Treason's Shore (82 page)

Now, Inda was coming to the rescue of the alliance, if not directly to Bren’s defense . . .

And he was bringing a new threat.

“What do you intend to do?” Wisthia asked.

Tau sighed. “Not quite certain. I know Evred as well as Evred lets anyone know him. He wants Inda to actually take the strait by military force and govern it, but he really is motivated by good intentions.”

“And, being a Marlovan, he would not be able to see that even a benevolent tyranny is still a tyranny.” Wisthia pursed her lips. “All right. There’s no time for more, not that we can do much. As it happens, Guild Fleet Master Chim just sent word that Jeje’s vessel entered the harbor.”

“Jeje,” Tau whispered.

“You had better stir about your business,” Wisthia responded, seeing his anticipation in his tense hand gripping the door latch. “But listen to me first.”

Tau let his hand fall.

“The Venn constitute the biggest problem before us now. Evred’s intentions will have to wait. So you have time and your wits. Evred expects you to explain him to the world. It could be that you are called upon to explain the world to him.”

“But I did,” Tau protested. And winced when the next thought occurred. “I wonder if I’m in some wise to blame? I’ve been trying to be entertaining with my reports . . . maybe exaggerating some of the worst qualities of our fellow diplomats.”

“If they didn’t have those worst qualities, you wouldn’t be able to exaggerate them,” Wisthia said. “I will reflect a little, then attempt to write to Evred myself.”

Tau dug in his pocket and handed her the gold case. “Then you should take this.” When she hesitated, he said, “If Evred wants to communicate with me, or I with him, Inda surely has some means.”

Wisthia accepted the case. Tau smiled and then gave in to impulse and kissed her.

It was a chaste kiss, from a son to a mother. Wisthia colored, laughed, and patted Tau’s cheek. “Go on.”

He whirled his caped coat around his shoulders and left with light step, thinking,
Jeje is here
.

Behind, Wisthia closed herself in her room. So much to say, and she could give in to impulse and satisfy herself with pages of reasoned prose, but how much of it would he read? Motherhood had taught her that no matter what you say, your children don’t always hear it, and then they don’t always heed what they hear.

Keep it short, she decided.

Still, it took a night and a day of crumpled attempts before she satisfied herself enough to copy out her message in fair:

She put it in the case, did the magic, and it was gone.

Chapter Fourteen

T
HE
Vixen
lowered sail and anchored near the main dock, a rare privilege. Tau elbowed his way through the small crowd gathered. When Jeje hopped up on the dock, brown and solid and inexpressibly dear, Tau gave a strangled sob of laughter. She looked up, a big grin slashed across her face, and hurled herself into his arms.

They kissed with desperate, gasping passion, right there on the pier, for a few white-hot, ecstatic moments oblivious to the cheers and hoots of sailors, dock-workers, guards, and everyone else around. He hugged her closer because he couldn’t get enough of her smooth skin, her silky short hair that smelled of the sea, of her solid warmth. His knees weakened with tenderness at the growl like a hunting cat deep in her chest. No, it was a
purr
.

Then she pushed away enough to let a little air between them. “Put that gaff away for later. In my hammock.”

Tau let her go, laughing unsteadily. “Where’s Inda?”

“He’s on the
Death
. Coming as fast as they can.
Vixen
is still the fastest thing on the water, save only
Skimit
. And that’s gone somewhere else.” She jabbed her thumb into the cold east wind. “Inda sent me here ahead, since I lost my gold case thing.” Her gaze took in his beautiful, fashionable clothes, then strayed back to her scout cutter.

“So did I. Mine went overboard the winter after the war.” Tau caressed her cheek. “No, I am not going to become a duke.”

Jeje smiled up at him, but her brow stayed furrowed. “I was just afraid you’d get mixed up with kings and, you know, like it.” She indicated his caped coat. “Here, let’s go talk to Chim, and . . . whee-
yoo
! Bren took an even bigger beating than Danai, if this is from that storm last year. They lost the entire rope walk.”

Tau indicated the half-deserted wharf with new storefronts here and there, and piles of brick and stone awaiting rebuilding projects that had been abandoned because of the expected attack. “The people got this end of the harbor sandbagged pretty well. We could feel it coming. But the west end got swept clean.”

“The ghost yards, where the poor live,” Jeje said grimly.

“Well, no one lives there now. The point is the winds were stronger there, and it sits lower. By the time the guards got down to the wa terfront, it was too dangerous to approach. The waves were breaking halfway to Fish-Spine Alley. Your old tavern vanished in the first wave. They’re rebuilding closer to Schooner Hill.”

Over the noise of caulking hammers, sails flapping, bells, the thump of goods being loaded and unloaded, and the halloo of marine voices, Jeje heard clattering and banging in the distance. She hoped some of her old friends had employment and a place to live. But Tau had never known those people, so she just said, “Glad we missed that storm. You and me will catch up soon’s I deliver Inda’s messages to Chim.”

“I’ll get my gear and meet you there.”

Jeje gripped his wrist. “You’re coming back with me?”

“Yes.” He smiled wryly. “My career as a trade envoy is over, at least for now.”

Wisthia was in conference when he arrived. He left his chambers scrupulously neat, his trunks of good clothing labeled and awaiting paid movers to stow, his papers all burned. He was dressed in his old deck clothes, though the shirt was too tight, the inevitable result of crossing Iasca Leror as Inda’s sparring partner and the strenuous exercise he’d performed since, though he hadn’t sparred;
Fox will no doubt amend that with bone-crushing vigor,
he was thinking as he shut his door.

There was his hostess. “You’re ready to go?”

