The Diplomat (14 page)

“I’m confident I can bring peace to this kingdom.” Despite her training, Rema’s voice betrayed a touch of nervousness.

Muhan fixed her with his compassionate gaze. “If you find yourself in need of a friend, remember me.” He stood and clasped his hands. “Enjoy the rest of your meal. Perhaps my stay here will become longer still. In dark times people seek the presence of bright things, and who in this world is brighter than I?”

He left, his tread soundless on the stones. Rema finished her cheese and rested her head on her arms, staring at the stone wall. A spider trundled along a gap in the bricks, its legs feeling ahead with each step. Rema watched it until it tugged itself into a small hole in the masonry.

She would have to deal with Calan again that afternoon, and her insides slickened with apprehension at the thought. Something dark and bloody was unfolding in the court of Danosha, and at its center were Calan and that dead-eyed henchman of his. Yet there was unexpected beauty here too—the loyalty of Loric, the passion of Elise, the kindness of Yorin. In dark times, Muhan had said… but there was still light aplenty, and she would not allow such torches to be extinguished beneath the shadow of one man.

Chapter Ten

Rema stared at an immense battle-ax hanging on the wall. There were numerous deep notches in its blade, and it was a matter of guesswork as to whether they were from battle or from felling trees. As she turned to continue on her way, she spotted three tall figures moving in her direction—Domyr, the Narandane diplomat, and two of his servants.

“Good morning,” she said, and Domyr paused in his march, his heavy brow lowering.

“We have not been properly introduced.” His lips seemed incapable of forming anything other than a scowl. “I am Lord Domyr, ambassador to King Nazar Narandan.”

“I’m Rema, ambassador to Ormun, of whom you may have heard.” If the comment amused him, his face betrayed no trace of it. “Did your audience with King Cedrin go well?”

“From my point of view, yes. May I ask why you are here?”

He already knew why, but diplomats enjoyed their little games. “The Emperor wishes to assist Danosha in their war. I assume you’ve something similar in mind.”

“I cannot say. I trust your own audiences with the King and Queen have been favorable.”

“The situation is complicated.” Rema made a noncommittal gesture. “Have you met the older prince? Calan? He’s back today.”

Domyr shook his head. “Should I?”

“If his boasts are to be believed.”

“I will take it under consideration.”

“If you care to bring the Empire in on your plans, feel free to do so.” Rema peered into his black eyes, but there was no deciphering the thought in them. “If we both want to help these people, then we should do it together.”

Domyr inclined his head. “Perhaps. Good day.”

It was tempting to surreptitiously follow Domyr down the corridor, but she was a diplomat, not a spy. She returned instead to her stroll. She turned two corners, passed by a display case containing cheap gemstones, moved beneath a heavy archway and stopped short at the sight of Yorin bustling in her direction, his hands in his sleeves.

“There you are,” he said. “His grace and Calan want to see you in the war room. It’s an absurd room, just a table with some tiny iron soldiers and horses on it.”

“Noblemen and their tiny iron soldiers. Will you take me there?”

Yorin nodded. He led her to the upper floor of the palace, navigating the maze of halls with the directness of someone who knew its every intersection, and into a hallway that ended in a large, half-open door. The voices of Calan and Cedrin were audible behind it.

“Good luck,” said Yorin. “Don’t let Calan get the better of you.”

The war room was a wide, dust-choked space dominated by a single large table. A window on one wall permitted the waning afternoon light. Several faded charts hung on the walls, and a broad map of the continent lay spread across the table. Cedrin was hunched over the map, scrutinizing an arrangement of metal soldiers, while Calan lounged against a nearby support beam. He noticed Rema’s entrance and grunted. “It’s here,” he said. “Finally, we can begin.”

Rema adopted a pose of neutrality, drawing her feet together and resting her arms at her sides. “Your Grace, do you usually permit your son to be so impolite toward foreign dignitaries?”

Cedrin flushed and rubbed his forehead with his fist. “Yes, Calan, please. At least have the decency to call her by name.”

“And what was its name again?”

“Remela,” said Rema. “Not too many syllables for you, I hope.”

“Very cute. I’ll try to talk slowly so that you can keep up.”

“Enough.” Cedrin lifted his tired face to frown at his son. “She is an honored guest.”

