Mage's Blood (29 page)

The men growled and clenched their fists at the thought.

‘Do not marry or war in haste, the princess says,’ said the Godspeaker, ‘words from
The Kalistham
. Your father must have read them there. I agree, you should not marry in haste – at least, not in such haste that you do not consider more options than Comte Inveglio’s son. There are many strong princes among the Jhafi, and many more swords to be won than an Inveglio could bring you. You have been a virgin long enough, Princess. It is time for you to become a woman, for the sake of your kingdom.’

Cera frowned, uncomfortable at having her virginity discussed so frankly. ‘I repeat, I will not marry in haste, to anyone, no matter race or creed. I am not a prize on a game-board! This meeting is about military solutions to a military problem. Am I understood?’

The hawk-faced Godspeaker looked ill-pleased, but Cera pushed onwards. ‘Seir Luca, what are our numbers and dispositions?’

Luca tugged on his beard, and reported, ‘Princessa, the Nesti maintain a standing force of some one thousand spears, but we can deploy seven times that number at need. The Brochena civic guardsmen stood aside when the Gorgio struck. Who knows where their loyalties lie? Their officers must’ve been bought off by Gyle before his magi struck.’ The knight glowered up at Elena. ‘Yet here we have one of his agents at our table.’

Elena glared at him in the sudden silence. ‘What are you trying to say, Seir Luca?’

The old knight looked her in the eye. ‘Your “colleagues” have killed our king. Rutt Sordell sits at the right hand of Alfredo Gorgio. But here you are amongst us, just as Sordell sat beside King Olfuss.’ He stabbed a finger at her. ‘Did you know what was planned, Donna Elena?’

Every eye turned to her. Elena took a deep breath, spread her hands placatingly and said, ‘That is a fair question – I was, after all, in the pay of the enemy. But let me stress that word: I
was
. I had no more idea what was to happen than anyone here. I believed we were here to stay. And I swear to you all: I had no idea that he was about to do this.’

‘He?’ repeated Comte Inveglio. ‘What “he” is this?’ Although he knew the answer, of course.

‘“He” is Gurvon Gyle, Comte.’

‘Your former employer?’ Comte Inveglio enquired, rhetorically.

‘As you know.’

‘And your lover,’ he added, and a small hiss ran around the table.

She felt herself redden, though she’d expected the question. ‘No, that was long over.’

‘“Long over”, is it? When did you last lie with him?’

‘A year ago, or more – he has another, and frankly, she is welcome to the lying prick.’

‘Was King Olfuss aware of your entanglement?’

‘Probably – you were, obviously,’ she said dryly. ‘But I still didn’t know of these attacks. Why did
you
not see it coming?’

‘Maybe because no one was whispering it in my ear over a soft pillow,’ said the Comte. ‘Yes, I know you are still here, Donna Elena, and I know that you fought and killed Samir Taguine – but how do we know he wasn’t an expendable pawn in your schemes? How do we know this is not a ruse to win our greater trust and fool us yet again? I believe Gurvon Gyle is the subtlest of men, and such a scheme would be typical of him – so what guarantee do we have that your continued presence here is not part of his master plan?’ He looked around the table. Heads bobbed, some slowly, some quickly.

Cera’s face was tight and drawn. ‘Ella saved my life, and Lori’s and Timi’s – I saw what she did!’ she cried, and Lorenzo nodded emphatically in agreement as she continued, ‘This is a waste of time, Comte. I trust Ella, and so should you: she has given up all she owns to stand beside us now. She has lost her fortune, forsaken it to protect my brother and me. She deserves our trust. She
has
my trust.’

Inveglio frowned. ‘Has she really forsaken her fortune? If it is held by the man she
says
is no longer her lover, then what has supposedly been “lost” can as easily be restored.’

Elena slapped the table and stood up. ‘Fine. I will leave the wards intact. If you want my advice about your enemies and what they will do, send for me. If you don’t trust me, work it all out for yourselves.
I am at the service of Cera and Timi. The rest of you can do what you like.’

