The Godspeaker Trilogy (150 page)

King Alasdair was frowning. “Why keep this so secret? To humour Tzhung-tzhungchai?”

“Yes.”

Han met the king's hot stare and Helfred's speculative look with a bland, half-smiling gaze of his own. “Her Majesty indulges me.”

“Han's witch-men are keeping Mijak's warships penned in Icthia,” Rhian said baldly. “They have control of the trade winds, at least for now. But Mijak threatens to break the witch-men. Han says if we don't form the armada soon, it will be too late. And yes —” she added as the king began to protest. “I have pointed out the inconvenience of his silence on the matter.”

“Rollin's mercy,” whispered Helfred. “You can do this, Emperor Han? You can summon God's wind at will?”

If ever this little man learned what Tzhung could do, his heart would give out and he would fall dead where he stood. “It is not so simple as you make it sound, Prolate.”

“Oh, Emperor Han, I don't call it simple at all!” retorted Helfred. “Indeed, I fear it skirts close to—”

“Please, Helfred!” said Rhian.

As the prolate subsided, unhappy, King Alasdair tapped his fingers on the table. “You say your witch-men are in danger, Han?”

Someone else who presumed to use his name. In Tzhung he would be executed for the liberty. This is not Tzhung. I must remember that . “Grave danger, Alasdair. Mijak seeks to make itself even more powerful. It spills human blood.”

Silence as the Ethreans stared at him. Human sacrifice? said Rhian at last, her pacing abandoned. “But I thought—”

“Animals,” said Helfred, his voice faint. “Zandakar has told us they sacrifice beasts. He never —”

“We must ask him,” said Alasdair. His voice was cold, his eyes colder. “We must discover what else he never .”

Han watched, curious, as Rhian and her king exchanged daggered looks. Then Rhian's chin lifted, her expression so defiant. “He doesn't know. I'd chance my life on it.”

“You might well be chancing all our lives,” said Alasdair, unconvinced.

Rhian turned away from her husband. “Han, do you know without doubt there's human blood spilled?”

An echo of pain whispered through his flesh. “Yes.”

“And you're certain Tzhung's witch-men can't—”

“ Yes !” he said. “Would I share our secrets with outsiders otherwise? Would I come to you for help if we weren't driven to our knees?”

“No,” she murmured, breaking the frozen silence. “Of course you wouldn't. Han, please, promise you won't speak of this to anyone else. If there should be talk, if people tar Zandakar with this abominable brush, I fear—” She swallowed, her eyes wide. “We need him. This dreadful news can't be allowed to endanger him.”

She was so sure of Zandakar, where her king clearly harboured doubts. He doubted too, but how could he refuse her? The wind had made its choices clear. He nodded. “I will keep my counsel.”

“Thank you,” she said, and seemed to breathe a little easier. “Han, how long do we have before Mijak defeats your witch-men? How long before the trade winds blow again?”

“I cannot say. But you must not delay further in bending the ambassadors to your will.”

“And how am I supposed to do that without telling them what your witch-men have been up to?” she replied, pacing again. “And I have to hide that, Han. No-one can know what we know of your business, because—”

“If Gutten and the others suspect we're privy to Tzhung's secrets where they're not, any trust they had in us will burn like tinder,” said Alasdair, and sighed. “But without a good reason to side with us they're more likely to dig their heels in harder, just to prove they'll not be told.”

“Precisely,” said Rhian, her face and voice grim.

Han stared at her. “These nations need Ethrea, Rhian. You threatened Gutten with that.”

“And you think I should make good on my threat?” she said, throwing him an impatient glance. “I can't. Not yet. Not until all hope of cajoling Arbenia's support is extinguished. The danger we face from Mijak is far beyond the scope of the trading charter. If I punish any of the trading nations too swiftly I risk a revolt. And how will that help us? We must still gain their agreement for an Ethrean army. I don't dare threaten Ambassador Gutten until the very last gasp.”

“Still,” said Alasdair, after some consideration. “It won't hurt to recall the ambassadors to the castle. We can sound them out, gently. Nudge them towards agreement for our army at least. They have to know it won't pose a threat to their safety. We've no ships to sail to their nations, threatening an invasion of our own.”

“Very true,” said Prolate Helfred, stirring from his melancholy. “God knows we must do something, Your Majesties. With Mijak slaughtering innocents for their blood we can't sit idle hoping against hope the tide will turn in our favour. God expects us to act.”

