The Conqueror (14 page)

“
Yes?”

She waved Lord Pell off. Hopefully Vall
would get to it.

“
The Great Khan offers his
greetings and salutations—”

“
Aw, for crying out
loud—”

“
Yes, yes. I’m sorry, it’s
just that this is all so very difficult.” Vall was sweating now,
something he was most distinctly unused to.

He had gotten a little too accustomed
to watching other people sweat.

It was devilishly hot in this room. He
smiled, nodding when he realized it could be deliberate. It
certainly could be…

He reached for the water carafe. The
Queen herself, and her minister, seemed cool and affable enough as
they exchanged glances.

Vall had heard of a monarch, eons ago,
with ice packed into an overstuffed conference chair and a drain
going through the floor. That king had a wonderful flue system and
had ducted the heat under the floors of his palace. It was perhaps
more myth than history, not that such systems weren’t built of
course. They were just extremely expensive.

Lord Vall took a deep breath, and waved
away an offer of certain documents proffered by his man.

“
My Lord would like certain
assurances.”

“
Of what?”

“
Lord Pell.”

Queen Eleanora gave the Minister of
Commerce a significant look. His brow lowered, his jaw worked this
way and that, and he lowered his forehead, a very bleak look on his
face as he regarded Lord Vall.

There was something he wanted to say
very, very badly.

“
What is it exactly, that
our good friend and colleague across the sea, our brother the Great
Khan Jumalak requires?”

She nodded as the barely-chastened Lord
Vall took the documents now, the Ambassador’s secretary leaving
their chair to scuttle across on bended knee and supply them with
copies for their own eyes.

“
Well. Bearing in mind the
distinct possibility of peace being lost in the region—”

Pell snorted at that, and she held up a
hand again, with no real hint of impatience. It was just a
command.

“…
and the likelihood that
the Emperor Kullin, will continue to adhere to certain aggressive
and provocative postures in the affairs of others…namely, and to
wit, dominating by threats and belligerence his smaller neighbors,
who are the mutual friends of both of our nations…”

“
You mean, like Sinopus?”
Lord Pell nailed him with that one, or so he thought.

“
Ah—no, not exactly in that
way.” They were sort of bound to bring that up.

Vall allowed the silence to sink in.
Sinopus was a threat to them in the psychological sense, and it
would take a fool not to see it.

“
Does the Great Khan fear
that the Emperor will initiate aggressive war against the Horde?
Then surely this is not the place for negotiation, Lord Vall. You
would be better served to speak to him a little more directly about
that.” She considered his problem with a formal air. “One thing I
have learned over the years, is not to butt my nose in where it is
not welcome. However, that is not to say that we don’t have trade
and customs agreements in place with the Empire. It is common
knowledge that we do.”

She was speaking for the sake of not
having dead silence in the room, she was speaking to gain a little
breathing space for all of them. While they had some idea, it was
up to Vall to state a case.

“
Perhaps we might intercede
on the Great Khan’s behalf.”

His reluctance, his very presence,
indicated this might be something out of the everyday
routine.

Eleanora beckoned, and her secretary,
tense with the atmosphere in there and the need not to draw
attention to oneself, started out of a head-down trance of
transcription and listening intently.

“
Yes? Majesty?”

“
Water.”

The secretary bobbed up to pour from
Eleanora’s pitcher.

Lord Vall, looking a bit bedraggled by
this time, sipped at his own water while they all took a moment to
regroup mentally. None of them wanted this to degenerate into a
slug-fest.

It was Eleanora who spoke
first.

When she did, it was as flat, confident
and neutral in tone as she could make it.

“
I will personally give to
the Great Khan our assurances, Lord Vall. It goes something like
this. In any conflict between the Horde and the Empire, it is our
intention to remain neutral, and to maintain our sovereignty. It is
our intention not to get sucked into fights that are not our
concern and not to any single one’s benefit—not at any price.
Furthermore. It is our intention to work actively with our
neighbors in the advance of collective security, and peaceful
commerce, and the self-determination of peoples. We believe that
whatever the provocation, whatever the cause, all international
disputes should and will be worked out by fair, open and peaceful
negotiation sanctioned by all parties.”

“
Ah, well—yes, of course—of
course…”

Yes, of course, they would have to say
something like that. It was an official position, one most
carefully stated for the record. She would no doubt release the
gist of it immediately, the minute the meeting was over.

Vall was visibly sweating now, and yet
a look of wry humor crossed his face. He was beginning to see why
Eleanora had such a reputation. He was beginning to understand that
a mere woman could be every inch able, even worthy to govern in her
own right. The success of her kingdom, flourishing insofar as he
had been able to see, was no mere fluke. These westerners were very
different, of course.

No reputable Hordesman would stand it
for a second.

“
And?”

You had to admire her in that
moment—the Great Khan could swallow her whole if he so chose,
probably in no time at all if he focused exclusively on Windermere.
A thousand ships could be here in two weeks, a month at most, even
if they had to row all the way. There was a fine port just a few
miles from the capital, and there were negligible forces to oppose
the Khan. It was an interesting judgment call, for if Windermere
was valuable, it was not entirely vital to the plan as he had
half-guessed it. He understood only so much of what the Great Khan
had in mind. He was only going to be told so much and have only so
much to go on. In short, he was a diplomat, and yes, a spy of
sorts, reporting back his impressions, giving long accounts of what
he had seen and heard. He was obviously not going to be the only
spy or person with an agenda hereabouts, but his impressions had
confirmed in some very thorough briefings before departure. Clearly
they were all doing their homework. As someone in the service once
said, what you don’t know can’t be wrested from you under
torture.