‘Stay!’ snapped Cera. ‘
I
decide who comes and goes here:
I
am regent. You have pledged your service to me, so you come and go at my pleasure.’ She glared about her, looking every inch her father’s daughter. ‘Understand this: Donna Elena is my trusted protector. Without a mage here this meeting cannot remain secret – remember why Father hired magi in the first place! Without Elena we might as well invite Alfredo Gorgio to join us here and now.’ She looked up at Elena. ‘Last night, before both Drui Prato and Godspeaker Acmed, she swore loyalty to the Nesti, under the highest and holiest blood-oaths, before Sol and Ahm. Her life is mine to command, her hand is mine to give in marriage, her wealth is mine to bestow. Is this understood? Ella is one of us now, until death.’ She pointed to the bloody lip-prints on Elena’s cheeks. ‘Do you wish her to swear again, before you?’

The men mumbled into their laps and shook their heads. Cera motioned, and as Elena sat down she met Inveglio’s eye and he gave a tiny nod.
Good, well done
. The conversation had gone as he and she had planned it earlier: if she were to be of use to them they needed to remove any doubts the men might have about her loyalty. Her mind went back to the chapel last night: the incense, the knife slicing open her palms.
I give my life to the Nesti
. It hadn’t been a hard decision – in fact, she had taken it the moment she intervened against Samir. Yet she had still felt an almost religious joy as she spilt her blood into the Nesti family chalice cup and watched Cera sip it, then press bloodied lip-prints on both cheeks. Among Rimoni there was no higher binding. To doubt her now was to doubt Sol himself.

‘Very well. I will hear no more on this matter. Onwards!’ said Cera. She turned to her left. ‘Harshal, you’ve been talking to the emirs. What is the Jhafi reaction to the death of my father?’

Harshal bobbed his head a little nervously. ‘Naturally, they are concerned. They believe the Dorobon will return, and keep Javon neutral in the shihad. They are unhappy about this. The Harkun tribes are talking of an uprising against all Rimoni, a purging of the
land. The nomads see no difference between Nesti, Kestrian, Gorgio or any other Rimoni House.’

The Nesti men exploded in disgust at this. ‘This was a barren desert with a few nomads scuffing around the water-holes before we came,’ Ginovisi snarled. ‘There was no wealth here, nothing at all! We planted the olives groves and the vineyards; we found the mines and developed them! This land thrives through Rimoni sweat and toil!’ Heads bobbed in agreement.

Harshal scowled. ‘With respect, these are the words that exacerbate the anger of my people. You speak like there was nothing here before you came, but every city in Ja’afar stood for
centuries
before your arrival. You built none of the Dom-al’Ahm, none of the palaces of the emirs. The wealth you generate here seldom touches the Jhafi, though our men labour in your mines and vineyards and olive groves. We have a truce between us, and some intermarriage amongst nobles, but most Jhafi have few dealings with Rimoni. We are separate nations who happen to occupy the same land.’

Another eruption, this time more defensive, and again Cera had to slap the table to get silence. She motioned to the Godspeaker, who gave her a grudging nod of thanks. Stroking his long beard, he said, ‘I too have spoken extensively with my people after services at the Dom-al’Ahm. Our people share your sorrow, Lady. Our grief and anger at the murder of your mother and aunt is real. They were Jhafi, and they were well-loved. We remember the unjust rule of the Dorobon. We are with you in spirit. But we wish to know these two things: what of the shihad? Your father had not given his pledge before he was murdered. And, more importantly, when will you Rimoni finally become one with we Jhafi?’ He raised a hand to forestall interruptions. ‘Yes, you have followed the Guru’s stricture and intermarried, but always as the superior partner: you take a Jhafi noblewoman and make her into a Rimoni so that you can breed people eligible for the kingship. But you remain Sollan, and the young Jhafi girls taken to wife must convert. All of your customs are Rimoni. You attend our religious ceremonies if you must, and then run off to find a drui to
cleanse
you! You pay
lip service
to the Guru.’

He ignored the rumbling from around the table and said sternly, ‘You sit on the wealth, you do not spread it: there are no Rimoni poor, but among the Jhafi, except for the ruling families, there are no rich! Your rules prevent all but a few Jhafi from voting when the kingship comes up for election! You look to the Jhafi for support when you are desperate, but do nothing to earn that support beforehand. So now we say:
Why should we support you?
’

A hubbub burst out, but Cera immediately slapped the table and shouted, ‘Silencio!
Silencio!
’ She glared about her. ‘Gentlemen – stop and think before you speak. Stop jumping to defend us as your first reaction: I asked Godspeaker Acmed to join us because it is time we discussed the questions you don’t like to hear.’ She pointed to a bust of her father. ‘One of my father’s favourite sayings was “Truth is Perception”. It means that what you
believe
, however right or wrong, that is your
truth
, and it will be shaped by who you are, what you’ve seen, your gender, your race, your religion, your history. So when Godspeaker Acmed tells you that the Jhafi don’t love the Nesti, do
not
tell him that he is wrong and they do! Listen to him, and ask yourself: “Why is this their Truth?”, and “What can I
learn
from this?”’