Calan marched to the door and kicked it shut. “Oh, spare me. Let’s get to business. Remela, my father is old and absentminded. He accidentally accepted your terms when we both know that they need amending.”

“You were fortunate to receive the terms you did,” said Rema. “Ormun is pulling you out of a fire. Would you rather be left to burn?”

“Shut up until I’m done talking. Your proposal is that you’ll give us troops and resources in exchange for two things. One is my sister. Fine, take the bitch. The other is that we agree not to regain any more land than we have already lost. In short, you want us to fight to a pointless stalemate.” Calan bared his teeth. “In short, we gain nothing.”

Rema stared at him. What manner of idiot had the royalty of Danosha brought into the world? “Peace is not nothing.”

As Rema spoke, Cedrin’s attention moved nervously between her and Calan. If this was any indication of his usual timidity before his son, serious trouble lay ahead.

“Here’s what we’ll do,” said Calan. “We’ll split Lyorn in two. We’ll take the south and Ormun can have everything else. Isn’t that what war is for? Conquest? Surely the Emperor would leap at the chance to command yet another plot of bloody soil.”

“Ormun doesn’t need Lyorn.” Rema didn’t keep the scorn from her voice. “How would he possibly hold it?”

“He holds many far-flung provinces. Don’t be obtuse. Ormun could leave a standing army strong enough to repel any of Lyorn’s neighbors. Do you really think Dantium or Kalanis are going to risk their necks against the Emperor of the Pale Plains?”

“You seem willing to, and you’ve far less at your disposal than either of those realms.”

Calan gave Rema a look of focused contempt. “Those are our new terms, Diplomat. Accept them or leave.”

“So let me be clear. You want Ormun to not only win a war for you but to give you half a kingdom. In return, you give him Elise.”

“Isn’t she worth it? She might be repulsive, but she’s got an ample body. I’m sure Ormun will have many happy nights curing her perversion.”

“Calan,” said Cedrin without a trace of strength or authority. “Don’t speak of your sister that way.”

Calan spat on the stone floor. “I extend to her the same respect she shows me. Why do you indulge her? She’s done nothing for us. She refuses to accept marriage, her natural lot in life. Instead she plays at being some kind of wizard and exhibits male appetites. She’s an aberration.”

“Your sister is confused on some matters, I’ll grant you. But she’s a valued advisor, and I wish you’d show her more respect.”

“Leave Elise out of this,” said Rema. “Calan’s proposal is unacceptable. We’re here to help you end this war, not to let you run rampant over this continent.”

Calan gave a sharp laugh. “If you won’t accept my terms, then we don’t need your help. Isn’t that so, Father?”

“Don’t be rash,” said Cedrin. “Those troops would be invaluable, Calan. And food is so scarce. Think of the lives we’ll lose otherwise…”

“Think of the future we will gain!” Calan clenched his fist as an intensity of passion animated his face. “The only way for us to expand is north, through Lyorn’s fattened belly. Peace? I call it impotence!”

Rema lifted one of the iron soldiers between her thumb and forefinger. “You have an army of five thousand. Perhaps less. Ormun will send you twenty thousand across the Sea of Red Winds. When your provinces are regained and Lyorn comes to the table, our soldiers will return, leaving not a single one behind.”

“We will regain our mediocrity, and nothing more.”

“You will keep your lives.” Rema dropped the soldier to the table, and it landed upon its base. “The sooner you accept the offer, the sooner our troops will be here. If you agree now, I will return to Arann in three weeks to seal the agreement. The Minister of War is a friend of mine, and I can hurry the paperwork.” She flicked away her bangs and stared into Cedrin’s uncertain eyes. “Your Grace, in less than two months from now this war can be turned in your favor. In three, I predict it will be over and your soldiers returned to their families.”

Cedrin stroked his chin. “These are hopeful tidings, Calan.”

“Hopeful!” Calan struck his fist on the table, sending soldiers clattering. “And what will come of it if we march to our old borders and no farther? When these soldiers return home, Lyorn will strike again. Unless we bring our enemy to its knees, we will remain as weak as ever, a lamb among lions.” His voice rose. “You will regret these terms, Father, and I will inherit nothing but ashes.”

“You poor boy,” said Rema. “You’d almost think you were the one being married to the Emperor, the way you whine.”

