"That they're dying like this is a tragedy. Make no mistake." She leaned closer to him. "But perhaps it's also an opportunity."
He shook his head. "I know where you're going with this, and I think you're mad."
"Am I? Is it wrong of me to want to take back Deraqor?"
"Deraqor is lost, Tirnya. It's been lost for a long time now."
"And you think we should give up on it forever?"
Jenoe looked hurt, as if insulted that she would suggest such a thing. "I never said that. Of course we shouldn't give up on it forever. It's our ancestral home. Someday we'll take it back. I want that every bit as much as you do."
"Then let me ask you this, Father," she said. "When will we have a better chance?"
He didn't answer and Tirnya pressed her advantage.
"Qirsi are dying. Their cities are being destroyed. They must be terrified. This may be the best opportunity we'll ever have to take back not only Deraqor, but all the lands between here and the Horn."
"You're talking about starting the Blood Wars again. People here aren't ready for that."
"They never will be. It's up to us to convince them that this is the time." Jenoe didn't say anything, and Tirnya wondered if he'd had enough of this conversation. But a moment later he surprised her.
"Actually, it's not up to us. It's up to the sovereign. And it's up to His Lordship to present the idea to him. We'd just have to convince Maisaak."
"Do you think we can?"
"I don't know, Tirnya." He shook his head again, his lips pressed thin. "You haven't convinced me yet, and there's no one in Qalsyn who wants to take back Deraqor more than I do. My grandfather used to tell me stories about the city that his grandfather told him. I've dreamed of leading an army back into Deraqor since I was a child." He looked at her and smiled. "Just as you did the other night."
"We could do it, Father. We could do it together. I know that my men would follow us all the way to the Thraedes, and I'm sure Stri's would, too. With you leading us, I don't think there's a man in this city who wouldn't fight beside us."
"I need to think about this more," Jenoe said. "The Fal'Borna won't give up Deraqor easily, and even if we take it, they'll just turn around and try to take it back. There's a good chance we'd be starting down the road to another hundred years of war. It'll start with Deraqor, but before long they might well be fighting in Naqbae, and down along the Ofirean shores. This could spread through all the land. Are we really going to risk that? The sovereign would be mad to let us."
Tirnya wanted to say that she was willing to risk it, that she'd ride to Ofirean City herself to convince the sovereign. At that moment she would have done nearly anything to make her dream come true. Now that she knew her father was even considering this she was ready to ride to war immediately, never mind her healing wounds. But she knew that her father had a point, and that a mature leader had to look beyond warlust to examine the possible consequences of every battle. And she knew as well that he was watching her now, gauging her response to what he'd said, measuring her abilities as a commander.
"I'm aware of the risks," she said. "And to be honest I don't know if they're worth the reward. It may be that I can't think about this with an open mind. I'm an Onjaef. I want Deraqor back and I'd lead an army across the Silverwater tomorrow if the sovereign and His Lordship gave me leave to do so, regardless of the consequences."
He smiled at her, looking proud. "That's a more candid answer than I'd expected."
Tirnya arched an eyebrow. "I'm not certain how I should take that." Jenoe laughed, but then quickly grew serious once more. "His Lordship will think this is folly."
"What about the sovereign?"
He shook his head. "Over the years, the Kasathas have usually deferred to their lord governors in such matters. And Ankyr is still new to his power. I think if we can convince Maisaak, the sovereign will follow his recommendation. Even in this. But I'd be very surprised if His Lordship entertained the idea at all. He'll see it as a waste of men in pursuit of our family's ambition and desire for vengeance." He grimaced slightly. "He probably wouldn't be far off the mark."
"I'm a soldier, Father," she said. "I don't claim to know as much about such matters as you or Maisaak. But there's more to this than our ambition. We'd be taking back lands that ought to be held by the sovereignties. And not just any land. The plain around the Horn and along the banks of the Thraedes is some of the most fertile, valuable land in all the Southlands."
"True."
"And I think we might also consider how long this peace will last even if we do nothing."
"It's lasted a long time, Tirnya. More than a century."
"Yes," Tirnya said. "But you know as well as I that this has always been a truce of convenience and not a true peace. The Blood Wars went on as long as they did because the hatred between the clans and the sovereignties runs deep. They ended because neither side had the stomach for more war."
Her father shook his head. "You're not helping your cause arguing so. What you say may well be true, but that only serves to convince me that this attack we're talking about would lead to an ever-widening war. This is a dangerous idea."
"You're missing my point," she told him. "This peace will only last until one side or the other sees some advantage in attacking again. If we wait-if we let this opportunity pass by-then the next advantage might be theirs."
Jenoe seemed to ponder this.
"The Qirsi have always been stronger than we have, Father. We have the greater numbers, but their magic is more than a match for our armies. I'm sure that others would be offended to hear me say that aloud, but you know it's true. We won our share of battles, we had our moments of glory.
But the fact is the Fal'Borna pushed us hack steadily for the better part of five hundred years before the final truce. They took the land on the far side of the K'Sand, they took the Horn, they pushed us farther and farther from the Thraedes, and finally they gave us no choice but to flee across the Silverwater. Next time, if we give them the chance, they might push us back to Ravens Wash." She smiled. "But right now, we're the stronger ones. Just this once, wouldn't you like to beat them? Wouldn't it be a boon to every Eandi in the Southlands if we could take land from the Qirsi?"
Even before her father opened his mouth, Tirnya knew that she had won. She could see the surrender in his eyes.
"I'll arrange an audience with His Lordship," he said.
Tirnya was so pleased she nearly shouted like a child, and in a corner of her mind she wondered when she had grown so eager for war. "Thank you, Father," she said, keeping her tone measured.
He raised a finger in warning. "I make no promises. I won't speak in favor of this to Maisaak. You'll do the talking yourself. And if he refuses, that's the end. Do you understand?"
"He won't refuse," she said.
Jenoe started to walk out of the lane. "I'm less certain of that than you are," he said, glancing back at her. "But we'll see soon enough."
Enly was training with his men, working up a good sweat despite the cool air and light rain, when the summons came.
As soon as he'd seen the man-a young soldier wearing a white baldric over his blue and green uniform-he'd known. Immediately he'd felt his mood souring. This had been a good day. His men were training well; it seemed the sting of having lost out on so much gold to Tirnya's company had finally started to ease for them. And Enly had received word that Tirnya was recovering well and would bear no lasting injury from her encounter with the brigands. He couldn't have been in finer spirits.
The summons changed everything. He could only assume that any of the other captains in Qalsyn would have found it unsettling to be called before the lord governor. They were soldiers; His Lordship was their commander. To be summoned thus was rarely a good thing.