Through the Darkness

In the chaos that followed the Six Years’ War, Hajjaj had indeed persuaded the Unkerlanter officer in charge of Bishah to leave the city in the hands of its own people, who’d promptly raised Shazli’s father to the throne of a newly free Zuwayza. But that case wasn’t comparable to this one. The Unkerlanters had been eager to go so they could throw themselves into the Twinkings War then engulfing their whole vast kingdom. These days, Hajjaj had no such convenient levers with which to manipulate affairs. He saw that only too clearly. Why couldn’t anyone else see it at all?

Eager to escape Tewfik’s unbridled optimism, he said, “I am going down into Bishah. Please have my carriage readied as soon as may be.”

“Of course.” The majordomo gave him a creaking bow. “You will want to be close to the news as it comes in.”

“So I will,” Hajjaj agreed. Some folk down in the city knew better than to think him a master mage of foreign affairs. His mouth twisted. He wished King Shazli were one of those people.

Since it hadn’t rained for a few days--even in winter, rain around Bishah was only intermittent--the road had firmed up. The journey down to the city, in fact, struck Hajjaj as quite pleasant. The road wasn’t dusty, as it always was in summer, and the rains that had fallen made long-dormant plants spring up all over, so the hillsides were green with occasional speckles of orange or red or blue flowers. Bees buzzed everywhere.

Down at the palace, people buzzed everywhere. Hajjaj was not unduly surprised when his secretary said, “Marquis Balastro craves an audience at your earliest convenience, your Excellency.”

“Tell him he may come, Qutuz,” Hajjaj answered. “I will be interested to hear how he turns this latest disaster into a triumph of Algarvian arms.”

“I wish he could, your Excellency,” Qutuz said, and Hajjaj had to nod.

A couple of hour later, the Zuwayzi foreign minister greeted King Mezen-tio’s envoy in Bishah. “You have terrible taste in clothes, your Excellency,” Balastro said.

“Considering how seldom I wear them, that should hardly surprise you,” Hajjaj replied. Qutuz brought in tea and wine and cakes then. Hajjaj didn’t use the refreshments to string things out to the degree he sometimes had; he wanted to find out what was in Balastro’s mind. After hurrying through the ritual sips and nibbles, he asked, “And how fare things with you and your kingdom?”

“We’re making the Unkerlanters pay a fearful price for Sulingen,” Balastro said. Hajjaj inclined his head without answering. The Algarvians hadn’t come to Sulingen for that purpose. And Balastro admitted as much: “It’s not the way we would have had things turn out there, which I can hardly deny. We’ll hit Swemmel more hard licks yet, see if we don’t.”

“May it be so,” Hajjaj murmured. Algarve made an imperious, demanding, unpleasant ally. But if the Unkerlanters took the bit firmly between their teeth, who could guess what they’d do to Algarve . .. and to Zuwayza?

Then, to Hajjaj’s surprise, Balastro said, “But that isn’t what I came to discuss with you today.”

“No?” Hajjaj said. “Tell me what is in your thoughts, by all means do.” If he wouldn’t have to listen to Balastro haranguing him about how Algarvian victory was just around the corner despite whatever misfortunes the redheads had suffered at the moment, he would face anything else with heightened equanimity.

Leaning forward a little, Balastro said, “And so I shall, your Excellency. You’ve taxed my kingdom for being first to use certain strong sorceries in the Derlavaian War, is it not so?”

Hajjaj had never before heard multiple murder mentioned so delicately. He almost twitted Balastro about that, but held back. All he said was, “Aye, I have taxed you about it, and with reason, I think. Why do you mention it now?”

“Because my kingdom’s mages tell me that, down in Kuusamo or Lagoas, our foes have done something even more vicious,” Balastro answered.

“They do not even know just where?” Hajjaj asked, and Balastro shook his head. Hajjaj went on, “Do they know just what?” The Algarvian minister shook his head again. Hajjaj stared at him in some exasperation. “Then why should I not believe you are weaving this from whole cloth for no other reason than to make me happier with you and more inflamed against your enemies?”

“Because, if the reports I get from Trapani are anywhere close to true, half the mages in Algarve are tearing their hair out, trying to figure out what in blazes the islanders have gone and done,” Balastro answered.

Hajjaj studied him. He didn’t think Balastro was lying, though the Algarvian minister wouldn’t have let an untruth or six stop him from doing what he judged would serve his kingdom best. Hajjaj asked, “Do your mages think they’ll be able to learn?”

“How should I know?” Balastro returned. “They’ve got a war to fight, too; they can’t very well go haring after everything anybody else does. But this was big enough to set them in a tizzy over it, and I figured you ought to know.”