Vaatzes smiled. "As a matter of fact," he said, "there is."
"Really?" Valens turned and looked at him. "Oh, sit down, for crying out loud, instead of hopping about on one foot like a jackdaw. Go on then. Tell me."
Vaatzes looked round, found a chair and sat on it. "The Eremians," he said. "Because they've never had the advantages your people have had, they're used to making the things they need. Not to Mezentine standards, obviously, but their craftsmen know the basics, and they can be taught. I found that out when I was working for Duke Orsea. Now, thanks to the war, there's a fair number of Eremian refugees who've been forced out of their villages by the Mezentines. As I understand it, you've been cautious-understandably-about letting them cross the border. Fair enough; you've got enough problems as it is without several thousand extra hungry mouths to feed. But as I understand it, every Eremian village had its own smith, carpenter and so on. You don't need that many; a couple of hundred, that's all. They'll do your skilled work for you, and they'll train up your own artisans while they're at it. It's not going to happen overnight, particularly since we're evacuating, so everything'll have to be done in tents or off the backs of carts. Fortunately, making arrowheads isn't all that difficult, your people can learn it quickly enough."
Valens nodded. "All right," he said. "What about armor? Can you teach them to make that?"
Vaatzes shook his head. "That takes time," he said. "Also, there's more to it. You don't just need armorers, you've got to have furnaces to smelt iron ore; mills, preferably, for rolling pig iron into sheet, but that's rather a big leap forward; in the meanwhile, you need a lot of strong men with big hammers. In the short term, I'd recommend killing as many Mezentines as you can and robbing their corpses."
"Funny you should mention that." Valens shook his head. "All right," he went on. "Point taken. Congratulations on your appointment as controller of ordnance. Make a list of everything you need and I'll see you get it as a priority." He paused. "That's why you came to see me, I take it."
"Yes."
"Then I'm obliged to you," Valens said briskly. "My father always used to say, it doesn't matter if you're ignorant so long as you can find people to know stuff for you. Stupidity is staying ignorant when you don't have to. He said a lot of sensible things, my father; it's a shame he never acted on them." He looked up and grinned. "Why are you still here? Suddenly you're the busiest man in the duchy, you'd better get a move on."
"The mine project," Vaatzes said gently. "My idea about using reinforced sections. Do you want me to make a start on that?"
"Yes, if you can. Can you?"
"I expect so," Vaatzes said. "I'll need to get accurate measurements of the shafts of the mines you want blocked off. Who should I see about that?"
"They'll come and see you," Valens replied. "You're too busy to go traipsing about visiting people. Oh," he added, "while I think about it. Presumably if you're going to be doing all this important work, you'll want paying for it."
Vaatzes raised his eyebrows. "That'd be nice," he said mildly. "I hadn't given it any thought, to be honest with you."
Valens frowned. "You know what," he said, "I believe you haven't. That's curious. Is it a burning desire to help the beleaguered Vadani people, or are you just bored with sitting around all day with nothing to do?"
"Something like that," Vaatzes said. "But I'm happy to leave all that up to you."
"Really?" Valens said. "Well, the way things are at the moment, money wouldn't be a lot of use to you; there won't be an awful lot you can buy with it, and when we're all living out of wagons and wheelbarrows, carting it around with you is likely to be a nuisance. You'll just have to trust me to make it up to you if and when life gets back to normal."
Vaatzes shrugged. "Fine," he said. "Right, I'll go and make the list of things I need. When I've done that, who should I see?"
"A man called Ulpianus Macer," Valens replied. "He's my private secretary, practically runs the country. He'll be round to talk to you this evening, after dinner. Will that give you enough time?"
"Yes."
"Excellent." Valens thought for a moment. "You've already done the list, haven't you?"
"I haven't written it out yet."
Valens looked at him for a moment. "Interesting," he said, with a slight frown. "Tell me, are all Mezentines as scary as you, or is that why they threw you out in the first place?"
Vaatzes' expression didn't change. "I'm not exactly a typical Mezentine," he said. "Not for want of trying, but nobody's perfect. Is there anything else, or should I go now?"
Valens raised his hand. "Go," he said. "Leave me to reflect on my own ignorance. It's one of the few indulgences I have left these days. And thank you," he added. "I have no idea what you're really up to, but I appear to be considerably in your debt. That always makes me uncomfortable, so I hope you'll forgive me if I sound a bit ungracious."
Vaatzes grinned. "We don't have graciousness where I come from," he said.
After he'd gone, Valens sat down on the linen press and stared out of the window for a while. He had an uncomfortable feeling that he'd just done something momentous and important, but whether it was a great leap forward or a bad mistake, he couldn't tell. So far, he believed, he'd coped reasonably well with having the Mezentines as his enemies. Having one as an ally, he felt, was likely to be rather more complicated. He thought about what Orsea had said about Vaatzes, how tirelessly he'd worked, his determination, his resourcefulness, his exceptional knowledge and skill. Thanks to Vaatzes, Orsea had said, for a while they'd honestly believed they had a chance of beating the Perpetual Republic and saving Eremia. Orsea liked him and respected him (he'd try not to hold that against him), and the man definitely had a knack for staying alive. There was also the fact that, nominally at least, he was the cause of the war.
Valens frowned. For a moment, earlier that day, he'd seriously considered turning Orsea over to the Mezentines as a way of saving his people. If the Mezentines were serious about why they'd started the war, perhaps there was someone else he could betray instead of Orsea. The same reasoning applied. If the Mezentines were sick of the waste and loss of prestige and would be prepared to go home in exchange for a way of saving face…
He got up and lay on the bed, staring at the tapestries on the opposite walclass="underline" the boar at bay, crowded in by the hounds, the hunters bearing down on him. He understood perfectly why he couldn't hand Orsea over to the enemy. Vaatzes, on the other hand, was a stranger, a foreigner, an outsider; in the estimation of his own people (and, apparently, himself) a criminal. It was Vaatzes, not Orsea, who had brought about the slaughter of thousands of Mezentine troops, and inflicted on the Republic the worst defeat in its history. Valens was by no means sure what the Republic's real reason for going to war had been. He most certainly didn't care, so long as the war could be persuaded to go away and leave him and his people alone. A lot had changed, however, since the Mezentines invaded Eremia. He understood that wars grew and mutated, finding ways to stay alive; they hung on with the grim tenacity of a weed growing in a crack in a wall, feeding on whatever nutrients their roots and tendrils could find. The war might have started because one faction in the Mezentine government wanted the popularity of a quick, easy victory; that possibility had been extinguished, but the war had not only survived but put on a tremendous spurt of growth; its original sponsors didn't dare end it without a redeeming victory, and other factions with other agendas were undoubtedly considering the opportunities it offered, one of which was surely the Vadani silver mines. Very well; he considered the implications. In all likelihood, the Mezentine opposition was making as much capital as it could out of the administration's misfortunes, but it would be political suicide for them to propose out loud that the Republic should cut its losses and admit defeat. Instead, they would be eager to change the war, redefine its objectives, so that when they overthrew their opponents they'd be able to win a quick victory, make good the financial losses, and if possible turn a profit. The original stated objective-the extermination of the Eremian nation-had proved to be too awkward and expensive, but a loving and generous Providence had intervened by taking away the wits of the Vadani duke, prompting him to interfere in a quarrel that was none of his business. If the war stopped being about wiping out the Eremians and turned into a punitive crusade against the Vadani, all their troubles would be over. They could have their victory simply by killing the stupid arrogant duke and slaughtering his army and a substantial number of his people, and they would have the silver mines. Perfect.