A puppy, Necias thought. He can be managed, more easily than if he were cunning.

  “Your own skill, Ambassador, is celebrated in the camp,” Handipas said, turning suddenly from an anecdote of his own skill to Fiona: and for a moment Necias wondered if the puppy had more teeth than he’d thought. “You quelled that riot with a firm hand.”

  Necias watched carefully, wondering if Fiona could be thus surprised; but her answer was quiet and spoken without hesitation. “There were arrows flying, enventan General Handipas,” she said. “I had to protect myself.”

  “It was most effective, Ambassador. I congratulate you,” Handipas said. “Twelve men dead, a stone building brought down as if a troop of pioneers had been working on it half a day.” He smiled, showing his teeth. “Are all you Igaralla so deadly, Ambassador?” he asked. “So splendid in warfare?”

  Necias, with surprise, realized that the room was utterly silent; he looked at the others at the table and saw them all watching Fiona and Handipas with calculating eyes, taking their measure, Tegestu looking like an old, proud mallanto, his glowing eyes fixed on distant prey. But Fiona’s own expression seemed confident in a quiet way, and the expression in her half-lidded, lazy eyes showed she knew exactly what game she was playing.

  “No, we are not,” Fiona said. “There are very few of us who carry weapons at all: it’s not necessary. Those who may need it are allowed weapons for their own defense.”

  “Such as ambassadors?” Handipas asked, his tone silky, languid. “Are all your diplomats capable of such destruction?”

  “Any diplomats setting out alone to a war, certainly,” Fiona said. “War is a dangerous business, and it’s easy for a neutral to get caught in a dangerous situation.”

  “You seem to come from a dangerous place, Ambassador,” Handipas continued, his fingers circling idly on the crystal rim of a goblet. “If your diplomats are capable of such destruction, how destructive can your soldiers be? Or are your diplomats soldiers as well as ambassadors?”

  There was a moment of silence. Fiona smiled, then spoke, her tone confident, reassuring. “We have sent no soldiers to your world, General Handipas cenors-efellsan.”

  Handipas shrugged; there was still a smile on his face. “I didn’t say you had, Ambassador,” he said. “I was merely speculating.” He pursed his lips, looking down as his finger circled the cup. A subtle ringing tone came from the cup; Necias repressed a shiver as the sound touched his nerves with delicate aural claws. “You brought down that building in a flash of lightning and thunder,” Handipas said. “I imagine that with little more effort you could bring down a city wall, if you were convinced it would benefit you.”

  “We will not,” Fiona said, “intervene in your affairs. We will never fight against you, nor will we fight with you as allies. There are very few of us and there is no possibility of our being a threat to you. But we must be allowed to defend ourselves if attacked. I regret the necessity, yesterday, but I had little choice.”

  “Of course, of course, so you have said,” Handipas’ said hastily, with a complimentary smile. “I didn’t mean to sound as if I were questioning your assurances, Ambassador.” He took his hand from the wine cup.

  “Previously your people had been known for their inquisitiveness, for their wish to gather as much information about us as possible. Now you are known to be deadly. I was praising your skill, that is all, one soldier to another.” And before Fiona could reply he turned to one of the servants, holding out a purse. “Give this to the cooks, with my compliments,” he said. “They’ve performed well, under these difficult circumstances.”

  Necias silently drew a breath. Handipas had been cunning, making his point with skill that no Igaralla could be trusted as long as any one of them could wield such power. Necias was glad he had seen it: Handipas was far more dangerous than he had thought.

  And, for that matter, so was Fiona.

  The dinner came to an end in a series of formal toasts: the company pledged eternal fidelity and friendship, undying enmity to Tastis, and vigilant cooperation; and probably meant little or none of it. Luco and Brito came from behind their screen to bid farewell to the guests; Handipas bussed Necias on both cheeks and made his way out, followed by his company. Necias felt a touch on his elbow.

  “Beg pardon, Abessu-Denorru.” It was Tegestu, his voice pitched low. “I beg leave to speak privately, I hope this evening. It’s most urgent.”

