Out of the Darkness

“You are Algarvian. You are noble.” General Vatran ticked off points on his fingertips, as if he were trying to sell Sabrino a jug of olive oil. “You are brave fighter, so men respect you. And we know you quarrel with King Mezentio.”

“Ah,” Sabrino said. Now things grew clearer. “And so you think I would make a proper traitor?” With the drug in him, he couldn’t be very cautious.

Vatran shook his head. “Not a traitor. How can Algarve hurt us now, no matter who is king? Other bastard, he not see that.” He made the throat-cutting gesture again.

And he had a point, or a sort of a point. Sabrino wagged a forefinger at him. “If you didn’t care who was king, why would you mind having Mainardo keep the crown?”

“Mainardo is Mezentio’s brother.” Vatran went back to counting on his fingers. “And he is puppet of Lagoas and Kuusamo. This not good, not for Unkerlant.”

He had a certain brutal honesty to him, even when he played the game of intrigue. Algarvians were suaver, smoother…. And much good that did us, Sabrino thought. “You would want me to be a puppet of Unkerlant’s, eh?”

“Why, of course,” General Vatran answered. “I tell you about this other bastard-he stupid. You think we let your kingdom get big and strong so you kick us in the balls again, you crazy.”

Brutal honesty, indeed, went through Sabrino’s mind. He shook his head. “To my way of thinking, I would have to be a traitor to do the job as you want it done.”

The Unkerlanter shook his head again. “No, no, no. You can ward your subjects, can shield them. This much, I think King Swemmel let you have.”

Can shield them from Unkerlanter soldiers, was what he had to mean. Even so, Sabrino said, “I thank you, sir-and I mean that, for you offer me an honor I never dreamt would come my way. Even so, I must decline.”

“Why?” When General Vatran frowned, his bushy white eyebrows came down and together, so that they formed a bar over his eyes. “His Majesty not be happy. You are right man for job. Algarvian. Noble. You don’t like Mezentio.”

“I think you misunderstand something,” Sabrino said. “Shall I be very plain?” With the decoction of poppy juice in him, he could hardly be anything else.

“Say on,” Vatran rumbled ominously.

“You know I disagreed with King Mezentio,” Sabrino said, and the Unkerlanter officer’s big, heavy-featured head went up and down. “And because of that, you think I would be able to work well with your king.”

General Vatran nodded once more. “Aye. It is so.”

But Sabrino shook his head. “No. It is not so. And, sir, I will tell you why it is not so.” He wagged that forefinger at Vatran again. “It is not so because I wanted my kingdom to beat yours every bit as much as King Mezentio did. Believe me: I wanted to march through Cottbus in triumph every bit as much as Mezentio did.” He glanced down at the asymmetrical shape under the sheet on the cot. “But we didn’t march through Cottbus, and I won’t be doing any marching now.”

“Why you quarrel with your king, then?” Vatran demanded. His voice held a certain amount of respectful wonder. Sabrino thought he understood that. From everything he’d heard, quarreling with Swemmel was something an Unkerlanter did at most once.

“Why? Purely over means, not over the end,” Sabrino said. By Vatran’s new frown, he saw the Unkerlanter didn’t follow that. He spelled it out: “I didn’t think killing Kaunians was a good idea. I never thought it was a good idea. I thought it would make all our enemies hate us and fear us and fight us harder than ever.”

“You right,” Vatran said.

And much good that did me, Sabrino thought. I never imagined you Unkerlanters would slaughter your own to strike back at us. None of the eastern kingdoms would have done such a thing. You knew this fight was to the death, too. Aloud, he said, “I suppose I was. I thought we would have beaten you without doing any such thing. Maybe I was right about that, and maybe I was wrong. But that was my quarrel with my king, the long and the short of it.” Mezentio didn’t dispose of me for arguing with him, the way Swemmel would have. But he never forgave me, either.

Vatran grunted. “This why you a colonel when war starts and you still a colonel when war stops? I wonder some on that. Make more sense now.”

“Aye, that’s why,” Sabrino agreed. “And so, you see, you cannot rely on me to make a puppet King of Algarve, either. I am no man’s puppet, not even my own sovereign’s.”

“You brave to say this,” Vatran observed. “You maybe stupid to say this, too. You likely stupid to say this.”

“Why? Will Swemmel blaze me for it?” Sabrino asked.

“Don’t know,” Vatran replied. “Wouldn’t be surprised.”