Angel Isle (46 page)

“I will see to it myself,” said the functionary, as obsequious now as he had been haughty when Maja had first met him.

She thanked Turbax again for his help at the entrance to the tent and went on in alone. Striclan was speaking. He paused for the translation. By the time Maja was settled into her chair he was speaking again, about arranging for any citizens of the Empire aboard the fleet to be allowed to return home if they wished. Maja and Ribek muttered to each other during pauses for translation.

“How are you feeling?” he said.

“Tired, but I’ll manage. Provided I don’t have to talk much. What’s happening? Where’s General Olbog?”

“Under arrest. He wanted to load the airboat with armed men and make a surprise attack on Larg. The Syndics overruled him. Pashgahr supported them…. Olbog must have guessed this would happen, and had given secret orders for his people to take over the command deck…. The magicians were keeping an eye on things—Chanad had asked them to—and they told Syndic…. I still can’t pronounce her name—begins with
B
—that one there…”

“Syndic Blrundahlrgh,” said Maja. The name seemed to be on her tongue. Syndic Blrundahlrgh was the dumpy woman who’d come down the ramp beside General Olbog. She was important because she represented the Homemakers’ Interest.

“I can remember last night, not this morning,” she said as soon as the translator began again. “Striclan coached us how to say it, didn’t he?”

“She’s on our side against the Olbog lot. When she heard about the mutiny she left the command deck and faced the mutineers down. Talk to her if you can. It shouldn’t be that difficult. You’ll have time to think what to say next while the last bit’s being translated. Tell her you’re not yourself. It’ll be truer than she thinks.”

“All right. What’s going on now?”

“We’ve almost finished. Pashgahr’s desperate to get back to the fleet before Olbog’s lot try anything. All we can do is agree to a one-month cease-fire. Nobody’s got any real authority for more…. We release their fleet. They withdraw to Tarshu. Hostilities round Tarshu cease. Any troops still on shore reembark in six days and withdraw to an offshore island called Anyan…. There’s just this last haggle and then we’ll have a break for refreshments while the clerks draw up a document in both languages for us to sign and seal.”

It seemed to take for ever. Maja barely listened, and spent the time rehearsing things to say to Syndic Blrundahlrgh. At last the President Proctor declared the proceedings closed and everybody rose, but Maja settled back into her chair and waited for the crowd at the entrance to clear. Quiriul appeared at her shoulder.

“Is Benayu all right?” said Maja.

“He is conscious, and whole, he says, but very feeble. He is being well looked after. He asked me to give you this. Lady Kzuva couldn’t take anything home that hadn’t come with her. You are wearing its simulacrum.”

It was a brooch. Very simple, just a silver bar patterned with ivy leaves with a single tree at one end. It had been prettier with the horses.

Maja put it away in her reticule, making a mental note to take it out before the reticule disappeared along with the rest of the simulacrum.

“Thank you very much,” she told Quiriul. “I’ll come and see Benayu as soon as I can. I’ve got to talk to Syndic Blrundahlrgh first. You’ve been wonderful. I’ll tell Chanad.”

“Thank you, my lady.”

Maja watched her leave, but stand aside to let Syndic Blrundahlrgh pass between her and the table, coming in the opposite direction, followed by the young woman who was one of the Pirate translators.

Maja rose stiffly and switched her attention to the Syndic. Yesterday she had spoken little but watched even the most spectacular manifestations of magic with a sort of detached interest, but had otherwise seemed just a quiet, ordinary woman; and the same when she’d come down the ramp with General Pashgahr. It was hard to imagine her quelling an armed mutiny by sheer personal authority.

She blurred, of course, as she approached, and Maja raised her spectacles to her eyes.

“Syndic Blrundahlrgh,” she said.

“Lady Kzhuvargh,” answered the Syndic, and they both smiled, sharing their pleasure in the other’s having made the attempt to pronouce each other’s name and their consciousness of their own failure. The Syndic, still smiling, spoke briefly.

“The Syndic says that we are all children at heart,” said the translator.

