"It's my pleasure, as always, Captain," Enly's father said, a smile fixed on his lips. "I take it you're recovering well."
"I am. Thank you, Your Lordship."
"I'm glad to hear it. You're to be commended for the performance of your company. They handled themselves quite well, even after you were wounded."
"You honor us, Your Lordship."
Maisaak turned to Jenoe, his smile growing ever more brittle. "You must be very proud of her, Marshal."
"Yes, I am. Your Lordship is most kind."
The servants had placed the food on the large table in the center of the chamber. Maisaak took his place there now, gesturing for the others to join him.
"Come, have something to eat."
"Thank you, Your Lordship," Tirnya said as she and Jenoe sat on opposite sides of the table. Enly sat at the end across from his father. A servant poured wine for them all, and Maisaak took some greens and fowl for himself before passing the platter to Jenoe.
"Well," Maisaak said, after a brief lull in their conversation, "I'm sure you didn't request an audience just so that I could feed you. Why are you here?"
Again it was Tirnya who answered, though not before she glanced uncertainly at her father. Jenoe merely gazed back at her, his expression revealing nothing.
"Perhaps Your Lordship has received word of the pestilence outbreak in the Fal'Borna clan lands."
Maisaak did nothing to mask his puzzlement. "Yes. Yes, I've heard something of it. Not much, but from what I've been told it seems the outbreak began west of the Silverwater and has spread westward across the plain." A hint of fear appeared in his eyes. "Is it headed this way now?"
"No, Your Lordship," she said. "Not as far as we know."
"Gods be praised for that," Enly said.
Jenoe nodded his agreement. "Indeed."
"From what we've heard, Your Lordship," Tirnya went on, "this is a strain of the disease that strikes only at white-hairs. It makes them ill, it robs them of control over their magic, and in the end it kills them."
The lord governor's eyes widened. "I knew of course that it was sickening the Qirsi. But you're saying that it has no effect on our people? You're certain?"
"Quite, Your Lordship. Several peddlers, Qirsi and Eandi alike, have said much the same thing. It seems we're immune, and the white-hairs are not."
"Interesting," Maisaak said, sounding genuinely intrigued. "But why bring this to my attention?"
Again Tirnya glanced at her father, and again Jenoe did nothing more than return the look.
"Because, Your Lordship," she replied, facing Maisaak again, "I believe this white-hair plague, as the merchants are calling it, offers us a unique opportunity."
Maisaak's eyebrows went up.
And as Tirnya began to describe for them just what it was she had in mind, Enly's must have as well. Her proposal struck him as audacious, perilous, and foolhardy. After a time, Enly stopped staring at her and turned his gaze to her father, watching for Jenoe's reaction to what she was saying. Surely the marshal, a man Enly had always respected despite the rivalry that existed between their two houses, couldn't approve of this folly. He had to see the danger.
But Jenoe made no effort to stop her. Could it be that both of them were blinded by their desire to reclaim the Onjaef ancestral home and their need to avenge the defeat of their forebears?
Tirnya spoke passionately for this invasion of hers. Her cheeks, which had been ashen when they entered the chamber, now were flushed, and there was a look in her eyes that Enly had seen there previously only in the tournament ring, and on two memorable nights in his own bed. What frightened him most, as he continued to listen to her, was that she made a certain amount of sense. If one managed to ignore the fact that she was talking about restarting the Blood Wars, it would have been easy to be persuaded by her reasoning.
At first, after she finally finished, no one said anything. The four of them had even stopped eating, though Tirnya took a quick sip of wine, her hand trembling slightly as she raised the goblet to her lips. As the silence stretched on, she looked at her father and then at Enly. Her cheeks were red still, but it seemed that this was now more a product of discomfort than ardor.
"What do you think of all this, Jenoe?" Enly's father finally asked, turning to his rival.
"This is Tirnya's idea," the marshal said. "I told her I'd accompany her to your palace, but that's all."
"Yes, I gathered as much. But now I'm asking your opinion as a marshal in the Qalsyn army and the man who would probably lead this assault. What do you think of this?"
Jenoe shrugged, taking a bite of fowl. "I'm not sure what to think of it," he said, after swallowing his mouthful.
"Come now," Maisaak said, frowning. "I should have added a moment ago that you're also the person with the most to gain should this campaign succeed. And you want me to believe that you have no thoughts whatsoever on the matter?"
"With all respect, Your Lordship, that's not what I said. Precisely because I have the most to gain, I'm not sure what to think of it. It strikes me as terribly dangerous. And yet, I'd be lying if I told you I wasn't intrigued by the possibilities of such a gambit."
"How many men do you think it would take?" the lord governor asked.
Jenoe narrowed his eyes in thought, as he played idly with his wine goblet. "Probably every man under my command, and then some. But a lot of that will depend on how hard this pestilence has struck at the Fal'Borna. If only a few of the septs have been hit, we'll have a hard time of it. If the damage is more extensive, we may meet with little resistance until we reach the Thraedes."
Enly couldn't keep still any longer. "Pardon me for speaking out of turn, Father. And, Tirnya, forgive me for saying this, but what you're suggesting is madness, pure and simple. The Blood Wars are a blot on the history of the Southlands. They did unspeakable damage to both the clans and the sovereignties; especially to the sovereignties. To start them again…" He shook his head. "It's madness. There's no other word for it. I find it hard to believe that you'd support this, Marshal. And I'm shocked, Father, that you haven't dismissed the idea already."
Maisaak took a breath and nodded. "Well, Enly, I appreciate your candor, and I'll consider what you've said." He looked at Tirnya. "Captain Onjaef, what do you say to that?"
She regarded Enly coolly for just an instant before facing Maisaak again. "Nothing, Your Lordship. I've made my case. I'll stand by it."
The lord governor nodded and grinned. "Very good." He stood, forcing the others to do the same. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention. Both of you," he added, with a glance at Jenoe. "Obviously I'll need to give this a good deal of thought before I send any messages on to Ofirean City. And we can do nothing, of course, without Ankyr's approval. And if he does allow us to go forward, I'll want to send missives to the other lord governors to see if we can put together a larger force. If we're going to do this, I don't want to be undermanned. I'll let you know what I've decided. In the meantime, speak of this with no one."
Tirnya was practically beaming. "Yes, Your Lordship. Thank you." She bowed, as did Jenoe, and then left the chamber, her father hurrying to keep up with her.
As soon as the door closed, Enly whirled toward Maisaak. "Father-!" The lord governor raised a finger, silencing him. He had his head cocked to the side, as if he were listening for the Onjaefs' footsteps. After some time, he lowered his hand and nodded. "All right, go ahead."
"You can't be considering this!" Enly said. "She's blind with battle lust!"
"And Jenoe? What about him?"
Enly shrugged. "You said it yourself: He has the most to gain should they somehow manage to succeed."
Maisaak smiled. "So it might seem."
"I don't understand."
The lord governor sat back down and resumed his meal. "I agree with you," he said between mouthfuls. "It is madness. Even if this plague has weakened the Fal'Borna, they still have their magic, and they remain fearsome warriors. I doubt the entire Qalsyn army could defeat them, even with the great Jenoe Onjaef riding at the fore."