The Brodaini would be obligated by treaty to maintain a force of fifty thousand fighters, to be deployed as the Elva saw fit, by majority vote of the Elva’s cities. It was a vast army, forever at the Elva’s disposal, able easily enough to crush the forces of any individual city that opposed the Elva’s will, and able to swing the balance in any war of coalitions. The ambassadors had begun to count on their fingers, and had been appalled.
The dozen or so men composing the Neda-Calacas Government-in-Exile had, as one, shrieked with choleric outrage; but neither they nor the Elva ambassadors, all of whom took their part, could suggest any remedy to the alternative, which, as Necias pointed out, involved the continuation of a war in which the civilian population of Calacas would be caught in the middle — and which would also involve war in every city in the Elva, as the Brodaini revolted against their lords.
Gradually, without saying it in so many words, Necias had begun asking the ambassadors whether the cause of an native government in Calacas was worth the chance of losing their own cities... and, just as gradually, Necias had some of them at least considering the question when he’d made his next point.
Tegestu had informed him, just the night before, that drandor Astapan of Prypas had placed his forces under Tegestu’s command, and that Tanta and his whole force would soon be marching to Neda to reinforce Tegestu’s army. Since Necias’ own government considered the Agreement binding until such time as the Elva ambassadors all received instructions from their governments to vote it down, he would withdraw his own forces from the area of Neda-Calacas and go home, as he put it, to “prepare for the inevitable civil unrest that would follow a disavowal of the Agreement.”
Which left them all madly counting heads once more. If Necias withdrew his forces, that would leave only General Handipas’ Prypas forces present, to cope with the united forces of Tegestu, Tanta, and (presumably) Tastis’ own surviving people. With such odds any dissenters would have no hope of enforcing their point of view, at least not till after the late autumn winds brought their own reinforcements, and by that time there would be civil war throughout the Elva, with Tegestu and his available Brodaini firmly holding Calacas and at least most of Neda.
Handipas leaped up to object, wincing at the pain from his bound ribs — he’d had three horses cut out from under him in the fighting — and he ranted about the desertion; but it had all been wind and everyone knew it. Necias saw the despairing looks in the eyes of the Government-in-Exile, and knew he could safely disregard them in the future — they had no force with which to dispute any conclusion come to by the rest of the Elva. He saw also the calculating looks in the Elva ambassadors’ eyes; and Necias knew the ambassadors were prepared to sell Calacas for whatever silver button Necias might care to offer.
He had been about to proffer his button when the messenger had come to Hamila, who had been watching the turmoil of the meeting with his interpreter muttering in his ear, and the announcement of the last rebels’ surrender filled the room. “Under terms of the Agreement,” the message had concluded; and Necias thought that as the old Brodaini resumed his seat he saw a glitter of pleasure in his eyes. Necias could barely restrain himself from leaping onto the table to dance a jig. Instead he nodded profoundly, as if the news only confirmed what he had already suspected, and rapped on the table for order.
“Cenors-stannin, I’m sure this only confirms the wisdom of the Agreement, hey?” he said. “Tastis’ aldran would never have ordered his suicide and started surrender talks if we hadn’t shown a little flexibility.” And when he saw one of the Government-in-Exile’s people begin to boil over, Necias swiftly changed the subject.
“There will be some disruption, of course, and we of the Elva must unite to make things as smooth as possible,” he said. “Those inhabitants of Calacas who won’t wish to live under Brodaini rule will have to be settled elsewhere, and Neda can’t take them all. Also, thousands of Brodaini, their dependents, and all their goods will have to be moved from the other Elva cities to Calacas, hey? The Brodaini have inherited a war fleet from Tastis, but they’re all galleys good only for coastal work and they don’t have any merchant vessels to speak off — so someone’s going to have to rent them transport. Also, the Brodaini will be in dire need of foodstuffs for the journey, and probably until they’re settled in on their new lands, and someone will have to sell them food. I propose that we should reach an agreement on this as soon as possible.”
There: the silver button. Profits to be made on transport and supplies, brokerage commissions to be earned settling Calacas refugees. He saw the looks the ambassadors began giving one another, and he knew it was time to end the meeting. Necias knew he had won enormous cimmersan from this Agreement, that his momentum had slowly gathered and was now unstoppable: he had won, and the future was his.
Thank you, friend Tegestu, he thought; and he stifled a laugh at the irony of his thought, that he would ever thank such a man for such a favor.
“It’s been a long night, cenors-stannin,” he said, “and a difficult day for us all. I propose we adjourn for the present, and meet again tomorrow noon. Those in favor?”
“We need to settle the matter of Calacas first,” Handipas snapped, with a chorus of panicked assent from the Provisional Government:
Necias pursed his lips doubtfully, enjoying his charade. “Cenors-stannin,” he said, “I doubt we can settle anything tonight. It’s very late. Best make a fresh start in the morning.”
“Are we in principle going to support the surrender of an Elva city?” Handipas shouted, banging his cup on the table. “The Brodaini got it by treachery — how do we know they’ll stop with conquest of the one? How do we know they’re not simply uniting their forces in order to seize the whole continent? How do we know Neda isn’t next?”
Necias was ready with his answers, but it was the Cartenas ambassador who rose to his feet and shouted Handipas down. “Because they can’t even feed themselves as it is!” he said. “They’ll be dependent on us for generations! If they misbehave we can starve them!” He, Necias thought, had been easy to convince: his city was in civil turmoil after the assassination of their Abeissu and the resulting scramble of merchant houses frantically putting together coalitions and purging their enemies, and Cartenas in its current fragile condition would all too easily be shattered by an assault from the Brodaini quarter. Necias could scarcely keep himself from laughing out loud — if he could adjourn the meeting now, he thought, the other Elva cities would sell out Calacas before breakfast. Even Handipas was unsupported by anyone else in the Prypas delegation.
“Adjourn! Adjourn!” The other ambassadors were banging the table and glaring at Handipas. Handipas turned white with anger and folded his arms, eyes burning outrage. Necias called the meeting to an end.
The delegates were quick to take their leave — eager, Necias thought, to begin to turn the new political reality to a profitable account. The Government-in-Exile left with Handipas, looking with bitter resentment over their shoulders as they left. Necias leaned back in his massive chair, stretching his spine and shoulders, then signaled to the servants to pour the last cup of wine.
“Beg pardon, Abeissu,” one of the guards murmured. “Ambassador Fiona wishes to see you.”
“Now?” Necias gulped wine, wondering what he should do, and how he could avoid a meeting.
“She’s been waiting for some time, Abeissu. She wished a private audience.”
Necias gnawed his lower lip. Fiona had to know that he’d had a part in throwing her to Tastis, and the woman had enormous power and an unknown capacity for revenge. He shook his head, trying to clear it. Gods, how to get rid of her? How to get rid of all her people and their danger?