Читать книгу The Heavenly Lord’s Ambassador. A Kingdom Like No Other. Book 1 - Андрей Кочетков - Страница 7

Uni may have thought he had received the greatest measure of joy from the council meeting, but he was mistaken. Licisium Dorgoe returned to his fair estate in a much-improved state of mind. Satisfaction derived from a sense that events were developing just as he had intended was one of the few pleasures in life he knew how to enjoy. His velvet-lined chariot rumbled through the gates of his villa, and he quickly and with surprising agility removed his large body from its comfortable seat and proceeded straight to his garden.

“Is he here?” he asked Zhoslo, his butler, with a grin.

“He is waiting for Your Lordship in the blue pavilion,” the butler intoned, eyes almost closed.

“How mad is he?”

Zhoslo shrugged as if he knew nothing, but then he added, “What right would a barbarian have to express displeasure with a courtier of the Heavenly Empire?”

“That’s the correct answer,” Dorgoe nodded with a smile and headed across the lawn to where his next visitor was waiting for him.

The blue pavilion was so-named for two reasons. Thanks to the gardener’s careful ministrations, it was surrounded by plants that had been bred to bloom in a variety of shades of blue: sedum, helichrysum, calendula and verbena. In another month, these flowers would be joined by hollies and thistle, but for the time being those were still waiting in the wings. The walls of the pavilion were covered with blue-toned mosaics depicting waves on a river, fishermen, and other scenes from the life of the simple folk who lived and worked on the Great River, all known to gladden the heart of any hard-working civil servant. Ulinians (known for their refined tastes) often objected that Herandian architects had misunderstood the very concept of an outdoor pavilion, turning it from something light and airy, barely demarcating the border between the human and natural worlds, into something heavy and imposing. The misunderstanding, however, was entirely their own, for the imperial style had its own rules, adding solidity and magnificence to everything it deigned to touch.

Dorgoe slipped his large frame through the black carved batwing doors and turned his head from side to side, looking for his long-awaited guest. The comfortable sofa and the two small chairs (placed conveniently around a low table laid with light refreshments) were empty, and the wine and candied nuts were untouched. Dorgoe was about to permit himself an oath of surprise and annoyance when he suddenly felt a strange chill deep in his veins. The last time he had felt something like that was ten years prior, an instant before he was stabbed in a fight with some criminals near the port. Slowly, as if in premonition of death, he turned his heavy body on its axis. Right behind him, in the shadow by the door, sat a man wrapped in a dark cloak. His eyes were hard enough to drive a nail through an oak plank.

“Ambassador?” Dorgoe croaked, realizing that he was losing control under the effect of the power than emanated from his guest in waves and played havoc with his nerves. “Why are you sitting here in the corner?”

The foreigner’s expression remained unchanged, like a statue of some ancient god of warlike Seregad that had been painted a deep shade of bronze by its sculptor. The large nose, shaped like the beak of a bird of prey, was perfectly symmetrical on the shaven face, overlooking a powerful jaw and determined chin.

When the ambassador stood up, he towered over Dorgoe, who was considered a large man at court. “From this position it is easier to kill a man as he walks in,” he remarked offhandedly.

Dorgoe couldn’t keep from shuddering. He felt as if someone had walked over his head wearing hobnailed boots. “I thought we were meeting for the opposite reason – to prevent murder!” He did not like the sound of his own voice. “Please, you’ll be more comfortable over here,” Dorgoe motioned toward the table with refreshments.

He may not want to sit on such delicate furniture, he thought, head spinning. If he wavers, I may be able to win back some of the points I’ve lost.

But the guest strode across the room with no sign of discomfort and sat down on the sofa. That was Dorgoe’s favorite seat, but he said nothing. Instead, he carefully fitted himself into one of the small chairs and pulled it closer to the table.

“Allow me to apologize again. The council meeting took longer than expected, and I was unable to receive you at the palace as I had promised. But no matter: I often handle my most important affairs here. You were shown into the Emperor’s own chambers, which should give you an indication of my influence.” Dorgoe stuttered and fell silent as he saw the utter disregard in the man’s nut-brown eyes. He realized that his explanations were falling on deaf ears. “Enough of that. Let’s get to business. I was told that you are the personal representative of the House of the Jaguar and that you are duly authorized to engage in negotiations. As a pure formality, I must ask you if…”

The guest waved a hand over the table, and a round object, orange and black and encrusted with precious stones, appeared on it. Dorgoe picked it up gingerly and held it up to his eyes.

“The personal seal of Arincetek, Fierce Jaguar, leader of the most powerful of the houses of the Arincils.” He pursed his lips in respect. “I once saw the mark of this seal on a treaty. It is a powerful thing. Well,” he handed it back to his guest, “that takes care of the formalities, Ambassador. Tell me, how should I pronounce your name and title?”

