“Such as ambassadors?” Handipas asked, his tone silky, languid. “Are all your diplomats capable of such destruction?”
“Any diplomats setting out alone to a war, certainly,” Fiona said. “War is a dangerous business, and it’s easy for a neutral to get caught in a dangerous situation.”
“You seem to come from a dangerous place, Ambassador,” Handipas continued, his fingers circling idly on the crystal rim of a goblet. “If your diplomats are capable of such destruction, how destructive can your soldiers be? Or are your diplomats soldiers as well as ambassadors?”
There was a moment of silence. Fiona smiled, then spoke, her tone confident, reassuring. “We have sent no soldiers to your world, General Handipas cenors-efellsan.”
Handipas shrugged; there was still a smile on his face. “I didn’t say you had, Ambassador,” he said. “I was merely speculating.” He pursed his lips, looking down as his finger circled the cup. A subtle ringing tone came from the cup; Necias repressed a shiver as the sound touched his nerves with delicate aural claws. “You brought down that building in a flash of lightning and thunder,” Handipas said. “I imagine that with little more effort you could bring down a city wall, if you were convinced it would benefit you.”
“We will not,” Fiona said, “intervene in your affairs. We will never fight against you, nor will we fight with you as allies. There are very few of us and there is no possibility of our being a threat to you. But we must be allowed to defend ourselves if attacked. I regret the necessity, yesterday, but I had little choice.”
“Of course, of course, so you have said,” Handipas’ said hastily, with a complimentary smile. “I didn’t mean to sound as if I were questioning your assurances, Ambassador.” He took his hand from the wine cup.
“Previously your people had been known for their inquisitiveness, for their wish to gather as much information about us as possible. Now you are known to be deadly. I was praising your skill, that is all, one soldier to another.” And before Fiona could reply he turned to one of the servants, holding out a purse. “Give this to the cooks, with my compliments,” he said. “They’ve performed well, under these difficult circumstances.”
Necias silently drew a breath. Handipas had been cunning, making his point with skill that no Igaralla could be trusted as long as any one of them could wield such power. Necias was glad he had seen it: Handipas was far more dangerous than he had thought.
And, for that matter, so was Fiona.
The dinner came to an end in a series of formal toasts: the company pledged eternal fidelity and friendship, undying enmity to Tastis, and vigilant cooperation; and probably meant little or none of it. Luco and Brito came from behind their screen to bid farewell to the guests; Handipas bussed Necias on both cheeks and made his way out, followed by his company. Necias felt a touch on his elbow.
“Beg pardon, Abessu-Denorru.” It was Tegestu, his voice pitched low. “I beg leave to speak privately, I hope this evening. It’s most urgent.”
Necias looked at Tegestu’s face for a clue of what this might be about, seeing nothing but frowning seriousness; then he glanced at the remaining guests and calculated the amount of time it would take to empty the pavilion, compliment the staff, and detail the guards necessary to take Luco and Brito back to their barge. “Can you wait half an hour, cenors-stannan?” he asked. “It will take a while to disengage from this company.”
“Aye, Abessu-Denorru,” Tegestu said, bowing.
“Seat yourself, Tegestu,” Necias said, throwing out an arm toward unoccupied chairs. “I’ll be with you as soon as I can.”
Tegestu bowed again and stepped back, his face resuming its normal arrogant scowl, and Necias made his way to where one of the Neda-Calacas Government-in-Exile seemed wrapped in ferocious argument with a junior member of the Cartenas Embassy — all of which proved not to be over policy, but rather over the relative merits of the dancing of a pair of camp followers. Necias soothed them both, called for wine, and then noticed Luco in conversation with the Ambassador Fiona. The fact of one of his family being in touch with her without his supervision made him nervous: he knew Fiona spent most of her time gathering information, and he did not want himself gathered. Besides, he thought with a shiver, she’s dangerous. As Handipas has done us all the favor of pointing out.
“Ambassador,” he greeted her. “I hope the evening was pleasant.”
Fiona nodded with her usual self-assurance. “I enjoyed myself, Abessu-Denorru,” she said. “I believe your guest of honor enjoyed himself as well.”
“That horrible little man!” Luco said suddenly. Necias looked at her in surprise. Luco laughed suddenly, and then spoke, smiling; it seemed to Necias as if she gave Fiona a covert look, as if she shared a secret. “Well,” she said, “we know what will happen to him, don’t we?”
There was a slight pause before Fiona’s answer. “I’m sorry, Luco stansisso. I’m not sure what you mean.’’
Luco smiled nervously; but Necias saw that her secret look was still there. “I mean that I’ve heard the Enventan. Enventan Lidrapas.”
Necias saw Fiona’s blank response. “Enventan Lidrapas,” she repeated. “I’m not familiar with the name. A priest, I suppose? The Enventan concerns himself with what will become of General Handipas?”
“And with the others who refuse you, Ambassador Fiona,” Luco said happily. “He is preaching your faith, the faith of Igara. The city is astonished by his wisdom, as well as his miracles.”
“Is it now?” Fiona asked quietly, and the tone of her voice made Necias look at her in surprise. It was, he thought, a dangerous tone; he wondered if he had really heard it, or whether Handipas’ suggestion had made him hear things. Fiona pursed her lips in thought for a brief moment, then looked at Luco with knitted brows. “Please tell me what the Enventan has said regarding my faith, Luco stansisso. I would be grateful.”
“You wish a catechism now, Ambassador?” Luco seemed startled by the request. “I’ll do my best,” she said doubtfully, “but I’ve seen the Enventan only twice, and I haven’t been initiated into the mysteries.”
“Please tell me what you’ve heard, stansisso Luco,” Fiona said. She smiled, Necias thought, with effort. “Anything you can. I’d appreciate it.”
“Please oblige the Ambassador,” Necias said grimly. Where had Luco been exposed to this charlatan? he wondered. Was his son Rinantas, looking after Acragas interests in his absence, allowing him access to the palace? If so there was going to be a stiff letter going to Arrandal by the next boat. “I’d like to hear of this Enventan myself,” Necias said.
Luco gave a swift glance at Necias, surprised by his wish, and then smiled. “Of course, husband cenors-efellsan,” she said. “But I would have thought that you would have heard the new preaching from the Ambassador Fiona herself.”
Fiona’s answer was accompanied by an ironic smile. “I don’t consider it my duty to preach, stansisso Luco,” she said.
“Don’t you? I’m sorry — I would have thought —” Luco dissolved in confusion. “Maybe I’m not the person to advance the preaching here. I’m not used to speaking in front of people, and I’m sure I don’t understand enough of it.”
“That’s perfectly all right,” Fiona said. She reached out to take Luco’s hand, giving her encouragement. “Just tell me what you’ve heard.”
“Oh. Of course,” Luco said, blushing to her ears. She gave another nervous glance to Necias, then spoke. “The Enventan preaches that the Igaralla have come to our world in order to offer us salvation,” she said. “That you and your people are going among us in secret, and that you are gathering information so as to know which of us accepts your faith, and which reject you. And that some day soon, your star ships will come down from the skies and take all the believers to Igara, where we will live forever in happiness.” She looked up at Fiona, her eyes radiating worshipful awe. “And those who don’t believe, like Handipas, will have to remain here, to die in misery.” She gave a brief, nervous smile. “I hope I’ve got it right, Ambassador. I’m not used to speaking like this.”