"So it seems."
"What was the occasion?"
Enly shook his head, both hands raised to his temples. "I haven't any idea.,'
That much was a lie, but after all these years, telling his father that he was still drinking himself senseless over Tirnya Onjaef struck him as unwise.
"I suppose you know why I called for you."
"There's no need to shout. And yes, I assume this is about Jenoe and Tirnya."
"Good. I'm glad to know that you still have your wits about you, such as they are."
A thin smile flitted across Enly's face, but he didn't respond or open his eyes.
"Do you have any idea what the Onjaefs might want this time?" his father asked.
"Tirnya's been making plans for their new war. I suppose they've come up with something."
"Perhaps," Maisaak said. "Would this have anything to do with your present condition?"
"You think their plans include getting me drunk?"
"You know what I I… Never mind."
His father went back to the parchments on his desk, leaving Enly to wallow in his misery. When she'd left him the night before Tirnya had been saying something about the Mettai, but that was really the extent of what he could recall. In truth, he didn't want to remember more. When he first spotted her in the Swift Water, she'd still been angry about their argument earlier in the day. But she'd seemed pleased as she left, and it occurred to him that whatever plan she and Jenoe had concocted might well have originated with him. The thought made him feel even sicker, which he hadn't believed was possible.
He might have dozed off, because the next thing he knew his father was shaking him none too gently.
"What?" he complained.
Maisaak forced a warm cup into his hand. "Here's your tonic." Enly managed to open his eyes. "Oh. Thank you."
His father didn't answer.
He lifted the cup to his lips, then hesitated. The brew smelled strongly of mint, ginger, and dittany, and he wondered if he could keep it down. "Drink it," Maisaak said. "You'll feel better."
"And if it has the opposite effect?"
His father's mouth twisted sourly. "If it comes to that, there's a chamber pot in the next room."
Enly nodded and took a small sip. When that did nothing to make him feel worse, he took another, and then a third. Soon he was drinking the brew more freely, and by the time another knock on the door signaled the arrival of Tirnya and her father, he was starting to feel just a bit more like himself.
He stood to greet the marshal and his daughter, his head spinning slightly as he did.
Jenoe grinned and nodded toward the cup. "I'd know that scent anywhere. Late night?"
Enly glanced at his father. "Why is it that men of a certain age always assume that a hangover indicates a late night? I'm perfectly capable of drinking myself into a stupor before midnight bells."
" 'Men of a certain age,' " Jenoe repeated, raising an eyebrow and glancing at Maisaak. "I think, Your Lordship, that we've just been insulted."
Maisaak smiled thinly. "Pay no attention to him, Marshal. I've learned that's the best way to handle his little barbs." He indicated a pair of chairs near his writing table. "Please sit," he said.
"Thank you, Your Lordship," Tirnya said.
They took their seats, as did the lord governor. Enly returned to his chair near the hearth. Two servants appeared, laden with platters of cheese, fruits, and a flask of honey wine. He tried to ignore the food and the wine.
"So," Maisaak began, once the servants had withdrawn, "you have matters to discuss with me?"
Jenoe and Tirnya shared a look. After a moment the marshal nodded to her, as if in encouragement.
"Yes, Your Lordship," she said. "Since speaking with you last, we've come to see that any assault on the Fal'Borna would be… well, it would be very difficult." She cleared her throat. "More so, I fear, than I had originally thought."
Enly's father nodded. "No doubt. A siege is always difficult. And against the Qirsi…" He shrugged, leaving the thought unfinished.
"Yes," Tirnya said. "We'd be risking a great many lives and destroying a peace that's lasted more than a century. And, of course, we have no guarantee of success."
"There are no guarantees in warfare, Captain," Maisaak said. He narrowed his eyes. "Are you telling me that you've reconsidered, that you no longer want to take back your ancestral homeland?"
"No, Your Lordship."
Maisaak frowned. "Then, I'm afraid I'm confused."
"Forgive me," Tirnya said. "I'm not explaining this well. We've come to the conclusion that we have but one path to success. It carries some risks, and you may not approve. If you give us your pemission, and it works, we'll continue on into Fal'Borna lands and take back Deraqor. If it doesn't, we'd choose to return here, without facing the Fal'Borna."
She had Maisaak's attention. Enly could see that much. He had a look on his face that was both wary and amused.
"And what is it you propose?" the lord governor asked.
Tirnya hesitated, casting another glance at her father. Again the marshal nodded.
"We'd like to approach the Mettai, Your Lordship. We'd like to propose an alliance with them."
For a moment, Maisaak didn't so much as blink. It appeared to Enly that this was the very last thing he had expected her to say.
"The Mettai," he whispered. He looked at Jenoe. "Was this your idea?"
"No," Jenoe said. "Tirnya came up with this all on her own."
Through the haze of whiskey and ale came a sudden burst of memories. In the instant before Tirnya opened her mouth Enly knew what she would say and more than anything he wanted to silence her. But his reactions were slow. And really, what could he have said even if he had been quicker? In the next moment it was too late.
"Actually, Your Lordship," she said, "without Enly I never would have thought of it."
Maisaak's eyebrow went up and he glanced Enly's way once more, his expression unreadable. "Is that so?"
Tirnya appeared to realize what she had done. "He was merely answering my questions about the old Blood Wars, Your Lordship. I was curious as to how Eandi armies had managed to win as many early battles as they did, and I knew that you had encouraged him to learn as much as possible about the history of the wars."
Enly's father frowned. "And he said that our ancestors fought alongside the Mettai?"
"No, Your Lordship. He merely mentioned that the Eandi clans were more united in the early years, which made me wonder if perhaps they had been so united as to ally themselves with the Eandi sorcerers."
Maisaak still did not look satisfied. But he nodded once, his familiar thin smile fixed on his lips again. "I see. That's quite a leap, Captain. Some might even call it inspired." The words were kind enough, but he didn't sound admiring so much as annoyed.
"Thank you, Your Lordship."
He turned to Jenoe again. "And you believe this will work?"
"Actually," Jenoe said, "I don't. I doubt very much that the Mettai want anything to do with a new war against the Qirsi. But as Tirnya says, our other options are poor at best. And to her credit, I do think she's hit on the one tactic that the white-hairs won't be expecting. If by some chance we had the magic of the Mettai at our disposal, it might give us an advantage."
"What would you offer them?" Maisaak asked.
"We could offer them gold or we could offer them land," Tirnya answered.
Enly's father shook his head. "I won't empty Qalsyn's treasury for this."
"You wouldn't have to," Jenoe said, his voice hardening just a bit. After a moment he added, somewhat peremptorily, "Your Lordship."
Maisaak glared at him. "No?"
"House Onjaef is not without its resources, Your Lordship," Jenoe said. He paused briefly, seeming to gather himself. When he began again, it was in a lower, more respectful tone. "Since this is our fight, and since you have already-most generously I might add-offered to provision us and let us use your armies, we wouldn't presume to ask for more." He glanced at Tirnya. "Besides, I think the Mettai are far more likely to want land. We can offer them some of the territory near the Horn. They're farmers, most of them; they'll appreciate the value of those lands."