“Lord Jaguar,” the guest said.

Dorgoe cleared his throat. “Very well. Perhaps it is better that way. As you know, I am Licisium Dorgoe. Member of the Imperial Council and custodian of the Heavenly Emperor’s will in many matters of state, including foreign affairs. The Empire makes no treaties without my involvement. You have come to the right person with your request, Lord Jaguar.

“The vanquished make requests!” the Arincil announced. Again, the look in his eyes made Dorgoe flinch. “If you wish to continue this conversation, choose your words carefully.”

Dorgoe’s eyebrows headed north. “Forgive me, I was told that…”

“Does the Empire desire peace?”

“Are you here to name your price?”

“You will find it reasonable.”

“Oh, so Lord Jaguar comes bringing peace, eh? But why should I believe him?”

“You have no choice. Four houses of the Arincils are fighting for power. The House of the Snake is too young and weak, so it may be ignored. The leader of the House of the Crocodile is a wise man, but he is entrenched in a war with Mustobrim and can do nothing else at the moment. Kuchinkapak from the House of the Eagle is brave and cruel. Warriors see it as an honor to follow a man like that. In order to unite all the Arincils under his leadership, he will point them toward a common enemy. That will be the Empire.”

“Makes sense. I have heard about Kuchinkapak. He is a madman. But where is my guarantee that Arincetek will be any better? How will he defeat such a dangerous adversary?”

“Arincetek will negotiate with the Empire. I am here – that is your proof. Kuchinkapak only knows how to speak with his sword. Violence is his only language. If the Empire is strong enough to break the Eagle’s wings, then there is nothing for us to discuss.”

“The Empire is strong enough, but it does not like to waste its strength. Do you have a specific proposal?”

“You have made contact with the Virilans. Take me to them. When I return, Arincetek will become the leader of all Arincils and the Empire will have peace and order.”

Dorgoe leaped from his seat, sending his chair rolling across the marble floor with a crash. “You are an ungrateful man, Lord Jaguar! I did not bring you to the palace so you could eavesdrop on secret conversations. May the demons of darkness take me – how did you do it?”

The Arincil stared off into space, unmoved. “We forgive our women for offenses for which a man would pay with his life because they are incapable of controlling themselves. You are being like a woman, so I will ignore what you have said. Necium Tameto’s warriors are also no better than women. They blabbered about meeting Virilans in the wasteland, even adding details of their own invention. They cannot be blamed for their weakness, but I was hoping to get a rational response to my proposal from you.”

“A rational response?” Dorgoe righted his chair and sat back down, nervously rubbing one calf with a fat hand. “It’s ridiculous! Why would the Empire convey its most fearsome enemy to Virilan? So that you can ally with them against us? No, your leader has either lost his mind or he believes us to be fools. Tell me the truth, Lord Jaguar. Did someone in one of the port taverns tell you that old Licisium is an idiot?”

“Virilan will never attack the Empire. They don’t need you or your land or your riches,” the Arincil growled. It was clear he had no wish to share his knowledge on the topic, but he had no choice. “If Herandia is able to establish diplomatic relations with them, you will see that I spoke the truth.”

“Maybe so,” Dorgoe said, squinting. “Let’s suppose you are being honest with me. Even so – may the demons blind me – I can’t figure where you get your information. But what is the true goal of your mission then? I have to know that, or any agreement between us is pointless.”

“It has nothing to do with politics,” the Arincil said. “It is a matter of honor. The story is a long one, and difficult for you to believe or even understand. What I am about to tell you carries a high price. Let it be proof of our future friendship.”

“Tell your story,” said Dorgoe, resting his double chin on one massive hand. “I can be very trusting.”

A welcoming May breeze wandered into the pavilion through the wooden shutters, but the men ignored its delicate attempts to direct their attention to the legendary beauty of the Herandian sunset. The Arincil was unhurried, and his short, succinct phrases were well matched with his aloof manner. Dorgoe remained hunched over the small table, his eyes fixed on his companion. Only a clever squint changed his face at the rare moments when he interrupted the ambassador to ask a question.

When the story was done, both men sat in silence. Then, Dorgoe leaned back in his seat and scratched the bald spot on the top of his head.

“This is all very interesting, of course,” he said. “I had already guessed some of it. As for your plan, it seems reckless to me.”

“The Arincils’ power has rested for hundreds of years on that which you call reckless. I told you it would be hard for you to understand. You have too little room in your life for risk.”

“It’s hard to say who is risking more: me or your great leader. I understand him, though. He’s up against the wall and he wants to make me his hostage. A fine plan!”

“Personal considerations are not the most important thing. You must understand what matters: this is the only chance to prevent full-scale war between our countries.”

