"We need to talk," he said, indicating that she should follow him so that they could speak in private.
Tirnya stayed just where she was. "Why?"
"You know perfectly well why."
She arched an eyebrow. "I see. So, you want me to come along so that you can tell me what a fool I am for wanting to…" She glanced around and lowered her voice slightly. "For wanting to do this."
Enly sighed. "Just come with me for a moment. Please."
Tirnya held up a hand and shook her head. "As much as I enjoy it when you tell me I'm reckless and stupid, I think I'll pass this time." She started to walk away.
"I don't care about this at all," he called after her. "I'd just as soon see your plans ruined, so if you think I won't speak of it openly, you're wrong."
She spun to face him. The road they were on wasn't crowded, but there were enough people around-most of them now staring at the two of them-to undermine any effort she and her father might make to keep the invasion plans secret. She strode back toward him, her fists clenched. She had half a mind to punch him right in the mouth.
"Are you mad?" she said, her teeth clenched, but her voice low.
"You're the mad one as far as I'm concerned."
She stopped just in front of him, glaring at him, wishing she had kept walking away. At last, feeling that she was surrendering, she indicated with an open hand that he should lead her wherever it was he wanted to go. He started down a narrow lane that led between two buildings and then into an open pasture where a couple of old plow horses grazed. When they reached the middle of the pasture, Enly turned to face her.
"You can't go through with these plans you're making," he said.
"Why can't I? Because it'll keep us from ever being together? Because it will bring my family and me more glory than any Tolm will ever know?"
"Because you'll fail," he told her, an earnest look on his handsome face. She knew in her heart that he was wrong about this, but there could be no denying that he cared about her. "Because you'll probably be killed. And you may well plunge all the Southlands back into war."
"I have no control over the other armies of the Southlands. I can only do what's best for Qalsyn and Stelpana, and, yes, for Deraqor as well."
"That's a load of dung," he said. "You know as well as I that a battle between the clans and the sovereignties anywhere in the land will bring war to every corner of the Southlands."
"Do you honestly believe that the peace between Eandi and Qirsi can last forever?" she asked, returning to the argument that had swayed her father days before.
"It's already lasted more than a century."
"Only because neither side has seen an opportunity to attack."
"And now we have that opportunity," Enly said derisively. "Is that it?"
"Yes, Enly," she said. "It's as simple as that. We have an opportunity. We can take it, or we can let it slip away. But if next time it's the white-hairs who see a chance to attack us, I guarantee you they'll take it, and we'll wonder why we let them."
"How very convenient for you. You declare the peace illusory, and then justify destroying it."
"It's not illusory," she said, glowering at him. "But it is temporary. Surely you must understand that. You said yourself that our attack on the Fal'Borna would spread war through all the land. If the peace is that fragile, it's just a matter of time before someone else does what we're considering. Or do you really believe that we and the white-hairs just suddenly stopped hating each other?"
"Of course not. But both sides did finally realize that the wars were destroying the land and benefiting no one. Finally, after centuries of combat and blood and suffering, they somehow managed to say 'enough.' One act of sanity in a thousand years of madness, and you want to destroy it."
He was calling her reckless, a fool, playing on doubts that lay so deep within her that she'd barely even acknowledged them. Worse, he was getting in the way of her greatest ambition, trying to keep the Onjaefs from reclaiming their rightful place among the great families of the sovereignties. So what she said next was meant to wound, though she regretted the words as soon as they crossed her lips.
"I think it's fortunate for all in Qalsyn that your father still rules. He, at least, is a man of vision, of courage. Berris would have been, too, had he lived. For all the years of rivalry between our houses, I've never known any Tolm except you to be a coward."
She knew from the hurt look in his pale grey eyes that her barb had found its mark, and in that instant she nearly apologized. Then it was too late. He'd hidden the pain behind a brittle smile. "My father," he said, his voice flat.
"Yes, your father. He thinks this a fine idea. He understands why we want to make the attempt."
"You're right, he does. Don't you find that odd? Doesn't it give you pause to find that he should be so eager for the Onjaefs to reclaim the glory of their past?"
Tirnya hesitated. "Not really. He probably likes the idea of it. Once we take back Deraqor we won't be here in his city. He won't have to compete with my father anymore."
"That's right," Enly said. "Think about what that means for a moment. He doesn't think this is a good idea; he doesn't even think you're likely to succeed. He sees this as a way to get rid of both you and your father, pure and simple. He told me so himself. 'If they succeed, Jenoe can spend the rest of his days defending Deraqor from Fal'Borna attacks; and if they fail, they'll return here disgraced and broken.' Those might not be his exact words, but they're close enough."
She opened her mouth, closed it again, not knowing how to respond. Enly could have been making this up, but she didn't think so. The truth was, that sounded just like Maisaak. After a few moments, though, she realized that it didn't matter to her what His Lordship thought, just as long as he gave them enough men to make the attempt.
"We're not going to fail," she finally said.
He shook his head impatiently. "You're not listening," he told her, his voice rising. "There is no victory here. Even if you take back the city, you're dooming yourselves and your children and their children after them to lifetimes of warfare. The Qirsi won't give up. You might beat them this time, assuming that the plague we've been hearing about is real. But they'll just turn around immediately and lay siege to Deraqor themselves."
"Then we'll fight them off."
He stared at her, disbelief plain on his face. "You really are mad. You and my father both. He'd send ten thousand men to die just so that he could be rid of your father, and you'd plunge all the land into war just so that you might reclaim for your family a city you've never even seen."
She straightened. "I wouldn't expect you to understand."
"Have you spoken of this to your men yet? Do Oliban and Qagan and Crow know what you have in mind?"
"Of course not. You heard your father. He told us not to mention our plans to anyone."
"What do you think they'd say if they knew?"
She leveled a finger at his heart as if it were a dagger. "Don't you dare say a word to them, Enly. If you want to spread word of this invasion through taverns and inns be my guest. But they're my men, and you'd better not-"
"I didn't mean it as a threat," he said, holding up his hands. "I'm asking you what they would say if they knew."
She looked away. "I have no idea."
"Don't you?"
"Clearly you think you do," she said, her anger flaring once more. "Are you so arrogant that you'd presume to know my soldiers better than I know them myself?"
"I know men," he said. "I know my own soldiers. Like yours they're loyal, good men, who would follow their commander wherever I told them to go. But they don't want to die in a useless, futile quest, nor do they wish to be remembered as the army that led the Southlands down the path to its own destruction."
She pushed past him, starting back toward the main road. "I'm not listening to any more of this!"