“They know their duty, ban-demmin,” Tegestu said. “Sit and deliver your message.”

  Aptan bowed and sat, his face still showing his small, appreciative grin. Tegestu lowered himself heavily to the stool, a shiver of pain running through the muscles of his upper thighs as, for a second only, they took his weight.

  “I am charged with a kantu-kamliss matter,” Aptan said, “from bro-demmin Tastis Senestu Tepesta y’Pranoth, drandor y Kamliss-Pranoth-sa-Neda, to Tegestu Dellila Doren y’Pranoth, drandor y Kamliss-Pranoth-sa-Arrandal.’’

  Another kantu-kamliss matter, Tegestu thought sourly. The ban would keep him from reporting the substance of this conversation to Necias, which, no doubt, was what Tastis had in mind.

  “Speak,” Tegestu said shortly, then held up a hand.

  “Confine yourself to matters relating strictly to kamliss Pranoth, however,” he added. “I will not see the holy label of kantu-kamliss assigned frivolously.”

  Aptan, seemingly a little surprised, bowed hastily. “May your arm never fail, bro-demmin,” he said, “I hope you will keep me on the right track, should I stray from it.”

  “I shall, ban-demmin Aptan,” Tegestu said grimly. “Never fear.”

  Aptan sat back for a moment, apparently considering the proper opening; then he nodded, presumably to himself, and spoke. “Our kamliss,” Aptan said, “is divided. Most of Pranoth serves Arrandal; the rest rules Neda and Calacas with the help of its allies. In both places, Pranoth voices are the first to speak among the Brodaini, and they speak with the greatest authority.” He paused, his green eyes looking with curiosity at Tegestu as if waiting for him to agree; but Tegestu remained gravely silent. Let the boy say his piece, he thought.

  “We have served the Elva cities well,” Aptan said. “Our people have been loyal for twenty years, and have overlooked many insults. We Brodaini have fought one another for the benefit of these people — and our divided kamlissi have fought against one another, cousin against cousin, and now we find ourselves fighting one another again.” Aptan held up a hand, leaning forward to bring himself nearer to Tegestu.

  “With one exception, bro-demmin,” he said. “This time Kamliss-Pranoth-sa-Neda fights for itself, not for the benefit of others who do not understand us. It grieves us to fight our cousins, whom we admire and respect, whose arm is strong and whose demmin is unblemished.”

  “And whose fault is this, ban-demmin?” Tegestu asked, seeing the direction this was heading. “It is not the fault of Kamliss-Pranoth-sa-Arrandal, whose demmin, as you say, is unblemished. We did not commit dai-terru by seizing an entire city and starting a general war within the Elva.

  “There were more proper ways to take revenge for your woman of the spear; and we of Kamliss-Pranoth-sa-Arrandal feel shame for our cousins, who have committed such an inappropriate aspistu.”

  Aptan listened to this without blinking, a troubled frown on his face. “Our aldran was convinced, bro-demmin Tegestu, that such action was necessary,” he said, then added, “But I was not sent to you in order to offer justification for our actions: we know our own hearts, bro-demmin, and we are convinced we were wise.”

  “Speak on,” Tegestu said: he had made his point.

  “Through these events, bro-demmin, we Brodaini find ourselves with command of two foreign cities.” Aptan went on. “We find ourselves with hundreds of thousands of dependents, dependents strange to our ways and unlike any dependents Brodaini have ever before been obliged to care for. We are often puzzled by them, but we know they must depend on us for protection, and we intend to do our duty.”

  He waited for a reply, but Tegestu gave him none despite the sarcasm that came to his mind. Aptan, apparently encouraged, flashed a nervous smile and continued.

  “When we first came to this country we were refugees, and we were grateful for any opportunity to serve our new homes.” Aptan said. “But now it seems clear that we and the Abessla are not suited to one another. Our debts to them have been erased by twenty years of unflinching service, and it is no longer fitting that Brodaini should have such overlords, who cannot know our minds.”

  “My lord Necias has offered us no insult,” Tegestu said quickly. If this is an attempt to win me to sedition, he thought, let it end now: I will not submit to such affront. “He has treated us with honor, and we obey him dutifully and with willing hearts.”