“I’m more likely to believe that a wolf will eat grass than that the Arincils are interested in peace,” Dorgoe chuckled. “On the other hand,” and here he pursed his lips, “at times, war with a friend can be more profitable than peace with an enemy.” He lifted the bottle of wine from the table and poured out two glasses. “Allow me to raise a toast to Lord Jaguar. May each of us pray to his own gods for the success of this outrageous endeavor!”

* * *

“Uni! Uni!” Sevelia Virando cupped her worn palms around her mouth and made another attempt to get her son’s attention. “Uni! Don’t lie there like a boiled crab! You’ll catch it if you’re late for your meeting!

Up until the moment when he told his mother about his upcoming trip abroad, Uni had innocently assumed that she would be overjoyed at the news. Once the communication was made, however, he realized – yet again – that he was a very poor judge of what people could be expected to do, even those close to him.

Emel Virando really was delighted by her only son’s brilliant prospects. She had spent the last of her money putting him through the academy and had personally overseen his studies as best she could. But the thought that her precious child would be away from home for at least six months, and that he would be visiting a country that was quite possibly populated by demons, threw Sevelia into a state of nervous energy that she managed to communicate to all those around her. Her most intimate friends – wives of successful shop owners and craftsmen – secretly envied her as they shook their heads over tea with her and helped her elaborate a list of all the dangers that would stalk her son.

“Last year, our neighbor traveled to Torgendam to buy lumber and he never came home. Some say a bear got him, but others say it was a forest demon. And it was the year before that some merchants from Arkenchif – that’s in Capotia – told us that outlaws are kidnapping people on the west end of the Great Imperial Road and selling them to the cannibals in Unguru! The Heavenly Deity only knows what those Virilans will come up with. I’ve heard merchants say that they aren’t humans at all, but walking dead. If one of them puts a hand on you, it’s as cold as the grave! How’s a woman supposed to let her son go there? Be careful, neighbor! He’s your only child. You raised him all on your own. May the Heavenly Deity keep him from danger!”

After several such visits with friends, Sevelia cursed Ronko for coaxing her son away from a normal, steady career. She cursed Ontius Sanery, who she was sure would treat her poor boy like a dog, and even (quietly, in her heart of hearts) cursed the Emperor for being too weak to refuse his ageing coterie of advisors. Uni had to grit his teeth and listen to her for several hours, and all of his arguments in favor of this grand opportunity to demonstrate his abilities were countered by the contention, always final, that there was no way he could understand a mother’s heart.

In the end, his patience wearing thin, he escaped to his beloved archive (after all, the Emperor had personally instructed him to prepare himself for the upcoming journey). Once he stood again in front of the achingly familiar gates – shaped like a scroll being unrolled – he had to force himself to go in. He too clearly remembered being escorted out of the archive the day before. The guards must have been aware of his new status, for they merely nodded at him as he went in. Uni reflected that Dorgoe, while outwardly unattractive, was eminently capable of carrying out the tasks entrusted to him, not forgetting even the smallest details.

Inside, the archive greeted him with its usual chilly air and odor of leather scroll cases. The archive workers who passed him in the halls gave him nervously polite smiles, and Uni concluded that the weather had changed in his favor. As always, Enel Barko was the only one truly happy to see him: the old man met him with open arms.

The brand-new diplomat bowed low before his teacher and promised that he would not let him down on this important mission. Barko had news. Enel Forsey had already sent a messenger to the archive to request that Uni be tested on his knowledge of the Virilan language and the results immediately sent to the palace. Once the messenger was gone, Enel Margio had given Barko a clear set of instructions: either the elderly master could report that Uni was incompetent, or he could leave the archive that same day, never to return.

“They wouldn’t dare!” Uni exploded. “I’ll tell Ronko everything. What a dirty trick! What a gross violation of the will of our Heavenly Lord!”

Barko shook his head. “You call it a dirty trick and a violation, but they don’t care about what you think. Everyone knows who is really in charge at the palace. I remember the old Emperor. He was a harsh man, to be sure, but people minded themselves around him. There was none of this back stabbing. The young Emperor is cut from a different cloth. He’s not a bad man, and he’s very intelligent. When he was a boy, everyone who knew him said he was kind and good. But now that he’s grown, what good is he to us? He’s soft and lazy, and he is too dependent on his advisors’ opinions and changing moods. Do you think he cares about a lowly servant like me? He’ll forget about me by tomorrow, even if that Ronko of yours manages to put in a word for me. He’s a wonderful Emperor compared to the monsters our Empire has known in the past. The reign of Kergenius will be remembered as a golden age, of that I am sure…” He gave a wry smile. “When have we ever had so much freedom? Each man does as he wishes, as if we had no Emperor at all and no Heavenly Deity over our heads.” The old man rubbed his forehead. “What is the use? The weak are glad to have freedom, but the strong are the ones who profit from it. Look at me. This archive is the only home I’ve ever known. If they let me go, I’ll die that very same day. No, the weak and poor have no need for freedom. It is a burden to them. Once the strong have everything their way, this new freedom will make the old days look like paradise.” His voice trailed off.

