“Then why haven’t they already?” Lonnell interrupted. The man’s frown hardened into a sneer. “What good are allies who won’t raise a hand in their own defense? The Isles need proper soldiers, not a mob of pointy-eared savages.”
Elias surged to his feet, ignoring Vaalen’s efforts to drag him back into his chair. Leaning forward, he slammed both fists into the table.
“Those pointy-eared savages saved this godsdamned city,” he spat. “Which is more than I can say for you, General!”
“Enough!” barked Offert. The man glared furiously at both Elias and Lonnell and kicked the latter’s chair away from the table. “Sit down, both of you. And keep a civil tongue or we will continue this discussion without you.”
Trembling with anger, Elias sat. Lonnell did likewise, outwardly chastised. In his eyes, however, Elias could see a gleam of vicious satisfaction.
“I will not dismiss Ambassador Ansiri’s proposal out of hand,” Offert said. “Islesmark needs allies and if… foreign allies save even one of our city’s sons, it’s an idea worth considering. However, General Lonnell’s concerns are equally valid. Pitting one elven faction against another holds risks of its own.”
“There’s more than just elves and trow,” Elias said. “The ambrosians will likely want to help us as well.”
“Ambrosians?” Offert asked.
“More elves?” Lonnell grumbled, earning a sharp look from Offert.
“Hardly,” Elias said with no small amount of satisfaction. “They’re as different from the elves and trow as we are. Perhaps more. Just one of them was responsible for the damage to the elven fleet.”
It was as if the air had suddenly been sucked from the room. Lonnell, Offert, and even Vaalen stared at him in shock and a hint of fear. After a few seconds, it was the Governor-General who recovered first.
“One?” Offert said.
“Correct,” Elias said. “Rest assured, Islesmark is in no immediate danger. It’ll be years before Suli can conjure anything of the sort again. But imagine what even a dozen ambrosians fighting on the front lines could do. It seems to me that it would be better to ensure they join us, rather than the elves.”
“And when the war is over?” Lonnell asked. The man no longer sounded quite so smug. “If what you say is true, these ambrosians could demand whatever they want of us. You really think they’d remain our allies once they’ve got us by the balls?”
“They will if we prove we’re not enemies,” Elias insisted. A part of him longed to explain the source of his earnest conviction, but knowing Lonnell, the man would find some way to twist his words and use them against him. Besides, even an ambassador was under no obligation to share all his secrets.
“You think you can convince them?” Offert asked. Steepling his fingers, he stared thoughtfully at Elias.
“I can.”
Reclining, Offert clicked his tongue and stared up at the ceiling for a moment before continuing. “Very well," he said. “Ansiri, you will continue to serve as my ambassador. You will convince these ambrosians to join our war against the elves. Promise them whatever you need to—”
“Sir!” Lonnell interjected, aghast.
“—within reason,” Offert concluded, glancing warningly at the general. “And subject to my approval, naturally.”
Rising slightly from his chair, Elias bowed. “Gladly, sir,” he said. “I do, however, have a few conditions.”
“Greedy bastard,” Lonnell growled. This time, Offert did not look at him.
“I see,” Offert said. “Planning to extort your people in their hour of need?”
Shaking his head, Elias straightened and returned to his chair. “Nothing of the sort,” he said. “In fact, I think you’ll find I’m quite reasonable. There are only two things I need.”
“Oh?”
“First, I’d like the payment I was promised the last time we spoke in this room. A thousand sovereigns and the Legion of Islesmark.”
For a long moment, Offert said nothing. Elias watched the muscles in his jaw clench and unclench several times in quick succession. His eyes flitted momentarily in Vaalen’s direction and in that brief reaction, Elias could see how badly the man wanted to refuse. Eventually, however, he sighed.
“Very well,” Offert said stiffly. “The others will think a fool for this, but this war will give them plenty to complain about. What’s one more thing? I’ll have the papers drawn up tonight.”
“Thank you,” Elias said. “As for the other request…”
“Oh, it’s a request now, is it?”
