While I sipped at my coffee, one by one the staff finished their chores and vanished through the tent flaps, until at last Shevraeth and I were alone.
He turned to face me. "Questions?"
"Of course! What happened?"
He sat down across from me. "Took 'em by surprise," he said. "That part was easy enough. The worst of it has been the aftermath."
"You captured the commanders, then. The Marquise and--"
"Her daughter, the two mercenary captains, the two sellout garrison commanders, the Denlieff wing commander, Barons Chaskar and Hurnaev, and Baroness Orgaliun, to be precise. Grumareth's nowhere to be found; my guess is that he got cold feet and scampered for home. If so, he'll find some of my people waiting for him."
"So the Marquise is a prisoner somewhere?" I asked, enjoying the idea.
He grimaced. "No. She took poison. A constitutional inability to suffer reverses, apparently. We didn't find out until too late. Fialma," he added drily, "tried to give her share to me."
"That must have been a charming scene."
"It took place at approximately the same time you were conversing with your forty wagoneers." He smiled a little. "Since then I have dispatched the real mercenaries homeward, unpaid, and sent some people to make certain they get over the border. What they do in Denlieff is their ruler's problem. Fialma is on her way back--under guard--to Erev-li-Erval, where I expect she'll become a permanent Imperial Court leech. The Denlieff soldiers I'm keeping in garrison until the ambassador can squeeze an appropriate trade agreement from his soon-to-be apologetic king and queen. The two sellouts we executed, and I have trusted people combing through the rest to find out who was coerced and who not."
"Half will be lying, of course."
"More. It's a bad business, and complete justice is probably a dream. But the word will get out, and I hope it won't be so easy to raise such a number again."
I sighed. "Then the Merindar threat is over."
"I sincerely hope so."
"You do not sound convinced."
He said, "I confess I'll feel more convinced when the courier from Athanarel gets here."
"Courier?"
"Arranged with my parents. Once a day, even if the word was 'no change.' Only she's late."
"How late?" I asked, thinking of a couple of measures, or maybe a candle, or even two. "The rain was bad yesterday--"
"A day."
Warning prickled at the back of my neck. "Oh, but surely if there was a problem, someone would either send a runner or come in person."
"That's the most rational way to consider it," he agreed.
"And of course you sent someone to see if something happened to the expected courier? I mean something ordinary, like the horse threw a shoe, or the courier fell and sprained her leg?"
He nodded. "I'll wait until the end of blue, and make a decision then." He looked up. "In the meantime, do you have any more questions for me?" His voice was uninflected, but the drawl was gone. I knew that the time for the political discussion was past, for now, and that here at last were the personal issues that had lain between us for so long.
He turned to face me. "Questions?"
"Of course! What happened?"
He sat down across from me. "Took 'em by surprise," he said. "That part was easy enough. The worst of it has been the aftermath."
"You captured the commanders, then. The Marquise and--"
"Her daughter, the two mercenary captains, the two sellout garrison commanders, the Denlieff wing commander, Barons Chaskar and Hurnaev, and Baroness Orgaliun, to be precise. Grumareth's nowhere to be found; my guess is that he got cold feet and scampered for home. If so, he'll find some of my people waiting for him."
"So the Marquise is a prisoner somewhere?" I asked, enjoying the idea.
He grimaced. "No. She took poison. A constitutional inability to suffer reverses, apparently. We didn't find out until too late. Fialma," he added drily, "tried to give her share to me."
"That must have been a charming scene."
"It took place at approximately the same time you were conversing with your forty wagoneers." He smiled a little. "Since then I have dispatched the real mercenaries homeward, unpaid, and sent some people to make certain they get over the border. What they do in Denlieff is their ruler's problem. Fialma is on her way back--under guard--to Erev-li-Erval, where I expect she'll become a permanent Imperial Court leech. The Denlieff soldiers I'm keeping in garrison until the ambassador can squeeze an appropriate trade agreement from his soon-to-be apologetic king and queen. The two sellouts we executed, and I have trusted people combing through the rest to find out who was coerced and who not."
"Half will be lying, of course."
"More. It's a bad business, and complete justice is probably a dream. But the word will get out, and I hope it won't be so easy to raise such a number again."
I sighed. "Then the Merindar threat is over."
"I sincerely hope so."
"You do not sound convinced."
He said, "I confess I'll feel more convinced when the courier from Athanarel gets here."
"Courier?"
"Arranged with my parents. Once a day, even if the word was 'no change.' Only she's late."
"How late?" I asked, thinking of a couple of measures, or maybe a candle, or even two. "The rain was bad yesterday--"
"A day."
Warning prickled at the back of my neck. "Oh, but surely if there was a problem, someone would either send a runner or come in person."
"That's the most rational way to consider it," he agreed.
"And of course you sent someone to see if something happened to the expected courier? I mean something ordinary, like the horse threw a shoe, or the courier fell and sprained her leg?"
He nodded. "I'll wait until the end of blue, and make a decision then." He looked up. "In the meantime, do you have any more questions for me?" His voice was uninflected, but the drawl was gone. I knew that the time for the political discussion was past, for now, and that here at last were the personal issues that had lain between us for so long.
( Sherwood Smith )
[ Court Duel ]
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