The Diplomat (19 page)

The prisoner rolled his eyes, opened his mouth and wheezed.

“Nod, then! Nod if this was the letter!”

Rema saw the muscles in the man’s neck flex as if he were trying to nod, but nothing happened. He opened and closed his mouth in silent incomprehension.

“My sister has done this!” Calan thumped the wall with his fist. “With her sorcery, that fucking witch!”

“You said yourself her magic was useless,” said Rema. “It’s clear to me that the pain you put this man through has robbed him of his faculties.”

Calan turned his head to look at her. Sweat glistened on his furrowed brows, and in the dim light of the chamber his eyes were like pits. “How stupid do you think I am? My sister is a traitor and you’re in it with her. You’re like her, an unnatural, cunt-lusting half-woman.”

“And why would I be involved in a plot to kill myself?”

Bannon laughed, and Calan glared at him. “You think you’re very clever. I’ll expose you, Emperor’s bitch.”

“I’d be curious to know how.”

“This letter. I’ll show my father.”

“It suggests no impropriety between us. Affectionate language is hardly a crime, and I doubt it’s a secret in the court that Elise is fond of me.”

“You’re a vile little snake, aren’t you?” Calan moved closer, clenching his hands into fists. “I can’t stand the disgusting confidence that oozes from your face, your voice, even the way you stand. You should tremble before me, you warped shadow of a man.”

“You’re the one who lacks perspective, boy.” Rema stared back at him, undaunted. Far more powerful men had tried to bully her, and in the presence of Calan’s atrocities, defiance came easily. “In three weeks I will be in Arann, helping to manage the affairs of an Empire over a hundred times larger than your kingdom. You will be cleaning manure from your boots in a field somewhere north of here, waiting for the soldiers that I will send you.”

Calan’s nostrils flared, and the muscles in his forearms swelled as he raised a fist.

“Strike me, then,” said Rema. “Demonstrate your impotence. You know that you can’t outwit me, you’re frightened of the influence I wield, and so you’d succumb to your cowardice and try to subdue me with your fists. It would prove nothing except that in place of wit you have empty brutality, like any other dumb and sullen beast.”

Bannon whistled. “I like her.”

Thick tendons pumped beside Calan’s jaw as he ground his teeth. “The letter means nothing? In that case, you won’t mind if I send it to your Emperor.”

Rema smirked. If that was his final gambit, she had won, and it merely remained to claim the spoils. “If you want to play with Ormun, little prince, you’ll have to do better than that. He’d only demand your head for impertinence.” She turned her back to him and put her foot on the stairs. “Bannon, let this man down.”

With a grunt, Bannon walked to the cross and began to undo the man’s shackles. “What?” he said, as Calan turned to stare at him. “She’s right. There’s no point torturing a man who can’t talk back.”

The prisoner settled against the floor and sat there, barely moving. Papery wheezes issued from his chest, each sound peculiarly flat. If this was the result of Elise’s magic, then Rema had underestimated her yet again. She had never seen anything so uncanny.

“You think you’ve won,” said Calan. “Nothing could be further from the truth.”

“Bannon,” said Rema, meeting Bannon’s pale eyes. “You’d best hope that you picked the right master. If this kingdom falls, you’ll be the one strapped to a cross.”

She returned through the dungeons and ascended the tall stairwell. Yorin was waiting at the top, his fingers tugging anxiously at his sleeves. “Why are you so agitated?” Rema said, swiping a cobweb from her hair.

“It’s been done.” Yorin clutched at her wrist. “When she heard of the attempt on your life, Talitha agreed to your terms. They couldn’t dare risk stalling any longer, and they understand now you’ll never leave empty-handed. And so she and Cedrin are waiting for you to sign the agreement. It’s as you wanted: the marriage of Elise and cessation of hostilities once our provinces are regained, in exchange for soldiers and supplies.”

Rema released a breath held long in check. So it was over, then. “You’ve done well. Where are they waiting?”

“In the throne room.” Yorin plucked a web from Rema’s shoulder. Despite the weary circles beneath his eyes, he was beaming, and Rema’s heart stirred. Undoubtedly he was thinking of his son. She could be proud of that good deed, if nothing else.

“Let’s hurry, then, while Calan is busy stomping furiously down below.”