  “Does he know demmin, then?” Aptan asked in mock surprise. His grin broadened, his eyes winking good humor.

  “Is he a martial man, this Necias whom you serve? Or is his concern only for acquiring gold and for displaying his wealth, to overawe the ignorant?”

  “He is our canlan,” Tegestu said. “I will not stand for this insult.” But he felt Aptan’s words touch home, remembering Necias’ strange fright the night of the battle: no, Necias was not a martial man; he did not know demmin. It was regretful that it should be so: but the regret had to be carefully hidden away, unacknowledged.

  But Necias was lordly enough, Tegestu thought, in his way: he recalled the conference the afternoon following the battle, Necias with his confidence restored, giving orders, making plans for the winning of the enemy cities, master of the political element. It was not a Brodaini type of authority, but it existed. Remembering this, Tegestu felt comforted.

  Aptan smiled reassuringly. “Insult was not intended, bro-demmin,” he said. “I did not intend to say that Necias was not a good man, by his own lights: I wished only to point out that we do not understand them, nor they us. It is best that we live apart from them, or if alongside in such a fashion that they are compelled to respect us. Now we have the opportunity.”

  He paused again. Tegestu kept silent, his face immobile, knowing that to even tell the boy to speak on would be to condone his premise, to acknowledge it as the basis for discussion. Even though it echoed Tegestu’s unspoken thoughts, Tegestu would not allow this. Aptan spoke on, his tone assured.

  “We can make Neda-Calacas Brodaini cities, bro-demmin drandor Tegestu,” he said. “Those Abessla who wish to leave for elsewhere may have our permission to do so, and those Brodaini and their dependents who wish to live among their own kind can come within our walls. Kamliss Pranoth may live united once again, holding its own keep, protecting its own territory. If the cities of the Elva wish to employ us in war, they may do so — but under our own conditions, for our own benefit. Not to bleed for the benefit of the deissin.”

  “And what must I do to achieve this fantasy?” Tegestu asked, putting as much bitter sarcasm in his words as he could. “Betray my lords merely, and attack our comrades-in-arms? March with my people into the walls of Neda-Calacas, accept the authority of drandor Tastis, and besieged up there to die or surrender, as Tastis shall? Know this,” Tegestu said, raising a hand for attention. “The Elva will not rest until Tastis and your house are brought down. This will take place whether or not I join you — their numbers and power are too great, even if every Brodainu in Abessas should join your standard. Your words are futile, ban-demmin. The best thing for drandor Tastis would be to surrender himself and the keys to the city, and in that way many of his folk may be spared. Otherwise they will not.” Tegestu lowered his hand, seeing Aptan’s eyes grow troubled.

  “This is truth I speak, ban-demmin,” he said. “I try to do you service in telling you this. I hope you will give Tastis my words, and my meaning.”

  Aptan bowed, his head low, and stayed bowed down for a long moment before rising. “You misunderstand me, bro-demmin,” he said. “My apologies for being unclear. My message was not to offer you a place under drandor Tastis. You are his senior, his teacher; he would not demean you. We wish rather to offer you the city. We will put the keys of the city in your hands, drandor bro-demmin Tegestu, and obey without question your commands and the commands of your aldran.”

  Aiau, thought Tegestu, stunned. Through the shock, he heard himself asking, reasonably, “And the conditions for this surrender?”

  Aptan bowed again. His voice was plausible. “That the city remain yours, bro-demmin Tegestu, and that you surrender it to no other, no native canlan or lord.”

  For a moment Tegestu felt the world reel below his feet. The scope of Tastis’ vision was breathtaking, and his audacity limitless. To open his gates to the Brodaini who were his enemies, to allow himself to be put in their power, confident that once they stood in his place they would think as he... And to dare to fulfill the exiles’ longing for a homeland — Neda-Calacas was not, and could never be, the rock-strewn coast, the deep green dells, the dappled whispering forests that Tegestu had known in his northern domain: it could not bring Pranoth into being again, for Pranoth was forever dead; but it could be something — something of Pranoth again in the world, a place for the young to grow in and love, to cherish and guard as Tegestu had cherished Pranoth, something beside the rootless service, the perpetual exile... .

