Part 36 (2/2)

'The Aachim are an honourable species. I will send out an emba.s.sy.' Troist riffled through his papers, eyed Nish speculatively, and bent his head.

Something was up. 'Sounds ... dangerous,' said Nish.

'It could be, so I'd need the right person to lead it.'

Nish felt an urge to slip out of the tent and disappear.

'I had you in mind, Cryl-Nish.'

'Me!' cried Nish.

'I can't leave the army leaderless with lyrinx ma.s.sing so near.'

'But surely one of your officers ...?' Nish began.

'They're good soldiers but I need Romits. Lieutenant Floid never speaks without an obscenity, Prandie stammers so badly that he can hardly get a sentence out, and as for Buffon '

'He's a dirty slob. Even so ...'

'The Aachim would be mortally insulted. Vithis is the leader of his people and the representative of another world. My officers have neither n.o.bility nor high rank.'

'Neither have I.'

'But you have been a scribe and translator to great merchants. You know the protocols and courtesies.'

'Not for the Aachim.'

'I have someone who can instruct you. Moreover, you are of good family and your father is a scrutator.'

'Perquisitor only,' said Nish.

'According to the latest despatches, which came by skeet last night, he has been appointed acting scrutator in place of your patron Kser ...' he stumbled over the name, 'Kservish Flydd, who has been suspended.'

'Xervish suspended!' cried Nish. 'What for?'

'It does not say.'

What was going on back at the manufactory? If his father was in charge, how were Irisis and Ullii faring? Nish had not had time to think about them in the past weeks. 'I'm sorry to hear that. Flydd is a decent and honourable man.'

'Can't think why he became scrutator then!' Troist looked over his shoulder in case anyone had heard the uncharacteristic and heretical utterance. 'Nonetheless, your father is now among the mighty. The Aachim will respect you the more for it, despite your youth and ... well, stature. They are great believers in n.o.bility, or at least breeding, and the hierarchy of power.'

'What will I say to them?'

'I'm sure you'll work it out. Be polite but firm. Observe all the protocols.'

'I don't know what they are,' Nish cried.

'Then invent some and then follow them rigidly afterwards!' snapped Vithis. 'Make no concessions, for you have no power to do so. Keep our interests in mind at all times.'

'How do I know what they are?'

'Imagine you are at the bottom of a deep pit, with hungry beasts on the one side and brutal slave-owners on the other. You want to get out of there alive, but you don't want to be eaten, or become a slave. Those are our interests.'

'And we could do a hundred things that might advance ourselves, or ruin us.'

'Indeed. You must use your own judgment about that. But when in doubt, say you must consult your masters. I'll have the tailors make an appropriate uniform for you. You'll leave in the morning.'

'Not alone, I hope.'

'You'll have a small guard and such a.s.sistants as protocol requires.'

There was no way to get out of it, though the fear of failure had never been stronger. This mission was bound to be a disaster.

He left at the instant of dawn, dressed in a smart blue and maroon uniform that two tailors had spent the whole night on. A spare was carefully folded in his pack. His guard consisted of just two soldiers, and one was a raw youth considerably younger than Nish's meagre twenty years.

'Your escort awaits you,' said Troist. 'Though I cannot spare the horses, you must be mounted. No emba.s.sy could go forth on such a vital mission on foot. Here is your charter. My scribe worked most of the night on it.' He handed Nish a rolled piece of parchment tied with a scarlet ribbon.

The doc.u.ment, written in the most florid hand, full of whorls, loops and curlicues, declared Marshal Cryl-Nish Hlar, son of Scrutator Jal-Nish Hlar, to be the officially appointed legate to General Troist, Commander-in-Chief of the armies of Almadin and presently Military Governor of the Central Almadin Region.

'Marshal?' said Nish.

'It would be the grossest of insults to send anyone more junior,' said Troist.

'But ...'

'As commander I am ent.i.tled to confer such a rank,' said Troist, 'if that's what's worrying you.'

'I ... I don't know what to say.'

'This may be the biggest gamble of my life. If you fail me, you'll be broken to a common soldier as quickly as you have risen, Marshal Cryl-Nish.'

'And if I succeed?'

'You may very well keep the rank. Look sharp now, it's coming dawn.'

His head whirling, Nish shook hands with Troist and hurried outside. His escort stood waiting by their horses, as well as a woman of middle age with coa.r.s.e skin and silver hair turning to white. She presented him with another parchment, unsmiling.

'I am Envoy Ranii Shyrr,' she said. 'Here is my commission. I will advise you on Aachim protocol.'

'My mother's name is Ranii,' he said, scanning the parchment. 'I'm glad to have you. Where have you come from, Ranii? Are you a kind of charlatan, like me, thrown into the water without knowing how to swim?' He realised his mistake immediately. 'I mean no insult. It's just '

'That you don't know how to put it?' she said stiffly. 'A considerable failing in an amba.s.sador, to my mind. Fortunately I have spent my adult life in one emba.s.sy or another, and the last five years as legate at the city of Sta.s.sor, which is '

'The princ.i.p.al city of the Aachim of Santhenar,' Nish said, wondering if Ranii felt herself hard done by. She had been pa.s.sed over for the position he held and doubtless resented it. 'I know of Sta.s.sor, though I've never been there.'

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