But he was no general, no admiral, and
therefore not privy to all of that sort of information. Perhaps
that was best, in that it made his job so much simpler, but it
placed him in a terribly awkward position sometimes.

It’s not that he couldn’t put himself
in their places, in fact that was a requirement. He had a mission
to perform, statements to make and it wasn’t personal in any way.
Not to one such as Vall. It was better than kings talking it out
face-to-face sometimes—that would end in bloodshed as often as not,
or Lord Vall didn’t know kings. He put all of this in a friendly,
even casual tone, just laying out the groundwork for what might be
a working agreement. If they were amenable. It was all in how you
put it, sometimes.

It wouldn’t do to be rude, after all.
Luckily, the laws of diplomacy had been long-established, and few
of the more sophisticated rulers took men like him too personally.
If only they were taking him seriously, that was all that
mattered.

When he called them assurances, he
meant exactly that, he told them. Just assurances against the
uncertain times that lay ahead…

It was all just a game, when you
analyzed it. And yet, at the same time, Lord Vall was very
conscious that he was a guest in her house.

The entire diplomatic party was in
their power, and perhaps that was just. It made the risks apparent
to all.

“
It’s just that we were
hoping for something…a little more.” He faltered, the papers
wavering in his hand, as he was no longer a young man himself, and
there was the odd little tremor to contend with.

Her eyes dropped to the first page and
she began to read.

Her eyebrows began to climb and then
those formidable eyes came up and for the first time in a very long
time, Lord Vall knew the thrill of fear.

But they’d always known she was going
to hate it.

In Lord Vall’s opinion, a benign
protectorate was the best they could hope for under the
circumstances.

True neutrality was going to be an
illusory goal for Windermere, or so Lord Vall assured
them.

Chapter Ten

Lowren’s hunting lodge was located near
what was called an outlier, a place where a portion of the long
escarpment above the plains had broken away. As the land settled,
the slot between the two got wider. This created a narrow canyon,
open at both ends, separating what was a small table-top mountain
from its parent. Standing five or six hundred feet above the
surrounding plain, its crags were heavily forested and its eroded
limestone fissures issued forth a hundred streams and rivulets. The
canyon itself was a wonderful place to hunt on foot with the bow.
It was within easy riding distance of the lodge, and the dogs would
either hunt alongside the men or be held by boys looking after the
horses while the party scoured the canyon and side-ravines on
foot.

Caves along both rims, where the ground
sloped up to the base of fairly substantial cliffs sheltered the
occasional bear. The forest was full of small varmints which were
good for the pot, although deer were scarce this week for some
reason. There were plenty of deer trails and plenty of deer tracks.
There were signs of recent browsing and plenty of fresh
droppings—just no deer.

However, a group of the younger
warriors had come up with an elk, and Bastian had, according to the
story, ridden up alongside at a full gallop as it bounded away.
Taking the thing completely by surprise, the youngster killed it
with a single shot to the heart. Lowren had given the trooper a
thin gold necklace that he had personally worn many times. To the
lad, it meant a lot and to Lowren, it was just one small slice of a
treasury that dated back to the reign of his father, a most prudent
man and a bit of a miser. Lowren saw the value in that now. All
liberality stems from economy—just one of many maxims of government
the old fellow had passed on to two attentive if highly-spirited
sons. The smell of the elk roasting had been something to be
experienced, notwithstanding the home cooking at his own house or
the more sophisticated or even just unfamiliar dishes he had
experienced in his recent travels.

There were tall pines and
massive oaks, sheltering the lodge from strong winds and providing
acorns in the case of the
quercus
genus to attract large numbers of deer, in season
and upon occasion.

It was too early for any major threads
of migration that would stretch on for miles after an initial
trickle had swelled into flood proportions.

In the meantime, no matter
what sort of a time the men were having, and they were surely
enjoying themselves, but Lowren was a bit bored. He was feeling
away from events and cut off from information. If they weren’t here
to take meat, specifically venison for the winter supply,
then
he
at least
might as well be elsewhere. He had too much to think about, too
much to worry about, and too much to do rather than stick around
the lodge. He had spent too much time here in the past, he decided.
When I should have been learning, studying—and building up a more
professional little army.

While he was still young. He was now an
only son, and if he fell, who would be there to look after his
mother? What about those who could not fight, and who would be
defenseless if their king and too many of his men fell in a war
they all saw coming and none save one really wanted if they were
honest with themselves?

This wasn’t about patriotism, something
he had a kind of contempt for. All wars are ultimately fought for
economic reasons, in Lowren’s personal opinion.

The questions were many and the answers
few.

Men being what they were, they would
flock to his colors, and this humbled him in some ways. But wasn’t
it better than packing it all up on carts and heading
west?

He could not imagine himself as a
vassal or his people as slaves of the Horde. The mere thought
brought anger—was this patriotism? Or was it the human heart, the
human condition, and its own stubborn notions of
justice?

To flee would ultimately be futile, he
was convinced of that.

Sooner or later, they would run hard up
against some other nation and their enlightened
self-interest—although there were kindred tribes, there hadn’t been
much contact in recent years. No one alive today could quite say,
just where the Molimni, for example, might be sought, or how long
it might take a man to ride there. They might welcome some new
allies, or be threatened by the imminent arrival of a new nation in
a land they had made their own. Certainly their neighbors would be
watching closely, with a few concerns of their own. So much of
statecraft involved a balancing act.