Storm Rising (42 page)

Which was, of course, the very moment that Altra showed up.

He simply appeared, dropped the message-tube between Solaris and Selenay, and vanished again.

Selenay was the one who picked it up and opened it,
but both of them leaned over the paper rolled up inside. Karal knew what it said by heart.

To Queen Selenay, High Priest Solaris, and the members of the Alliance. Grand Duke Tremane, leader of the former Imperial Divisions of the Hardorn Pacification Force, acting Lord of Shonar, and Commander of the combined Hardorn and Imperial Armies, greets you. Tremane wishes to inform you that his relation with the Emperor and the Empire has been irrevocably severed. It is in the interest of both of our parties to negotiate a truce, preparatory to further negotiations, extending to, but not limited to, solidifying an alliance among all our peoples. To this end, he solicits an answer from you regarding such a truce, and such negotiations.

It was signed and sealed with the Grand Duke’s personal seal, not the Imperial Seal, a nicety that Altra seemed to find amusing.

It was written in Hardornen and it didn’t take long to read, although it was repeated in Karsite, the Imperial tongue, and Valdemaran. Tremane must have scoured the town to find someone who knew Karsite—perhaps a trader, or a priest. That was another nice touch, even if the grammar was atrocious.

Solaris and Selenay read it with their mouths clamped into tight, thin lines. Selenay passed it to Daren without a word; the Prince-Consort read it aloud.

And just as Karal had figured, all of hell itself broke loose when he finished.

Men and women leaped to their feet, each of them demanding the right to be heard
immediately.
Initially, as always with this Grand Council, there was a great deal of shouting and carrying on, mostly on the part of people who had very little to say. Solaris was ominously quiet, which made Karal very nervous. She sat beside Selenay in a pose so motionless she could have been a statue. He knew that pose; she only took it when she was being her most formal, taking on the full persona of the Son of the Sun, the Falcon of Light, Defender of the Faithful.

He kept quite silent, although Jarim more than made up for his silence until the moment when Lo’isha, the Sworn-Shaman, simply put one hand quietly on his sleeve and stared at him. Then he sat down abruptly and didn’t speak for the rest of the meeting.

Solaris finally softened a little, but she kept casting suspicious glances at him all during the rest of the meeting, which made Karal even more nervous than before. He could deal with the Son of the Sun; he wasn’t certain he could handle an angry Solaris who was concentrating on
personal
outrage.

Karal took notes diligently, avoiding Solaris’ gaze whenever possible. The meeting finally ended when Selenay stood up and announced, “This is too important to decide on the spur of the moment. I’d like to dismiss this meeting so that we all have the opportunity to think over the positive and negative aspects of this proposal. We’ll reconvene tomorrow; be prepared to present your analysis in an orderly fashion.” With that, she gestured to Daren, and the two of them left the meeting, which meant that whatever else happened, it was no longer official.

That certainly put an abrupt end to the confusion. Karal gathered up his things quickly and made his escape while most of the other Council members were still arguing among themselves. But he noted that Solaris was also leaving by the same door as Selenay, and he only hoped that she was going to spend a great deal of time talking with her Valdemaran counterpart. With luck, he could be out of the Palace and down at the Compass Rose before she remembered her suspicions and sent someone to look for him.

But today his luck was out. Solaris was waiting for him in his suite, sitting on his couch as formally as if it was her throne.

“Shut the door, Karal,” she ordered, as he stood in the doorframe in shock. Numbly, he did as she ordered, and turned to face her. His joints felt like carved granite, as he stood, unable to relax under her gaze.

“You were behind this, or at least you were aware of what Altra was doing, and don’t bother to deny it,” she
said stiffly, as he stood with his back to the door and his knees shaking. His stomach quaked. “Altra is
your
Firecat, and he would not have attempted anything so audacious if you were not aware of it. Somehow you persuaded him this was a good idea. You and two of these foreigners have been closeted doing some form of unspecified scrying, according to Selenay. I do not require a spell to show me the truth or to put obvious facts together into a whole.”

