“To establish your authority,” Gar said carefully, “I would insist they resolve this war without bloodshed.”
The duke spat an oath and asked, “How shall they do that?”
“They have all come because the Boss of Loutre stirred them up,” Gar explained, “but Loutre has come because his steward Torgi has persuaded him to do so. Torgi, though, spoke not out of concern for the bosses’ welfare, but for his own selfish reasons: he wanted myself and a merchant named Ralke slain, because we know that he has been cheating his boss by mistranslating when he talks to the merchants, telling the boss the prices are higher than the merchants are really asking, and keeping the difference for himself.”
“Treachery!” The duke’s eyes glittered. “Yes, that they will understand, and will turn their anger away from this town and direct it toward the swindler! But what evidence shall we bring?”
“My own statement, and that of the merchant, who is sheltering here,” Gar said. “There is also the testimony of a sergeant of the Boss of Loutre, who was the first to accept payment from Torgi to kill us, and the captain of the Hawk Company, whom Torgi hired to catch and slay us—and I’m sure the Boss of Loutre will want to know where his steward found money enough to hire a whole company.”
The duke’s thin, smile widened. “What punishment shall I suggest?”
“They will want to hang him at the least,” Gar said, “but may also want to draw and quarter him first. However, it would increase the prestige of the Fair Folk if you demanded the privilege of punishing him yourself, taking him back to your hill for a lifetime of servitude, never to be seen by mortal folk again.”
“You hint at some other fate,” the duke accused. Gar nodded. “It occurs to me that you might place a sumptuous meal before him, watch till he falls asleep, and place him in one of your cryogenic chambers. Then, if the Milesian leaders grow too arrogant, you might find use for a mischief-maker who could ingratiate himself into court after court and foment dissension, setting the Milesians against one another, until only the Fair Folk could resolve their disputes and restore order again.”
The duke glared at him. “Are you always so devious?”
“Only when I’m inspired, my lord.”
“Then I trust you will find yourself inspired to leave our world quickly, as soon as you have seen that we have done as you suggest.”
“I know you will do whatever is best for the Fair Folk,” Gar returned. “If by some accident it is also best for the Milesians, I’m sure that’s none of my concern.”
“No, now that you’re done with it. Very well, I shall talk to my fellow dukes. Do talk to the captains, and to the castellan of this town.”
Gar took that as a dismissal. He bowed, then straightened and turned away.
“Oh, and Milesian!” the duke called.
Gar turned back, his expression all polite inquiry. “Yes, my lord?”
“How did you send that wizard into my dream?” Gar fought to keep his smile from becoming too broad. “Only a favor between friends, my lord.”
“You know this wizard, then?”
“As well as I know myself, my lord.”
The captains and bosses came reluctantly to the council commanded by the Fair Folk, but under the muzzles of six beam projectors, they did come. The duke had commanded a dais be placed and a canopy raised above it, to shelter himself and his retinue, a dozen of the Fair Folk in their most lavish finery. Those whom the scowls of the tall men did not intimidate were charmed by the beauty and grace of the fairy women. The Milesian leaders came and satin the semicircle of hourglass-shaped chairs, richly carved of glossy dark wood, facing the dais and the gilded chairs in which sat the Fair Folk. Magda sat with Dirk beside her, holding tightly to his hand and not caring who saw. On her other side sat Captain Devers, then the other captains, and beyond them, the bosses. Behind all of them stood their bodyguards, but none wore weapons, for the mighty beam projectors frowned on all of them.
The duke sat in front of all the other Fair Folk, glaring down sternly at the Milesians through his bulging dark goggles. “I shall tell you what you will do,” he declared, bluntly and brutally.
Milesian faces darkened; captains and bosses shifted in their chairs, anger warring with superstitious fear—but none spoke.
“Good. You understand that you shall obey, if you wish to live, and your people with you.” The duke left them no room for pride. “You will return to your strongholds and castles straightaway, with no attacking of one another on your journey—and be sure that Fair Folk eyes shall watch your every step! Once home, you will never war upon one another again without permission of the Fair Folk!”
Now, even among the watching officers and bouncers, faces darkened with anger, and several of the bosses and captains reached for their swords, on the verge of rebellion.
The duke touched his medallion, and his words broke over them like thunder. “Do not even think to disobey!”
They all jumped in their seats and gripped the arms of their chairs, eyes wide and backs chilling with terror.
The duke touched his medallion again, and his voice was normal once more. “Know that this whole war on Quilichen is misbegotten and misguided! You think you come to destroy a threat to your established order, but you have been deceived and cozened into fighting a baseborn knave’s cause!”
The bosses stared, then turned to one another in furious question.
“We knew this from the beginning,” the duke lied, “and laughed at your folly, at how easily you let a liar lead you by the noses! But when so many come against one on the word of a cutpurse, the Fair Folk are filled with such outrage that we can no longer be still, nor let you tear one another apart!” He gave them a thin and nasty smile. “After all, it amuses an idle hour. Know, then, that this whole campaign is due only to the selfish intriguing of the steward Torgi!”
The bosses and captains turned to one another with astounded questions. Behind the Boss of Loutre, Torgi looked wildly from one side to another, but grim-faced bouncers stepped up on his left and on his right, and he could only stand trembling.
“He has cheated the Boss of Loutre by misinterpreting merchants’ prices, then keeping the difference between what they charged, and what his boss paid!” the duke snapped. “He has practiced this deception for years, but two weeks ago, he tried it once too often! The merchant Ralke came before him with a guard who knew both the language of the merchant and of the boss!”
He had to wait for more furious babble to quiet, watching the Boss of Loutre turn to demand the truth from Torgi, and to see the steward shake his head in a panic of denial.
“Be sure that he did!” the duke thundered.
The crowd fell quiet, whirling to face him, and he spoke normally again. “The guard, Gar Pike, now a sergeant of the Blue Company, will bear witness to this, as will the merchant! Worse, though—to hide this evidence of his crime, the steward hired his own boss’s brute to take a squadron of boots to kill the merchant and the guard! They failed, so Steward Torgi hired the Hawk Company to slay Gar Pike and Merchant Ralke! When they failed, and the merchant and his guard took shelter in Quilichen, Torgi twisted a cable of lies to bring both his boss, and Quilichen’s neighboring bosses, to besiege the city with the aid of the mercenaries they hired! That is the tale of how you have come here today, and why even the Fair Folk, in our amused dispassion, could not stand by and watch the comedy of your mutual annihilation!”