The cart had stopped. He lifted his head and looked up, but all he could see was rain.
The carter didn’t move. ‘Stay here,’ Poliorcis said. ‘I’ll need you to take me back to Tornoys.’
He started to ease himself down off the cart, but with a movement faster than anything he’d have imagined the man was capable of, the carter grabbed him by the elbow.
‘Two quarters,’ he said.
Poliorcis nodded and burrowed about in his drenched sleeve for the money. ‘Stay there,’ he repeated, and tried to reach the ground with his feet. He was too high up; but the hem of his robe caught in something, and he ended up kneeling in the mud. ‘Stay there,’ he said, one more time; then he got up, muddying his hands in the process, and headed for the gate he could just make out through the rain. While he was grappling with the catch (which was rusted up – presumably Gorgas and his brothers clambered over, and never bothered opening the thing; that would explain why it sagged so desperately on its one good hinge and the tangle of coarse hemp twine that did service for the other one) he heard the reins crack behind him, and the sound of wheels slowly rolling through a puddle.
The farmhouse door was open, but there didn’t seem to be anybody about. ‘Hello?’ he called out. Nobody answered. He stood for a moment, watching rain drip off him and on to the stone flags, then decided that this simply wouldn’t do. He might not be a Son of Heaven, but he represented the Empire; the Empire doesn’t stand dripping in doorways, it marches in and puts its feet up on the furniture.
At least it was dry inside the house, and what remained of the fire gave off a little warmth. He parked himself in the chimney corner, still wrapped up in his travelling coat, which was now three parts water to one part cloth. The settle was more comfortable than it looked. He let his head rest against the back and closed his eyes.
He woke up to find Gorgas Loredan leaning over him, a slightly scornful expression on his face. ‘You should have let us know you were coming,’ he was saying, ‘I’d have sent a carriage for you.’
‘Doesn’t matter, really,’ said Poliorcis, who’d just realised that he’d woken up with a splitting headache. ‘I’m here now.’
‘Good.’ Gorgas Loredan sat down next to him on the settle, so close that he had to budge along a little to avoid being in contact with him. ‘In that case we can cut the small talk and get down to business. I assume you’re here to make me an offer.’
‘Well, yes,’ Poliorcis mumbled. ‘And no.’ His mind was foggy and furred up, and he couldn’t remember a single one of the principal bargaining positions he’d been working on over the last few days. ‘It’s more a case of asking what you want from us. I think you’ll find we’re willing to consider any reasonable proposals.’
Gorgas sighed and shook his head. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘I must have misunderstood. You see, I was under the impression that we were going to work this thing out together in a constructive and sensible fashion, instead of playing games. Goodbye.’
‘I see.’ Poliorcis stayed exactly where he was. ‘After I’ve come all this way, you’re throwing me out.’
‘I’d never dream of being so rude,’ Gorgas replied. ‘Still, since you don’t appear to have anything to say to me, I must confess I can’t see any point in your being here; and since you’ve already seen all the sights, and our climate doesn’t seem to agree with you-’
‘All right.’ Poliorcis had an unhappy feeling that he’d given away the initiative in the negotiations before they’d even begun, and had no real chance of getting it back. ‘Here’s a firm offer, no ambiguities at all. Money: how much will you take for your prisoner?’
Gorgas laughed. ‘Please,’ he said, ‘let’s at least pretend to respect each other. You’ve seen the Mesoge; what possible use would money be to me in a place like this?’
Just outside the back door, a dog was barking furiously. The noise picked at the pain in Poliorcis’ head like fingers plucking harpstrings. ‘Very well then,’ he said. ‘Not money. What else? Something we have, presumably, that you need. Tools? Weapons? Raw materials?’
Gorgas shook his head. ‘You’re making fun of me,’ he said. ‘Personally, I don’t regard that as very diplomatic. Tell me, do you really despise us that much? Do you really think we’re nothing but bandits and thieves, little better than the gangs who go around fishing through open windows with a hook on the end of a pole? I thought you’d have understood, when I took the trouble to show you; we’re farmers, peaceful people who want to make friends with our neighbours. Show us just a little respect and I’ll give you your damned rebel for free.’
‘You’re talking about the alliance,’ Poliorcis said. ‘I can only say that I’m extremely sorry, but the provincial office feels that a formal alliance at this time would be inappropriate.’
‘Inappropriate.’
Poliorcis felt as if he was slowly sinking up to his knees in mud. ‘I’d just like to point out,’ he said, ‘that what you’re asking is entirely without precedent. We have no formal alliances with anybody; not Shastel or the Island or Colleon. Please try to understand our concerns; if we made an alliance with you, what sort of message would that send to them, after we’ve turned down overtures from all of them? Quite simply, it’s not the way we do things.’
‘All right.’ Gorgas yawned. ‘If there’s one thing I pride myself on, it’s flexibility. Flexibility, realism, always look for the deal that’s good for both sides. Now, you’re telling me the Empire doesn’t have any allies, and I’m sure you’d never lie about a thing like that. Well then, we’ll forget all about an alliance, and I’ll tell you straight exactly what’s in my mind. The truth is, whether or not we’re formal allies, all I want is for you, the provincial office, to give me a chance to do something I need to do; you think about it and tell me if you can see a way it can be done. After all, you’re the diplomat; I’m just a soldier and a farmer and I’m really out of my depth here. I need to pay off an old debt – no, that’s not it. I need to set right a really bad thing I did once. You see, I made it possible for Temrai to sack Perimadeia. Does that shock you?’
Poliorcis looked at him. ‘I know,’ he said.
‘Oh.’ Gorgas sat still, expressionless. ‘What do you think about that?’
‘I don’t,’ Poliorcis replied. ‘That is, I know why you did it, what your reasons were; it was because your sister owed a lot of money to rich individuals in Perimadeia, and she knew she could never pay them back. It was a business decision. Now, I can give an opinion as to whether that was wise or unwise from a commercial point of view, but if you’re expecting me to say whether I think what you did was right or wrong, I’m afraid I can’t. I don’t think in those terms; it’s as if I was colour-blind and you wanted my opinion about a certain shade of green. So,’ he went on, ‘what has that got to do with us?’
Gorgas breathed out, rubbed his chin. ‘I suppose I’m the one who’s shocked,’ he said. ‘I’m not colour-blind, as you put it. I can see that what I did was terribly wrong. I knew my brother was fighting for the City; I ruined his life and nearly got him killed. That’s what I’ve got to put right. I have to kill Temrai and destroy the plains tribes, fighting side by side with him, paying my debt. Can you see that? Even you must be able to see that. Now, I don’t care what my official standing is, I just need to be there and to do my share, otherwise I won’t be able to live with myself. Because of what I did, I’m already responsible for the death of my own son; I owe it to him as well. Can you see how simple and straightforward this all is?’