Thus far Tegestu had waited in vain.
He looked down from the tower, felt the sweat collecting under his armor, and tried to think. His mind could find no answers; it only spun hopelessly in old backwaters, unwilling to bring anything new to the surface.
His hope had been that Necias would try to make a peace before autumn. Once the other Elva cities were represented by armies instead of ambassadors Necias would find it more difficult to end the war with anything short of unconditional surrender; and even so he would have to share the credit. He had thought Necias would wish, if at all possible, to arrange a peace before the autumn storms.
Apparently he had been wrong. Necias, to all appearances, seemed perfectly willing to wait until the other Elva forces arrived and strengthened his hand. Unless, of course, Necias was concealing his eagerness as a ploy to force Tastis to make concessions.
Time was coming near to forcing Tegestu’s hand. One problem that could not be delayed was that of his cavalry and transport horses: the city was nearly out of fodder for them, and though he had taken advantage of the main Elva force being on the other side of the river to graze his beasts outside the city walls during the daylight hours, all available grazing would be exhausted in a matter of days. He would either have to slaughter his horses or somehow get them out of the city, and he resisted the consequences of either decision. He would, he thought, try to get them out to the west and let Tanta look after them — but it would cost him in terms of his readiness here, where it was needed, and he disliked admitting such vulnerability.
That, he supposed, was a minor matter, compared with his main dilemma. Should he send his own negotiators to Tastis or not? Tastis had been utterly silent since the night Tegestu had occupied Calacas, arid there was no guarantee he would not instantly retaliate by hacking off the heads of any heralds Tegestu sent, whether under a spear of parley or not. Tegestu suspected Tastis wouldn’t do anything quite so drastic, simply because he didn’t have the luxury of turning away someone who might offer something to his advantage, but there was no way of knowing.
No, Tegestu didn’t want to send an emissary simply because it would be a confession of his own desperation, a confession Tastis would certainly use to his own advantage. Tegestu’s situation, he knew, was superficially strong, here in the city with enough food to last a year, and he didn’t want to dispel that illusion.
Patience, he thought. Patience is the choice of the wise leader.
It was also, he knew, the only choice that offered itself to him.
Cursing the necessity for patience, Tegestu looked out the window and hoped for inspiration. It did not come.
*
Two days later Tegestu had still not found his answer. He was lying in his living quarters on a massage table, a light sheet thrown over him, his eyes closed. He sensed, through the scent of perfumed oil, Grendis lying on the table next to him. The masseurs had finished and quietly left the chamber, and Tegestu listened idly to the sound of the bohau and tedec in the next chamber, behind the screens. A leather pillow lay beneath his head, and his body was perfectly relaxed; in the stillness of his mind he sought hostu, and did not find it. His mind still drifted hopelessly in its sluggish old channels, unable to find its way out.
If he had truly trapped himself here, he thought, he would suicide and hope to find hostu in the afterlife. That would give his successors a chance to negotiate with Necias on a new basis, without the embarrassment of his presence.
“Bro-demmin drandor.” A soft voice, Thesau’s. He had not heard his servant’s quiet footsteps. “I apologize for the interruption. Bro-demmin Acamantu begs to see you on a matter of urgency.”
Tegestu opened his eyes, the tranquility he sought banished forever. He heard Grendis shift on her platform. “Aye, ilean,” Tegestu said, hoping his voice did not show his weariness. “Let him enter.”
He heard, rather than saw, the rattle of his son’s armor as he knelt in respectful greeting.
“What is it, ban-demmin?” he asked.
“Tastis has sent a herald asking to speak with you or your emissary,” Acamantu said. “I’ve allowed him entrance.”
Tegestu felt a trickle of satisfaction entering his mind. Tastis had come to him. Patience, he thought with contentment, always patience until the time to strike, and then move like lightning. Tastis, he thought, is brilliant, but he has never been patient. That is his weakness.
“Is it a kantu-kamliss matter, ban-demmin?” he asked.
“Nay. A full parley.”
Tegestu craned his neck back, seeing his son head-downward from his reversed angle. “Did they come with reversed spears?” he asked.
“Aye, bro-demmin.”
Tegestu gave a tight smile. “That is good, ban-demmin,” he said. “It appears Tastis has learned manners.” He saw Acamantu’s answering carnivore smile; then he closed his eyes and thought for a moment. “Treat them with all courtesy, ban-demmin,” he said without opening his eyes. “Tell them my emissary will meet with them in an hour. This will be in the grey meeting room — you know the one. Decorated with the molded winged figures.” The former deissu’s palace he had chosen as his headquarters was huge, and even after two months Tegestu occasionally found himself lost in it.
“Aye, bro-demmin. I know the one.”
“I shall see to its preparation myself. Please send whelkran Hamila to me.”
“Aye, bro-demmin. Here or in the conference chamber?”
Tegestu considered for a second. “In the conference chamber. I shall be there in half an hour.”
“He shall be informed, bro-demmin.” There was a pause. “Beg pardon, bro-demmin,” Acamantu said hesitantly, “but do you know where ban-demmin Hamila is stationed at present?”
Tegestu smiled. “Inspecting the reserve swordsmen in the Square of the Weavers, ban-demmin,” he said.
“Thank you, bro-demmin,” Acamantu said, a touch of relief in his voice. He knelt, said his farewell, and was gone.
The bohau and tedec throbbed onward. Tegestu opened his eyes and turned his head toward Grendis. She had risen to a seating position, and was swinging her legs off the table. When she saw his expression she looked at him questioningly. His smile broadened.
“He has come to us, Grendis,” he said. “His need must be great.”
“I hope it may be so,” she said, doubtfully. He laughed, swung off the table, and took her hands. He looked at her naked form, the trained body, still strong and limber but with the inevitable slack folds of flesh, the calluses that the weight of armor had made on her broad, swordsman’s shoulders, the small breasts with their dark nipples. I will guard your back, she had promised, and never failed.
He felt a sudden surge of love that was so extreme he felt almost frightened by it, so much did it exceed what was proper.
He took her gently by the shoulders and kissed her. “We must make a last throw of the dice, my love,” he said. “And accept them, however they land.”
She said nothing, but only embraced him, sensing, perhaps, the desperation beneath his light tone. He allowed himself the luxury of her nearness for a long, wordless moment, and then, reluctantly, he returned, as he must, to his duty.
*
The conference chamber had been expertly prepared. It was a large, airy room, with a handsome frescoed and domed ceiling, and with beautifully molded plasterwork accenting the lovely proportions of the chamber. Tegestu had been impressed by the harmony of the room’s design, and despite its un-Gostu appearance he often used it for staff meetings.