The room fell silent. Elena shivered; it was as if Olfuss Nesti were speaking through his daughter from beyond the grave. She watched them, reading their reactions. Pita Rosco, who hadn’t said much yet, was nodding slowly. Luigi was scowling. Lorenzo and Harshal were exchanging harmonious glances.

Finally Rosco spoke up, rubbing his chubby chin thoughtfully. ‘So, what is it that would align the Nesti and the Jhafi, Godspeaker? What is the price?’

Acmed narrowed his eyes. ‘Spoken like a man of money, Master Rosco. I do not talk of coin, though: I talk of faith and brotherhood, and equality before law and before Ahm. We have been bought with gold before, but the money always finds its way back into Rimoni coffers. We have been gifted land that was ours anyway and never yours to give. Rimoni gifts always come with price tags! What will seal an agreement between Nesti and Jhafi must be more fundamental,
and though it must start at the top, it must reach the common people.

‘Let the Nesti embrace the Amteh Faith. Let the Princess marry a Jhafi prince and bear him Amteh children. Let the Rimoni share the secrets of the vines and olives and mines that make them so wealthy! Let the bread of the Rimoni feed the Jhafi poor. Let the iron of the Rimoni mines find its way into the armouries of the emirs. Let seized land be returned, or at least purchased at a fair price. And let the Rimoni and the Jhafi join our brethren in Kesh and purge the lands of the infidel. These are the things that will win the hearts of the Jhafi and finally make us one nation.’

Cera raised a hand, cutting off the opening mouths of her advisors. ‘Wait, gentlemen, for one minute. Reflect on what the Godspeaker has said, then give me considered responses, not emotions.’

Elena watched her and wondered just where her gentle young princessa had gone. Cera was acting like some Senator of Rym, not a virginal young woman. But this part of her had always been there, in the way she bossed her siblings, and how she had gobbled up every word her father spoke. It was in the way she would argue the world’s faults and injustices with Elena for hours on end in the blood-tower, surrounded by scrolls of the philosophers and Rimoni senatorial speeches, texts on the deeds of the emperors and religious tracts. She was always a thinker.
I just hadn’t realised she could be a leader
.
And I bet she won’t want to give it away when the time comes, either
…

As soon as the minute was up, Comte Inveglio raised his hand. ‘There is no way we’ll be giving weapons and armour to the Jhafi. The output of our mines is the basis of our power – we found ’em, we’re mining ’em. Our soldiers must have superior equipment to compensate for our numerical disadvantage. Impossible!
Suicidal!
’ He glowered at the Godspeaker.

The drui, Prato, said gently, ‘A person’s faith comes from the heart. All Nesti children are exposed to both religions. They have chosen to be Sollan – this is what is in their hearts.’ He gave a faintly superior
smile. ‘I have no objection to their being educated in both faiths, of course, but they must be permitted their own choice.’

Pita Rosco was frowning. ‘I can’t see how we can do more to feed the people. We Nesti have always prided ourselves on our generosity to the poor. We distribute bread, we give water from our wells. If the Jhafi can’t see that …’ He shrugged helplessly.

Next Lorenzo spoke. ‘We understand that before he was murdered, the king had elected to join the shihad. But until we can oust the Gorgio from Brochena, we are powerless to do so, even if we did wish to incur the wrath of the Rondian legions and battle-magi. Neutrality may not sit well with any of us, but prudence demands it.’

‘And our princess refuses to marry,’ remarked Comte Inveglio. ‘It would seem that none of the Godspeaker’s suggestions are practical.’ He looked about him. ‘Do we need the Jhafi to win?’

Alfredo Gorgio has you outnumbered about ten to one
, thought Elena.
You bet you do
.

Godspeaker Acmed snapped, ‘Typical Rimoni – all you offer are sops to buy our souls, and you don’t even bother to conceal it.’ He turned to Cera. ‘If these terms are not suitable to you, perhaps Massimo di Kestria will find them more palatable? Or Stefan di Aranio in Riban?’ He started to rise. ‘I knew it was a waste of time talking to you.’