  Necias looked at Tegestu’s face for a clue of what this might be about, seeing nothing but frowning seriousness; then he glanced at the remaining guests and calculated the amount of time it would take to empty the pavilion, compliment the staff, and detail the guards necessary to take Luco and Brito back to their barge. “Can you wait half an hour, cenors-stannan?” he asked. “It will take a while to disengage from this company.”

  “Aye, Abessu-Denorru,” Tegestu said, bowing.

  “Seat yourself, Tegestu,” Necias said, throwing out an arm toward unoccupied chairs. “I’ll be with you as soon as I can.”

  Tegestu bowed again and stepped back, his face resuming its normal arrogant scowl, and Necias made his way to where one of the Neda-Calacas Government-in-Exile seemed wrapped in ferocious argument with a junior member of the Cartenas Embassy — all of which proved not to be over policy, but rather over the relative merits of the dancing of a pair of camp followers. Necias soothed them both, called for wine, and then noticed Luco in conversation with the Ambassador Fiona. The fact of one of his family being in touch with her without his supervision made him nervous: he knew Fiona spent most of her time gathering information, and he did not want himself gathered. Besides, he thought with a shiver, she’s dangerous. As Handipas has done us all the favor of pointing out.

  “Ambassador,” he greeted her. “I hope the evening was pleasant.”

  Fiona nodded with her usual self-assurance. “I enjoyed myself, Abessu-Denorru,” she said. “I believe your guest of honor enjoyed himself as well.”

  “That horrible little man!” Luco said suddenly. Necias looked at her in surprise. Luco laughed suddenly, and then spoke, smiling; it seemed to Necias as if she gave Fiona a covert look, as if she shared a secret. “Well,” she said, “we know what will happen to him, don’t we?”

  There was a slight pause before Fiona’s answer. “I’m sorry, Luco stansisso. I’m not sure what you mean.’’

  Luco smiled nervously; but Necias saw that her secret look was still there. “I mean that I’ve heard the Enventan. Enventan Lidrapas.”

  Necias saw Fiona’s blank response. “Enventan Lidrapas,” she repeated. “I’m not familiar with the name. A priest, I suppose? The Enventan concerns himself with what will become of General Handipas?”

  “And with the others who refuse you, Ambassador Fiona,” Luco said happily. “He is preaching your faith, the faith of Igara. The city is astonished by his wisdom, as well as his miracles.”

  “Is it now?” Fiona asked quietly, and the tone of her voice made Necias look at her in surprise. It was, he thought, a dangerous tone; he wondered if he had really heard it, or whether Handipas’ suggestion had made him hear things. Fiona pursed her lips in thought for a brief moment, then looked at Luco with knitted brows. “Please tell me what the Enventan has said regarding my faith, Luco stansisso. I would be grateful.”

  “You wish a catechism now, Ambassador?” Luco seemed startled by the request. “I’ll do my best,” she said doubtfully, “but I’ve seen the Enventan only twice, and I haven’t been initiated into the mysteries.”

  “Please tell me what you’ve heard, stansisso Luco,” Fiona said. She smiled, Necias thought, with effort. “Anything you can. I’d appreciate it.”

  “Please oblige the Ambassador,” Necias said grimly. Where had Luco been exposed to this charlatan? he wondered. Was his son Rinantas, looking after Acragas interests in his absence, allowing him access to the palace? If so there was going to be a stiff letter going to Arrandal by the next boat. “I’d like to hear of this Enventan myself,” Necias said.

  Luco gave a swift glance at Necias, surprised by his wish, and then smiled. “Of course, husband cenors-efellsan,” she said. “But I would have thought that you would have heard the new preaching from the Ambassador Fiona herself.”

  Fiona’s answer was accompanied by an ironic smile. “I don’t consider it my duty to preach, stansisso Luco,” she said.

  “Don’t you? I’m sorry — I would have thought —” Luco dissolved in confusion. “Maybe I’m not the person to advance the preaching here. I’m not used to speaking in front of people, and I’m sure I don’t understand enough of it.”

  “That’s perfectly all right,” Fiona said. She reached out to take Luco’s hand, giving her encouragement. “Just tell me what you’ve heard.”

