Out of the Darkness

Ansovald didn’t even waste time denying it. All he said was, “So what? The bastards lost. You can turn ‘em over to us, or we can bring in soldiers to come and get ‘em. That’s the only choice you’ve got, Hajjaj. King Swemmel isn’t playing games here, believe you me he isn’t.”

The last thing Hajjaj wanted was Unkerlanter soldiers in Zuwayza. If they came, would they ever leave? Not likely, he thought. But he said, “There is no law between kingdoms governing whether one may make war on another or how to fight such wars.”

“Maybe there isn’t, but there’s going to be,” the Unkerlanter minister to Zuwayza replied.

“Where is the justice in hanging a man for breaking a law that was not a law when he did what he did?” Hajjaj asked.

“Futter justice,” Ansovald said. “We’re not going to let those buggers get away, and that’s flat. You have three days, Hajjaj. Give ‘em up or we’ll come get ‘em.”

“I cannot guarantee your soldiers’ reception if you do,” Hajjaj said.

“Try and stop ‘em.” Ansovald relished being on top.

“We shall do what we have to do,” Hajjaj said coldly. “Your master will not thank you for starting a war here when he plainly has plans farther west.”

“Only goes to show you don’t know King Swemmel,” Ansovald said.

“Are we quite through here? Have you made all your demands?” Hajjaj asked. “If so, I shall take your words to King Shazli.”

“Go on. Get out.” Ansovald gestured contemptuously. Biting his lip, Hajjaj turned and left the minister’s chamber. The hard-faced young Unkerlanter waited outside, and escorted him to the carriage in stony silence. The carriage, he saw, had a new driver. He didn’t remark on it. He wanted nothing more than to get away from the Unkerlanter ministry.

Back at the palace, he hurried to King Shazli’s private audience chamber. He had to wait there, for the king was greeting the new minister from Sibiu. Shazli came in rolling his eyes. “I’m glad to be out of those clothes,” he said. “Would you care for tea and wine and cakes, your Excellency?”

“No, thank you, your Majesty,” Hajjaj answered. “Your Majesty, we have a problem.” He summed up what Ansovald had told him, leaving out only the coarse language and the shouts.

When he’d finished, Shazli frowned. “Do you think he means these threats?”

“Aye, your Majesty, I fear I do. I fear he does.”

“I was afraid of that.” Shazli let out a long, sad sigh. “When we took in these Algarvians, I made up my mind I would not let the kingdom suffer on account of them. I still hold to that. If Swemmel wants them so badly, I shall give them to him.”

That took Hajjaj by surprise. “Your Majesty!” he exclaimed. “Will you turn over men who helped in our revenge, who fought side by side with us for as long as they could? Where is the loyalty a man must show his friends?”

“I am willing to be loyal to my friends, in their place,” the king answered. “But their place is behind that of my own people. I will not go to war with Unkerlant to save these Algarvians. I will not even risk war with Unkerlant to protect them.”

“I don’t think Swemmel could fight much of a war to get these redheads,” Hajjaj said. “From everything we’ve been able to learn, he’s shipping soldiers west as fast as he can, to drive the Gyongyosians out of his kingdom.” In an aside, he added, “I have warned Minister Horthy of this-discreetly, of course.” He returned to the main topic: “While the Unkerlanters are busy in the west, they can’t bother us too badly.”

“I am sorry, your Excellency, but I dare not take the chance,” King Shazli said. “The Algarvians will be surrendered.”

Shazli had rarely overruled Hajjaj. Having it happen now hurt more than all the other times put together. “I must protest, your Majesty,” Hajjaj said stiffly.

“I’m sorry,” Shazli told him. “In this matter, my mind is made up.”

Hajjaj took a deep breath. “That being so, you leave me no choice but to offer my resignation.” He’d done that a handful of times in his long tenure; it had always persuaded the king to change his mind.

King Shazli sighed. “You have served this kingdom long and well, your Excellency. Without you, there might well be no Kingdom of Zuwayza today. But I shall do what I think I must do. I hope you will consult with me on my choice of your successor.”

“Of course, your Majesty.” Hajjaj bowed his head. He’d tried. He’d failed.

Now it was time to go. So he tried to tell himself. But the blood pounded in his ears. He suddenly felt very old, very shaky. Just as he’d been a part of Zuwayza for so very long, so Zuwayza was also a part of him. Had been a part of him. It’s over, he told himself. It’s all over.

Colonel Lurcanio sat across the table from a young Lagoan major who spoke Algarvian with such a thick accent, he would sooner have conversed with the fellow in classical Kaunian: he swallowed vowels and case and verb endings, as if he were still speaking his own tongue. “There’s. . some difficulty about your release, your Excellency,” the Lagoan said.