  And then the giddy spinning slowed, and Tegestu felt his mind coping with realities again, with the must-be instead of the dream. To accept Tastis’ offer would be a betrayal of Necias’ trust, and of his own way of life: a new Brodaini society could not be built on treachery or disobedience. Such a beginning would curse the exiles forever.

  And then, through the dim haze of his astonishment, he thought he saw a way. Necias would not be betrayed, but still Pranoth might come into being, not through dai-terru and the breaking of nartil, but in ways that would reassert order in this chaotic situation. If only this boy proved pliable.

  “This is not a kantu-kamliss matter,” Tegestu said firmly. “This proposal does not involve our kamliss only, but all the other kamlissi of Arrandal. If I am to consider this, I must have permission to bring it out of Pranoth.”

  For a moment he saw triumph in Aptan’s eyes. The boy thinks I will accept, he thought; he has lived for too long among these Abessla, who leap all unheeding after gold and the promise of power.

  Aptan bowed. “You are the elder, drandor bro-demmin Tegestu,” he said. “Your judgment is sounder than mine. If you must consult your people, my fa — drandor bro-demmin Tastis will certainly understand.”

  And now Tegestu himself slitted his eyes to hide his own feeling of triumph; for his mind had embraced possibilities, he thought, that hadn’t occurred to Tastis, and Aptan had just given him permission to break the ban of kantu-kamliss and inform others of Tastis’ offer. “Your people,” Aptan had said, not “your aldran” or “your staff.’’ Tegestu intended to make the most of that ambiguity.

  Ah, Tastis, he thought. Cousin, you should have come yourself. This boy has not seen enough of treachery.

  “If we reach agreement on this matter,” Tegestu said, “how do you suggest we contact drandor Tastis?”

  “A messenger, sent with a note under your seal, will always find access to the city,” Aptan said. “Or you can send an embassy — we have prisoners of yours, you have some of our people; we can discuss anything under the guise of an exchange.”

  “You may say to drandor Tastis that I find his offer interesting,” Tegestu said. “That is my present answer.”

  “He will be pleased.”

  “You will surrender the fort, then?”

  Aptan grinned. “I had forgot,” he laughed. “Oh, aye, we’ll surrender if you grant us honors. Within the hour — I’ll beat a drum to let you know when we’re coming out.”

  “Very well, ban-demmin,” Tegestu said. “I will have a pass ready to let you pass our pickets.”

  He put his hands on his knees and rose, trying not to let Aptan see the pain that flickered through him. He bowed, feeling his head swim, either from his sudden rising or from the giddiness that walking so careful a line would bring. He walked across the turf to his own lines, seeing the tense postures of his guards relaxing as he came away from the enemy.

  His staff was there, Grendis, Cascan and the others; and he saw tense curiosity in their faces. “He will surrender within the hour,” he said. “Arrange to pass them through the lines.” He looked at them and smiled. “I must see Necias, ban-demmini,” he said. “Something interesting has occurred.”

  He could see their curiosity rise; but for the moment it was best that few of them knew of Tastis’ offer. But Grendis, he thought, should be informed: she was cunning, and would be able to give valuable advice. “Ban-demmin Grendis, I would be honored if you would accompany me,” he said, and with his wife at his side he walked to Necias’ pavilion.

  Necias, once told of the need for privacy, cleared the place of his hangers-on, then he offered them stools and lay down on his own settee.

  “What did the man want?” he said with a scowl. Scowling, Tegestu thought, at the idea of intrigue, for that was what this was bound to be.

  “He wanted,” Tegestu said, enjoying the sheer drama of the situation and unable to keep the smile from his lips, “to discuss the surrender of Neda-Calacas.”

  He had made a bet with himself that Necias’ mouth would fall open at the news, and he was gratified to discover that he had won.

  CHAPTER 15

  The ban of kantu-kamliss was broken; and Tegestu was free to do the thing that, he had no doubt, Tastis would never have anticipated: he would give Aptan’s offer to his canlan. Pride warmed him as he thought of Tastis’ ultimate fury, when he learned what dispositions Tegestu and Necias together would make.

