“I’m sure you’ve represented the Enventan very well,” Fiona said. She looked at Necias with a slight smile. “Will you excuse us for a moment, Abessu-Denorru?” she asked. “I think I would like to speak with stansisso Luco privately.”
“Certainly, Ambassador,” Necias said. Rinantas was going to get a scorching letter, he promised himself; Lidrapas shouldn’t have even been allowed to preach in public, let alone in the Acragas palace. He watched as Fiona and Luco went behind the partillo screen; then he went in search of Brito.
“Who the hell is this Lidrapas?” he demanded, after he’d got her away from the guests. Brito looked up at him sourly.
“A charlatan, I’m sure,” she said. “I don’t know where he came from, but he’s a good preacher, and he does conjuring tricks, like the Ambassador — I’m sure he enjoys letting people think he’s from Igara. He claims to preach their new religion.”
“Why hasn’t he been suppressed?” Necias demanded. “Not only that — how was he allowed to preach where Luco could hear him?”
“Rinantas thought he might actually be representing the Igaralla — who could know?” Brito said, her thin face disapproving. “He thought it best to be cautious — he didn’t want to offend Fiona, if she was actually behind it.”
“Pastas and Lipanto!” Necias swore. Anger raged through his limbs; he felt himself tightening his fists. “I’ll smash the man! I’ll have the priests draw up charges of atheism!”
Brito put a cautious hand on his arm. “Careful, Necias, you don’t want to make the man a martyr — persecutions can do that.” She lowered her voice. “I’ve been giving the matter some thought,” she said. “I think it would be best to ask the Ambassador to publish a denial, and then have him arrested for fraud. With Fiona denying his preaching, he’ll have no support left.”
Necias felt his rage ebbing as rapidly as it had come. Brito’s advice made good sense. “Very well,” he nodded. “I think that’ll work.”
Brito gave him a thin, reassuring smile. Necias nodded in the direction of the partillo. “I think you’d best go comfort Luco — she’s losing her faith right at this minute, if I don’t miss my guess.”
“It’s about time,” Brito said with a grim smile. “Ever since that Lidrapas appeared, I’ve heard nothing else.”
Fiona came from the partillo a few moments afterwards, a self-satisfied light in her eyes. “Don’t worry, Necias Abeissu,” she said. “I’ve set Luco stansisso straight.”
“Is she very upset?”
Fiona considered, her head tilted to one side. “A little,” she said with a slight smile. “But I was as gentle as I could. I don’t think she’ll grieve for long.”
“Acragas thanks you, Ambassador,” Necias said. “Perhaps it would be possible for you to issue a denial, giving disavowal to this charlatan or any other who claims to preach on your behalf.”
Fiona nodded. “If you will be so kind as to make sure it’s distributed in the city — and within the army, just to head off any trouble — I can give you the text in the morning, under my seal.”
Necias nodded. “Very well, Ambassador.”
She took her leave then. Necias escorting her to the pavilion’s entrance. He watched her scarlet gown disappearing into the darkness, inhaling deeply of the fresh, cool air, tasting the distant tang of the ocean.
Yes, he thought, I’ll distribute your denial, and I’ll take Lidrapas’ head if I can. But I can thank Lidrapas for one thing, showing me how dangerous you are, should you choose to incite the populace against me. They are already half-inclined to believe any miracle worker that comes along, and if you and your wonders should ever strike against the Denorru-Deissin we’ll be hard put to fight you.
He would have to put a stop to Fiona’s going among the army and the people; it was too dangerous for her to be allowed unregulated contact. He’d simply suggest it was a matter of her own safety, after the incident the day before, and keep her in the ambassadorial compound unless he could give her escort.
Yes; and if she petitioned to bring others of her kind down from the sky he’d find some way to delay it, to keep the petition alive but never to say yes or no. He would have to keep her as isolated as possible, and try to move her back to the city and the Acragas palace as soon as possible.
Word came from the partillo that Luco and Brito were ready to leave, and he ordered their escort to stand ready, then went to bring them out. Luco seemed blotchy and distraught, as if she’d been weeping; and Brito seemed grim, as if her none-too-ample patience had been tried. He gave Brito a kiss and Luco a pat, and sent them both on their way.
He saw the other guests off, and then remembered Tegestu, sitting patiently in his chair, his stern face fixed firmly on nothing in particular. He walked back to him, airily waving him back to his seat as he tried to rise in order to kneel, then sat carelessly in the chair next to him. He looked up at the servants, each busy clearing away the remains of the feast, and called out to them. “Give the drandor Tegestu and me some privacy, boys. This won’t take long, hey?”
He watched as they all left quietly, then leaned close to Tegestu and spoke quietly.
“You wished to speak with me, drandor?”
The old mallanto’s eyes were expressionless. “Congratulations, Abessu-Denorru, on your timely escape from the lersru,” he said. “I hope you have taken no injury.”
Necias grinned. “Pastas had his finger on me,” he said. “No ill effects, the Netweaver be praised.”
“Among my own people,” Tegestu said, “any captain of bodyguards who so failed his lord would ask permission to kill himself. If he were not invited into the Ghanaton at his lord’s command.”
Necias blinked. Was Tegestu offering to have Little Necias killed? He shook his head.
“That’s not our way,” he said firmly. “We just aren’t used to fighting Brodaini. I don’t think such a thing could happen again.”
“I hope not, Abessu-Denorru Necias,” Tegestu said. “Might I suggest you abandon the pavilion entirely now that the barges have arrived? The security here will always be difficult.”
Necias nodded. “I’ll take that advice, drandor Tegestu. Thank you.”
“I am happy to be of service, Abessu-Denorru.” Tegestu glanced behind him, then leaned closer, his voice lowering.
“I have a message from Calacas,” he said. “In four nights, Tastis will launch a sortie against Handipas’ army in front of Neda. He hopes that, if the sortie is successful, he can throw in the bulk of his army in support and smash the Prypas forces before we can intervene.”
“How good is your information?” Necias asked automatically, while inwardly calculating the wisdom of whether or not to inform Handipas of this. A defeat for Handipas early on might make him more tractable. But no... he couldn’t risk a rebel victory, even a limited one, that might hearten Tastis’ forces. He would tell Handipas at sunset tomorrow, he thought; that would give him time enough to repel the sortie without making his preparations obvious.
“My source,” Tegestu said, “is a member of Tastis’ aldran, Ataman Doren Dantu y’Tosta. Ataman is a loyal Brodainu, and when Tastis empties Calacas of most of his forces in order to launch his attack, Ataman has announced his readiness to open the gates to my own people.”
Necias fought the surprise, the catch at the throat and the hammering of his heart. “You — you’re sure?” he gasped.