“Enel Barko,” I…I…won’t let them touch a hair on your head! I will march myself into the palace right now and tell them that if anything happens to you, I won’t go on the mission to Virilan. That’s what I’ll do! They can manage without me however they like.” Uni’s eyes shone wet. “It’s beyond imagination that they could have so little respect for your age and your hard work!” He grew even angrier when he recalled Forsey’s arrogant face and how he had ignored him at the council meeting.

Barko put a hand on his young friend’s shoulder. “Thank you, my boy! I’ve been in this bug-infested place so long that I can’t imagine life without it. I’ll die here in these walls, probably right at this desk.” Uni sniffled at this. “And don’t worry about me. They can’t hurt me, even if they try.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m too old to be afraid of anyone. What can they do, if you think about it? Margio will yell and carry on, but the whole pack of them are slippery cowards.” His old eyes sparkled as he looked at Uni. “I told Margio where he could put his threats. I told him there was no way I would follow his orders, even if he took a knife to me right here.”

Uni was impressed. “What did he do?”

“What could he do? He howled for a while, then he cursed me and went off to wherever it is he goes. Don’t worry, Uni! Everything will be fine. Let’s celebrate your new appointment.” At this, the old master opened a box behind his desk and drew out a dusty bottle of what they called “archival wine.”

Archive masters since time immemorial had hidden bottles in the depths of the stacks and storage rooms, planting them as gifts to their counterparts in the future. When someone stumbled across a bottle, the masters had a holiday (merriment was a rare thing in their lives, so they made the most of it). The older the bottle, the bigger the holiday. Long-time archivists claimed that archival dust and mouse droppings made the wine so strong that one cup could knock a man over. They also said that the one who drank the first cup imbibed all the wisdom of the scrolls with which the bottle had been found.

When Barko brought out the bottle, Uni at first tried to excuse himself, explaining that no official orders had been made yet and first, he had to survive an important meeting with the head of the mission. Barko cut him off and, with a twinkle in his eye, explained that this particular bottle had been found between two Virilan manuscripts, and that Uni simply had to drink it to complete his knowledge of that most complex language. As a final argument, the old man hinted that he might withhold his recommendation letter.

Uni was overcome with a desire to embrace his teacher and mentor, but he refrained until most of the bottle of wine was already in his stomach. Barko, as always, drank very little. As they sat and talked, the old man told him that he had dreamed of seeing Virilan since he was a young boy. He was satisfied that he had managed to convey that desire to his student.

When it was time for Uni to go, Barko took hold of his hand. “Chances are we will never see each other again,” he said, his voice cracking.

“Teacher, don’t say that! You will live longer than any of us! And anyway, wherever I go, and wherever I am, you will always be with me, and your knowledge will be in me.” The master walked his most dedicated student to the door, and they parted.

“I wonder if I really will ever see this place again?” Uni suddenly wondered. Only the Heavenly Deity knew.

A wave of sadness rose in his throat, and he finally realized what a great time he had had inside of those cold walls and how much of himself he was leaving behind.

“Uni! You still need to put on your good robe and fix your hair! Get up, boy! You don’t want to shame your mother, do you?”

“Coming, coming…” Uni mumbled. He realized that the wine had slowly but surely done its work. Oh life-giving Sun! I drink perhaps two times a year, and of course one of those times had to be today. If only I could get through it without a scandal…

* * *

Scandal was avoided. Uni carried himself with cautious dignity in front of his mother, and by the time he reached the villa where his future superior lived, he was back in the clear. He smiled sweetly at the marble dryad in the fountain and waved at the two stone lions guarding the door.

“I wonder what they feed them?” he said aloud, and petted one of the predators behind the ear. The lion was friendly but cold to the touch, confirming Uni’s suspicion that the animals were underfed.

“My goal is to not get fed to these lions after my interview,” he thought with a grin before walking bravely down the wide hallway to a meeting with his fate.

Judging by the view that opened up, fate had some very nice things to offer. Ontius Sanery’s villa was known for its collection of ancient artifacts from distant lands. Visitors called it a museum, but it also reminded them of a heap of trophies lying on the battlefield, awaiting distribution to various warriors. Not that the villa’s owner had any intention of sharing out his richly colored paintings from Mustobrim or his metal basins from Arincil, each large enough to fit a small bull. It was rumored that after victorious battles, the Arincils used these basins to bathe in their enemies’ still-hot blood. Uni wondered fleetingly if Sanery used them for this purpose too. A silly idea, of course, but he wouldn’t be surprised if Margio or Forsey did.

A servant slowly opened the elaborately carved wooden door at the end of the hall. Uni immediately recognized the style as coming from Torgendam. “It must be made of Karanham oak. How on earth did they bring it all this way?”