Tau said, “You’ll find a letter of apology for Princess Kliessin on my desk. It’s a good letter. Has three references to current plays, and I threw in some Old Sartoran allusions when describing her generosity and kindness, not to mention yours. Which is quite appreciated, by the way. I thank you for everything.”

“Fare well,” Wisthia said.

He hoisted his gear bag over his shoulder, spoke to each servant (handing them a handsome vail) and then left.

He hitched his gear bag more securely as a cold, wet wind straight off the water buffeted him on Dock Street. How much did traffic block winds, he wondered, looking around the mostly empty street. Even in winter, under ordinary circumstances, it was usually thronged.

He reached the Fleet Guild building to find it ringed with guards. Not just the city guard, but the fellows in burnt orange with the tall hats: Royal Guards.

They passed him through. Tau entered to find yet more guards, and wide-eyed workers behind the counters self-consciously doing their jobs. The guard captain somewhat ironically waved Tau upstairs to Chim’s office, where he found Princess Kliessin herself seated in Chim’s chair, Chim and Jeje standing in front of the desk. There were no guards in the room, just the two posted outside the door.

They shut Tau in, and he heard them take up stance outside the office.

“I should think you could afford a better chair than this,” Kliessin said to Chim, thumping the arm with her fist. “There is no comfortable way to sit.”

“Makes me work faster, yer highness,” Chim said.

Kliessin gave a proper princess sniff, then turned on Tau. “And here’s our envoy. What’s your excuse, my lord?”

“Excuse for what, you highness?” Tau bowed as if he still wore his velvets, his manner formal.

“For being here, in those clothes.”

“I am going to join Inda’s fleet,” he said, as if that ought to be obvious.

“Which is going where?” Kliessin had been extremely angry ever since the discovery that the so-called Sartoran Alliance was abandoning Bren. Tau had not been present when the foreign diplomats were forced to admit the truth to her, after weeks of sumptuous parties and compliment-thick hedging; Wisthia had encouraged him to stay home, emphasizing to all that he had nothing to do with the decision.

“Who ordered you to leave? That horse-riding king over the mountains?”

He felt the weight of all three gazes.
Explain Evred to the world
. . . “Evred-Harvaldar directed me to serve as Inda’s aide.”

Kliessin struck the battered chair arm with her palm. “Excellent. So tell me exactly what that means. Do you speak for the Marlovan king, or for your Inda, or both?”

Tau grimaced. “I can’t speak for Inda as I have not yet seen him. It’s been several years since we had any communication.”

“You’re beginning to sound like those damned sugar-mouths from Everon and the rest.”

“I really haven’t.”

“He hasn’t,” Jeje cut in. “He doesn’t even know what I just told you, about Inda saying you should surrender if you have to, but postpone and delay and argue as much as you can beforehand.”

“Inda said that?” Tau asked Jeje.

“Yep. Says don’t waste lives. Stick it a few months until we sweep the strait clean of ’em.” Jeje faced the princess. “Your other ambassadors ought to have told you by now that the alliance is gathering at The Fangs.”

“I have been informed about this putative alliance,” Kliessin said, her expression wry. “But so far, all it’s done is sail around somewhere east and talk. No one sees fit to actually aid us. And yet they want my little navy to reinforce them.”

“Inda says that’s our strongest position, at The Fangs,” Jeje stated.

“Which brings me to him. What concessions does your Inda expect from us?”

“Nothing.” Jeje shrugged, her indifference plain.

Kliessin turned to Tau, who was, as she expected, as unreadable as he was beautiful. “And? You’ll just tell me again that you haven’t seen Inda.” She sighed. “Look, I know you two mean well, or we would not be here so comfortably. You, Jeje sa Jeje, I know are as politically naive as it’s possible to be. Lord Taumad, you are not. But I have respected your good intentions, so let’s not fence words. This is what I want. If your Inda Elgar steps on my dock, then within a watch he had better swear before my father or brother or me that he will not attempt any interference with my kingdom whatsoever, and that his authority over my navy—
my
navy, not his—extends only to the end of this conflict with the Venn.”

Tau’s chest had gone tight. He met her steady gaze, flicked a sideways look at Jeje, whose expression was uneasy, and wily old Chim pursed his lips.

“Inda is not coming ashore,” Chim said. “Sailing straight past, Jeje sez. Got to get east as fast as he can. With us or without us. I say ‘we’ because that was always my purpose, to command the Guild Fleet. The five guilds have put together their fleet, and though ye took some of ’em, yer highness, there are still Guild ships from Ymar, Everon, and our other signatories gathering out at The Fangs. One thing I do know, it’s gonna take every ship we can find to confront them damn vinegar-pisses.”

“And Elgar the Fox is to lead this armada.” Kliessin spoke slowly, her eyes narrowed. “Guild Mistress Perran thinks he’s risking his life for nothing more than goodwill. The Everoneth believe he wants to establish a seagoing empire. I want to know the truth.”

And a lie came to Tau’s lips, easy and mild after months of diplomatic dodges, “Inda won’t want to touch land. He knows how threatened everyone feels, how ambivalent about his past.”

Kliessin’s brow, a straight dark line unexpectedly like Jeje’s, lifted, then furrowed. “How do you know that? You just told me you haven’t had communication with him in years.”

“No. But I know him.”

Jeje nodded slowly. “It’s true. Inda never wanted anything to do with any kings. Except that Marlovan one. On account of them being friends when they were little.”

Kliessin smacked her hands down on the chair arms again, but this time with an air of decision. “All right. Will you two swear to me that you will carry this message to him, just as I spoke it?”