Maja blinked inwardly. Did she know? Surely not. She rescued herself with one of her rehearsed remarks.

“Forgive me,” she said, gesturing with her spectacles. “I do not see very well close to.”

The Syndic waited for the translation, nodded, and stood calmly while Maja looked her over. The impression she gave of being something of a dough-faced nonentity turned out to be entirely superficial, worn almost like a mask. The pale gray-blue eyes were bright with intelligence. The jowled chin merely distracted from the firm set of the mouth. The skin was smooth and clear, its pallor natural to it. She could once have been a plumply pretty young woman, Maja decided. The Syndic studied Maja in return and nodded again.

“Shall we sit,” she said, drawing out the chair beside Maja’s, at the same time making a brief remark to the translator, who almost scurried to help Maja into her chair and then took up a post behind and between the two of them.

“I am sorry you are not well,” said the Syndic, as if deliberately giving Maja the cue for another rehearsed remark.

“Indeed I am not myself today,” she said. “I am not precisely ill, but it is many years since I needed to exert my powers to the extent that I did yesterday, and today I am paying the penalty. I shall be better as soon as I am free to return to my own place.”

“I’m hoping that one result of our work today is that one day I’ll get the chance to visit the Empire in a spirit of friendship.”

(Not one of Maja’s cues, but she mustn’t hesitate. What would Lady Kzuva have said?)

“It is not all wonders and marvels, you know.”

(That was a start, but…oh, of course! She readied the phrases while the Syndic was speaking and waited for the translation.)

“I’m glad to hear it,” said the Syndic. “Yesterday was enough to last me a lifetime. But even without that the Empire is so different from my own country. I would very much like to return in more peaceful times. I am sure our best hope for a lasting peace is to know each other better.”

“Indeed, yes. I live a long way north. But should your journeyings carry you that far, I should be glad to welcome you under my roof.”

A safe offer, surely. There was precious little chance of the Empire letting her in, even if she wanted to come. Anyway, she wouldn’t take it up, surely. She must be a busy woman. But no.

“I shall make a point of seeing that they do. Tell me, my lady, how much do you know of the politics of my country? Our translator, incidentally, is my cousin’s daughter-in-law and can be trusted.”

“I know a certain amount about your country,” Maja said, taking the chance to answer slowly, thoughtfully, as she tried to remember and repeat all the stuff that Striclan had told them.

“But the invasion has turned out much more difficult than your pro-war party expected,” she concluded, “and so opinion is swinging against them. We saw something of this aboard the
All-Conqueror
yesterday. I believe you yourself had a hand in suppressing an armed group of soldiers who wanted to reject our terms.”

The Syndic didn’t actually blink, but paused and stared at her before she answered.

“You are very well informed, my lady,” she said.

“This is the Empire, Syndic. It is very hard to keep a secret without some form of magical protection.”

“Of course,” said the Syndic. “Bluntly, I am asking for your help. General Pashgahr is a sensible man….”

Maja, tiring rapidly now, forced herself to listen as the Syndic explained how important it was to give General Pashgahr something worthwhile to take home, instead of an outright defeat of the invasion. Otherwise General Olbog, who still had plenty of allies there, would be able to present himself as the hero who had been betrayed by weak-kneed underlings. Maja decided what to say as she waited for her to finish.

“I don’t think we can alter the document at this stage, Syndic,” she said.

“No, of course not. I think the most I can ask for is this. At present the Empire’s borders are closed to all outsiders. If you were now to invite a delegation of politicians and businesspeople, completely unmilitary in nature, to visit the country and explore the possibilities for mutually beneficial trade, this would be attractive to the business community, and help to get them on our side. I would hope to be one of the delegates, and that we would then be able to renew our acquaintance.”

“For myself I should welcome that, but I shall need to talk to my colleagues.”

“Of course. And there is a similar matter I’d like you to put to them. The Ice-dragon, or dragons—I understand there are two.”