They hastened through the hallways, Yorin so eager he seemed at risk of tripping on his robes. Rema’s pleasure, however, was tempered by guilt. How could she take any satisfaction from this? There had been too many bitter conquests, too many victories written in blood and tears.

As she approached the throne room, Rema closed her eyes for several seconds, stilling an old grief. The dream was still there, tinged with incense, warmed by the desert sun. But its intensity had faded, and she was weaker than ever.

Chapter Fourteen

Talitha and Cedrin stood at the foot of the throne, their heads and hands moving as they held a quiet conversation. Yorin cleared his throat. “May I announce Rema, ambassador to Emperor Ormun of the Pale Plains.”

“Very good,” said Cedrin. “Come in, both of you.”

Rema and Yorin approached the throne. Talitha’s eyes were red from weeping, and though her hands were buried in the folds of her gown, the movement of the fabric betrayed their trembling. Cedrin’s large body was hunched almost double, and the corners of his mouth drooped low. “My boy believes that we can win this war without you,” he said. “Do you assure me this is not the case?”

“I assure you,” said Rema.

“I can assure you as well,” said Yorin. “You know I’m well apprised of what happens in the field. It’s a war we cannot win.”

Talitha nodded. “Then we need help, and we need it before the bloodshed is too great for our people to endure. We accept your offer. May we note that we are grieved beyond words at your cruel request to surrender our daughter.”

“We ask that Ormun treat her with respect and compassion,” said Cedrin. “That he be attentive to the fact she is not only a woman, but a person of talent, someone who would be of great service to his court.

“Tell the bastard that if he rapes my daughter, I will cross the seas to cut off his balls.”

Rema bowed her head in contrition. “I’ll do whatever I can to protect her, when I can and where I can, from the worst of his excesses.”

“I believe you, though I know you can likely do nothing.” Talitha gave a mournful smile. “You’re a clever woman. It has been a surprise and a wonder to have been extorted by you, and if the Empire has any sense, they’ll place you someday upon that wretched throne.”

“I have the document.” Cedrin took a furled scroll from his robe. “There’s quill and ink on the table here. We’ll sign it, all four of us—Talitha and I to give our seal of approval, Rema as authority of Ormun, Yorin as our trusted witness.” He stared at the scroll for several seconds, as if having forgotten its purpose already, before sighing. “I’ll do it first.”

He flattened the paper against the table, wet the quill and scratched his name. Talitha did the same and passed the quill to Rema, who remained numb as she inked her name to the page. Yorin wrote his name last, and after signing he dropped the quill back into the inkpot. Even his handwriting looked harried.

“Forgive us if we don’t hold a banquet to celebrate,” said Talitha. “Somebody will have to deliver the news to Elise. Give us enough time to find a way.”

“I understand,” said Rema. “Shall I take my leave, then?”

“Please do,” said Cedrin. “I apologize if I have been an uncivil host. I was ashamed to learn that you were attacked under my roof, and it does my heart good to see you well.”

The monarch who had attempted to confront her in a guise of pride and authority had been shattered, leaving only a defeated old man. Talitha had likewise been broken, barely recognizable as the intelligent, acerbic woman Rema had first met. These people were suffering, and she was the cause of it. It was time to leave.

“Until later, then, Your Graces.” She bowed and turned, only to shudder. Elise and Loric were standing together in the doorway.

“It’s true, then,” said Loric, his voice unsteady. “You’ve given her up.”

“I’m sorry for what we’ve done,” said Talitha. “But both of you know we had little other choice.”

“You had all the choice in the world!” Loric stormed into the throne room and stood before Rema. His eyes were filled with tears. “You could have said no. Mother, what happened? You said you’d fight for her!”

“I became fearful, that’s what happened. Fearful for my sons, fearful for our home and fearful for our people.” Talitha stared at the stone floor. “I fear for my daughter, too, but what choice did I have? We had to take this chance for peace while we still could.”

“I can’t believe it.” Loric looked at Rema with such hatred that she took a step back, stunned. “You deceived me. You’ve taken away everything that’s good and beautiful about this place and left us with nothing but our grief. You’re a duplicitous wretch.”

Rema glanced toward Elise, who remained in the doorway, her expression too distant to be readable. “Loric—”

“I don’t want to hear it! I really thought…” Loric’s voice cracked. “I really thought you cared about her. About both of us.”

“I do. And I warned you from the beginning that I intended to sign this agreement.”