“You’re so softhearted for that whore. Not surprising, given the deficiency of your sex.” Calan’s tone harshened into a growl. “Consider this, Diplomat, if you so love peacemaking. If you don’t help us win the war, I’ll win it my way. Through death and blood. We’ll crown ourselves in gore, and there won’t be much to be said for innocence.”

“Do you truly think Ormun, the Terror of Amantis, is deterred by promises of savagery from a mere pup?”

“No. But I think you are. You have the authority to negotiate, so negotiate. It doesn’t have to even be half of Lyorn. Just some of their holdings. Enough to give us the edge. Enough to make this war worth fighting.”

“Worth fighting? I’ve met many men like you, Calan Danarian. You crave war because on the battlefield, you can pretend that self-worth is measured by the number of lives you’ve ended. The tyrant in his castle is a hero on the field. In peacetime, however, people see your violence for what it really is.”

“My lady,” said Cedrin in a tremulous voice. “I might ask you also to temper your tongue. He is my heir and a prince of my blood.”

“He is an idiot and a bully, and I won’t negotiate with him any further.” As Rema’s tone hardened, Cedrin blanched and clutched his gown. He showed no trace of the authority he’d tried to wield over her in the throne room; in this match of wills, he was merely a bystander. “I came to negotiate with you, not your incompetent heir. The Empire of the Pale Plains does not deal with children waiting in the wings but with rightful rulers. This kingdom belongs to you and your wife. What is her position?”

“Her position is unclear.”

“Then perhaps she should be present at the next meeting. Otherwise our time is only being wasted.” Rema and Calan glared at each other, and a tight, angry vein writhed at his temple. “You know where I stand, Your Grace. You have my original terms or you have nothing. No ships, no soldiers, no supplies and no chance of victory. I serve a conqueror, and I can assure you that your son is no conqueror.”

Calan’s grimace exposed the fleshy darkness of his gums, but for once, he offered no rejoinder.

“He’d have you believe he’s an expert on warfare,” said Rema. “In truth, he’s fought one war and he’s losing it, whereas I have seen and concluded conflicts beyond count. Regardless of what the prince tells you after I have left this room, my words will remain wise and true, and his will remain impulsive and dangerous.”

Cedrin remained as mute as the tin soldiers before him. “Enough,” said Calan. “You’ve made yourself clear, so now leave us be. If you think my father will listen to you over his own son, you’re stupider than I thought.”

“If you think your father will take the advice of a belligerent whelp over that of the most decorated diplomat to serve the greatest empire the world has ever known, then you’re the fool.” Rema bowed to Cedrin. “Good day, Your Grace.” Even after she closed the door behind her, she fancied she could still feel Calan’s gaze on her back, hot with anger and suppressed violence.

Yorin was waiting further down the corridor, organizing a group of servants to clean mold from the brickwork. He scurried toward Rema, leaving the servants in undirected confusion. “Well? What happened?”

“Calan won’t accept our terms unless we agree to let Danosha run roughshod over Lyorn. How can I accept that? Not only is it not in the interests of the Empire, but it means more death and suffering.”

“The arrogant fool. Did the King listen to him or you?”

“I expressed myself forcefully. Whether he will listen, who can say?”

“I’ll work on his grace, try to counteract some of Calan’s poison. The King is timid in the presence of his son, but in private he’ll come around to your way of thinking.”

“I hope so.” Rema blew out an unhappy breath. “But what if none of it matters? Calan doesn’t seem the type to abide his parents’ decisions.”

“You think he’d make a move on the throne?” Yorin gnawed on his lower lip. “Yes, it’s crossed my mind. He’s acted like the lord of the court ever since the war began. He has a private killer installed right here in the palace.”

“That man’s name is Bannon, by the way.” The day’s emotion lay heavy in Rema’s chest, and exhaustion filled her limbs. “I need to eat, and I don’t have the energy to dine with anyone tonight. Can you have some food sent to my chambers?”

“I’ll see to it. I’ll have the food tested as well. Times like these, you can never be too cautious.”

Yorin turned his head to watch a servant balancing on a tall stool. “That idiot’s going to break his leg that way.” As he spoke, Yorin’s hands shook, and surely not with concern for the servant’s well-being. She caught his shoulder and turned him to face her again.

“There’s something else on your mind. Tell me.”