Out of the Darkness

What Pekka did say was, “You’re a brave man-powers above know that’s true. And you’re a solid mage. Better than a solid mage, in fact; I’ve seen that working with you. There are times I think I never should have gone to bed with you in the first place, but you always made me happy when I did.”

“We aim to please,” Fernao said with a crooked smile.

“You aim well,” Pekka said. “Does all that add up to love? It might. I thought it did before. . before Leino died, and I didn’t know what I was going to do. But that’s turned everything upside down.”

“I know.” Fernao kept the smile on his face. It wasn’t easy.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do.” Pekka smiled, too, ruefully. “Usually, the busier I am, the happier I am. When I’m doing things, I haven’t got time to think. And I don’t much want to think right now.”

“That makes sense,” Fernao agreed. He heaved himself to his feet without using the cane. That hurt, but he managed. He managed the couple of steps he needed to get over to the chair, too. Getting down beside it hurt more than standing up had, but he ignored the pain with the practice of a man who’d known much worse. “But there’s happy and then there’s happy, if you know what I mean.” To make sure she knew what he meant, he kissed her.

It was, he knew, a gamble. If Pekka wasn’t ready, or if she thought he cared about nothing but bedding her, he wouldn’t do himself any good. At first, she just let the kiss happen, without really responding to it. But then, with what sounded like a small surprised noise down deep in her throat, she kissed him, too.

When their lips separated-Fernao didn’t push the kiss as far as he might have, as far as he wanted to-Pekka said, “You don’t make things easy, do you?”

“I try not to,” Fernao answered.

“You’ve succeeded. And I’d better go.” Pekka rose, then stooped to help Fernao up and gave him his cane. He wasn’t embarrassed for the aid; he needed it. Even as Pekka unbarred the door and left, Fernao nodded to himself with more hope than he’d known for some little while.

“What sort of delegation?” Hajjaj asked, thinking he’d misheard. His ears weren’t all they’d once been, and he was unhappily aware of it.

But Qutuz repeated himself: “A delegation from the Kaunian refugees from Forthweg who have settled around Najran, your Excellency. Three of them are out in the corridor. Will you receive them, or shall I send them away?”

“I’ll talk with them,” the Zuwayzi foreign minister said. “I have no idea how much I’ll be able to do for them-I can’t do much for Zuwayzin these days-but I’ll talk with them.”

“Very well, your Excellency.” Qutuz made an excellent secretary. He gave no sign of his own approval or disapproval. He got his master’s instructions and acted on them-in this case by going out into the corridor and bringing the Kaunians back into the office with him.

“Good day, gentlemen,” Hajjaj said in classical Kaunian when they came in. He read the language of scholarship and sorcery as readily as Zuwayzi, but was less fluent speaking it.

“Good day, your Excellency,” the blonds chorused, bowing low. They all wore tunics and trousers; for men with their pale, easily sunburned skins, nudity was not an option in Zuwayza, even during her relatively mild winter.

“Two of you I have met before,” Hajjaj said. “Nemunas, Vitols.” He nodded to each of them in turn. Nemunas was older than Vitols, and had a scarred left hand. Before Forthweg fell to the Algarvians, they’d both been sergeants in King Penda’s army-unusually high rank for Kaunians-which made them leaders among the blonds who’d fled across the Bay of Ajlun to keep from ending up in one of King Mezentio’s special camps.

The third blond, the one Hajjaj didn’t know, bowed again and said, “I am called Kaudavas, your Excellency.”

“I am glad to meet you,” Hajjaj said. As long as he stuck to stock phrases, he was fine.

Both Nemunas and Vitols stared at him. “It’s been a while since we’ve seen each other, your Excellency,” the older blond said. “Thanks very much for recalling our names.”

“You are welcome,” Hajjaj replied-another stock phrase. A good memory for names and faces came in handy for a diplomat. When he went beyond stock phrases, he had to think about what he said and speak slowly: “And you and your countrymen are welcome in my kingdom, and all three of you are welcome here. Would you care for tea and wine and cakes?”

All three Kaunians from Forthweg chuckled. “We’d sooner just get down to business, sir, if you don’t mind,” Nemunas said.

Hajjaj allowed himself a small smile. The blonds had learned how some Zuwayzi customs worked, sure enough. “As you wish,” he said, and waved to the pillows piled here and there on the carpeted floor. “Sit down. Make yourselves comfortable. And then, please, tell me what I can do for you.”