Part 53 (1/2)
DUMARIA, DUMAR.
Lord Ehara lifts the crystal decanter, lets the light from the window illuminate the amber liquid, then sets the decanter on the writing desk. He walks to the shorter bookcase and extracts a volume. The Art of War.
He replaces the leather-bound book. ''They never call it 'the profession of war' or 'the faith of war' or some such. It's always an art.”
The rangy man in the white of a Sea-Marshal nods from the wooden chair across from the writing desk.
”War is conflict, like the conflict of harmony and dissonance. In conflict, nothing is certain. So warfare is an art. It is not like smithing a blade or plowing a furrow.”
”Sturinn has been good at war.”
”We deal always with the uncertain. The sea is our home, and it is never sure.”
Ehara extracts another book, scans it, and replaces it on the shelf ”Why are you here? Why a fleet of forty s.h.i.+ps? Why not just replace me? I could not stand against Stunnn.
'You are perceptive,” jerRestin says. ”We prefer perceptive allies and friends.”
'You talk of friends.h.i.+p, Sea-Marshal jerRestin,” says Ehara easily. ”1 have taken your tokens of friends.h.i.+p and your advice. Now, I have lost hundreds of golds, five companies of lancers, and the confidence of many of my officers. Southern Defalk lies in the b.l.o.o.d.y hands of that butchering sorceress.” Ehara lifts a goblet of wine from the desk in a mock toast, then replaces it, untouched.
”You have taken our advice and our coins when it suits you,” answers the rangy man with the tanned face. ”And a few gems.
”That may be,” Ehara laughs. ”Rulers have that habit. What suggest you now?”
”Wait for her to come to you.”
”Now you suggest this?”
”Had you not meddled in Defalk, she would have no reason to enter Dumar.”
”Oh.” Ehara lifts the goblet again in another toast. ”A toast to mighty Sturinn. You have encouraged me to enrage my neighbor, knowing my efforts would fail-”
”You began those efforts before we came to offer friends.h.i.+p.”
”I stand-corrected, mighty Sea-Marshal.” Ehara takes a deep swallow of the amber wine. ”You encouraged me to increase my efforts. That will encourage the sorceress of the north to invade poor Dumar. Because mighty Sturinn is my friend, Sturinn can then bring all her troops and s.h.i.+ps to my aid, crus.h.i.+ng the cruel and sorcerous invader. Then Sturinn will bring us trade, and more s.h.i.+ps, and new customs. And before long, Dumar will join the Ostisles under the Maitre of Sturinn. Do I have that right?”
”Almost,” admits jerRestin. ”Except that Lord Ehara will be viceroy for Dumar and Defalk, high above all in Liedwahr.”
”That is so you Sea-Priests can claim you have come but to help your friend and ally.”
''Would you rather stand against the sorceress and the Liedfuhr of Mansuur alone? Who now knows of the Lord of Bultok or the Marque of Cealur? All those lords have vanished into the maw of Mansuur.”
''A sad choice I face.”
”A better choice than without Sturinn,” points out jerRestin.
Ehara laughs and lifts his goblet. ”Here's to waiting. May it not prove too costly.”
The Sea-Marshal frowns momentarily.
III.
THEMA UND.
VARIANTE.
66.
The main guest chamber at Stromwer had two narrow stone windows, opposite each other in one corner, with a hot breeze, a bed, and a small bath chamber built into one corner of the narrow and deep room.
Rickel had located a small writing desk and had the servants move it into the room, along with three chairs.
Anna supposed she could have used the late Dencer's study, but she didn't feel comfortable with that.
That sort of thing seemed too presumptive, even if she had effectively conquered Stromwer. She ma.s.saged her forehead. The double vision had vanished after the last two days of rest, but she still had a slight headache.
With the thrap on the door, she turned her head. ”Come in.”
”My lady.” Jecks wore a clean blue tunic, and had washed up. He looked more handsome than ever as he stepped into the guest chamber. Behind him stood a messenger bearing leather bags of some sort.
Anna had to make an effort.not to smile insanely. She was glad to see Jecks ... and his smile and twinkling eyes. She needed something positive in her life. ”Lord Jecks.”
”My lady. You have some. . . dispatches. . . from Falcor.”
”Dispatches?” Anna offered a smile, hoping her smile wasn't too inviting, too forward. Idiot! You worry about being too distant, and you worry about being too forward. ”I suppose it had to happen.” She kept smiling, not exactly sure why; Hormones? Do I have any left?
”Put them there.” Jecks gestured to the braided brown-and-white rug beside the wide bed.
”Yes, sire. Lady Anna.”
As the messenger departed, the regent looked at the three bags of scrolls Jecks had escorted in.
The white-haired lord smiled broadly and lifted the largest bag. ”Those are from Dythya.” He stacked the scrolls on the foot of the bed behind the small writing desk.
Anna groaned.
Jecks held another bag and began to extract a second set of scrolls. ”These are from Menares.'' A third and smaller bag followed. ”These are from Himar.”
”Wonderful.”
”You are the regent, and some things about the business of Defalk must be handled by the regent.”
”Scrolls are better than battles,” she conceded.
”They offer less hazard to health.”
Anna wasn't sure that administration, especially by horse-carried messages, wasn't hazardous to health and sanity. She took a deep breath and started with the scrolls from Dythya, opening and scanning them and putting them in piles on the bed-those where there seemed to be something she needed to do; those that were information she probably needed to go over; and those complaining about Menares. When she was done, over a gla.s.s later, the first pile held a half-dozen scrolls: the second a dozen; and the third, five.