The Godspeaker Trilogy (176 page)

“As we have said already to your queen, one man is not a nation,” said the ambassador from Keldrave. He needed no introduction, not with his ears weighed down with wiferings. “Saying Mijak is real, do words make it so? We have not heard of this place until today.”

“Mijak has been sleeping for a very long time,” he retorted. “Now it's woken up, which is a great pity.”

“You are a little man,” said another ambassador. Everything about him said he represented Slynt. “Little men want big men to raise them high.” He jerked his chin at Emperor Han, so quiet while the ballroom hummed with tension. “What does Tzhung-tzhungchai promise to little men to say the things its emperor and your queen want said?”

“Tzhung-tzhungchai promised me nothing !” he snapped. “And even if they did offer me something I wouldn't take it. I don't like Tzhung-tzhungchai. Until the emperor came I was happy enough. Ethrea's queen trusted me and knew I would never hurt her, at least not on purpose, but Emperor Han changed that. He barged in where he wasn't wanted, him and his witch-men. Just because they'd learned a little of Mijak—” He held up his thumb and forefinger, pinched close. “They'd learned this much, no more, but they're so arrogant they thought they knew more than me. And they didn't .”

Voolksyn narrowed his eyes. “You knew of Mijak and did not tell your queen?”

“It wasn't time !” he said, despairing. “Hettie said I had to keep it secret. Rhian had to be made safe on her throne first.”

“Hettie?” said Voolksyn.

Dexterity pressed a hand to his forehead. Oh dear, oh dear. Whyever did I come ? “My wife. She died twenty years ago. She brings me messages from God. I know it sounds absurd, but I'm afraid I can't help that. Hettie showed me the destruction of Garabatsas. It was a small township in Sharvay.” He looked around at the ambassadors' skeptical faces. “You must've heard of Sharvay. Even I've heard of Sharvay.”

They nodded reluctantly. Gutten growled. “What do we care of Sharvay?”

He nearly stamped his foot. “We care because the warriors of Mijak destroyed it! As they have destroyed scores of towns and cities, as they will destroy Ethrea and all your lands if they're not stopped. It's true. I saw it,” he added as the ambassadors glanced at each other, unconvinced. “All those poor people…” His voice caught in his throat. The horror of Garabatsas was never far away. “They had no hope against the warriors of Mijak. They burned alive. All of them . And we shall burn too, because the Empress of Mijak wants to conquer the world for her dreadful god. She will conquer the world, she and her son. If we don't work together they will. I promise.”

“You promise?” said Gutten. His face was ugly with derision. “Little man? Little toymaking man?”

Dexterity stepped back a pace, then turned to stare at Rhian. “You sent for me so they could sneer ?”

“No,” she replied. The stitched cut in her cheek looked swollen. Painful. Beneath her careful mask of indifferent self-control he could see how she was struggling. “I sent for you because I need an honest man to speak for me.”

Well, that was nice. A pity she hadn't remembered his honesty before she gave him to Sun-dao…

But that was an argument for another time.

He turned back to the ambassadors. “My lords, you'd be well advised to heed my words. I have spoken the truth here. Ethrea concocts no nefarious plans with the Tzhung, or with Mijak. Ethrea seeks to save you. I seek to save you, and so does Queen Rhian.”

“We should believe you?” said one of the ambassadors who'd been silent till then. From Dev'karesh? He looked pale enough and he stank of cloves. That was a Dev'kareshi custom, one Ursa said gave them cankers of the mouth.

“Yes,” he said, suddenly wary. “You should.”

The ambassador's eyes were wide and malignant. “Burn with a miracle, to show you do not lie. Burn and we will consider Mijak and gods of blood and whether Tzhung-tzhungchai can be trusted.”

He stared at the ambassador, aghast. “Just like that? I can't. I can't pull a miracle out of my pocket like a kerchief!”

More muttering, ugly now, as the trading nations' ambassadors glared. Dexterity folded his arms, forcing himself not to cringe beneath the weight of their suspicion. He looked at Emperor Han. Emperor Han looked back. Whatever he was thinking and feeling he kept locked behind his smooth amber face.

“This Jones does not burn,” said Gutten, still sneering. “There is no danger. It is all lies, to break charter. Lies to destroy the trading nations.”

“ That's not true !” said Rhian, and stood. “Dexterity's miracles weren't lies! His visions – the people he healed – the child he brought back from death – these things are not lies , Gutten!”

“I did not see them,” said Gutten, his lip curling.