“The ambrosian homeland lies somewhere beyond the elven capital. I’ll need a ship and soldiers to ensure we can reach it safely. As I mentioned before, the Dark Dawn was captured by the elves. I’d like a new vessel to be given to Captain Avans, permanently.”
Offert started to agree, then hesitated. His brow furrowed slowly as he considered Elias’ words.
“Somewhere beyond,” he echoed. “You don’t know where it is?”
Elias shrugged. “I know approximately,” he explained. “I never bothered to learn the exact coordinates. But I have an ambrosian with me. I’ll get the details from her.”
“Sir, if I may…” Lonnell said.
“You may not, General,” Offert answered quietly. He studied his hands for a time then gave the smallest of nods. “Very well, Ambassador. I’ll see that you and this captain of yours are given a ship. And, since I’m not damned fool enough to send a single ship on such a critical mission, you’ll have several under your command. I expect you’ll need them to transport the ambrosians somewhere they can do some good.”
“And the trow,” Elias said. It felt foolish to push his luck when Offert had already agreed to so much, but he couldn’t help himself. Fortunately, the man merely sighed.
“As you see fit,” Offert said with a dismissive wave. “Just don’t promise them anything valuable. They’re allies not mercenaries. And, of course, your first priority is to be the ambrosians.”
“Understood.”
“It’ll be at least a few days before any ships are available,” Offer continued. “Once they are, I’ll expect you and your friends to leave immediately.”
Elias stood yet again and offered the man his deepest and most genuine bow to date.
“I wouldn’t dream of delaying, sir,” he said.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Elias arose well before dawn, dressed in the dark, and made his way downstairs while avoiding the floorboards and stairs he knew were most likely to creak. He hoped to avoid detection—the last three days had been so inordinately busy that he’d scarcely had a minute to himself since leaving the Governor-General’s palace—but Linn was already awake and laboring in the kitchen. She must have been listening for him since she emerged, package in hand, and joined him at the door.
“Some breakfast,” she whispered, handing him the bag. “And incense too.”
“Thank you, Linn,” he murmured. Her thoughtfulness embarrassed him, though he couldn’t quite say why. Leaning in, he kissed her lightly on the brow. “I won’t be gone long.”
“Yes, you will,” she answered knowingly. A hint of a smirk warmed her features. “Shall I tell the others where you’ve gone?”
“If you’d like. Hopefully, I’ll be back before they wake.”
Linn didn’t argue. Instead, she retrieved his cloak—the same one he’d worn across the isle—and helped fasten it. Inside, the garment was almost uncomfortably warm, but the second she opened the door and Elias felt the breeze—a few degrees past chilly into cold—he was grateful she’d bothered. He left her with a smile and set off down once-familiar streets.
The elves’ assault on Islesmark had filled the city a restless air of uncertainty. Its people rose earlier, spoke less, and watched one another with an uncomfortable degree of suspicion, as if any one of them might suddenly doff their cap to reveal pointed ears. And so, despite the fact that sunrise was still ov
er an hour away, the stoops and doorways were full of hard, observant eyes. That much was hardly new to him; Elias was used to judging glances. What surprised him was the way those expressions softened when they saw him. More than one tradesman waved or called out a quiet greeting and several others lifted fingers to their temples in friendly salute. One serving girl a few years his junior even curtseyed.
The obeisances would have made him laugh under different circumstances. Only in Islesmark would the death of nearly a thousand men engender goodwill where once there had been disgrace. Not that he was complaining, of course. Word of his timely intervention had spread, thanks to Vaalen no doubt. And while many of Islesmark’s citizens would ordinarily have viewed his non-human companions as a cause for scorn and distrust, the news that he would soon be leaving again on an unknown mission of great importance had birthed both wild speculation and unearned veneration.
Even the members of the city watch, now formally reorganized into the militia, were not immune to the tide of changing opinion. A pair of them came smartly to attention as Elias rounded a corner and they nearly collided.
