As much as he wished that his duty to the state now drove him, it was that closing sentence that brought him to this place.
Children, he thought, are the hunter’s snare for a man’s heart.
When the woman approached him with her long legs and confident smile, he raised his hand to dismiss her. She was young-younger than his daughter-and though the occasional mattress tussle was not beyond his interest, Lysias had never felt completely comfortable if a cash transaction was involved. There were plenty of lonely wives or willing servants when the mood struck, though he found that the older he got, the less the mood seemed to strike. Still, this one was attractive enough and didn’t have the used, hollow eyes of someone who’d worked in the business for any amount of time.
But even as he raised his hand, he saw her lips purse and saw her head give the slightest shake. He waited until she approached. “Looking for company?” she asked in a low voice.
He glanced around the room. A few sailors took notice, but he couldn’t be certain it wasn’t the tight dress and the curves it accentuated that drew their stares. He nodded. “I am indeed.”
She sat, and as she did, her fingers moved. We make small talk a bit; then you ask the barmaid for a room key.
He studied her eyes and saw that they were hard. Agreed, he signed in return.
They talked in low tones about the weather and the war until Lysias heard readiness in her replies. Then, he raised a finger and nodded when he caught the barmaid’s eye. She studied the two of them with a knowing smile and then waddled over with an iron key. She looked to Lysias and waited until he produced a heavy coin from his pocket. Burying the payment into her apron pocket, she passed the key to him. “An hour,” she said, looking to the woman. “And be mindful of your noise.”
The girl wrinkled her nose but smiled. “I don’t think this one will give us that problem.”
Laughing, the barmaid returned to her work, and the girl stood, stretching out her hand to Lysias.
He was surprised at how awkward he felt suddenly, and he wondered if it was because it had been a while since a beautiful woman had offered him her hand. His last woman, he realized, had been a drunken hurry during a lull in the last war. And that had been more to give his officers a sense of his humanity so that he could exact deeper loyalty than for his own personal satisfaction. He took her hand, and it was soft and small within his.
But her grip was firm.
Lysias stood and let her lead him up the stairs.
She let them into the room and locked the door behind.
A single candle guttered on a small table beside the room’s narrow cot. A robed man sat on a wooden chair, opposite the bed. “General Lysias?” the man asked, looking up.
The hair was longer, but Lysias recognized the man, though he’d aged a bit since his days upon the stage. “Esarov,” he said. “You take a great risk coming here personally.”
Esarov shrugged. “We own this quarter. We’ve twenty of our best in this fine establishment to mitigate potential risk.” He nodded to the girl. “Including Sasha.”
They use women for the debasing work of war under the guise of equality. Lysias felt anger catch like kindling in his stomach. He wrestled it down and forced calm into his voice. “So why have you brought me here?” And what do you know about my Lynnae? he didn’t ask.
“I wish to offer a cessation to hostilities and end this civil war.”
Lysias sat upon the bed, not waiting for Esarov to invite him. “So you said.” He placed his elbows upon the stained tabletop and leaned forward. “But before I can agree to be your intermediary, I’ll need to know your terms.”
“They are simple, really. Sethbert’s murderer, Petronus, has surrendered himself to the Secessionists’ Union. I know that Ignatio is holding a high-ranking member of the Androfrancine Order in one of the Overseer’s many basements.” Esarov leaned forward, his blue eyes shining through the lenses of his spectacles. “Petronus is prepared to turn himself over to Erlund for trial in exchange for that man’s freedom, and”-here, he smiled-“I am prepared to negotiate an end to the war on the sole condition that those city-states currently with seated governors, elected by the people, be allowed to retain those governors in keeping with the intent of the original Settlers Congress.”
Lysias scowled. The city-states had united beneath an Overseer during the First Gypsy War, over seventeen hundred years ago. It was a lesson learned the hard way, paid in blood: To have a strong and unified army, one must have a strong and unified central government. “And you believe Erlund will take this offer?”
He might. He really might, Lysias thought.
Esarov smiled, his eyebrows arching over the wire frames. “I’m convinced he will.” He sat back and spread out his arms. “It is a matter of law. Sethbert was near kin to him-and his predecessor-holding the highest position of honor on the Delta. His actions, no matter how heinous, stemmed from a sense of duty to his people and to the Named Lands. Erlund is obligated to seek justice.”
“And you gain legitimacy for three. four cities when you could have them all?”
“I don’t need them all; I never have.” Esarov’s smile broadened. “Democracy is both a mighty tool and a stealthy weapon, General. I believe it will win the war in a slower, surer way and without further bloodshed.”
Lysias sat back. He glanced momentarily to the girl, Sasha. She stood near the door, her ear cocked toward it. “And Petronus understands the risk?”
Esarov shrugged. “I believe he does. But I also believe he is motivated by guilt. He knows now that Sethbert was merely someone else’s Queen’s War move-a clever and tragic manipulation.”
Tam, Lysias thought. He remembered his last meeting with the man, there on the Pylos border, when he’d taken the note carefully forged in Pope Resolute’s hand along with the ancient weapon that he and the Pope’s Gray Guard captain had used to bring down Sethbert through Resolute’s so-called suicide. If Sethbert had surrendered when Lysias and his men had arrested him, perhaps the Overseer would have seen a different outcome.
But that was not what House Li Tam intended, if his suspicions were correct.
“Very well,” Lysias finally said. “Is there more?”
Esarov nodded. “There is. I want assurances of Petronus’s well-being during the trial. He is to be afforded the courtesy of a dignitary from the moment of his arrest until the completion of his trial and any resulting sentence.”
Lysias sat, staring at Esarov. He tried to remember what play he’d last seen the man in before he’d retired from the theater and given himself to questionable politics. He thought perhaps it was A Weeping Czar Beholds the Fallen Moon, that ancient tale of accidental, tragic love. He’d played Frederico, the Last Weeping Czar, and Lysias recalled that his wife had been quite taken with the young Androfrancine-turned-actor.
“Very well,” he said. “I will relay your message. How do I contact you with Erlund’s response?”
Esarov smiled again. “My men will contact you. You will not see me again until the trial.”
Lysias nodded, wanting to ask one last question-really, his first and foremost question-but not sure how. Until this moment, his purpose here was clearly a matter of state, but this inquiry would make it personal and years of habit drove him to keep the two very separate in his life.
But Esarov must have seen the conflict in his face. “She is fine, Lysias,” he said. “Your daughter is in the Ninefold Forest in Rudolfo’s refugee camp. We had word of her arrival not long before the assassinations.”