Rhian nodded. “Yes, Helfred. He does.” She continued to pace, as though she had to move or die, her expression stricken. “It must be the peonple of Icthia being sacrificed. Rollin's mercy, I'll have to tell Athnïj.” She halted, her eyes wide. “How can I? There's a chance his family's slaughtered. God help me, how can I tell that poor man…”

“There's no need to tell him anything yet,” said King Alasdair quietly. “Not if we're keeping what more we know of Mijak a secret. Besides.” He pulled a face. “In his heart I think Athnïj must suspect he'll never see his family again.”

Abruptly Rhian stopped pacing and swung about. Now she looked angry. “I'm a fool, not thinking clearly. Han, if your witch-men are strong enough to hold back the trade winds, what else are they strong enough to do? Can they raise a storm and sink Mijak's warships at anchor? Can they scour the warriors of Mijak from the face of the world? What, precisely, are the limits of their power?”

Han lowered his gaze. He'd wondered how long it would be before these thoughts occurred to her.

How can I answer without betraying our perilous weakness? How can I satisfy her without breaking my sacred trust?

He looked up. “Rhian…if my witch-men could destroy Mijak, they would have done so already.”

But by the time they'd realised the danger, Mijak had already grown too strong. Witch-men were not gods. They could not order the whole world on a whim. And now, after battling Mijak's darkness for so long, they were too exhausted. Too few. The raising of storms was a killing endeavour even when a witch-man was not already exhausted. Even in the days when Tzhung's witch-men were plentiful, such a feat would be nearly beyond them.

And we are no longer plentiful. We are stretched pitifully thin.

Rhian was staring. “I don't understand. Are you saying you won't even try?”

He felt a stirring of rage, that he must endure censure from this child. “Try? Even as you stand there, Queen of Ethrea, my witch-men spend their lives in your defence! And you dare to—”

“Please,” said Alasdair, holding up a hand. “Emperor Han, please. Fighting amongst ourselves will achieve nothing. We know you're doing all that you can, and we're grateful.” His gaze flickered. “Aren't we, Your Majesty?”

Rhian breathed out harshly. “Yes. Yes, of course we are.” Then she pressed her fingers briefly against her eyes. “Only I fail to see how we're any further ahead. Even if by some miracle I can convince Gutten and the others to set aside their suspicion and join Voolksyn in aiding us, surely it's too late.” She let her hands drop to her sides. “The ships of Arbenia and Harbisland and the other trading nations are weeks away. What if Tzhung's witch-men can't hold out for weeks? What if they break tonight – or tomorrow – before even one friendly warship can reach us?”

Han sighed. I must trust, I must trust…the wind has blown me here, after all . “You need not fear, Rhian. Once the rulers of the trading nations have agreed to join you against Mijak, my witch-men can help their ships reach Ethrea in time.”

“How?”

“I thought you were uncomfortable, knowing the secrets of Tzhung-tzhungchai?” he said, mocking.

She grimaced. “I am. Forget I asked. Instead you can suggest how I'm going to explain to Gutten and the others what's happened to the trade winds, and how they must act quickly before their return, without telling them the truth.”

“You'll say it's a miracle,” said Prolate Helfred, stirring at last. “One that won't last for long. You'll say God told you the armada must be formed now. After all, to my mind the halting of the trade winds is a miracle, and all miracles come from God. And as God sent Zandakar to you, so has he sent the emperor.” He smiled, his eyes shadowed. “So indeed God has told you…after a fashion.”

“Of course…” said Alasdair as Rhian stared at her prolate, incredulous, “even if they believe in Ethrean miracles, once they know the trade winds are altered they might well claim their missing ships are not taken by Mijak, but only stranded somewhere on the ocean. They could claim this is a plot between Ethrea and the Tzhung.”

Rhian groaned. “He's right, Han. Give Gutten the smallest excuse to doubt me and he will doubt me, and drag the others into doubt behind him. Worse than that, they might even form alliances amongst themselves and think to overthrow my kingdom.”

Han shook his head. “No. They stand to lose too much. The penalties listed in the treaty charter would ruin them.”

She stared at him, as though she thought he was stupid. “Han, I think you've grown sheltered in your mighty empire of Tzhung. No-one dares raise a hand to you, so you've forgotten how to fear. Remember I grew up in Ethrea, in Eberg's court. I've watched the ambassadors circle and dance and whisper in corners my whole life. If they think their nations stand to lose everything they've built here, if they believe you and I have made a secret pact that threatens their wealth and sovereignty, the charter will mean nothing . They'll claim we broke it first.”