  “Oh. Of course,” Luco said, blushing to her ears. She gave another nervous glance to Necias, then spoke. “The Enventan preaches that the Igaralla have come to our world in order to offer us salvation,” she said. “That you and your people are going among us in secret, and that you are gathering information so as to know which of us accepts your faith, and which reject you. And that some day soon, your star ships will come down from the skies and take all the believers to Igara, where we will live forever in happiness.” She looked up at Fiona, her eyes radiating worshipful awe. “And those who don’t believe, like Handipas, will have to remain here, to die in misery.” She gave a brief, nervous smile. “I hope I’ve got it right, Ambassador. I’m not used to speaking like this.”

  “I’m sure you’ve represented the Enventan very well,” Fiona said. She looked at Necias with a slight smile. “Will you excuse us for a moment, Abessu-Denorru?” she asked. “I think I would like to speak with stansisso Luco privately.”

  “Certainly, Ambassador,” Necias said. Rinantas was going to get a scorching letter, he promised himself; Lidrapas shouldn’t have even been allowed to preach in public, let alone in the Acragas palace. He watched as Fiona and Luco went behind the partillo screen; then he went in search of Brito.

  “Who the hell is this Lidrapas?” he demanded, after he’d got her away from the guests. Brito looked up at him sourly.

  “A charlatan, I’m sure,” she said. “I don’t know where he came from, but he’s a good preacher, and he does conjuring tricks, like the Ambassador — I’m sure he enjoys letting people think he’s from Igara. He claims to preach their new religion.”

  “Why hasn’t he been suppressed?” Necias demanded. “Not only that — how was he allowed to preach where Luco could hear him?”

  “Rinantas thought he might actually be representing the Igaralla — who could know?” Brito said, her thin face disapproving. “He thought it best to be cautious — he didn’t want to offend Fiona, if she was actually behind it.”

  “Pastas and Lipanto!” Necias swore. Anger raged through his limbs; he felt himself tightening his fists. “I’ll smash the man! I’ll have the priests draw up charges of atheism!”

  Brito put a cautious hand on his arm. “Careful, Necias, you don’t want to make the man a martyr — persecutions can do that.” She lowered her voice. “I’ve been giving the matter some thought,” she said. “I think it would be best to ask the Ambassador to publish a denial, and then have him arrested for fraud. With Fiona denying his preaching, he’ll have no support left.”

  Necias felt his rage ebbing as rapidly as it had come. Brito’s advice made good sense. “Very well,” he nodded. “I think that’ll work.”

  Brito gave him a thin, reassuring smile. Necias nodded in the direction of the partillo. “I think you’d best go comfort Luco — she’s losing her faith right at this minute, if I don’t miss my guess.”

  “It’s about time,” Brito said with a grim smile. “Ever since that Lidrapas appeared, I’ve heard nothing else.”

  Fiona came from the partillo a few moments afterwards, a self-satisfied light in her eyes. “Don’t worry, Necias Abeissu,” she said. “I’ve set Luco stansisso straight.”

  “Is she very upset?”

  Fiona considered, her head tilted to one side. “A little,” she said with a slight smile. “But I was as gentle as I could. I don’t think she’ll grieve for long.”

  “Acragas thanks you, Ambassador,” Necias said. “Perhaps it would be possible for you to issue a denial, giving disavowal to this charlatan or any other who claims to preach on your behalf.”

  Fiona nodded. “If you will be so kind as to make sure it’s distributed in the city — and within the army, just to head off any trouble — I can give you the text in the morning, under my seal.”

  Necias nodded. “Very well, Ambassador.”

  She took her leave then. Necias escorting her to the pavilion’s entrance. He watched her scarlet gown disappearing into the darkness, inhaling deeply of the fresh, cool air, tasting the distant tang of the ocean.

  Yes, he thought, I’ll distribute your denial, and I’ll take Lidrapas’ head if I can. But I can thank Lidrapas for one thing, showing me how dangerous you are, should you choose to incite the populace against me. They are already half-inclined to believe any miracle worker that comes along, and if you and your wonders should ever strike against the Denorru-Deissin we’ll be hard put to fight you.

  He would have to put a stop to Fiona’s going among the army and the people; it was too dangerous for her to be allowed unregulated contact. He’d simply suggest it was a matter of her own safety, after the incident the day before, and keep her in the ambassadorial compound unless he could give her escort.

