“Which would imply,” Jathmar said slowly, “that mul Gurthak wanted to avoid sharing his information with anyone in your military? Or even that he wanted to share it with someone who didn’t like your military very much?”
“It could imply that,” the duke corrected him. “It could also simply be a case of sloppy clerical work in the midst of an ongoing crisis. Sertal managed to…acquire copies of the material for me, and it’s not in the form of a formal report. Instead, it looks like some sort of internal memo that hasn’t yet been put into its final form.”
“So you’re saying it wasn’t supposed to be sent at all?”
“No, Jathmar, I’m saying it may have been sent by clerical error…or that it was deliberately sent in a format which would allow it to appear to have been sent by clerical error.”
“But why would anyone do that?” Shaylar asked, sounding totally confused because that was exactly what she was. Voice transmissions didn’t get sent by “clerical error,” and she couldn’t quite wrap her mind around how that could happen to Arcanan reports.
“We don’t know that yet,” the duke told her. “I have some unpleasant thoughts in that regard, and Sertal’s helping to determine whether or not my paranoia is justified. If it is, then I’m afraid the entire Union of Arcana may be about to discover that we face more than simply external threats. That, however, is something for us to worry about, not you and your husband. The only reason I’ve described this aspect to you is so that you can understand why and how I’ve discovered what does concern you.”
“In what way?” Jathmar’s tone was courteous but sharp, honed with formless dread born from too much bitter experience.
“As you know, all the public’s been officially told-all anyone outside a handful of highly placed officials at the Ministry of Exploration and the Directorate of Intelligence knows-is that negotiations broke down, virtually all of our own negotiating team was killed in some sort of confrontation, hostilities have been resumed, and Two Thousand Harshu has advanced beyond Thermyn,” the duke replied flatly. “And all of that’s true. But if the information Sertal’s people have turned up is correct, the real reason those negotiations ‘broke down’ was because-according to Rithmar Skirvon and Uthik Dastiri-the Sharonians ‘made their warlike intentions clear’ from the outset by failing to stipulate that there would be no attack during negotiations. Because that clause is an essential hallmark of all serious diplomatic efforts to negotiate a cease-fire agreement, it was clear to Skirvon that Sharona had no intention of signing any peace treaty and intended to keep its hands free to attack at a time of its own choosing.”
“What?” Jathmar stared at him. “That’s crazy!”
“In fairness to Skirvon’s interpretation, the agreement by both parties not to attack during negotiations is, indeed, a fundamental part of traditional Arcanan diplomacy,” the duke said heavily. “Traditionally,” he emphasized the adverb heavily, “there was no obligation to agree to any such thing, and it was understood by all parties that unless it was specifically agreed to, either side was free to-and probably would-resume active operations at the moment it felt would be most advantageous. Mind you, no one’s negotiated any peace treaties since the establishment of the Union, so I think it’s safe to say our procedures are a little rusty, and we haven’t had any true ‘diplomats’ in the better part of two hundred years. I’d think that gave us plenty of opportunities to get it wrong from our side, as well. More to the point, it doesn’t seem to have occurred to anyone that we’re dealing with someone from a completely different-a totally alien-society which might not understand all of our own diplomatic niceties.”
“Diplomatic niceties?” Jathmar visibly gripped his temper in both hands. “No Sharonian would even think about that! It’s obvious that anyone seriously interested in negotiating a cease-fire wouldn’t be planning to attack in the middle of the talks! One of the first things each side’s Voices-”
He broke off, and the duke nodded unhappily.
“Exactly,” he said softly.
Silence hovered for the better part of a minute before he cleared his throat.
“One of the minor points which hasn’t yet been officially reported to Parliament or the Commandery is that the ‘diplomatic incident’ which resulted in the deaths of at least one of our negotiators and most of their military escort occurred because Two Thousand Harshu’s offensive began with a preemptive attack predicated on the supposition that Sharona was preparing to attack us. In other words, contrary to what most of the citizens of the Union believe, there was indeed treachery and a ‘sneak attack,’ but it wasn’t launched by the Sharonians.
“Skirvon and Dastiri were involved in face-to-face negotiations with the representatives of the Sharonian Empire when the attack kicked off. They were supposed to keep the Sharonians talking right up to the moment our troops arrived. In fact, although there’s no way to confirm it at this point, I suspect our ‘diplomats’’ ceremonial guard detail was supposed to kick off the entire operation by capturing-or killing-the entire Sharonian negotiating team.”
The duke’s expression showed what he thought of that tactic.
“Unfortunately for the attack plan, that particular bit of treachery apparently came a cropper. By the time our cavalry reached the negotiation site, the Sharonians were long gone, leaving behind the bodies of Uthik Dastiri and most of the ‘ceremonial guards.’ As far as I’m aware, the Sharonians are still at large somewhere behind our lines.”
Shaylar felt her hand tighten like a claw on Jathmar’s, yet it was obvious the duke wasn’t done. There was worse to come, and she tried to brace herself to meet it.
“There are suggestions in the material,” he continued, turning to glance at his son instead of the Sharonians, “which appear to confirm Fifty Therman’s report of Kerellian Accord violations. At the moment, I can’t even begin to decide which of the ones he’s reported is the most egregious. There’s going to be hells to pay over any of them, but the worst are that the head of Two Thousand Harshu’s intelligence staff-a five hundred named Neshok-is using torture to-”
“Neshok?” Gadrial blurted, then blushed as she realized she’d interrupted the duke. The senior Olderhan paused, cocking an eyebrow at her, and she had the oddest sensation he was actually grateful for the discourtesy surprise had startled out of her.
Or for the interruption, anyway.
“That was the name, Magister Gadrial,” he said. “An Alivar Neshok, I believe. According to the memo that went to the Directorate of Intelligence, he was specifically requested by Two Thousand Harshu and given the acting rank of five hundred so he’d have the necessary seniority. Should I take it you met him?”
“We all have, Father,” Jathmar said grimly. “At least I’m pretty sure we have. Hundred Alivar Neshok was the officer who wanted to separate Shaylar and Jathmar from us in Erthos. The one Gadrial backed down when she told him to put her in the same cell to make sure nothing…untoward happened to them. Are you saying he’s who’s been in charge of Two Thousand Harshu’s intelligence this entire time?”
“Yes, I’d say I am, although I confess I hadn’t connected him with your description of your time in Erthos.” The duke’s tone was even grimmer than his son’s had been. “I don’t think the name’s a coincidence, at any rate. And apparently he’s been just as…untrammeled by any scruples as Gadrial was afraid he might be. Therman informs me that there have been numerous reports of torture and of prisoners dying under questioning. In fact, he says that according to healers to whom he’s spoken, they’ve flatly refused to heal prisoners undergoing interrogation because healing them only allowed them to be tortured even further.”