“The aspiring nobleman Enel Virando!” rang out by his ear. Uni jumped. He realized he had already been promoted two levels in the Empire’s convoluted system of ranks.

There was a scraping sound in the room, and the servant moved aside so that Uni could approach his new superior. I’m going to have to work with this man day and night for at least six months, so I need to get off on the right foot with him.

The man seated at the low table in front of Uni had small, unpleasant features, and his face was stretched out like the reflection in a cheap mirror. In a grating voice, he informed his visitor that he might approach.

“What a diplomat!” Uni thought. “I suppose I was naïve to think that they were all pleasant and charming.”

“You may take a seat,” the man said without looking up from the papers in his hand. “I am reading your background. None of it makes any sense. The fools in the chancery have messed everything up again.” He glanced up at Uni in annoyance. “Why don’t you tell me a little about yourself instead?”

“About myself? There isn’t much to tell.” Uni was beginning to feel like this whole meeting was a waste of time. “I was born in the capital in the year of the Heavenly Era 379. I graduated from the Imperial Academy with a degree in literature and started working at His Majesty’s archive as an assistant master in the department of foreign manuscripts…”

“I don’t need to hear all the useless details. If that’s how you plan to interpret for me, I can tell you right away that I don’t need an interpreter like that.”

Something in Uni snapped. “Is that so? Tell me what kind of interpreter you need and I’ll run outside and get him.” For a second, he was stunned by his own insolence.

“Young man, I think you have forgotten where you are! I have to wonder at whoever raised you. Surely you understand that civility is of the utmost importance for a diplomat.” The man kept his head down, perusing Uni’s record. “Aha! My instinct was correct. I see here that you had no one to teach you how to behave.” He shook his head. “No father. Such a pity.” Then he looked up and blinked. “Who was your father, anyway? Do you even know?”

“My father was a warrior,” Uni shot back. “He was killed on the northern border protecting disrespectful but highly placed officials from the barbarians. They were the same kind of officials that now try teaching good manners to his son.” The man’s mouth was hanging open at this point. Without pausing for breath, Uni went on. “I may be your interpreter, but that does not make me your servant. And consider this: you have much more to lose than I do. If something goes wrong, you’re the one who will answer for it. Have I made myself clear?”

Great Sun! He thought. Did I really just say that? I must be losing my mind. He’ll grind me into dust for that. I’m a fool! A complete, unteachable fool!

Instantly sobered by fear, Uni tensed his body and waited to see what his punishment would be. The man leaned forward and gripped the edge of the table until his fingers went white, but the result of Uni’s impulsivity was not what he had expected.

The older man twisted his mouth into what passed for a smile. “You must forgive me, Enel Virando! I apologize if I spoke harshly of your honorable parents. Let us continue our discussion in harmony. Would you mind answering a few more questions?”

It worked! Uni thought, and his muscles began to relax. “Of course,” he replied, sounding charitable. “That was the purpose of my visit to your lovely residence,” he added to soften the effects of his offensive.

“Wonderful. Let’s see, we’ve cleared up the issue of your father. Your mother, Sevelia Virando, is the fortunate owner of the Happy Trout tavern, am I correct?

“Yes. Only it is not a tavern, but an inn,” Uni replied. “One of the nicer inns in the capital,” he added.

“Of course, I apologize. Now let’s see…ah, your reputation. A sensitive issue. A diplomat must be able to control himself in any situation. Remember that you are not representing yourself, but the entire country and our Heavenly Leader. Do you understand?”

“I’m not sure what you are driving at.”

The man winced. “I’ll be less vague. Do you enjoy drinking?”

“Do I look like I do?”

“I’m certainly no specialist in that area,” the man replied with dignity. “But it says here that you have a habit of drinking and carousing. That,” he looked up, “is catastrophic for a diplomat.”

“The Emperor is already aware of what you call my ‘carousing’.”

“Is that so?” The man’s face grew longer. “What did he say?”

“He sent me here to meet you.”

“I see. Well, I have to say your experience is pretty thin, too. You’ve never been part of a diplomatic mission. That’s bad. And languages? How well do you know Virilan?”

“I have a letter of recommendation from the senior master of the foreign manuscripts department, Enel Barko. He is the Empire’s foremost specialist on Virilan.”

The man brightened. “Ah, a recommendation. That’s better. Let’s see it.” He unrolled the scroll Uni handed him. “Well informed, extensive vocabulary, capable of conversation, my best and only student…” He frowned. “That’s all well and good, but where is the seal of the archive? My dear boy, you’re applying for a very important job and here you’ve skipped one of the most important procedures!”

“Does Enel Ronko’s word carry no weight with you? And the Emperor’s personal request?”

“Yes, of course, but I can’t put this in your file without a seal. I’m sure you understand. Even our Heavenly Lord, may the Bright Deity give him health and happiness for years without end, has been known to change his mind about things. Paper, my boy, is more reliable…”

“Do you really think I am trying to fool you?”