  Yes; and if she petitioned to bring others of her kind down from the sky he’d find some way to delay it, to keep the petition alive but never to say yes or no. He would have to keep her as isolated as possible, and try to move her back to the city and the Acragas palace as soon as possible.

  Word came from the partillo that Luco and Brito were ready to leave, and he ordered their escort to stand ready, then went to bring them out. Luco seemed blotchy and distraught, as if she’d been weeping; and Brito seemed grim, as if her none-too-ample patience had been tried. He gave Brito a kiss and Luco a pat, and sent them both on their way.

  He saw the other guests off, and then remembered Tegestu, sitting patiently in his chair, his stern face fixed firmly on nothing in particular. He walked back to him, airily waving him back to his seat as he tried to rise in order to kneel, then sat carelessly in the chair next to him. He looked up at the servants, each busy clearing away the remains of the feast, and called out to them. “Give the drandor Tegestu and me some privacy, boys. This won’t take long, hey?”

  He watched as they all left quietly, then leaned close to Tegestu and spoke quietly.

  “You wished to speak with me, drandor?”

  The old mallanto’s eyes were expressionless. “Congratulations, Abessu-Denorru, on your timely escape from the lersru,” he said. “I hope you have taken no injury.”

  Necias grinned. “Pastas had his finger on me,” he said. “No ill effects, the Netweaver be praised.”

  “Among my own people,” Tegestu said, “any captain of bodyguards who so failed his lord would ask permission to kill himself. If he were not invited into the Ghanaton at his lord’s command.”

  Necias blinked. Was Tegestu offering to have Little Necias killed? He shook his head.

  “That’s not our way,” he said firmly. “We just aren’t used to fighting Brodaini. I don’t think such a thing could happen again.”

  “I hope not, Abessu-Denorru Necias,” Tegestu said. “Might I suggest you abandon the pavilion entirely now that the barges have arrived? The security here will always be difficult.”

  Necias nodded. “I’ll take that advice, drandor Tegestu. Thank you.”

  “I am happy to be of service, Abessu-Denorru.” Tegestu glanced behind him, then leaned closer, his voice lowering.

  “I have a message from Calacas,” he said. “In four nights, Tastis will launch a sortie against Handipas’ army in front of Neda. He hopes that, if the sortie is successful, he can throw in the bulk of his army in support and smash the Prypas forces before we can intervene.”

  “How good is your information?” Necias asked automatically, while inwardly calculating the wisdom of whether or not to inform Handipas of this. A defeat for Handipas early on might make him more tractable. But no... he couldn’t risk a rebel victory, even a limited one, that might hearten Tastis’ forces. He would tell Handipas at sunset tomorrow, he thought; that would give him time enough to repel the sortie without making his preparations obvious.

  “My source,” Tegestu said, “is a member of Tastis’ aldran, Ataman Doren Dantu y’Tosta. Ataman is a loyal Brodainu, and when Tastis empties Calacas of most of his forces in order to launch his attack, Ataman has announced his readiness to open the gates to my own people.”

  Necias fought the surprise, the catch at the throat and the hammering of his heart. “You — you’re sure?” he gasped.

  Tegestu’s gaze was steady. “Aye,” he said. “Ataman will do as he promises.”

  A grin tugged at the corners of Necias’ mouth. “We’ll take Calacas, then?” he asked in laughing amazement. “That’ll show Handipas a thing or two, hey!”

  “Ataman,” Tegestu said, “will open the Inner Harbor Gate and the White Tower Gate four nights from now. But he has a condition — he wants only my own Brodaini to enter the town, to take it in the name of our aldran. Are you agreeable to this?”

  Necias thought, for an instant, that he saw a strange gleam in Tegestu’s eye, as if something was hanging on Necias’ assent... but what could hang on it but the keys of Calacas, taken from Tastis by treachery?

  “Yes, Tegestu, of course!” he said, and saw the strange look fade. “Our city forces will support, and will be ready to enter the city whenever you can get the other gates open.”

  Tegestu, his eyes hooded, nodded slowly. “Very well, Abessu-Denorru. I beg you, inform Palastinas of this, but let it go no further.’’