‘Meaning you weren’t honest before?’ said Vithis.
Nish took a deep breath. The man was impossible to deal with. ‘I will put our situation plainly. We have been at war with the lyrinx for seven generations. They have hurt us badly. We have lost Meldorin and some strategic cities on the east coast.’ Better not make themselves appear too weak. ‘Nonetheless, we are hardened by war and will never give up. We have made many breakthroughs lately: new weapons, and means of delivering them, that will win us the war.’
‘I see no sign of it,’ said Vithis, facing him again.
‘We will reveal our weapons in our own time,’ said Nish.
‘Time is what you do not have.’
‘We have enough. Even so, we would be glad of your aid. With Aachim help the war could be over within a year, and then …’
‘You ask for everything, yet offer nothing.’
‘You invaded our world, surr!’ Nish snapped. Realising that was undiplomatic, he added quickly, ‘I meant that you ask for the greatest prize of all, part of our world. We are listening. Be sure that we will be generous, once –’
‘In my experience, true generosity is unconditional.’
‘We are honourable people, surr,’ cried Nish, knowing that he was losing the struggle but not how he might recover. ‘I have come in good faith.’
‘That proves what a puppy you are,’ growled Vithis. ‘I have been reading your Histories since we came here. A more treacherous, lying and deceitful species than old humans has never existed in all the Three Worlds.’
‘Surr,’ said Nish, reining his temper in with the most tremendous effort, ‘I beg you, consider what I have come to say.’
‘I can read you like a book, Little Marshal. Old humans are weak. You are losing the war; I’d say you have already lost it. There’s no benefit for First Clan – you can never deliver on your promises. You would say anything to get the aid you need so desperately. And if we did win your war for you, you would betray us. There is no gratitude in humanity, only treachery.’
‘Clan Nataz have a different view,’ declared Tirior, pushing forward.
Vithis held out his arm, barring her way. ‘Clan Nataz do not lead. First Clan has that honour.’
‘I hardly think that the lyrinx –’ Nish began. His blood was boiling. He wanted to smash the fellow in the face, though it would mean his doom, blue flag or not.
‘The lyrinx are beasts, but honourable ones for all that. They do not smile and make lying promises, like creeping, crawling, treacherous humanity. Go away, Little Marshal. You have nothing to offer us. Begone!’
Control yourself. Don’t react to the provocation. Nish did his almighty best but suddenly his rage exploded. ‘I am young, as you point out. Inexperienced too. But if I wanted lessons in treachery,’ he said savagely, ‘I could have come to no better place and no more experienced tutor!’ Behind him Ranii sucked in her breath. His career as a diplomat was finished, but in the glorious madness of the moment, that counted for naught.
Vithis raised a clenched fist. ‘How dare you come into my camp with such insults. I’ll –’
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 naïve 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.’
THIRTY-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 …’