"What did they learn?" Arnos asked.
"First, sir, that the Canim aren't letting everyone leave peaceably as we first thought. They've been holding back members of two professions, refusing to let them leave: carpenters and shipwrights."
Arnos frowned heavily. "Then… their defense of the timber-cutting stead-holt had a definite purpose."
Tavi nodded. "They were taking materials. Wood that had been seasoning in storage, mostly."
"Seasoned wood?" Tribune Tactica Kellus was standing against a side wall, not far from Tavi. "Why seasoned wood, sir?"
"Because, Tribune," Arnos said in a tight voice, "you can't build ships out of green wood."
Tavi nodded, a little impressed despite himself. Arnos's mind worked swiftly-when he chose to use it. "Exactly, sir." He turned and marked a point on the rough map, at the very bottom of the slateboard, a distance of perhaps a hundred miles. "And we think they're building them here, at a town called Mastings. It has a long inlet from the sea, and already had the facilities in place to support the building of a dozen ships at a time. We think that its capacity has been expanded."
"You think?" Arnos said.
"It's conjecture, sir, but it stands up pretty well. The Canim have set up defensive positions at the mouth of the inlet, and they're turning away or appropriating any ships that try to sail to Mastings. Their patrols in the area are three times as thick as they are elsewhere, and the main body of their troops is located somewhere in the area. It's difficult to be sure, because they are refusing to let any Alerans into the city, unless they're one of the shipwrights or carpenters being pressed into service."
"Then how do you know their main body of troops is there?" Arnos demanded.
"The agents in question tracked food shipments, sir," Tavi said. "Either
Mastings is playing host to an extremely large number of Canim, or its people have decided to abandon life as a seaport and take up the cattle trade."
"Ships," grunted Captain Nalus again. "What do they want with bloody ships?"
Tavi answered. "The Cane who led the initial incursion, Sari, ordered their ships burned behind them when they landed. You could see the fires lighting up Founderport from five miles away."
Arnos scratched at his chin, studying the rough map. "Ships will give them a number of options they don't have now," he said. "They'll be able to move swiftly up and down the coastline-the dogs can sail, I'll give them that. If they build enough of them, they'll be able to move their entire force to support Kalare in the south, or to keep us running in circles up here."
"Or, sir," Tavi said. "They might… go home."
Arnos turned a look of pure disbelief upon Tavi.
"It's possible, sir. The majority of the Canim now in Alera did not want to be stuck here. That's why Sari had to burn the ships. And they have their dependents to think about, too. They want what any of us would want in a similar situation." He shrugged. "They want to go home."
Arnos simply stared at Tavi, saying nothing.
Tavi ground his teeth. The good Senator was offering him plenty of rope to hang himself with, and he knew it-but he also knew that he had to at least try. So he took a deep breath, and pressed on. "Given how static the conflict has been over the past several months, we might have an opportunity here."
The room was very quiet, until Arnos asked, in a polite voice, "What opportunity?"
No use stopping now. "To negotiate," Tavi said.
"Negotiate," Arnos said. "With the Canim."
"Senator, we want the Canim gone. The possibility exists that they want to be gone. I think it's worth exploring."
"Negotiate," the Senator repeated. "With the Canim."
"They do have an ambassador, sir," Tavi pointed out. "Alera has parleyed with them before."
"An ambassador who infiltrated a band of Canim warriors and trained beasts into the capital itself and attempted to murder the First Lord, yes," Arnos agreed. "An ambassador who is currently imprisoned and awaiting execution."
"Trial," Sir Cyril said in a very mild voice. "Awaiting trial. His guilt has not been proven."
Arnos gave Cyril a scornful glance. "His troops. His people. Even if he didn't plan it, he should have known about it and stopped it. Either way, the fault lies with him."
"Nonetheless, it may be an option worth looking at."
"I see," Arnos said quietly. "After the Canim have invaded, killed thousands of Alerans, displaced hundreds of thousands, burned cities, and conspired with a rebel in a plot to help him ascend to the throne we should… what? Give them room and board while we build ships for them? Fill their ships with provisions and gifts? Then send them home, with our blessings?"
"Sir-" Tavi began.
"I can see the advantages," Arnos continued. "They would return home and tell their entire race that Alera was so cowardly and weak that not only could we not defend our own lands against them, we were frightened enough to pay them tribute to get them to leave us."
"That isn't what-"
"And in a year, or two years, or five, they'll come again, and in far greater numbers. They will demand another round of tribute." Arnos shook his head. "No. We stop them here. Now. We scour them from the face of Alera. Every last one of them. We show the Canim that there is a price to be paid for such things as they have done."
Several low growls of approval vibrated through the room. None of them, so far as Tavi could tell, from anyone in the First Aleran.
"We might be able to beat them," Cyril put in. "But it's going to cost us a lot of men. Men well need in the south, when we move against Kalare."
"Men are going to die, regardless of what we do," Arnos shot back.
"Granted," Cyril said. "I simply prefer that we avoid killing them unnecessarily. As a matter of professional principle."
Arnos narrowed his eyes at Sir Cyril.
"I might point out, sir," Tavi added, "that even a temporary cessation of hostilities would provide us with more time to gather intelligence and maneuver to better advantage."
"And more time for the enemy to build attack vessels and become a far more mobile threat. More time for the traitor-slaves to train and equip. More time for them to fortify their positions." Arnos turned a gimlet gaze on Tavi, and said, "There will be no negotiation, Captain."
"Sir," Tavi said, "if you would only give me a little time to contact the First Lord and-"
Arnos's face flushed red, and his voice became harsh, hard. "There will be no negotiation, Captain!"
"But-"
"One more word out of your mouth," Arnos spat, "and I will suspend you from duty and have you flogged. Do you understand? Captain?"
Tavi clenched his jaw shut on an utterly unwise answer and gave the Senator a single, sharp nod instead.
Arnos glared at him for a few seconds, and nodded. His voice dropped back into a calmer register, and he rose. "Thank you for your report, Captain," he said, as he went to the front of the room. "That will be all."
Tavi stalked over to take his seat at Sir Cyril's right hand. "Crows take it," he muttered under his breath.
"It hardly came as a surprise," Cyril replied.
Tavi growled in his throat.
"Easy," Cyril cautioned him. "You've pushed enough for today. I think we might have gotten through to Nalus, at least."
Tavi glanced aside, to the Guard captain. Nalus was frowning thoughtfully at the rough map, as Senator Arnos made a little speech about defending Alera from the Canim scourge.
A shiver ran down Tavi's spine, and he looked past Nalus to find Navaris staring at him with blank eyes. The cutter held his gaze for a moment, then gave him an unsettling smile.
Tavi looked away and suppressed a shudder of discomfort.