“I wish your ship had sunk on its way here!” Loric’s voice had risen high, becoming almost childish, as his temper boiled over into rage. “I wish you’d been torn apart by sharks, and that not even your bones had survived to wash up on the shore! I should have let you die in the garden!”

“Enough!” Cedrin slammed his fist on the table, and the inkpot jumped, nearly spilling on the newly-signed document. “This decision has been made. Do you think a single person in this room is happy about this marriage?”

“She is.” Loric pointed to Rema. “She has what she wants, while we have nothing.”

An aching pity grew in Rema’s breast. He was only a child, suffering the first great loss of his life and taking out his anger on the sole target he had. “You now have a future,” she said as gently as she could. “And I believe that what you do with it will make your sister proud.”

“You always have a clever reply.” Loric gave a choking sob. “Not like the rest of us mortals, who feel so much pain we forget how to form words, even how to form thoughts. I hope that one day you know what it’s like to try to swallow your anguish only to feel it caught in your throat, to be suffocated by it…”

“Loric, be at peace.” Elise walked to her brother’s side, swaying with a casual grace. Her face was solemn, her silver eyes clear. “Rema knows very well what that feels like.”

Loric turned, weeping freely now, and wrapped his arms around his sister’s neck. “Elsie, just refuse to go! Tell them. You know what will happen to you.”

“Yes, I do.” Elise set her gaze on Rema, whose heart skipped a beat. Elise’s somberness concealed defiance and adoration, mixed by some alchemy of her heart to form love. “But even this darkness will break. She’s promised me so.”

Cedrin and Talitha exchanged confused glances, while a rush of shame, sorrow and affection exhilarated Rema even as it twisted her insides and left her raw. “Elsie, I’m sorry.”

Elise smiled. “I know.”

Yorin nudged Rema in the ribs. Time to go. “I’m intruding,” she said. “I’ll leave you all to discuss this.” Shame had sapped her breath, and she waited only for Talitha’s nod before hurrying toward the door. As Rema passed the siblings, Loric turned his face away. Elise, however, touched Rema on the shoulder, and their eyes met. A melancholy passion blazed through Rema’s soul—no sight, no dream, no vision had ever expressed such beauty as did Elise’s forgiveness—and she strode from the throne room as if fleeing.

In the front court, she stopped and gasped for air. The sun poured through the high windows as if nothing were wrong in the world.

The court was empty but for Muhan, who was reclining on a bench. “You should sit,” he said. “You look very pale.”

“I hate myself.” Rema stood before him, slumped in defeat. “I’ve done what I came for, but it would have been better had that man killed me in the gardens.”

“You love her. Of course you feel this way.”

“First Yorin, then Calan and now you. I’m not even going to bother denying it anymore.”

Muhan swung his legs off the bench, and she sat beside him. “Often those who observe us know us better than we know ourselves,” he said. “For example, I used to believe that I was a very good singer until my wife persuaded me otherwise.”

Rema laughed, though she still felt swollen with restrained grief. “At least I know there’s one thing you can’t do.”

“I swear there are many. Selling dye, conjuring, and wrestling. Those are my only skills. Well, I can also build ships, because I did that for a while as a young man. And I can draw very well. But besides these things I have no talents at all.”

“I’d be glad to have no talents.” It was strange to sit in the empty court; it was as if the palace’s activity had stopped to mark this moment. “My talent is for convincing others, and today I used it for evil.”

“I suspect you have done a great deal of good to balance the scales.”

“Does it work that way? Or is one act of evil enough to undo a lifetime of good deeds?”

“Will it really be that bad for her? With Ormun?”

“His twelfth wife refused to sleep with him. She was a lively, witty woman, and when she arrived in the palace, she was certain that she’d take charge. Her face isn’t even recognizable these days. She refused him for a month, and each time you could recognize her less.”

Muhan hissed. “Ah…and why do you still work for this man?”

“See, now you’re judging me too, despite all the good on my scales.” How far was her voice traveling through the hushed palace? “Muhan, a warlord without a peacemaker is nothing more than a wild animal. I’m the only one who still dares to question him, to give him better advice…the gods help me, I’ve known him since I was seventeen. Ormun’s wickedness has grown over time. There was a time when I even had such love for him as one would have for a brother. He’s not like Calan, who sounds like he was rotten from the womb. Ormun found only later in life that it was easier to take what he wanted.”