“Morning, Ambassador,” said the older of the two. He grinned as he saluted. “Give the pointies hell for us.”
Forcing a smile, Elias nodded and moved swiftly along. He reached the mausoleum yard a few minutes later. And, despite the fact that it had been months since his last visit, he found that he still remembered the paths well enough that he could have navigated them with his eyes closed. He didn’t, of course, but for more practical reasons. The wind, though gentle, was strong enough that he was forced to shield the candle he retrieved from the covered alcove near the yard’s entrance and he needed to ensure it stayed lit.
A bouquet of flowers leaned atop the lintel of the crypt itself. Most of the petals were browning at the edges, but the offering was fresh enough that it gave him pause. Then, as he looked, Elias noticed the petalless stems of several other bouquets leaning against the front of the crypt. They were much older, but not so old that the wind and rain had yet carried them away.
He smiled. Evidently, Linn had taken to visiting Catherine in his absence. He would have to thank her for it later.
Ducking into the crypt, he settled onto the squat, uncomfortable bench and speared the candle onto its stand next to the three-legged idol. The musty air smelled faintly of old incense and the aroma grew more intense the instant he opened Linn’s package. Inside were a pair of petite vegetable pies, still steaming within their paper wrapping, and a length of bored wood plugged with cork.
Elias carefully poured and lit the incense, lit it, and breathed deeply as the heady smoke filled the crypt in seconds. He’d left the door cracked a few inches for that very reason, but it did little to diminish the effects. Sighing, he watched his breath stir the twisting, vaporous shapes then closed his eyes.
He didn’t pray—that much hadn’t changed. But rather than stubbornness, it was uncertainty that kept the words trapped behind his lips. He’d seen far, far too much in the past weeks to dismiss the gods out of hand. He knew that the elven gods—or what Rhona and Gilla called their gods, at least—were real in one form or another. He could have tried praying to them. But that felt wrong, somehow. Catherine had believed in the three-legged god and praying to another in her own crypt seemed sacrilegious.
So, rather than pray, Elias simply spoke. And ate. Between bites, he shared his account of the past months, everything that had happened since he’d last visited. And unlike with Offert and Vaalen, he held nothing back. All his fears, his indecision, and the consequences of his actions were laid bare before the smooth stone of Catherine’s sepulcher.
It was impossible to say how long he sat there, but by the time he was finished, Elias was smiling. He’d never bothered with the confessions and penitent offerings the priests advised—few did, and it had always felt to him like an unnecessary gesture—but he could have sworn that his words had an effect. He felt lighter, more sure of himself and his decisions. And, if he was honest with himself, that was probably enough.
He rose, extinguished the candle with a breath, and caressed the top of the sepulcher with his fingers in the dark. Then, somewhat more reluctantly, he did the same to the three-legged god’s bronze feet. He brushed all three this time, though he still reserved a bit of extra attention for Lanin, then turned and exited the crypt.
To his surprise, he wasn’t alone. A veritable crowd waited for him outside, thankfully at a respectable distance, and every face swiveled toward him at the sound of the heavy door.
Suli crouched in the grass, carving an abstract, geometric design in the dirt with a claw. Kyra stood near her, watching curiously while she conversed with Rhona. Gilla and Lucasta were there as well, standing a bit apart from the others and idly embracing.
“Finished?” Kyra asked.
Elias nodded, but even before he’d done so, Suli rose and abandoned her drawing to lean against his side. She didn’t seem to mind the cold, but she snuggled into his cloak anyway. Glancing down at her, he suppressed a frown.
“Yes,” Elias said. “What are you all doing here? Linn didn’t wake you, did she?”
“No, no,” Kyra said quickly. “Gilla heard you leave. She was concerned so she woke the rest of us and we decided to follow you.”
Elias turned to Gilla and found the trow scowling. And, unless he was quite mistaken, blushing as well.
“I was not concerned,” she protested. “I simply worried that…”
Elias grinned. “Well, as you can see, I’m fine. What about Avans, though? You didn’t bother waking him?”