“I know little more than you do about them. You will have to talk—”

“To Mr. Ortahlson. Eventually. But this is urgent, and I have you alone, so I’m asking you to talk to him. This may surprise you, but I want you to persuade him not to insist too strongly on the physical reality of the creatures.”

Maja’s turn not to blink. She tried to gather her wits, but the Syndic raised a hand to stop her before she could speak.

“I know my countrymen. I know the military mind, as perhaps you do not. Confronted with an overwhelming physical threat such as a real Ice-dragon would present—a threat that is not confined, as your magical powers are, within the borders of the Empire, but is potentially global in its effect—they will be determined either to take possession of it and control it, or to destroy it. They would be able to carry many of my countrymen with them in this.”

“That…That would be very foolish. An absolute disaster.”

“Exactly. But the Ice-dragon is not needed to justify our withdrawal. The stranding of the whole fleet on an island of ice magically appearing in a warm sea is more than enough, and that was manifestly not a hallucination. Put simply, my argument against the war party will be that we cannot attack the Empire because of its magical defenses. Therefore we must make peace with it.

“I must repeat that the matter is urgent. Mr. Ortahlson may already be responding to questions about the Ice-dragon. I’m not asking him suddenly to deny the creature’s existence. Only to leave room for doubt.”

“Very well. Perhaps your translator will be kind enough to lend me an arm.”

She found Ribek, Saranja and Striclan at a table in the refreshment pavilion. The men rose smiling as she approached. Ribek offered her a chair and they all sat.

“We weren’t talking about anything serious,” he said. “Just chitchat. Staving off the inquisitors.”

He nodded toward a group of the Pirate delegates hovering nearby, translator at the ready, waiting to pounce. How much could they hear?

“This is serious,” Maja said clearly. “I have word from Talagh….”

She lowered her voice.

“I’ve been talking to Syndic Blrundahlrgh,” she said, and told them about it.

“Well, Striclan?” said Ribek, when she’d finished.

“They’re both very good points. In fact I’d been thinking about them myself.”

“We haven’t got the authority to commit the Empire to anything.”

“We’ll have to talk to Chanad,” said Saranja.

“At least I can go and start doing something about the Ice-dragon,” said Ribek. “Odd that that’s the only thing about yesterday’s performance that wasn’t hocus-pocus, and now you’re asking me to say that it was.”

He rose and moved away, as if just easing his limbs. The inquisitors pounced. Maja watched him as he answered their questions. His body language was easy, nonchalant, almost amused. He was actually enjoying himself, she realized. Saranja was right. Impossible man!

“You know,” said Saranja, “we’re going to have to visit Lady Kzuva on the way home, and tell her.”

“Oh, can we? Please!” said Maja.

That was the last vivid moment. Darkness swallowed her. The magical turmoil of becoming a mugal had already been almost too much for her, without the strain of trying to think and act and speak like Lady Kzuva. Yesterday she’d been able to let Lady Kzuva do it herself, while Maja had watched what happened from inside her, almost like a bystander.

She drifted up into consciousness.
Where…? What…?
She seemed to be lying on something soft, like a pile of cushions. Mutters from around and above her, anxious, vaguely impatient. Her whole body was full of aches and pains, but why didn’t they really hurt any more?

“I think she’s coming round. Lady Kzuva…”

Striclan.
Oh yes, of course. The mugal. The conference. The refreshment tent.

“I’m all right,” she whispered. “Help me up. I must set my seal…. Where’s my cane?”

“Easy, easy…” Striclan again. “Everything’s ready. There’s no hurry.”

They must have carried her into the conference tent. She could remember the sharp smell of the burning wax, watching the purple drops dribble onto the parchment, somebody holding her quivering hand steady and helping it press the seal ring firmly down into the glistening pool. Then darkness again.

She had woken in the evening—the next evening, Saranja told her later—in her own body, lying in a warm and comfortable bed. Her hand was clutching something under the pillow. She pulled it out, forced her eyes open and looked at it blearily. It was the brooch with the single tree.

PART FOUR

KZUVA