"You enjoyed that," he said.
"Yes, I did."
He turned away and took another drink, looking hurt.
"I'm sorry, Enly. But I really don't…" She trailed off, thinking again of her conversations from earlier in the day. "What do you know about the Blood Wars?" she asked after a brief silence.
He gave a short high laugh. "What do I know about the wars? Everything. My father wanted both of us-" His smile faded. "Berris, I mean. Berris and me." He drained his cup. "Father wanted us to know everything about the wars," he went on, grim-faced now. "Like you, he didn't believe this peace could last, and he wanted us to be ready when the fighting started again." He looked at her. "Why?"
"There was a time when the sovereignties enjoyed some success, wasn't there?"
Enly shrugged. "I suppose you could say that. It wasn't the sovereignties back then. We were still fighting as clans. But if you mean the Eandi, yes, we won our share of victories early on."
This time she was the one who leaned closer. "How, Enly? How did we beat them?"
He smiled and nodded. "Ah, yes. That's the question, isn't it? If we knew that…" He opened his hands. "Anything would be possible."
"You don't know then?" she asked, sitting back and frowning.
"No one does. The secret's been lost to the ages."
She took a pull of ale. "Damn," she muttered.
"It could have been anything," he went on, paying little attention to her. "It might not have been anything the Eandi did. The Qirsi might have been weaker then, or their leaders might have been less clever. They might have had fewer Weavers. Or maybe our leaders were smarter." He looked at her, narrowing his eyes. "Do you think that's it? Do you think we're just not as good as the people who came before us? Not the soldiers, but the captains and marshals and lords. I'd wager my father doesn't like that idea very much." He chuckled.
"No," Tirnya said, not liking it either. "I don't suppose he does." She sat staring at the table for several moments, while Enly tried to catch the eye of the barkeep so that he could order another whiskey. "What did it mean that we weren't fighting as the sovereignties?" She looked up again meeting his gaze. "I understand that the various nations hadn't been created yet. But I'm asking what that meant in terms of how we fought."
Enly's eyebrows went up. "I'm not really certain. I'd imagine that it meant we were more unified. We hadn't split off into separate armies yet." He shrugged. "Then again, some of the clan rivalries were pretty bitter, so that might not be the case. I don't know."
"Did all the clans fight in those early battles?"
"I think so. The old histories list the names. It's been a while since I read them, and even then there were some I didn't recognize. But they were there, fighting the white-hairs. I don't think our kind were ever so united as we were in the early years of the wars."
Tirnya nodded thoughtfully. "Perhaps. Certainly that would help when it came to waging war. But could that kind of unity make enough difference to…?"
The realization came to her with such force that for several moments she could hardly breathe, much less speak.
"Tirnya?" Enly said, eyeing her with concern.
"Could it be that simple?" she whispered.
"Could what be that simple?"
"You just said that we fought not as sovereignties, but as clans, that our people had never been so united."
He nodded, his forehead furrowing in concentration. "Yes."
"And do you think it's likely that all of our people fought the white-hairs?"
"Well, that's-"
"All of them, Enly. All of them!"
He shook his head. "I don't understand."
"Think for a moment!" Tirnya said, her voice rising. She noticed that others in the tavern had started to look at her. She leaned closer to him, and when she spoke again it was in a whisper. "What is it that we fear most about the white-hairs?"
"Their magic, of course."
"Yes!" she said, her eyes wide with excitement. "What if you're right and we were more united than we've been at any time since? What if the Eandi of that time were so united that they were even willing to fight alongside the Mettai?"
He stared at her. "The Mettai," he said, the word coming out as softly as a breath.
Tirnya nodded. "The Mettai. What if we succeeded in those early days of the wars because like the white-hairs we didn't only carry weapons into battle, we carried magic as well?"
She didn't wait for his answer. She stood, drained her cup, and spun away from the table.
"Where are you going?" Enly called after her.
"Home," she said over her shoulder. "I need to speak with my father."
Chapter 14
Jenoe's reaction was not quite what Tirnya had expected. The breathless, wide-eyed whisper she had drawn from Enly, the quickened pulse and rush of excitement she had felt herself-these, or some variation, were what she also expected from her father.
Instead, he merely stared back at her, looking perplexed, and said, "The Mettai?"
"Don't you see it, Father? We don't have to fight this war without magic. It doesn't have to be Eandi might against white-hair sorcery anymore. We can ride into battle and challenge their greatest strength."
Her father shook his head, clearly still skeptical. "I think you're overly taken with the idea, Tirnya."
"`Overly taken'!" she repeated, sitting back in her chair beside the hearth and shaking her head in amazement. "I can't believe I'm hearing this."
"First of all, Mettai magic is no match for the power that Qirsi sorcerers wield. They have no Weavers to coordinate their attacks. Every conjuring requires blood. It's not like the magic of a white-hair at all."
"But still," she said, "it's something. It's more than we have without them."
Jenoe shrugged, conceding the point with obvious reluctance. "Perhaps, but that's the other matter. Over the past several centuries, our kind have had few dealings with the Mettai. We've shunned them, and they've kept to themselves in the northern reaches near the Companion Lakes. What makes you think they'd want to help us?"
"Their eyes are as dark as ours, Father. And I doubt very much that they have any affection for the Qirsi. As I understand it, the Mettai have been shunned by both races."
"Yes, they have. But after all these years that's hardly the basis for an alliance."
"Maybe they don't want to be shunned anymore," Tirnya said. She sensed that the Mettai were the key to all of this, and she refused to give up on the idea. "Maybe they're ready to reconcile with the sovereignties. For all we know, they have been for years, but none have approached them."
"You're thinking with your heart, and not your mind. The Mettai are a proud people. There would have been no need for them to wait for us. If they wanted to reconcile, they could have approached one of the sovereignties long ago." He shook his head. "Whatever their history, at this point they keep to themselves because they want to. No one bothers them, which I assume is just how they like it. I can't imagine them suddenly wanting to fight in a new round of Blood Wars."
"Fine then," Tirnya said. "We can offer them gold or land, or whatever it is they want. If they help us take back Deraqor and the Horn they can have the entire Central Plain, for all I care."
"I'm not sure that will work, either."
She propelled herself out of the chair and began to pace the chamber, struggling to control her frustration. She felt her father watching her, but she didn't look at him.
"I'm just trying to make you see this plainly, Tirnya. It's not going to be nearly as easy to make an ally of the Mettai as you seem to think it is."
Tirnya halted just in front of him. "Put that aside for a moment, and answer this: Do you think it would help us to have them fighting on our side?"
"If it were possi-"