He swallowed, and nodded, admitting everything with that single gesture. His throat was too tight to get any words out, anyway.

She stood up, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes as she strode toward him, anger in her every step. This was what he had feared most—Solaris, angry in herself. “This man ordered the murder of Priest Ulrich—
your
mentor,
my
friend, and a Black-robe of Vkandis! How could you even contemplate consorting with him? What possible reasons could you have for approaching him?”

After two tries, he at least got out an answer. “Because—we had to, Radiance,” he said weakly. “Because there was no choice.”

With that, she unleashed all of her formidable intellect and equally formidable anger on him in an interrogation that was as thorough as it was merciless. Karal answered her as best he could, but the next two marks left him weak, sweating, and shaking before it was all over. Solaris could be absolutely brutal when she wanted to be, and all without ever raising a hand or her voice. Her cross-examination was relentless and thorough, and during it she dissected his personality and left every personal weakness he knew of and some he had never suspected lying exposed. She prowled around him like a hunting cat, she moved to within a hair of his face to hiss directly into his eyes, and stood off at a distance as if she didn’t want to get near him. She left his spirit flayed, and convinced him a dozen times over that she was about to demote him to least-senior cleaner of the Temple latrines—
if
he was lucky and she was feeling generous.

Nevertheless he managed to remain adamant and
unshakable in his conviction that, repugnant as it was, they could not afford to allow Tremane to remain an enemy.

Finally, she sat down again, although she did not permit him to do so. Ten heartbeats later, she spoke.

“Let me see if I understand all your reasoning, such as it is,” she said coldly. “First, you believe that the folk of Hardorn and even the men under this Tremane’s command have been suffering for far too long. Second, the best indications are that the new boundaries of whatever solution we come up with when the breakwater fails must include the eastern border of Hardorn. Third, there is some thought that if we had access to the mages trained in the Empire we might be able to find that solution sooner. And fourth—” she leveled a stare at him that was as opaque as steel. “Fourth. You have come to the conclusion that Tremane can be trusted.”

“He was under Altra’s Tell-Me-True all the while he answered my questions. He has protected the people of Shonar, even though he didn’t have to,” Karal reminded her as he shivered and did not bother to try to hide the fact. “More than that, he has done things for their benefit personally, things that could not possibly be of profit to him. He has kept every pledge he made them, and every pledge he made his own men.”

“Hmm.” Her expression did not change.

“I would add a fifth, but it is quite subjective,” he said, feeling sweat run down the back of his neck. “I believe he—regrets his actions.”

“Regrets.” Her mouth tightened, and she stood up again. “There are some things I must do, but as of this moment,
your
authority is in abeyance. You will remain here in these rooms until I give you leave to go elsewhere, and
where
that will be is going to depend on what I learn in the next few marks.”

She swept past him; he held open the door for her, and she swept out, leaving him shaking with anxiety and reaction in her wake.

After he closed the door behind her, he went straight to his bed and lay down on it, his body as exhausted as
if he had just run around the city walls, and his bones gone all to water. No need to tell him to stay here, for he couldn’t have left his room if it had been on fire.

He didn’t know what she was going to do next, but every possibility left him shaking with fear. Not for himself, but for her, and for everything the Alliance had done here.

Tremane watched his windows shake as another blast of icy wind hit them, a wind laden with so much blowing snow that there was no view outside. The cat had appeared as soon as he put down the message-tube; it had materialized on his desk, placed a paw on the tube, and vanished again, taking the tube with it.

They were in the middle of another blizzard. He had waited until another blizzard struck and had been active for some time before actually putting his carefully-worded overture into the tube; he wanted to be sure that he would have a time when he would be able to stay in his office for several hours, waiting for a reply. There had been no emergencies, and now the folk of the Town and Barracks were safely buttoned up in their lodgings, passing the time until the storm blew itself out. No one would need him until that happened. He could wait for as much as two days for an answer to his overture, if nothing went wrong.

