Tetrarch

Nish stepped right up to the tall man. 'I speak nothing but the truth and you know it, noble Vithis of Inthis First Clan. The evidence of your deceit and treachery lies all around you.' Nish pointed to the constructs extending in every direction. 'You lied to Tiaan. You used her innocence and her naive love.'

A handsome young man ran forward, then stopped.

'You must have been building constructs for twenty years before you contacted her,' Nish went on. 'How dare you accuse humanity of treachery when your own soul is as black as your machines? You are a stinking liar, surr.'

Vithis's face went the colour of a leech's intestines. The young man threw himself between them. His strong hands kept clenching and unclenching. 'Foster-father…'

Vithis swung him out of the way. 'No, Minis, and a thousand times no!' He seized Nish by the front of the shirt, lifting him off the ground. 'What do you know of Tiaan and the flying construct?'

Nish's legs swung in the air. He restrained the urge to kick Vithis.

'To lay hands on an envoy under the blue flag is an act of aggression, surr,' said Ranii.

Vithis tossed Nish to the ground. 'Well, worm?'

'She met the Matah in Tirthrax,' said Nish. 'I don't know anything about a flying construct.'

'How do you know she met the Matah?'

'I was there when the gate opened. I saw you all pass by. I pursued Tiaan and caught her but the Matah intervened. That is all I know.'

'It's all you will ever know,' cried Vithis, pulling out a black dagger.

Tirior sprang forward, seizing his wrist. Vithis strained but could not break her hold. Luxor stepped to Vithis's other side.

'And under a blue flag!' Nish sneered. 'Once more you prove your character, Vithis of Clan Inthis.'

Vithis shook the pair off, sheathing the blade with an angry thrust. 'Never will we ally with you, Little Marshal. The war will soon be over and you will lose it.'

As Nish turned away, he could not resist one parting sally. 'At least we will be able to say we fought to the bitter end, and that is more than the Aachim ever did. A hundred Charon took your world from you.'

'Get out!' raged Vithis. 'Get out or not even the blue flag will save you.'

Nish was drawing breath for a final insult when Ranii gripped his collar so hard that it hurt. 'I am not going to give away my life so you can score debating points,' she hissed. 'Walk to your horse, get on it and ride away. If you say another word, I will plunge my sword right through the back of your neck.'

T HIRTY-FOUR

By the time they slunk past the last line of constructs onto the plain, Nish's madness had worn off. Ranii said not a word. When he looked around she was back with the soldiers. He kicked the horse into a canter, then a gallop, despite the agony it caused his bruised backside and chafed inner thighs. What a fool he had been. Seize the opportunity with both hands. Ha! Vithis had set the trap and he had fallen right into it.

It was growing dark. The horse began to labour. The poor beast had been going hard all day and did not need a madman on its back at the end of it. A line of trees wavered across the plain in front of him. He slowed to a walk, heading toward the largest, and by the time the others caught up to him Nish had the fire going.

Ranii did not speak to him on the return trip but he knew what she was going to say to Troist. He should never have been entrusted with the job; he had taken what should have been hers, against her advice, and stuffed it up disastrously.

The soldiers were silently efficient. Not once did they meet Nish's eye. He was a puppy. A failure at everything.

Mounce sought him out as they approached Troist's camp. 'Surr?' he said anxiously.

Nish had no heart to continue the farce. He was no marshal; no command of his could have any force. 'Yes, Sergeant Mounce?' 'I – Nothing, surr!' Nish did not hurry to his meeting with Troist. By the time he dragged himself through the flaps of the tent, Ranii was halfway through her report. He listened to the rest in silence. Yara sat on the far side of the room but did not interfere.

Troist turned a haggard face to him. 'Have you anything to add, Marshal Hlar?'

Nish was in no mood to make excuses. 'No, surr. It is as Ranii says.'

'Come on, man, this does not sound like the son of a scrutator! You must have something to say in your defence.'

