Kedrin continued, "The king cannot risk offending all the countries of the Northlands en masse. We would no longer have a source for steel, no way to craft swords."
Iron ore had other uses, but Saviar realized his grandfather had chosen the only one that would matter to a Renshai.
"We might also spur war."
A light flashed through Thialnir's green eyes. "War," he said, almost reverently. "Bearn, Renshai, and their allies against the North." He smiled. "Why not? The West would no longer have to worry about ore once they owned all the mines."
Kedrin glanced at Saviar, as if for help. Saviar could think of nothing to say, so Kedrin continued speaking, "Two wars at once? Thousands would die."
"In glorious battle!" Thialnir half-rose from his seat in excitement.
Kedrin sighed, closed his eyes, shook his head. He started over. "The noblest aspiration for Renshai."
"Yes."
"But not for Bearnides."
"Pity."
Kedrin added, "And you must understand that the King of Bearn's job is to do what's right for Bearn. Not necessarily what's right for Renshai."
"And, surely, you must realize that I must do what's best for Renshai."
"Yes." Kedrin continued cautiously. "I'm just not sure you are."
That stopped Thialnir cold. His mouth became a stony line. His stare went icy, piercing.
Kedrin seized on the moment. "We spoke earlier of General Santagithi. According to history, he once faced a similar decision to King Griff's. Except, in his case, the Northmen demanded Rache Kallmirsson, the young Renshai who had been like a son to Santagithi and was now the captain of his army."
It was a part of the story Saviar had never heard.
Thialnir's scowl deepened. "I am not altogether unfamiliar with tales of Santagithi. Remember, his daughter and grandson became the parents of two of our three tribes."
Kedrin demonstrated his own knowledge of Renshai history. "The tribe of Rache stemmed from his grandson, Rache Garnsson, named for Rache Kallmirsson. And his daughter, Mitrian, was the mother of the tribe of Tannin."
Thialnir nodded gruffly. "And I don't recall any tales of Rache being surrendered to Northmen in the name of peace."
"Because he wasn't surrendered," Kedrin admitted. "Santagithi held off the Northern armies with carefully worded responses for as long as possible. Eventually, war became unavoidable."
Thialnir's full attention went back to Kedrin. "So, you're telling me that the greatest general of all time chose war over giving up his only Renshai." His eyes narrowed. "Aren't you making my point?"
"Maybe," Kedrin said. "Except that when Rache found out the underlying cause of the war, he rode North, intending to sacrifice himself for Santagithi and the others. In that case, the Renshai himself made the decision to allow his allies to live in the peace he knew they preferred rather than die for him. Now, I doubt he surrendered himself per se-"
Any Renshai would understand Rache's intention: to die in glorious combat taking as many Northmen as possible with him. Saviar got the point, but he wondered if Thialnir could. The Renshai had a duty, not only to their own people, but to their allies as well.
Thialnir sat in silence, head cocked to one side, clearly considering. He had come a long way in his many years on the Council. Initially, every situation was black or white, right or wrong. The Renshai solution was the only solution. Age had mellowed the old warrior to the point where he could consider nuances and politics, and he seemed more troubled than appreciative of his newfound diplomacy. His entire head turned suddenly to Saviar, and his gaze remained there.
Saviar forced himself to meet the intense green stare without flinching. He dared not show any fear.
When Thialnir finally spoke, he used the Renshai tongue, "Young Renshai, send the others away."
Though Thialnir spoke fluent Common Trading, Saviar acted as translator. "He wants to speak with me alone."
Kedrin and Chaveeshia rose immediately. Only Ra-khir hesitated, clearly worried for his son's welfare. Nevertheless, he did as Thialnir had bade and followed the others from the room.
While the others filed out, Saviar seized the opportunity to assure no sleeve or legging hampered his movements, that no furniture could impede the sudden draw of his sword.
As the door clicked shut, Thialnir's attention snapped directly onto Saviar.
Saviar's hand went instinctively to his hilt.
"So, you're the one supposed to beat sense into me, eh?" Thialnir ran his hands across the smooth surface of the table. "I'd have thought they'd use your brother."
Saviar told the truth. "It was my idea, sir." He met Thialnir's gaze levelly.
"Are you challenging me?"
"I'm prepared to, sir. If it becomes necessary."
The two stared at one another for several moments, neither giving ground. Thialnir's brows rose in slight increments until they nearly reached his hairline. "Saviar, what do you think of this whole situation?"
The last thing Saviar expected was for the violent, no-nonsense leader of the Renshai to ask his opinion. He stalled. "I think, sir…"
"Yes."
"… the whole situation…"
"Yes?"
"… is damned."
Thialnir chuckled. "Damned indeed, Saviar. What do you propose we do about it?"
Emboldened by his recent successes, Saviar spoke his mind. "I believe, sir, that the Renshai deserve consideration. We've remained loyal to Bearn for centuries, we've earned the right to respect, and we're an invaluable part of Western society with which no one should trifle."
Thialnir made a thoughtful noise that invited Saviar to continue.
"But our own gods chose King Griff as ruler on high of the Westlands, and I trust their judgment implicitly. Have you ever known the man to make an unfair or unreasonable decision?"
"I don't agree with everything he decides, Saviar, if that's what you mean."
Saviar leaned forward, still maintaining eye contact. "Unfair or unreasonable?"
Thialnir narrowed his green eyes nearly to slits. "So you think the Renshai should just stand by and accept whatever the king of Bearn decides."
"Oh, no."
"No?" Thialnir seemed taken aback. "So, what do you think?"
"I think," Saviar said, uncertain exactly what was about to come out of his mouth. "I think the Renshai have a right to demand certain things. For example, since Bearn breached the agreement, not us, we should continue to get paid. They should be able to afford it given that the Northmen aren't asking for any compensation, and Bearn should be able to barter losing Renshai assistance in the war against the price of iron ore."
Thialnir rolled his eyes, head shaking. "But it's not the money, Savi. It's the battle Renshai want." He waxed eloquent, light gleaming like emeralds in his eyes. "The exhilaration of the sword, the brilliant splash of blood, the chance to earn a place in Valhalla."
"I know that." Saviar tried to rein in growing impatience. "But that's not the negotiable part, unfortunately. So long as we're paid, concern for necessities need not distract us from our swordwork. And I think we also need to assure that the heirs of Bearn remain in our protection."
Thialnir was clearly listening.
"Removing us from that job would be the ultimate insult," Saviar realized as he spoke it. "To put lesser swordsmen in charge of protecting Bearn's most precious treasures." He shook his head angrily at the mere thought. "We cannot allow that."
"On that," Thialnir agreed. "We cannot compromise." He smiled. "You're a wise man, Saviar Ra-khirsson."
Saviar winced at the realization of what he had just done. "I'm not sure my father and grandfather would agree." He shrugged. "But they represent Bearn and Erythane, while we are always Renshai."
"Now, about that battle…" Thialnir rose. He was even more massive than Saviar remembered, a brick wall of a Renshai also endowed with lightning speed.