“Not at all,” the man spluttered. “I just need you to understand that this business is not as simple as it might seem to an outsider. Administrative procedures are tiresome, but they do matter. You don’t expect me to run around putting seals on documents, do you?”

“If that’s all that you need, I’ll do it myself. Just tell me exactly what is required.”

“Now you’re starting to understand. It won’t be difficult at all, especially since I’ve taken a liking to you – a nice young man who grew up without a father and made his own way in life. I’d hate to ask you to run around stamping documents. If you’re prepared to compensate the administrative costs, then…”

Uni nearly leaped from his seat. “What did you say?” He felt like he’d been doused with cold water in the middle of winter. “Are you, the Emperor’s ambassador, really asking me, your own interpreter, to pay a bribe just to put a stamp on my recommendation?”

“Ambassador?” the long-faced man stared back at Uni. “Don’t make me laugh.” He couldn’t help giggling. “Why on earth did you think that a nobleman and advisor like Sanery would condescend to meeting with you? You are an interpreter, which is no better than a tool in his hands. A hammer, if you will. You’re picked up when needed and set down when there are more important matters to attend to!”

“Me? A hammer? I didn’t come here to be insulted. Who are you, anyway? My instructions clearly state that I am supposed to meet with the ambassador in person. Are you the ambassador? No. Give me my recommendation back. I won’t leave this house until I see Ontius Sanery. He can’t possibly have anything more important to do than talking to me at the moment!”

“You are correct, young man,” rang out a pleasant baritone. Uni turned and saw a man slightly taller than himself, with a slight paunch and gray eyes that shone with a sincere smile. It was the smile that surprised him more than anything.

“Forgive me, I was engaged when you arrived,” the ambassador continued. “Groki here undertook to entertain you. I hope he was not…overly familiar.” At this, Sanery’s smile grew even sweeter.

Uni gave what he hoped was a proper bow. “Of course not, we had a delightful time.”

Sanery bowed slightly, in perfect accordance with palace etiquette. “Let us take our conversation into the other room,” he gestured with a plump hand toward the room he had just come out of. “Please, follow me.”

Suddenly overcome with shyness, Uni walked quickly into the room, only afterwards remembering that he should have let his host enter first. Sanery made no notice. Shutting the door behind them, he gestured for his guest to sit down on one of the cushions arranged on the gorgeous red and gold carpet. “In Mustobrim, they say that chairs put unnecessary distance between people. I’m sure you are as motivated as I am to establish good rapport during our first meeting.”

“Of course,” said Uni, nervously glancing around the room. He noted the whitewashed walls and the pale blue frieze. The ceiling was supported by four columns of carved wood, and the elegant carved screens and bookshelves between them created a pleasant place for intimate conversation.

“Antiques from Mustobrim,” Uni realized in a flash. Long ago, he had seen a very old book that described rooms just like this. “All that’s missing are the weapons on the walls.” Just then, he noticed a pair of handsome daggers hanging on one wall. He was impressed by the ambassador’s simple good taste.

He turned to face the man. “Esteemed Enel Sanery, it would be an honor for me to work with you to further the good of the Empire and our Heavenly Lord! Allow me to humbly hand you my recommendations, which confirm…”

“No need!” Sanery waved a hand at the scroll Uni held out. He invited Uni to sit down on a cushion and did the same. “These formalities are a waste of time. The Emperor wishes for you to do the job, and there’s no one else who can do it. It’s already been decided. Anyway, that’s not why I wanted to see you, Enel Virando. Would you like some tea?”

“I would, thank you. You can call me Uni. That’s what my friends call me.”

The young interpreter immediately took a liking to Sanery. He didn’t feel like he was talking to a much higher-ranking nobleman. His new superior was very approachable, and his round head, with its bald spots and slightly protruding ears, gave him an almost humorous air.

Sanery stretched his legs out. “They say that wine is the drink of the wise, and that grand ideas come to those that try it,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. “Do not believe it! Tea is the wondrous drink that brings man closer to the greatest secrets of life. The Mustobrims drink it without the addition of other herbs, but very hot and very sweet. It’s an expensive habit, but worth it. You should try it. You’ll like it!”

The fashion for tea had reached the Empire via Capotian merchants, but it did not grow in Capotia. As far as anyone knew, it only grew in the Land of the One True God, where the monks used it to stay awake for prayers that lasted for days at a time. Sevelia Virando had been known to object strenuously to the Capotians introducing good Herandians to their odd tastes solely so they could fill their deep pockets with more gold. Uni began to suspect that his new superior had done his part in enriching the Capotians, who controlled all the trade in tea, including its sale in stores throughout the Empire. Nonetheless, he gratefully accepted the dish of tea he was handed and imbibed the steaming liquid. It left an unfamiliar but not unpleasant taste in his mouth.

