“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.