(There, he thought; the camouflet sprung, the props burned out, the walls undermined.)
She looked at him for three heartbeats. "No," she said, "I didn't know that."
"Perfectly true." Psellus smiled. "Odd thing to do, don't you think, given that he'd built the scorpions that slaughtered our army. Because of him, in fact, we were that close to giving up and going away. Then, after causing us all that trouble, he turns round and hands us the city. Would you care to suggest why he might've done that?"
"No idea."
"Well." Psellus ate the last of the biscuit, brushed crumbs off his chest. "He wrote a letter to a friend; the one man in Mezentia he reckoned he could still trust. I'm surprised, actually, that you don't know. I'd have thought Falier might have told you."
"What's he got to do with it?"
"It was Falier he wrote to."
She couldn't stop her eyes widening; and it was like seeing a crack appearing in masonry. "He didn't tell me, no. I suppose he was ordered not to."
"Oh, quite so. But still; when you're as much in love as he is…" He shrugged. "But that fits in with what we know about Falier; a very trustworthy man, reliable. Anyway, to go back to what we were saying. Why would Ziani have done such a thing, do you think?"
"Didn't he say why? In the letter?"
Psellus smiled. "As a matter of fact, he did. He said it was because he was filled with remorse and wanted to make things right. Do you think that's likely to be the real reason?"
She shrugged. "I don't know."
"It occurred to me," Psellus went on, "that he was hoping we might forgive him, and let him come home. Of course, that would be impossible." She looked up when he said that. "Out of the question, naturally. First he creates a crisis, by arming the enemy with scorpions; then he hopes to get his free pardon by solving it. No, we wouldn't do business under those conditions." He paused, waited for a moment, then went on: "Actually, we would. In order to save face, after a disaster like the defeat the Eremians inflicted on us-if he'd come to us with an offer like that, we'd have listened, for sure. I think we'd probably have agreed. But he wasn't to know that, of course; certainly, he'd have to be out of his mind to formulate a plan on the assumption that we'd give in to him. And anyway, he didn't even try to negotiate. He simply gave us the information, with no conditions, no demands. Now that," he said wearily, "is a puzzle. On its own, it's enough to give you indigestion. Taken with the other puzzles…" He shrugged. "There now," he said. "Did you realize you're married to such an enigmatic character?"
Something was bothering her; he hadn't had her full attention for the last moment or so. "Would you really have let him come home?" she said. "If he'd tried to do a deal?"
Psellus put on a serious face. "Hard to say," he said. "If he'd been able to convince us beforehand that he could give us a way into the city, then I'd have to say yes. Or at least, that's what we'd have told him. I don't think the Guilds believe they'd be bound by a promise to a convicted abominator. But then," he went on, "I'm not sure how he'd have got us to believe he was sincere; we'd have assumed it was a trap of some sort, leading us into an ambush. It's crossed our minds, of course," he continued, "that giving us Civitas Eremiae could've been by way of a free sample." She looked up at him; now, apparently, she was interested in what he had to say. Quite a change. "What I mean is," he said, "he betrayed the city to us just to prove that he could be trusted, so that next time-" He stopped, as though he'd shocked himself with the implications of what he was saying. "So that," he went on, "if he sent us another message like that on another occasion-offering us Civitas Vadanis, say, but with conditions attached this time-we'd know that he meant it, and could deliver. Of course, that'd imply that he thinks a very long way ahead, and has complete confidence in his own ability to manipulate people. A bit farfetched, now I come to think about it. Also, he'd have had to have some pretty surefire way out of Civitas Eremiae lined up before making us the offer. Otherwise he'd be running a terrible risk of either being recognized and arrested when the city fell, or getting himself killed in the wholesale massacre. Now, we know that he did in fact escape; but only because Duke Valens suddenly turned up at the last minute. Did he know about that? I wonder. Had he actually booked himself a ride with the Vadani before he approached us with the offer? No, impossible; because in order to do that, in order to tip Valens off to come to the rescue at precisely the right time, he'd have had to make it clear to them that he knew exactly when the city was going to fall, and that'd have made it obvious that he was the traitor. Even so," he continued, after a pause for breath, "we've kept that option open by not letting the Vadani know that it was Ziani who sold out the Eremians; just in case he's got it in mind to hand them to us on a plate as well. When I say we" he added, "I mean my colleagues on the war commission. I voted to let Valens know straightaway, send him some hard evidence to back the claim up, so he'd have Ziani arrested and strung up. But the rest of the commission disagreed, and…" He shook his head. "By the way," he added, "not a word about this to anybody. If Valens finds out what Ziani did and has him killed, it'll be obvious that there's been an unauthorized disclosure, and since I voted against keeping it a secret…" He smiled. "I'd make it a point of honor to see to it that my last official act before being thrown off the commission and charged with treason would be having you arrested for complicity in Ziani's crimes. A friendly warning. Understood?"
She dipped her head. "I just want to forget he ever existed," she said.
"Well." Psellus suddenly felt very tired; he wondered if she did too. "You've listened very patiently, and it seems there's not a great deal of light you can shed on any of my problems. I was hoping you might be able to point me in the right direction; but what you don't know you can't tell me, I guess. Pity, but there it is."
He realized that she was looking straight at him. "Do you really think there's a chance he might come home?" she said. "Any chance at all?"
Wonderful how she'd said that; no clue as to which answer she'd prefer to hear. Since he couldn't glean it from context, Psellus decided, why not ask her straight out? "Do you want him back?" he said.
"Me? No, of course not. Not when I'm just about to marry someone else."
"Ah yes, true love. It had slipped my mind for a moment. Well, I don't think you need have any worries on that score. As I think I told you, he's just finished helping Valens to decommission the Vadani silver mines, to keep us from getting them. That means Ziani isn't the most popular man in the world, as far as the Guilds are concerned. They might just be prepared to overlook the deaths of five thousand or so mercenaries, but cheating them of the richest silver deposits in the world-I don't see them deciding to forgive and forget that in a hurry."
She was back to looking past him as though he wasn't there. "Can I go now, please?" she said. Not quite a whine, but with the same level of urgency; like a child on a long journey asking Are we nearly there yet? Looking at her, Psellus could quite see how she'd been able to wind Ziani round her little finger. Not for the first time, he thanked providence that he'd never been in love himself.