“Wonderful!” he exclaimed.

“I’m delighted to see you have no trouble adapting to foreign customs,” Sanery praised him. “I think you will make an excellent diplomat. I was told that you know a great deal about Virilan in addition to the language. Is that so?”

“Your praise of my modest talent is flattering.”

“Oh, there’s no flattery here. Believe me, the key to a country’s heart is a solid knowledge of its customs and traditions. It’s also the best way to achieve what you want in negotiations. All barbarians – all foreigners, I suppose – tend to trust those in whom they see something of themselves. It’s the only way to approach them. Serious proposals, flattery, even gifts are pointless if you are unable to gain the friendship of the person you are negotiating with. That is the first rule of imperial diplomacy.” He gave a wry smile. “Did you think I just collect these things,” he waved a hand around the room, “because it’s a hobby?”

“Of course not!”

“You did. Everyone does. But let me tell you, all the things you see in my home play an important role in my missions. Do you know why I’ve never had a mission fail? I’ll tell you. It’s because of these things.” Sanery looked around the room with obvious pleasure. “Yes, these antiques are my best helpers in the difficult work of diplomacy. How else could I gain such a deep understanding of a foreign culture? You must know more than what is on your partner’s mind. That’s the first mistake most diplomats make – they try to calculate everything, as if people were pieces in a board game. Remember this: even the most influential people live by feeling, emotion, faith, and all sorts of other irrational things. Only the Heavenly Deity can possibly know everything about a culture!”

Uni’s head was swimming. “You mean the things you collect help you take on the character of the people you negotiate with?”

“Of course. You can’t begin to understand a Torg if you’ve never run your hand over the skin of a wild animal he just brought down. And you’ll never understand a Mustobrim if you’ve never tried tea. I won’t even start on the Arincils. I see you’ve understood me perfectly. I will take that as a sign that we will work well together.”

“I’ll do everything to keep from disappointing you, I promise!”

“I have no doubt that we will enjoy the greatest of trust. You’ve never been on a delegation before, but don’t let that worry you. Everyone has to start somewhere. I know next to nothing about Virilan, so you will be my teacher.”

“How could I ever be your teacher?”

“I mean exactly what I said. You aren’t just my interpreter. One of your most important jobs will be to keep all of us from making mistakes.”

“Do you mean…”

“Exactly! Every culture has unwritten rules of behavior. Imagine some sort of prohibition that a local would never think of violating, but a foreigner would know nothing about. You will be responsible for keeping us out of hot water.”

Uni nodded. “Because there’s no one else who can do it.”

“Precisely. I will not bore you by reminding you of the heavy responsibility on your young shoulders. I will just warn you that there will be times that you will have to be my eyes and ears.”

“I understand. This is amazing…and unexpected. You are too kind to me, Enel Sanery!”

Sanery beamed. “You aren’t afraid of hard work, I see. I hope that’s because you are young and strong and not because you’re flighty and lacking in experience.” He let that sink in for a second. “And here’s another rule of diplomacy. The entire delegation must act as one. There is no room for personal ambition, keeping score, or worship of rank. All of that must be left at home. All of us must help each other and work together to ensure the success of the mission.”

“It sounds so noble, Enel Sanery!”

“There’s nothing noble about it. It’s survival, my friend. I don’t know how you imagine it, but a delegation is nothing pretty. It’s two dozen men torn from their home country and sent to a far-off land where the people may be hostile. The road there takes months, and you spend each and every day of that time with the same people. Can you imagine it? Everyone’s usually sick of each other by the second week. The smallest conflict can spark trouble and ruin everything. Add in danger, brigands, excessive cold or heat, unfamiliar food, illness – everything conspires to work against the mission. Here at home, in our lovely capital, we bow to men of rank and ignore those without it. But when you’re in a foreign land, your servant may be the one who ends up saving your life! Of course, we retain our ranks, but we leave the ceremonies and the snobbism at home. Actually,” he coughed, “there will be plenty of formality during the negotiations. Once those start, you’ll have to stay on your toes.”

Uni was elated. “Thank you for telling me these things! All I can say is that my friends and coworkers have always found me to be friendly and easy to get along with. I promise I won’t cause any trouble. The success of the mission is my only goal, and I swear by the Heavenly Deity that I’ll do everything I can to help achieve it!”

“Very good, young man. I have no doubt that you will. I have dealt with all sorts of people in my time, and I can tell that you are sincere. Working with you will be a pleasure. We leave in five days, so I suggest you prepare yourself for the trip.

“Five days?” Uni gasped.

“I, too, was surprised,” Sanery admitted. “But they say you were at the council meeting, so I suppose you already know the reasons behind the urgency…”

Uni did his best to look intelligent. “Ah, of course. It’s obviously a matter of government importance!”