Which was precisely what he was doing now; waiting. He fully expected the cat to show up alone, but with a written reply, a tentative suggestion that his overture was being considered. It was also possible that the cat would show up with the boy, though that was less likely. Negotiations took time, and many exchanges of paper, before anything concrete came of them.

He did
not
expect the answer he got—a cat all right, but with the cat was a woman, garbed in elaborate robes of gold and white, robes that he recognized from the descriptions passed to him by his spies. And now he cursed his stupidity for not recognizing a less-elaborate, masculine version of the same robes on the boy.

This was High Priest
(not
Priestess) Solaris, the Son of the Sun, the secular and sacred leader of all the people of Karse. And from her expression, she was perfectly prepared to whip that ritual dagger she was carrying out of her belt and slit his throat on the spot.

He, of course, could not move. Once again, the cat held him paralyzed.

Her eyes glared at him with a fire of rage that gave even him, a battle-hardened veteran, pause. Her face was as white as the snow outside, but her hands were steady. “You give me one good reason may, why killing you I should not be, as murdering my friend you did,” she snarled, in heavily-accented Hardornen.

Not bad, considering that she probably hasn’t studied it much.

His mind raced. What should he tell her? What
could
he tell her? What would she believe? Nothing, probably.

No, there was no reason to defend himself or his actions. Coming up with excuses would not save him.

He would have drawn himself up in his chair if he had been free to. Instead, he gazed directly into her eyes. Once again, he would probably be forced to speak the truth, so why not simply do so to begin with?

“I cannot,” he told her with bald honesty. “By the laws of your land and of my own, my life is certainly forfeit to you. I committed murder, if only by secondhand. I cannot justify a decision that has proved to be so very wrong, and so ill-conceived.”

Her eyes narrowed a trifle, as if she had expected duplicity, or at least an attempt at it. Had she
not
put that magic on his lips that forced him to speak truthfully?

“By the same token, my best information at the time was that the mage-storms were a weapon of terror sent by your Alliance,” he continued. “I sent my own weapon of terror to disrupt your Alliance. I proved by that assumption, I suppose, that my moral standards are lower than yours, since I could even
think
that you might send terror-weapons that strike at armies and civilians alike. I further proved the same thing since I
retaliated with a weapon of terror. The Empire is a bad enemy to have, lady, and we have made worse enemies over the centuries. We are prepared to see just about any atrocity, and to meet it with the same.”

Her frown deepened, but her eyes widened a little.

“But I put this to you, Son of the Sun—as a leader, I would venture to say that you have been in similar situations. Whether you would have responded in the same way, only you can say.”

That hit home; he saw it in her eyes, in the way she winced slightly. But her anger had not lessened.

“For the first time in this, my life,” she said through clenched teeth, “I considering am my ban upon the demons revoking, and up the demon-mages bringing to those terrible spirits turning loose upon your troops.
That
is what you have me brought to!”

He thought very carefully before speaking. “By all repute, Solaris, you are too just to levy upon the innocent a retribution due only to their leader.”

Her chin rose. “So. You offer to me your life?”

He only raised one eyebrow—that much movement, at least, was permitted him. “The people of this place depend on my leadership, as do my men. Without me, Shonar and the barracks will be in chaos, for there is no single man that they will all agree on as leader. Likeliest, it would be one of my generals who triumphed; a general who would not know as much about you, and who would still consider your Alliance to be his mortal enemy.
You
are too good a leader to slay a
former
enemy who might be replaced with someone who will still be your enemy.” He tried a touch of boldness. “I am not your enemy. Solaris. I told the truth in my missive. We have lost touch with the Empire, and the Empire has abandoned us. My duty to my men dictates that I see to their safety and there is no safety in continuing an aggression on behalf of someone who has left us here to rot.” He managed a slight shrug. “The real enemy we both face is the force that sends these mage-storms. Isn’t it better to face that enemy together?”