“This is not a kantu-kamliss matter,” Tegestu said firmly. “This proposal does not involve our kamliss only, but all the other kamlissi of Arrandal. If I am to consider this, I must have permission to bring it out of Pranoth.”
For a moment he saw triumph in Aptan’s eyes. The boy thinks I will accept, he thought; he has lived for too long among these Abessla, who leap all unheeding after gold and the promise of power.
Aptan bowed. “You are the elder, drandor bro-demmin Tegestu,” he said. “Your judgment is sounder than mine. If you must consult your people, my fa — drandor bro-demmin Tastis will certainly understand.”
And now Tegestu himself slitted his eyes to hide his own feeling of triumph; for his mind had embraced possibilities, he thought, that hadn’t occurred to Tastis, and Aptan had just given him permission to break the ban of kantu-kamliss and inform others of Tastis’ offer. “Your people,” Aptan had said, not “your aldran” or “your staff.’’ Tegestu intended to make the most of that ambiguity.
Ah, Tastis, he thought. Cousin, you should have come yourself. This boy has not seen enough of treachery.
“If we reach agreement on this matter,” Tegestu said, “how do you suggest we contact drandor Tastis?”
“A messenger, sent with a note under your seal, will always find access to the city,” Aptan said. “Or you can send an embassy — we have prisoners of yours, you have some of our people; we can discuss anything under the guise of an exchange.”
“You may say to drandor Tastis that I find his offer interesting,” Tegestu said. “That is my present answer.”
“He will be pleased.”
“You will surrender the fort, then?”
Aptan grinned. “I had forgot,” he laughed. “Oh, aye, we’ll surrender if you grant us honors. Within the hour — I’ll beat a drum to let you know when we’re coming out.”
“Very well, ban-demmin,” Tegestu said. “I will have a pass ready to let you pass our pickets.”
He put his hands on his knees and rose, trying not to let Aptan see the pain that flickered through him. He bowed, feeling his head swim, either from his sudden rising or from the giddiness that walking so careful a line would bring. He walked across the turf to his own lines, seeing the tense postures of his guards relaxing as he came away from the enemy.
His staff was there, Grendis, Cascan and the others; and he saw tense curiosity in their faces. “He will surrender within the hour,” he said. “Arrange to pass them through the lines.” He looked at them and smiled. “I must see Necias, ban-demmini,” he said. “Something interesting has occurred.”
He could see their curiosity rise; but for the moment it was best that few of them knew of Tastis’ offer. But Grendis, he thought, should be informed: she was cunning, and would be able to give valuable advice. “Ban-demmin Grendis, I would be honored if you would accompany me,” he said, and with his wife at his side he walked to Necias’ pavilion.
Necias, once told of the need for privacy, cleared the place of his hangers-on, then he offered them stools and lay down on his own settee.
“What did the man want?” he said with a scowl. Scowling, Tegestu thought, at the idea of intrigue, for that was what this was bound to be.
“He wanted,” Tegestu said, enjoying the sheer drama of the situation and unable to keep the smile from his lips, “to discuss the surrender of Neda-Calacas.”
He had made a bet with himself that Necias’ mouth would fall open at the news, and he was gratified to discover that he had won.
CHAPTER 15
The ban of kantu-kamliss was broken; and Tegestu was free to do the thing that, he had no doubt, Tastis would never have anticipated: he would give Aptan’s offer to his canlan. Pride warmed him as he thought of Tastis’ ultimate fury, when he learned what dispositions Tegestu and Necias together would make.
Necias called in Campas as his translator, and for twenty minutes he listened solemnly, nodding as Tegestu made each point, fidgeting with the rings on his stubby fingers.
“The city,” Tegestu said, “will surrender to me, as drandor of Pranoth. I am subject to you, our canlan. Neda-Calacas will become a Brodaini state, but subject to you and to the Denorru-Deissin of Arrandal. Tastis can be exiled to one of the baronies, or ordered to kill himself — whichever you prefer. In the end, I will hold Neda-Calacas in your name, and as your perpetual ally. My people will have a homeland in which they can settle if they desire, but of course they will also be available to serve the cities of the Elva, as before.”
Necias lay motionless on his pillows, his small eyes flitting from Campas to Tegestu and back again. The posture seemed odd, unnatural and disturbing: Necias was usually a physically active man, always moving, frequently pacing, his hands gesturing broadly or occupying themselves with the tea-cakes he always had placed by his elbow. Doubt began to creep into Tegestu’s mind. “Tastis and his rebels,” Tegestu said, trying to explain the advantages more clearly, “will be punished for their presumption. Hostu and nartil will be restored. And Neda-Calacas, instead of being your greatest rival in the Elva, will be your ally.”
Necias frowned, reaching for a cup of tea; he drank slowly, staring into the dark liquid as he swirled it about the rim of the cup. Tegestu looked at Grendis in surprise. He had expected a more enthusiastic response than this: why wouldn’t Necias leap at such an idea?
“This offer argues weakness, hey,” Necias said finally, speaking as if he grudged every word. “Had Tastis won the battle of the ford, he would not be laying down conditions for surrender.”
“That is likely, cenors-efellsan,” Tegestu agreed. “He is not a man to give up his independence without reason. Had he won the battle, he would be demanding our submission, rather than offering his own.”
Necias glanced at Campas again; there was some nervousness, Tegestu thought, in the look. Then he placed his teacup very carefully on his table, orienting it with a finicky carefulness that seemed unusual in him, as if he were trying to set carefully into place the elements of a puzzle; he rose from the settee and shook his head.
“Tegestu, I am aware of the magnitude of what you offer,” he said, “but surely you’re aware that I’ll have to say no to this.”
Tegestu felt his heart turn over. He could only gasp out a stunned reply. “But why, Abessu-Denorru?” he asked.
Necias began to pace, his arms folded on his massive chest; he turned and looked at Tegestu.
“The cities of the Elva cherish their independence,” he said. “It’s a cardinal point in all that we do. No Elva city has ever ruled another. No Elva city will ever rule another. For me to claim Neda-Calacas now would be to tear the Elva apart. They would all league against us. It would destroy all I’ve worked for.” He shook his head slowly, emphatically. “I won’t risk that, Tegestu. I daren’t.”
Tegestu glanced at Grendis in amazement, then back at Necias. “But we march now to take the city!” he said.
“But not to rule it,” Necias corrected. “We mean to restore its native government, not impose our own. Naturally,” he nodded, “our people, and the others of the Elva, will take what advantage we can. The city’s markets will be disrupted, and we’ll try to gain what we can from the disruption. Our banks will make what profit they can in loans to the new government, once it’s installed.” Necias waved his hands. “That’s all conceded,” he said. “But to rule directly, or even indirectly — it’s out of the question. And to let foreigners do our ruling for us — “ He hesitated for a moment, then went on. “That’s impossible. I’m sorry, Tegestu. But I speak truly. I know my people.”