at the palace as I had promised. But no matter: I often handle my most important affairs here. You were shown into the Emperor’s own chambers, which should give you an indication of my influence.” Dorgoe stuttered and fell silent as he saw the utter disregard in the man’s nut-brown eyes. He realized that his explanations were falling on deaf ears. “Enough of that. Let’s get to business. I was told that you are the personal representative of the House of the Jaguar and that you are duly authorized to engage in negotiations. As a pure formality, I must ask you if…”
The guest waved a hand over the table, and a round object, orange and black and encrusted with precious stones, appeared on it. Dorgoe picked it up gingerly and held it up to his eyes.
“The personal seal of Arincetek, Fierce Jaguar, leader of the most powerful of the houses of the Arincils.” He pursed his lips in respect. “I once saw the mark of this seal on a treaty. It is a powerful thing. Well,” he handed it back to his guest, “that takes care of the formalities, Ambassador. Tell me, how should I pronounce your name and title?”
“Lord Jaguar,” the guest said.
Dorgoe cleared his throat. “Very well. Perhaps it is better that way. As you know, I am Licisium Dorgoe. Member of the Imperial Council and custodian of the Heavenly Emperor’s will in many matters of state, including foreign affairs. The Empire makes no treaties without my involvement. You have come to the right person with your request, Lord Jaguar.
“The vanquished make requests!” the Arincil announced. Again, the look in his eyes made Dorgoe flinch. “If you wish to continue this conversation, choose your words carefully.”
Dorgoe’s eyebrows headed north. “Forgive me, I was told that…”
“Does the Empire desire peace?”
“Are you here to name your price?”
“You will find it reasonable.”
“Oh, so Lord Jaguar comes bringing peace, eh? But why should I believe him?”
“You have no choice. Four houses of the Arincils are fighting for power. The House of the Snake is too young and weak, so it may be ignored. The leader of the House of the Crocodile is a wise man, but he is entrenched in a war with Mustobrim and can do nothing else at the moment. Kuchinkapak from the House of the Eagle is brave and cruel. Warriors see it as an honor to follow a man like that. In order to unite all the Arincils under his leadership, he will point them toward a common enemy. That will be the Empire.”
“Makes sense. I have heard about Kuchinkapak. He is a madman. But where is my guarantee that Arincetek will be any better? How will he defeat such a dangerous adversary?”
“Arincetek will negotiate with the Empire. I am here – that is your proof. Kuchinkapak only knows how to speak with his sword. Violence is his only language. If the Empire is strong enough to break the Eagle’s wings, then there is nothing for us to discuss.”
“The Empire is strong enough, but it does not like to waste its strength. Do you have a specific proposal?”
“You have made contact with the Virilans. Take me to them. When I return, Arincetek will become the leader of all Arincils and the Empire will have peace and order.”
Dorgoe leaped from his seat, sending his chair rolling across the marble floor with a crash. “You are an ungrateful man, Lord Jaguar! I did not bring you to the palace so you could eavesdrop on secret conversations. May the demons of darkness take me – how did you do it?”
The Arincil stared off into space, unmoved. “We forgive our women for offenses for which a man would pay with his life because they are incapable of controlling themselves. You are being like a woman, so I will ignore what you have said. Necium Tameto’s warriors are also no better than women. They blabbered about meeting Virilans in the wasteland, even adding details of their own invention. They cannot be blamed for their weakness, but I was hoping to get a rational response to my proposal from you.”
“A rational response?” Dorgoe righted his chair and sat back down, nervously rubbing one calf with a fat hand. “It’s ridiculous! Why would the Empire convey its most fearsome enemy to Virilan? So that you can ally with them against us? No, your leader has either lost his mind or he believes us to be fools. Tell me the truth, Lord Jaguar. Did someone in one of the port taverns tell you that old Licisium is an idiot?”
“Virilan will never attack the Empire. They don’t need you or your land or your riches,” the Arincil growled. It was clear he had no wish to share his knowledge on the topic, but he had no choice. “If Herandia is able to establish diplomatic relations with them, you will see that I spoke the truth.”
“Maybe so,” Dorgoe said, squinting. “Let’s suppose you are being honest with me. Even so – may the demons blind me – I can’t figure where you get your information. But what is the true goal of your mission then? I have to know that, or any agreement between us is pointless.”
“It has nothing to do with politics,” the Arincil said. “It is a matter of honor. The story is a long one, and difficult for you to believe or even understand. What I am about to tell you carries a high price. Let it be proof of our future friendship.”
“Tell your story,” said Dorgoe, resting his double chin on one massive hand. “I can be very trusting.”
A welcoming May breeze wandered into the pavilion through the wooden shutters, but the men ignored its delicate attempts to direct their attention to the legendary beauty of the Herandian sunset. The Arincil was unhurried, and his short, succinct phrases were well matched with his aloof manner. Dorgoe remained hunched over the small table, his eyes fixed on his companion. Only a clever squint changed his face at the rare moments when he interrupted the ambassador to ask a question.
When the story was done, both men sat in silence. Then, Dorgoe leaned back in his seat and scratched the bald spot on the top of his head.
“This is all very interesting, of course,” he said. “I had already guessed some of it. As for your plan, it seems reckless to me.”
“The Arincils’ power has rested for hundreds of years on that which you call reckless. I told you it would be hard for you to understand. You have too little room in your life for risk.”
“It’s hard to say who is risking more: me or your great leader. I understand him, though. He’s up against the wall and he wants to make me his hostage. A fine plan!”
“Personal considerations are not the most important thing. You must understand what matters: this is the only chance to prevent full-scale war between our countries.”
“I’m more likely to believe that a wolf will eat grass than that the Arincils are interested in peace,” Dorgoe chuckled. “On the other hand,” and here he pursed his lips, “at times, war with a friend can be more profitable than peace with an enemy.” He lifted the bottle of wine from the table and poured out two glasses. “Allow me to raise a toast to Lord Jaguar. May each of us pray to his own gods for the success of this outrageous endeavor!”
“Uni! Uni!” Sevelia Virando cupped her worn palms around her mouth and made another attempt to get her son’s attention. “Uni! Don’t lie there like a boiled crab! You’ll catch it if you’re late for your meeting!
Up until the moment when he told his mother about his upcoming trip abroad, Uni had innocently assumed that she would be overjoyed at the news. Once the communication was made, however, he realized – yet again – that he was a very poor judge of what people could be expected to do, even those close to him.
Emel Virando really was delighted by her only son’s brilliant prospects. She had spent the last of her money putting him through the academy and had personally overseen his studies as best she could. But the thought that her precious child would be away from home for at least six months, and that he would be visiting a country that was quite possibly populated by demons, threw Sevelia into a state of nervous energy that she managed to communicate to all those around her. Her most intimate friends – wives of successful