“And if they are so foolish as to raise arms against Ethrea,” Han replied, “the Tzhung empire will protect you.”

“Thereby proving to them all their suspicions,” she said, smiling wryly.

“What of Dexterity?” said Prolate Helfred. “They've seen the power of God in him. How—”

“Helfred, think ,” said Rhian, impatient. “You know as well as I do that mystery, superstition and rumour surround the Tzhung. There's nothing so outlandish it can't be laid at their feet.”

And that was true enough, Han silently conceded. “If Gutten and the rest would risk the world for their greedy fears, then they are fools and deserve to die.”

Prolate Helfred pushed to his feet. “Shame on you for saying so, Emperor Han. It's not your place to condemn so many souls. If God desired their destruction – or the destruction of their nations – he wouldn't have sent us Zandakar. He wouldn't have bestowed miracles upon Mister Jones. He wouldn't have called upon Queen Rhian to lead the league of trading nations against the might of Mijak and its bloodthirsty false god. We would even now be breathing our last days in blissful ignorance. We are required to save lives, sir, not pass judgement on the follies of other men.”

This man, this plump little man, presumed to lecture an emperor of the Tzhung? Nobody speaks to me like that but Sun-dao. And not even Sun-dao uses a tone so disrespectful . Seething, Han opened his mouth to blister the upstart priest – then caught Rhian's eye. Her expression was serious, but in her eyes a sardonic gleam.

He decided upon a different attack. “I notice, Prolate, you do not count as worthy of mention Sun-dao's windblown visions. Are you a man who believes his god is the only god?”

“I believe, Emperor Han,” retorted the prolate, “that God has many faces and many truths and he shares those truths among his children.”

As Rhian sighed, Alasdair leaned forward. “I fear we've allowed ourselves to become distracted. Are we agreed, then, that we must recall the ambassadors and press as hard as we dare for a commitment to the armada on behalf of their masters?”

“As hard as you dare?” said Han. “No. As hard as you can.” He stared at Rhian. “Haven't you heard me? There is no more time for coddling the feelings of the other trading nations. If your God has decided you are the one to lead us, Rhian, then you must lead us . You must be bold. Decisive. Only then will men follow you.”

He saw a muscle leap along her jaw, saw that she heard his unspoken words quite clearly. Only then will I follow you . Alasdair and the prolate heard them also. The three Ethreans exchanged guarded glances.

“Your advice is…appreciated,” Rhian said, after a moment. “I'll think on it, and decide how best to proceed. I must tread carefully where the trading nations are concerned.”

He felt his anger stir again. “Rhian, I have told you how best to proceed. How can I make you see the truth more clearly? In the heartbeat that my witch-men lose their grasp upon the trade winds, Mijak will know. Don't you understand that forming the armada is but the beginning? There will be arguments about who's to lead it, arguments about how best to attack Mijak, arguments about—”

“I know!” Rhian said, nearly shouting. “How can you think I don't know all that, Han? I'm sleepless at nights thinking of it. When I stop and consider the task before me I could weep . You say I must see to the swift forming of this armada, and I'll do my best, but you must do your part too. Your witch-men must keep hold of the trade winds. Whatever it costs, Mijak must remain penned as long as possible.”

Slowly, Han stood. “Whatever it costs? It will cost witchmen their lives . You ask the Tzhung for this sacrifice, yet seem to care more for the feelings of Arbenia and Harbisland and the rest than you do for the witchmen who'll die for you, Rhian.”

“That's not true!” Raising a hand to Alasdair and the prolate, who looked to speak in her defence, she strode around the table to face him. “But these trading nations aren't slaves or servants to obediently follow my orders. I must coax them, I must coddle them, I must keep them sweet when their very blood runs sour and that takes time . If we can't stop the Mijaki warships from sailing before we've cobbled together some warships of our own then this will be over before it's begun and I might as well send a letter of surrender to Zandakar's mother now. Should I do that, Han? Is that your advice? Do advise me, mighty emperor. What should I do ?”

He stared into her brilliant blue eyes. Girl, girl, you are a puzzlement to me. The wind won't say why it's blown us together. Sun-dao can't tell me. Won't tell me, perhaps. It's the same in the end. Rhian is the queen here, and Han is her consort .