“Then let us lose no time. You will be informed of the time and location of our departure ceremony.” The ambassador stood up. “I expect to see you again at the palace, Enel Virando!”

He walked Uni to the gate and saw him off most politely.

“What a delightful person!” Uni reflected. “He talked to me quite as if I were his equal. That’s a true diplomat for you, nothing like the arrogant fools in the chancery!”

Warmed by these thoughts, he raced home to pack for the trip. His first thought was that he should treat his friends to dinner the night before he left. A few painful memories presented themselves, however, and he decided it would be a better idea to host his friends two days prior to his departure to avoid showing up at the palace hung over. “From now on,” he told himself, “wine will only be a sign of good things to come. I’ll throw a party to bury ‘Little Uni’ and show all my friends what I’m capable of in this life!”

As soon as Uni was gone, Sanery’s face fell. He turned from the gate and went back to his study, where he was met by his secretary. Obviously impatient, Zimius Groki had brought in a heavy scroll.

“Well, what do you think?” the ambassador asked without prelude. The polite smile was gone from his face, and even his prominent ears seemed to fold back against his head.

“He’s too sure of himself, Enel Sanery. If you want to know my opinion, he’s too young. He immediately gave himself away!”

Sanery sneered and walked over to a large window with carved casings that looked out into a small courtyard. Colorful fish lazily swayed in the dark water of a decorative pond carved out of Vuravian stone. Tall cypress trees cast long shadows that divided the pond into a grid pattern that was ignored by its phlegmatic inhabitants.

“The boy’s eyes were the size of dinner plates the whole time I was talking. Do you really think he’s Ronko’s spy?”

“I have no doubt of it, Your Honor! It makes sense. Ronko wasn’t able to get one of his own men appointed ambassador, but he is counting on the interpreter to be a key figure. The boy will keep his patron informed, and he will try to influence the outcome. I’m confident he has already received his instructions. I heard that Ronko was dead set against having a second interpreter, even though that goes against all the rules for diplomatic missions.”

“I never expected a boy of that age to try and catch me by the gills.” Sanery thought for a moment. “Is it possible that we are making too much of this? He didn’t strike me as having any experience of intrigue. He’s too young, and he’s never held a post outside the archive…”

Groki made a face. “It pains me to see you wasting your time worrying about it. No matter what he’s up to, he isn’t worth your attention.”

“That’s jealousy talking, Groki.” Sanery chuckled. “The boy will be a key figure in the game, once it starts. I can tell that much. And if Ronko wants to use him, let him try. I may just turn around and use him against Ronko.”

“Do you think it’s possible?”

“Why not? People like Uni are easily influenced. They don’t like being ordered around, but they’ll tell you everything they know if you make nice with them. Ronko will be too far away to control his protégé. He conceived of this delegation as his own personal triumph, but he’ll get the opposite result.” Sanery’s lips curled into a smile. “This will be worth my playing a comedy for a little while.”

“Licisium Dorgoe will be very pleased. He may even make you head of the Diplomatic Chamber!” Groki rejoiced.

“I doubt it. He is keeping Eusenium Hamery for that purpose, even though you couldn’t make the old toad do his job if you threatened to hang him. I heard he skipped the meeting with the Emperor to discuss this delegation. Heart pains, you see. He lets Dorgoe handle all of our foreign affairs without actually having a title or any responsibility. There’s no way Dorgoe will get rid of him. He knows I’d put a stop to his meddling right away.”

Groki had another idea. “Your Honor, what if Ronko has other people on the delegation who will try to interfere with your plans?”

“If it were only Ronko’s people. You can’t imagine how many nobles have approached me about getting their people put on the delegation. I won’t be surprised if someone offers me a bribe equal to that paid for the position of a guild minder just to get some relative or other assigned to the delegation as a baggage carrier! I’ve served the Emperor for many years, but this is the first time I’ve seen such frantic interest in a diplomatic mission.”

“There is too much at stake this time. A trade treaty is a delicate morsel, and many mouths are watering.”

“True. But how am I supposed to captain a ship where every sailor is trying to tip the boat? Impossible!”

“Do you know who the deputy ambassador will be?”

“I’m afraid I don’t,” Sanery sighed. “Time is short, but the mighty and powerful will continue to fight until the Emperor chooses someone they all equally dislike, just to make my life unbearable. Mark my words, that’s exactly what will happen!”

“That is too bad. Still, it would be useful to identify the people who have their own agendas.”

Sanery’s eyes narrowed. “I expect Virando will be useful in that regard. Once we reach Manibortish, I will announce that we are hiring another interpreter. Those who object will out themselves as Ronko’s men. I call it ‘fishing with live bait.’”

“That’s an excellent plan. What about the rest of them?”

“The rest of them? Did you bring the list of candidates? Give it to me and we’ll see what’s going on.”