“I saw them! The king saw them! God's Prolate in Ethrea saw them!” Rhian retorted. “Am I lying, Ambassador? Are these good men of my council lying? Have I suborned them? Why would I do that? Ethrea is my sacred trust. Would I risk it, would I betray every man, woman and child in my kingdom to make an alliance with Tzhung-tzhungchai?”

Gutten looked her up and down. “Yes.”

“Why? Because you would?”

“I make no alliance with Tzhung-tzhungchai!” snarled Gutten. “I honour the treaties, I honour the charter!” He swept his arm round in a fierce arc, taking in everyone but Emperor Han and his ambassador. “ We honour, but you do not! You wheedle, you plot, you want to steal what is ours!”

“ That is the lie!” Rhian cried, and would have leapt from the dais except the king took her arm. She snatched herself free of him, searing him with a look. “You are swift to smear me, Gutten. You are quick to point an accusing finger, but I see you in corners with Voolksyn of Harbisland. What are you plotting? What do your whispers mean? Perhaps our treaties and charters are in danger from you !”

“Harbisland plots nothing with Arbenia!” said Voolksyn, his face darkening with displeasure.

“How do I know that?” Rhian demanded. “Must I trust your word when you won't trust mine? How am I to trust any of you when you're so quick to think the worst of me ?”

Uproar then, as the ambassadors shouted and protested and turned on each other to vilify or seek support. Only Han and his ambassador kept apart, their expressions wary. Caught unprotected in the storm, Dexterity watched as Idson and his soldiers stepped forward, prepared to leave Zandakar alone. And Zandakar…he stood taut, ready to kill anyone who dared raise a hand to Rhian.

“Enough! Enough !” Rhian shouted. “My lord ambassadors, control yourselves!”

But they ignored her.

Dexterity closed his eyes. He could hear the roaring flames of Garabatsas, hear the screams and the wailing and the warriors' terrible chant. Chalava! Chalava! Chalava zho ! Even with his eyes closed he could see the burning people, see the buildings fly apart in flames as the warrior Dmitrak, Zandakar's brother, used his dreadful gauntlet of power to reduce the township to rubble.

“Stop it,” he muttered, feeling his fingers clench to fists. “Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it !”

As he shouted he raised his fists above his head, pain and despair and a righteous anger igniting him.

He opened his eyes, and saw he was on fire.

Oh, Hettie.

The last time he'd been a prisoner of this mystifying power, Marlan had died for touching him. How he'd screamed and screamed inside his head, screamed at Marlan stay back, don't touch me …but Marlan was never a man for listening and so he'd burned and died.

Not again, Hettie. Don't make me kill again.

In the castle's Grand Ballroom the ambassadors stumbled to a choking silence. Even Gutten of Arbenia stared, abruptly speechless.

To his great relief, this time his wits didn't desert him as he burned. He knew who he was, and where he was, and most importantly, what he must do.

Turning his back on the dumbstruck ambassadors, he walked to Rhian on her dais.

“You're hurt, Majesty,” he said. “Let me heal you.”

“Please,” she replied, tears glinting, and stepped down to join him on the parquetry floor.

He cupped his palm to her stitched cheek. Heat surged through him, and she gasped as her wound burned bright as a brand for one heartbeat, two heartbeats. Then it faded, Ursa's neat stitches consumed, and all that remained was her whole, healed face.

Rhian stepped back, unsteady on her feet. Her fingers came up to touch her mended flesh. “Thank you, Dexterity,” she whispered.

“It's God's doing, not mine.”

“And we offer him our thanks,” said Helfred loudly, from the dais. “And thank you too. God bless you, Mister Jones.”

Bless Hettie, more like. She'd got him mixed up in this again. Knowing he didn't want it. Knowing he'd rather be at home, weeding his tomatoes…

“Don't mention it, Prolate.”

As suddenly as they ignited, the flames wreathing Dexterity extinguished. Relieved, and yet oddly disappointed – Have I done enough? Can I go home now? – he turned to see how the ambassadors reacted to his miracle.

Only Lai was unperturbed. Like his master, Emperor Han, he seemed undismayed by miracles.

The rest of the ambassadors were most dismayed. To a man they were chalky-white, and sweating. Forgetting the treacherous cross-currents of their alliances and enmities, they huddled together like hens facing a fox.

Well, that's something, Hettie. At least it appears they're listening now.

“My lords, you are foolish, every one of you,” he told them severely. “Rich men grown fat and complacent in the world you've created. Well, that world stands on the brink of destruction.” He pointed at Zandakar. “His people are coming to wrest it from you, to bend it and break it and remake it in their cruel image. Together, God willing, we can stop them. But only if we take heed of the warnings God has sent us!”