'The son is not the father,' said Nish. 'I was unbearably provoked, and finally I broke. I will say only this. Vithis is a man entirely without honour, and was so before his clan was wiped out in the passage through the gate. But…'

'Yes?'

'The loss of his clan has driven him over the edge.'

'What do you say to that, Ranii?'

'I hate to say it -'

Troist turned on her and his voice was very cold. 'Why would you hate to say it? Have you something against Marshal Hlar?'

'I -' she began. 'No, surr, nothing at all.'

'I'm glad to hear it. I'd hate to think that you were being obstructive, envoy.'

'No, surr.'

'Go on.'

'Marshal Hlar may be right. I've never met an Aachim who behaved the way Vithis does. Grief must have turned his mind.'

'He was entirely unreasonable,' said Nish, 'and quite without honour. It is impossible to deal with him.'

Troist sighed. 'What does he want, apart from the conquest of this world?'

Ranii began to answer but Nish interrupted. 'Surely to build his clan anew. To make up for four thousand years of slavery on Aachan. Vithis, I feel sure, is driven to make up for the entire Histories of the Aachim. He will never negotiate.'

'How do you know, Cryl-Nish?'

'He said as much to Tiaan in Tirthrax, after the Aachim came through the gate. The Histories tell me the rest.' Poor Tiaan, Nish thought. I was wrong about her at Tirthrax. It raised the uncomfortable thought that he may have been wrong about her other actions as well.

'Is that all?' said Troist.

'Tirior and Luxor seem reasonable people, surr. If something were to happen to Vithis I believe they would be prepared to bargain with us, as would some of the other clans. It seems that they suffer Vithis for the moment, but clan rivalries run deep. He was openly hostile to Clan Elienor, who are not of the Eleven Clans.'

'Do you disagree with any of this, Ranii?'

'No, surr,' after a long hesitation.

Troist looked across at Yara, who made a gesture with one hand. Nish could not interpret it, but the look on her face suggested that she was as disgusted as Ranii.

'Do you have your commission, Cryl-Nish?' said Troist.

'My commission, surr?'

'As marshal! Surely you did not expect to keep it, after this fiasco?'

'Er, no,' said Nish. 'Vithis cast it on the floor at the beginning of our meeting.'

'Vithis threw your papers on the floor!' Troist exclaimed. 'You did not mention this, Ranii.'

'It… slipped my mind, surr,' she said hastily. 'I have the documents here.'

Troist took the papers and tore them in half. 'It is clear the embassy was doomed before it began and Vithis had no intention of negotiating.' Troist paced back and forth, as he was wont to do when thinking. 'You may go about your business, Ranii. I'll speak to you in the morning.'

When she was gone he said to Nish, 'I won't pretend I'm happy, Cryl-Nish. Though it seems the mission had little chance, a skilled diplomat might just have extracted an offer we could have lived with. I am mindful that you are not a diplomat. Even so, you should have put up with his taunts. You have made things worse and I see no hope of an agreement now.'

'The man is a tyrant, surr. Not striking back would be seen as a sign of weakness.'

'I didn't ask for a lesson in politics, Cryl-Nish. Our situation is more desperate than you know. With the aid of the Aachim we would probably have won the war. If they stay neutral we will probably lose. But if they ally with the lyrinx…'

'Yes?' said Nish, when Troist had been pacing for some time.

'It will all be over in a fortnight! Leave us.' The army continued to grow over the next few days as stragglers, and sometimes large bands, came in from all directions. They now numbered more than four and a half thousand, and their fleet of clankers, ninety-six. A powerful force, though matched by the lyrinx shadowing them in the west. Tension hung in the air, thick as glue. Troist paced more than ever. Fights broke out among the soldiers: brutal, ugly affairs that only ended when one was battered into unconsciousness. The other was whipped bloody, but it made no difference. Within hours, there would be another affray.