“I’m ready,” she said as she stepped out.
“You’re looking very well, Ambassador,” Listas said.
“Thank you.”
They walked across two hundred yards of the busy, crowded camp on their way to Necias’ barge. In the three days since Campas had warned her of her coming restriction two heavy pontoon bridges had been thrown across the river, and most of the army of Arrandal had crossed onto the narrow strip of solid land facing Tastis’ city of Neda, joining Handipas’ army. Tanta, the Brodaini commander from Prypas, had been ordered to withdraw his people from the siege, and was currently on a hundred-mile march to Laptillo, a minor Prypas dependency roughly halfway between Neda and Prypas. There he would camp while awaiting further orders.
Tanta, Campas told her, seemed to be cooperative enough. It was obvious that Brodaini forces could not be trusted in the siege, but likewise the government of Prypas didn’t want them back in their home city, where they might threaten revolt. Having them halfway between seemed a suitable compromise, even if it meant having them squarely along their line of communications. It was better than having to live cheek-by-jowl with an armed force one didn’t trust.
The united Elva forces were in a near-impregnable position, behind a breastwork thrown up behind an old green canal that had, Fiona suspected, been dug in an unsuccessful attempt to drain the vast swamp that hung off the army’s left flank. There were small forts in front of the position to provide a base for patrols and a warning in case of assault, and the armies were busy throwing an earthwork up behind them, in case Tanta proved treacherous and tried to attack from behind.
Across the river, where the pontoon bridges still allowed reinforcements to move from one bank to the other, a huge earthwork had been thrown up, where most of the Elva cavalry were barracked. It was their duty to patrol the long plain in front of Calacas day and night, to prevent Tegestu from getting reinforcement or supplies.
Tegestu, Fiona thought, was going to be allowed to rot in Calacas for as long as he liked, ignored by the Elva until sufficient force came across the sea to invest him safely, and that would not be until late autumn. The day before Necias had ostentatiously sent a parley to speak to Tastis, heralds with their trumpets blowing outside the main gate of the new Brodaini citadel, and Tastis had responded with heralds of his own; so something was brewing there.
Fiona had not been paying much attention. Warned her movements might be restricted, she’d started cultivating a source of data that she could continue to work with if she were forced to return to Arrandal, and that she could even work on during the journey: she was working up a survey on Abessas’ barge people — the polyglot, traveled, hardworking folk, sometimes entire families, who made their living up and down the rivers and canals of the continent. They were an interesting group: open, competent, self-assured, anything but the group of drunken, irresponsible louts the shore people thought them to be. They seemed to respond to her skill at sleight-of-hand with more interest than the fact she was from another planet, and hospitably offered to share their meals as soon as they’d finished their daily tasks, which mostly consisted of loading or unloading, entirely by hand, tons of food, forage, or equipment for the armies. Fiona found them fascinating, and fancied she had made some friends.
Listas led her to Necias’ barge, and courteously offered her a hand on the gangplank. “Thank you, no,” she said, hitched up her skirt, and went down nimbly with half the guard on deck grinning at the sight of her ankles. Guards escorted her to where Necias awaited in his audience room.
“Ambassador Fiona!” Necias roared at the sight of her, his face split by a vast grin. “I’m glad to see you!” He stood looking at her, his feet planted squarely on the deck, fists on his hips. “Can I offer you tea? Wine? Brandy?”
“Tea, thank you.” Necias, she thought, was enjoying this far too much.
“Sit down, Ambassador,” he said. “I have a request to make of you.”
Fiona sat on the guest settee and looked up at him. The atmosphere, she thought, was wrong for what she expected him to ask her. If he were to restrict her, he would be full of soft-spoken, apologetic, and feigned regret — instead he was ebullient. What, she wondered, was he up to?
Necias rubbed his nose, frowned to himself for a moment, and then wandered to his own settee and sat down, the cushion under his arm. “Ambassador,” he said, “the Elva will shortly be opening negotiations with Tastis for the eventual surrender of Neda.”
“Congratulations, Abessu-Denorru. You must be pleased.”
He glanced up at her sharply. “Yes. I am,” he said. She wasn’t certain whether he was telling the truth or not, or perceived her own remark as ironic. He rubbed his nose again.
“I would count it a favor if you would be present at the negotiations,” he said. Fiona looked up at him in surprise. “I would very much like to have a neutral party present,” he went on. “I’m told you know Gostu very well; and of course you speak excellent Abessas. Perhaps you could keep a third copy of the agreement in your own language, that we could appeal to if the terms of the treaty were not abided by. We like to have a neutral party present in these cases, as a guarantor of our good faith.”
You cunning bastard! Fiona thought with inward delight. He had wanted Campas to tell her of his intention to restrict her movements, putting additional pressure on her to cooperate in the matter of the negotiations.
But, she thought, exultant, none of that was necessary. She would be delighted to play a part in the negotiations; it was the sort of thing most likely to quickly legitimize her presence here, as well as that of the other Igaran ambassadors. It would also, she thought, help justify her presence at the siege to Tyson.
She frowned as if considering the invitation for a moment, then nodded. “Abeissu Necias, I would be honored,” she said.
Necias jumped to his feet and banged his hands together. “Lovely!” he said. “Now all I’ll have to do is convince Tastis of it!”
She looked up at him sharply. “He hasn’t agreed?” she asked.
“Not yet,” Necias said. “But we’ll make it a condition of the negotiations — he’ll go along.”
Fiona, watching his carefully, could detect nothing but innocence, but still she wondered: had Necias found out about Kira? Would he use Fiona’s presence at the talks as an additional form of pressure on Tastis — come to an agreement soon or we’ll unleash the Igarans on you?
This, she concluded, would require some thought. And, perhaps, a discrete Igaran listening spike planted in Necias’ barge, a spike requested as soon as she returned to her tent.
Necias grinned and clapped his hands again. “Ambassador,” he said, “I’m happy you’re so obliging. But I warn you, the talks will be dull, at least at first. I’m not anticipating any sudden developments. You may have to resign yourself to spending the autumn with us.”
Fiona smiled. “I have no other plans, Abeissu,” she said.
Necias beamed. Does he know about Kira? Fiona asked herself again. With luck, she thought, she’d know tonight.
The answer did not, she admitted, particularly interest her: she knew she was being used, and was simply curious about how.
Any pressure she could put on Tastis, she concluded, she would put there willingly.
CHAPTER 24