Gutten, the boldest hen, folded his arms. Chalky-white, yes, and slicked with sweat like the others…but he wasn't just afraid. Bone-deep suspicion warred with his fear. He pointed at Zandakar.

“Warnings from him? Why should we believe them? You say we are complacent. You think we are stupid . You say he comes from Mijak but you have no proof .”

“ Proof? ” Dexterity stared at him, stunned with disbelief. Then he lifted his healing hands and held them out. “You asked for a miracle, and God provided one. What more proof do you need , Sere Gutten?”

Gutten looked to the shadows, where Emperor Han stood. “The sorcery of Tzhung-tzhungchai is legend.”

“ Sorcery? ” he said, almost spluttering in his outrage. “It wasn't sorcery, and it wasn't Tzhung-tzhungchai, either!”

Emperor Han came forth from his shadows. “The only sorcery here, Gutten, is the spell of lies you weave with your busy tongue.”

“Mine?” Gutten's chalky-white face burned red. “The lies are yours . Han of Tzhung-tzhungchai is an emperor of lies!”

“Enough!” said Rhian. “ Both of you, enough! I'll not have God insulted in this castle.”

Han looked at her, so haughty. “You call what has happened in Ethrea the work of God. My people call it the will of the wind. The wind whispered of bloodsoaked Mijak in my ear. The wind—”

“Does not blow in my court or my kingdom,” said Rhian curtly, and fixed him with a brilliant blue stare. “It has blown you to us, Emperor Han, and I am grateful for your support, but this is Ethrea…and I am ruler here.” She swept the gathered ambassadors with her bleak gaze. “And as Ethrea's ruler I tell you, gentlemen, there is no sorcery conducted in my name or for my benefit. Not by the Tzhung, not by any nation under the sun. And while I am grateful to Tzhung's emperor, you can believe that any country that fights with me against Mijak will also receive my heartfelt thanks. You have my word as queen, I'll be playing no favourites.”

Brooding, Voolksyn of Harbisland tugged at his beard. “You show us a burning man. You show us a prince of Mijak. I cannot say it is enough for my slainta.”

“Then what is enough?” Rhian demanded. “Your people murdered by Mijak? Your streets running with their blood?” She closed the distance between them and stared up into Voolksyn's shuttered eyes. “Are you willing to gamble I'm wrong, Ambassador? You have family in Harbisland. Are you willing to gamble them ?”

Voolksyn bared his teeth in a snarling smile. “To reach Harbisland, first Mijak must overrun Ethrea.”

She smiled back at him, just as fiercely, and punched her fist lightly against his spotted sealskin chest. “ Exactly . Which is why you must help me.” She looked around. “Why all of you must help me.”

Gutten spat on the beautiful parquetry floor. “You think to lead the trading nations to war? You? A girl?”

“Not a girl,” said Rhian. “A queen who doesn't hesitate to kill for her crown. Don't forget that, Sere Gutten. Besides, you might not all be treatied with each other, but you are all treatied with Ethrea. It's a place to start. A way to find common ground. Surely you can agree with that?”

“Heh,” said Voolksyn. Was he, at least, convinced? It was impossible to say. “When does Mijak come in its warships?”

“I don't know,” said Rhian. “But if I'm right and Icthia has already fallen, then surely our time is running out.”

“Harbisland and Arbenia are treatied beyond the Ethrean charter,” said Voolksyn, turning to Gutten. “What my slainta does, your count considers.”

“And you say your slainta will consider this? ” said Gutten, disbelieving.

Voolksyn shrugged. “I say I will tell him what Queen Rhian says.”

“And you'll ask him for ships to sail against Mijak?” said Rhian. “You'll ask him to agree to an Ethrean army?”

“I will ask,” said Voolksyn.

“And the rest of you?” Rhian demanded of the other ambassadors. “Will you make the same requests of your rulers?”

Silence like a knife-edge, sharp and deadly. Dexterity watched as the ambassadors from the lesser trading nations looked to Gutten. It seemed they were too timid to do anything but follow Arbenia's lead.

God save us, Hettie. Their cowardice will kill us all.

“Sere Gutten,” said Rhian, gentling her voice. Behind her softness, Dexterity thought she was raging. “Will you at least consider my request?”

“I will consider it,” Gutten said at last, grudging. “But do not hold your hopes for Arbenia. My count is not ordered by Tzhung-tzhungchai, or a queen who is ordered by the Tzhung in secret.”