centrella perched on the edge of a chair in a smooth motion. She leaned slightly forward as she sat, looking eager to speak with him. Humphreys knew the pose was calculated, one of hundreds of tricks learned over a lifetime as heir apparent and magestrix, but it was effective nonetheless. He could not help but feel flattered at her clear interest in talking to him.

  "You have nothing to apologize for," she was saying. "I realize my visit was unexpected. Honestly, I didn't even expect it myself. I was traveling from Sian to Cano- pus when I happened to receive a message from Ambassador Rickard detailing his meeting with you. While I fully understand and even sympathize with your position, I could not help but think that if we could get together and talk, just the two of us, without intermediaries, we might be able to work through some of the difficulties and come to a better understanding."

  She had put a special emphasis on the words "just the two of us" that Humphreys had not failed to notice, and it had the intended effect. But Humphreys was still rational enough to realize that her speech was, to put it politely, a gentle shading of the truth. Leaders of large nations, even nations in the Periphery, simply do not happen onto another nation's capital planet on a whim. She was on Andurien for a specific purpose, but she wanted to pretend it was an informal social call. Humphreys hoped he'd figure out why before the meeting was over.

  "I appreciate your persistence in seeking an alliance with the Duchy of Andurien, but I'm afraid your trip might be for nothing," Humphreys said. "You may make any arguments you wish, but I can't imagine anything you might say that would change my mind. In any alliance, the stronger party seeks to bend the weaker to its will. It's inevitable. Now, in future years it may be possible to debate which is stronger, the Magistracy or the Duchy, but at this point I'm afraid it's indisputable that your state would hold the upper hand. The alliance would certainly benefit you, and so I can understand your reasons for seeking it, but I'm afraid the benefits to my state are less clear. At this time, an independent Andurien is for the best." His mouth felt dry by the end of his speech, and he wondered if he'd said too much.

  Ilsa sat still for a moment and said nothing. Her eyes squinted in thought, as if she were considering his words. Then she spoke. "Well, if I leave here empty-handed, at least I won't be able to say you didn't give the matter plenty of thought. It's obvious this is something you've considered seriously. But perhaps there is one angle I can add to the discussion."

  Not at all anxious to chase the magestrix away, Duke Humphreys nodded his head. "I'd be happy to hear you out."

  "You're quite right in what you say," she began. "If my experience with my brother has shown me anything, it's that what you say is true. Whenever we speak in an official capacity, ruler to ruler, he does not let me forget that his state is larger, wealthier and more powerful than mine. He wields that particular weapon with abandon, and if I may speak frankly, it takes considerable effort to maintain even a modicum of independence. So I understand your concern and sympathize. Knowing the difficulty of my own situation, I wouldn't wish to impose a similar situation on anyone else.

  "However, I must admit that, with all its apparent disadvantages, the partnership of the Magistracy and the Confederation has valuable benefits. As our other neighbors grow stronger and possibly more belligerent, you cannot underestimate what it means to have a friendly border with a nation as powerful as the Confederation. And if you look at your own borders, to see what the Oriente Protectorate and the Regulan Fiefs are up to, I think you can agree that having one fewer border to worry about, and one additional friend, is quite an advantage."

  "Yes, yes," Humphreys said. "But making an alliance to maintain our independence is useless if the alliance itself takes away our freedom."

  "Well put," the magestrix said, and Humphreys' cheeks grew warm. "But let me present something you may not have considered. You speak of alliances between two parties where one is stronger than the other. But what of a partnership between equals? An alliance where neither party has the upper hand, but both continually move toward a common good? In such an alliance, neither party is pressuring the other to actions that benefit only one partner, but rather both partners maintain their independence. They are free to act on their own, but they have the security of each other to draw upon when situations call for it. An alliance of equals can bring safety without compromising independence."

  Humphreys had raised an eyebrow near the be
ginning of Ilsa's speech, and it only rose higher as she continued. When she fell silent, he felt as if the eyebrow was about to cross the top of his skull and start descending the back. He was certain his expression conveyed the appropriate amount of skepticism.

  He chose his words carefully, moderating them so as not to entirely alienate the magestrix. "You present a fine vision of a partnership between two nations, but I fear such a vision is impossible. I know of no nations so equal that one would not seek to subvert the other to its will. There are always critical differences—in wealth, in military strength, in people—that set one state above the other. True equality certainly makes for some interesting possibilities, but it simply does not exist. What you present is, I'm afraid, nothing more than a beautiful pipe dream."

  Ilsa showed no signs of taking offense at the duke's dismissal of her ideas. Instead, she smiled warmly, almost in admiration. The power of the expression took Humphreys aback.

  "You are, of course, completely correct," she said. "There are no nations, and never have been any nations, that are complete equals. There are always differences. But there is one thing you're overlooking—that, in the end, alliances are not made between the varying components of each nation, but rather are made between two leaders. It is not the nations that need to be equal— their leaders must be."

  Duke Humphreys frowned. "I'm not sure I take your meaning."

  Ilsa reached into the folds of her dress and came out with a simple piece of heavy white paper. She placed it face down on the duke's desk and slid it across to him.

  His eyebrow arched again, this time in curiosity. He picked up the paper and read the formal language printed on it.

  Blood dropped from his head to his stomach. He suddenly thought he could feel every bit of his planet's rotation. He wasn't sure how long he stared at the paper, but it felt like an embarrassingly long time before he could make eye contact with Ilsa again.

  She did not appear impatient. Her eyes were warm, and she was smiling.