"And if they refuse?"
"If they refuse, Your Lordship," Tirnya said, "we'll return here, somewhat chastened, but your loyal subjects as always."
Enly had to smile. It was deftly handled. On this morning at least, she seemed more skilled than both their fathers in the art of statecraft.
"What are you grinning at?" Maisaak demanded.
Enly looked at him, his smile fading just a bit. "Nothing, Father." "I suppose you have an opinion on this?"
His eyes met Tirnya's for just an instant. Then she looked away. "Not really, no," Enly answered. "I believe that the Mettai would be a valuable ally in any fight against the white-hairs, but like the marshal, I'm skeptical about our chances of winning them over."
"I see," Enly's father said dryly. "Well, I have to admit to being skeptical myself, about this entire endeavor." He stood and walked back to his writing table and began to peruse some of the scrolls there.
Enly and the Onjaefs stood as well.
"I'll have to give it some more thought before sending a message to the sovereign," Maisaak said. He glanced up at them all. "Thank you."
Tirnya looked at Jenoe, appearing confused. Her father gestured toward the door, and started to walk toward it.
"-We haven't much time, Your Lordship," she said, facing Maisaak again.
"Tirnya," Jenoe said, a warning in his voice.
Maisaak had looked up from his parchments. "What did you say?" he asked.
Enly wanted to tell her to let it go, to leave now, before she said something she'd regret. Clearly her father wanted to do the same. But as always, she kept her own counsel. She didn't so much as look at her father or at Enly.
"Forgive me, Your Lordship. But time is our enemy in this matter. The Snows are coming, and we don't know how long the effects of the white-hair plague will last. You need to send a message to Ofirean City, and then you'll have to wait for the sovereign's reply. That could take an entire turn. If we're to attack, we need to do it soon."
Maisaak stared back at her, his eyes glittering in the light from the windows. "You would presume-"
"She didn't mean anything by it, Father," Enly said. "She's merely stating what you and I both know to be true. We haven't much time, and if we delay much longer, we'll have no choice but to wait for the thaw."
Maisaak opened his mouth to fire back a reply, but then he stopped himself, his gaze drifting toward Jenoe and Tirnya. "Leave us," he said.
"Your Lordship," Jenoe said, sketching a quick bow. He pulled the door open. "Come, Tirnya."
Her eyes flicked toward Enly again, and he thought he read an apology in the frightened expression on her lovely face. Then she turned and strode quickly toward the door.
"Captain," Maisaak said.
She halted, turned toward him, though she kept her gaze lowered. "Your Lordship?"
"Don't ever presume to tell me how much or how little time I have to make a decision. Ever. Do I make myself clear?"
She bowed, still keeping her eyes lowered. "Yes, Your Lordship."
Enly had never heard her sound so meek, and he found himself hating his father for making her grovel so.
A moment later the Onjaefs had gone, and Maisaak turned his rage on Enly, which he actually preferred.
"How dare you intercede when I'm disciplining an officer under my command! When you're lord governor you can coddle her as much as you please! But that won't be for some time now, and until then you keep your mouth shut!"
"Yes, Father," he said mildly.
Maisaak stepped out from behind his writing table and crossed to where Enly stood. For a moment, Enly thought his father might strike him and he readied himself for the blow. But Maisaak didn't touch him. He merely regarded him for several moments, before turning away once more and walking to the window.
"You sound like a fool when you defend her that way." He glanced back at Enly. "You know that, don't you?"
He usually had little trouble enduring his father's criticism; he'd certainly had enough practice over the years. But when Maisaak spoke to him this way about Tirnya, it stung, perhaps because Enly knew that he had handled his relationship with her so poorly.
"Is that so?" he answered, trying to sound composed.
"She's stronger than you are. She should be defending you, not the other way around."
"Is there a point to this, Father?"
Maisaak turned. "Yes, there is. When did you become an Onjaef?"
"What?"
"You should hear yourself," his father said with disgust. " `I'm skeptical about our chances of winning over the Mettai.' We haven't much time. We can't delay much longer." He sneered, shaking his head. "You're more eager for this fight than Jenoe. Does she really find that kind of fawning attractive, or are you just so desperate that you don't care anymore?"
"I don't have to listen to this." Enly spun on his heel and took a step toward the door.
"What were you thinking?" Maisaak demanded. "The Mettai? Are you really that great a fool?"
"You heard Tirnya," Enly said, reaching for the door handle. "It was her idea. I just told her a bit about the Blood Wars."
"While you were drunk?"
He turned. "Yes, Father. While I was drunk. Earlier in the day I'd tried to talk her out of this attack on the Fal'Borna. That didn't work, so I took comfort in a flask or two of Qosantian whiskey."
"And you led her straight to the Mettai." Maisaak shook his head. "You're an ass."
"I don't think so, Father. I think it actually might work."
"Idiot!" He swept the parchments off his writing table in a single, violent motion. "I don't want it to work! Don't you understand that?" He ran a hand over his face. "You're so concerned with saving her life so that another man can have her, that you've lost sight of who and what you are."
"Who and what I am?" Enly repeated. "You think you have any idea of who I am?"
"You're a Tolm. One day you'll be lord governor yourself, and contrary to what you want to believe, she'll never marry you. You'll have to live with a second ruling family here in Qalsyn, just as I have." He laughed harshly, shaking his head. "It's remarkable really. The Onjaefs have done nothing for the last century except win a few tournaments and fight a few skirmishes with road brigands. Their last moment of historical significance ended in failure and disgrace. And yet they're adored by the oafs who followed them to this city, while those of us who see to it that those same oafs remain safe and prosperous…" He trailed off, his face coloring slightly. "Someday that will be your burden as well, and you'll understand what I do: that the Onjaefs threaten everything House Tolm has sought to build here since the earliest days of Stelpana's history."
"Then let them go," Enly said. "A few days ago you saw Tirnya's invasion as a way of ridding yourself of them. There's a chance now that the Mettai will refuse to join them, and that they'll return here. But there's also a chance that their plan will actually work. They'll take back Deraqor and you'll be rid of them for good."
Maisaak merely stood there, saying nothing, his cheeks still red, the muscles in his jaw bunched.
"But you don't want that, do you, Father? The calculation has changed because now they might actually succeed. You never wanted them simply to leave. You wanted them dead, or at least defeated and humiliated. The idea of them taking back Deraqor galls you."
Still, his father didn't answer.
Enly grinned. "You know, I believe that's all the more reason to see that they succeed."
He pulled the door open.
"Where are you going?" Maisaak asked, stopping him once more.