  Necias called in Campas as his translator, and for twenty minutes he listened solemnly, nodding as Tegestu made each point, fidgeting with the rings on his stubby fingers.

  “The city,” Tegestu said, “will surrender to me, as drandor of Pranoth. I am subject to you, our canlan. Neda-Calacas will become a Brodaini state, but subject to you and to the Denorru-Deissin of Arrandal. Tastis can be exiled to one of the baronies, or ordered to kill himself — whichever you prefer. In the end, I will hold Neda-Calacas in your name, and as your perpetual ally. My people will have a homeland in which they can settle if they desire, but of course they will also be available to serve the cities of the Elva, as before.”

  Necias lay motionless on his pillows, his small eyes flitting from Campas to Tegestu and back again. The posture seemed odd, unnatural and disturbing: Necias was usually a physically active man, always moving, frequently pacing, his hands gesturing broadly or occupying themselves with the tea-cakes he always had placed by his elbow. Doubt began to creep into Tegestu’s mind. “Tastis and his rebels,” Tegestu said, trying to explain the advantages more clearly, “will be punished for their presumption. Hostu and nartil will be restored. And Neda-Calacas, instead of being your greatest rival in the Elva, will be your ally.”

  Necias frowned, reaching for a cup of tea; he drank slowly, staring into the dark liquid as he swirled it about the rim of the cup. Tegestu looked at Grendis in surprise. He had expected a more enthusiastic response than this: why wouldn’t Necias leap at such an idea?

  “This offer argues weakness, hey,” Necias said finally, speaking as if he grudged every word. “Had Tastis won the battle of the ford, he would not be laying down conditions for surrender.”

  “That is likely, cenors-efellsan,” Tegestu agreed. “He is not a man to give up his independence without reason. Had he won the battle, he would be demanding our submission, rather than offering his own.”

  Necias glanced at Campas again; there was some nervousness, Tegestu thought, in the look. Then he placed his teacup very carefully on his table, orienting it with a finicky carefulness that seemed unusual in him, as if he were trying to set carefully into place the elements of a puzzle; he rose from the settee and shook his head.

  “Tegestu, I am aware of the magnitude of what you offer,” he said, “but surely you’re aware that I’ll have to say no to this.”

  Tegestu felt his heart turn over. He could only gasp out a stunned reply. “But why, Abessu-Denorru?” he asked.

  Necias began to pace, his arms folded on his massive chest; he turned and looked at Tegestu.

  “The cities of the Elva cherish their independence,” he said. “It’s a cardinal point in all that we do. No Elva city has ever ruled another. No Elva city will ever rule another. For me to claim Neda-Calacas now would be to tear the Elva apart. They would all league against us. It would destroy all I’ve worked for.” He shook his head slowly, emphatically. “I won’t risk that, Tegestu. I daren’t.”

  Tegestu glanced at Grendis in amazement, then back at Necias. “But we march now to take the city!” he said.

  “But not to rule it,” Necias corrected. “We mean to restore its native government, not impose our own. Naturally,” he nodded, “our people, and the others of the Elva, will take what advantage we can. The city’s markets will be disrupted, and we’ll try to gain what we can from the disruption. Our banks will make what profit they can in loans to the new government, once it’s installed.” Necias waved his hands. “That’s all conceded,” he said. “But to rule directly, or even indirectly — it’s out of the question. And to let foreigners do our ruling for us — “ He hesitated for a moment, then went on. “That’s impossible. I’m sorry, Tegestu. But I speak truly. I know my people.”

  And so the dream ends, Tegestu thought. We will remain a homeless people, wandering among strangers, until we are finally dissolved among them like a handful of salt in an ocean, losing everything that makes us ourselves.

  But what made him Brodaini was also obedience, and he bowed to that. “I hear you, Abessu-Denorru,” he said, sick at heart. “What answer am I to make to Tastis?”

  “None at all,” Necias said. “Keep him guessing as long as you can. And in the end, refer him to me.” Necias smiled grimly. “That’ll put an end to his hopes.”

  No doubt it would, Tegestu thought numbly.

  “I want the army marching again once the fort surrenders,” Necias said briskly, businesslike. “We’ve got to move swiftly, as long as Tastis sees compromise in us.”