Surprisingly, it was Rhona who responded first. And with a snort at that. Then, when Elias quirked a brow, she shook her head and gestured back at Kyra.
“We tried,” she said. “He, ah, wasn’t very happy that we woke him. I guess he was up late inspecting that new boat of his. Dark Morning… gods, the man has no imagination at all.”
Chuckling, Elias shook his head. “Don’t let him hear you say that,” he advised. “I’m going to have to share a cabin with him for gods know how long. I don’t want to listen to him grumble the whole time.”
“A cabin with him?” Kyra repeated, brow creasing with a frown. “I thought we would…?”
“No you don’t!” he warned. “You already bullied your way onto one ship. I’m not letting you do it again. You’re staying here, Kyra.”
“The hell I am!” she snapped. Folding her arms, she glared at him. “I didn’t spend the last two months listening to your grumbling just to be left behind, Elias Ansiri. I’m coming with you. Unless you’ve been practicing behind my back, you’re going to need translators.”
“I have them,” he reminded her with a sweeping gesture.
“No, you don’t,” she said. Eyes narrowing, she grinned wickedly. “While you’ve been busy with my uncle, I’ve been making friends and teaching everyone about what a stubborn ass you can be. They’ve all agreed. Either I come with you, or none of us do.”
“You’re bluffing,” he said, turning from face to face. What he found was not encouraging. Rhona reddened and averted her gaze. Lucasta laughed and hid her face in her sister’s shoulder, while Gilla only smirked. Even Suli, when he glanced down at her, stared up at him and flashed her fangs. “She’s bluffing, right?”
No one spoke. And by that, Elias knew that he had lost.
“I’m the stubborn ass?” he groaned. “Fine, you can come. But we are not sharing a cabin. Avans snores, but at least he doesn’t steal blankets.
“Deal,” Kyra said.
***
It was a further three days before the rest of Elias’ makeshift fleet was ready to sail and, as expected, he spent that time in a flurry of preparation. Most of it was important but monotonous, such as the endless stream of introductions to be made. He and Avans were introduced to the five captains who would be sailing alongside them, the militia officers who would accompany them as marines, and the dozens of jun
ior officers serving under each. Then there were the governors and generals. As Offert had stated, each of the leaders of the major cities arrived, in person or by proxy. And each time, once Elias was introduced, he was forced to recount his experiences as Ambassador and explain anew his plans for an allied counteroffensive. The sole saving grace was that, having convinced the governor-general, he no longer had to worry about persuasion. Not that he wasn’t forced to defend his ideas against a tide of criticisms and counter-arguments.
The rest of his tedious duties were, by comparison, rather more enjoyable. At Kyra’s request, he met with several senior members of Islesmark’s academy and had Rhona demonstrate her blessing. Their excitement and delight was refreshing; their not-so-subtle request that he retrieve elven captives for more invasive ‘examination’ rather less so.
He also spent the better part of an afternoon roaming markets and storefronts to acquire proper clothing for his companions. That, more than anything revealed to him just how unusual his current status was. News of his appointment to the Legion had spread and many of the tailors he visited welcomed him with deep bows. Their enthusiasm faded significantly when they spotted Rhona and Suli, neither of whom looked particularly enthused either. Fortunately, the sudden influx of fresh sovereigns from Offert covered over a great many resentments and he acquired two sets of blouses and trousers to keep the judgmental stares of the city’s housewives at bay. Rhona donned her new clothes with only token protests, claiming it was wrong for a Gwydas to dress in such a fashion. Suli, on the other hand, proved such a struggle that Elias regretted his purchase by the time he managed to dress the sullen, scowling ambrosian. He even purchased some for Gilla and Lucasta, though he didn’t bother insisting that they change immediately. A week ago, armor such as theirs might have been out of place, but now, it hardly earned a second look from most of those they passed on the street.
Ambassador (Conqueror of Isles Book 1) Page 27
