Into The Darkness

He was harder to shock these days. And the Algarvian minister's secretary was a polished man by any kingdom's standards. Escorting [..lic ter's ing..] Hajaj past the guards and into the nuinistry, he murmured in fluent [..].

Zuwayzi: "I do beg your pardon, your Excellency, but you know how the soldiers are."

"Oh, aye," Hajaj answered. "I have learned to make allowances for the foibles of others, and hope others will make allowances for mine."

"What an admirable way to look at things," the foreign minister exclaimed. He ducked into a doorway and returned to his own native tongue: "My lord, the Zuwayzi foreign minister."

"Send him in, send him in," Marquis Balastro said. He did not speak

Zuwayzi, but, since Hajaj knew Algarvian well, they had no trouble talking with each other. Balastro was in his early forties, and wore a little stripe of hair under his lower lip and mustaches waxed till they were as straight and sharply pointed as the horns of a gazelle. Such adornments aside, he had as little of the fop in him as any Algarvian, and was, for a diplomat, forthright.

He - or his secretary - also knew not to plunge too abruptly into business with a Zuwayzi. A tray of cakes and wine appeared as if by magic.

Balastro made small talk, waiting for Hajaj to open: another nice courtesy. At length, Hajaj did begin, saying, "Your Excellency, it is surely destructive of good order among the kingdoms of the world when the large can with impunity bully and oppress the small for no better reason than that they are large."

"With Algarve so grievously beset, I could hardly fail to admit the principle," Balastro said. "Its application, though, will vary according to circumstances.

Algarve was hardly a small kingdom. Hajaj refrained from saying as much. What he did say was, "As you will have heard from me before, King Swemmel of Unkerlant continues to make unreasonable demands on Zuwayza. Since Algarve, from its own experience, understands such extortion-"

Balastro held up a hand. "Your Excellency, let me be plain about this.

Algarve is not at war with Unkerlant. King Mezentio does not now desire to make war on King Swemmel. This being so, Algarve cannot reason ably object to whatever King Swemmel chooses to do on frontiers distant from her. King Mezentio may privately deplore such deeds, but he will not - I repeat, will not - seek to hinder them. Do I make myself clear?"

"You do, ummistakably so." Hajaj did his diplomatic best to hold disappointment from his voice. Balastro had not been encouraging before. Now he was blunt. Zuwayza would have no help from Algarve.

Zuwayza, very probably, would have no help from anyone.

Krasta was angry. When she was angry, people around her suffered.

That was not how she thought of it, of course. As far as she was concerned, she was making herself feel better. In any case, other people's feelings had never seemed quite real to her, any more than the idea that there could be numbers smaller than zero had. But the master who'd taught ciphering had been so marvelously handsome, she'd pretended to believe it harder than she would have otherwise.

Now, though, the noblewoman had no reason to dissemble. Waving a news sheet at Bauska, she cried, "Why do they feed us such lies? Why don't they tell us the truth?"

"I don't understand, milady," the servant said. She would not have presumed to read the news sheet before her mistress saw it. Had she so presumed, she would not have been rash enough to admit it.

Krasta waved the news sheet again; Bauska had to leap back hurriedly to keep from getting hit in the face. "They say only that we are advancing in Algarve and moving on the enemy's fortifications. We've been moving on them for weeks. We've been moving on them since this stupid war started. Why haven't we moved past them yet, in the name of the powers above?"

"Perhaps they are very strong, milady," Bauska replied.

"What are you saying now?" Krasta's eyes sparked furiously. "Are you saying that our brave soldiers - are you saying that my brother, the hero – cannot break through whatever defenses the barbarians throw up against us? Is that what you're saying?"

Bauska babbled denials. Krasta listened with only half an ear. Servants always lied. Krasta threw down the news sheet. As far as she was concerned, the war had gone on far too long already. It had grown boring.

"I am going into town," she announced. "I shall spend the day in the shops and the cafes. Perhaps - perhaps, mind you - I shall find something of interest there. Summon the coachmen at once."

"Aye, milady." Bauska bowed and hurried away. As she went, she muttered something under her breath. It could not possibly have been what it sounded like, which was, Out of my hair for a while. Krasta dismissed the possibility from her mind. Bauska would never have dared say such a thing, not where she could hear it. The servant knew what was liable to happen to her if Krasta found her even slightly disrespectful. All the servants at the estate knew.