When the door closed behind Colonel Makdessi, he said, “What do you think?”
“I’d watch that one if I were you,” said Rosacher. “His ambition is likely aimed higher than the rank of general.”
“My chief concern at the moment bears upon the question of whether he’s capable of being a general. I’ll worry about his ambition later.”
“His plan seems reasonable given the circumstances.”
“Did you think so?” Breque rubbed his cheek with his thumb. “I’m not sure.”
The councilman’s calm demeanor, the casual way he seemingly glossed over his duplicity, pricked Rosacher’s anger again. “Is there anything else you have omitted telling me? Anything I should know before we decide this matter?”
“Damn it, Richard!” Breque spanked the table. “I apologize. It was an oversight for which I…”
“Oh, I very much doubt it was an oversight,” said Rosacher. “You concealed from me the existence of a force whose primary function was to attack Mospiel. I wouldn’t be surprised if you had engineered the entire situation, risked thousands of lives, just to fulfill your dreams of glory.”
“You’re one to talk about engineering situations!” Breque said, and would have said more, but Rosacher outvoiced him.
“I can see it now! Statues everywhere! Portraits, busts of Breque the Conqueror! Breque the Deliverer! Breque the All-Powerful!”
“Before this degenerates…”
“Who knows? Maybe even Saint Breque. Little schoolchildren will sing of your generosity and caring.”
Breque, red-faced, mastered himself and said in a strained voice, “Before this degenerates into a shouting match, let me remind you that we have a decision to make. We need to set aside personal differences and act in accordance with our best judgment.”
Rosacher bit back his response and sat glowering at Breque.
“I would like to hear more about this monster of yours,” said Breque stiffly. “Do you really believe it’s the same creature that lived for centuries beneath the wing?”
“What I believe has no bearing on its capacity for killing,” said Rosacher. “But I have no reason to doubt the story. Nor would you, if you had seen it.”
“It’s made of a gelatinous substance, you say?”
“I said it appeared gelatinous, but I could just as easily say it appeared to be made of obsidian. What passes for its flesh is mutable in form and density. Once it seemed about to assume a fully defined shape, but…” Rosacher absently pushed papers around. “It is one of Griaule’s creatures and thus we cannot hope to comprehend it. All you need to know is that it literally ripped my horse in half and that its speed is incredible. In the confined spaces offered by the jungle, Carlos and his men won’t be able to stand against it.”
“Interesting,” said Breque. “That Griaule would choose such a flawed man to be his agent. That is, if Cerruti’s story is true.”
“All men are flawed.”
“Yes, but not as terribly as this one.”
“It strikes me that Griaule is adept at selecting the right man for the job. A deviant, a murderer…he becomes Griaule’s guard dog. I assume that was Frederick’s position before he became Cerruti’s pet. And I’m certain Griaule saw some quality in you that, when nourished, would make you an efficient bureaucrat.”
“That’s a horrid compliment!” Breque punctuated the sentence with a barking laugh. “Of course it goes without saying that he must have seen something similar in you.”
Rosacher shrugged.
“How much did you offer Cerruti?” Breque asked.
“Five thousand and free lodging at the House whenever he desires it.”
“So little?”
“And a hundred horses for Frederick.”
“I would have thought he’d ask for more.”
“I told him that if Mospiel succeeded in their aggression, they would expand into the plain and make life difficult for him and Frederick. That engaged his patriotism.” Rosacher placed his hands flat on the table, as though preparing to stand. “If there’s nothing else, I have much to do before I depart.”
“We haven’t even begun our discussion of Makdessi’s plan,” said Breque.
“What is there to discuss? Every element of the plan works together in a way that promises the hope of success. A slim hope, perhaps, yet we can expect no more.”
“But he’s leaving the city undefended!”
Rosacher got to his feet. “The sole difference between Makdessi’s plan and a plan that leaves a force to defend Teocinte is that, in the second instance, there will be more bodies piled up below Haver’s Roost and our own attack will be commensurately less efficient. You know that as well as I.”
“So you’re comfortable with the rest of his design?”
“We might be able to put together a better plan, but how long would that take? How many opinions would we have to seek, how many consultations would we need to validate our conclusion? We cannot afford to mistrust our instincts. You’ve told me that Makdessi is the best available man to lead our troops. Very well. Let him lead.”
“Of course you’re right,” Breque said after a pause, and sighed. “You’ll be leaving in the morning?”
“Tonight, if possible. I’ve sent riders on ahead to spread rumors of a dangerous beast terrorizing a specific area of the jungle not far from the palace. I hope that by the time we reach that area, Carlos’ interest will have been engaged, so that when Frederick’s attacks begin, he’ll be primed to come after him.”
Breque nodded. “Good.”
The councilman’s tone of voice was dispirited, but Rosacher was in no mood to buck him up. “One more thing,” he said. “We have a sufficient stock of mab to survive a two week lapse in production. I should be able to return by then. But if I do not…”
“We’ll be fine as far as production goes no matter when you return.”
“How can that be…unless you have succeeded in spying upon me and secured a knowledge of my process?”
“There is no process,” said Breque. “I’ve been aware of that for years.”
Rosacher sat back down.
“Ludie told me,” Breque continued. “She yielded all your secrets before she died. She was not your friend…certainly not at the end.”
Breque appeared to take no pleasure in this revelation—his glum countenance did not reflect the slightest joy or satisfaction.
“If that is so,” Rosacher said, “why tell me? Why am I alive?”
“Why am I telling you?” Breque shook his head, as if bewildered by the question. “There was a time when I longed to tell you, when I wanted you to know who really was the master of our mutual circumstance. I wanted to tell you that day when I informed you of Ludie’s death, but chose not to because I felt you would be easier to manage if you believed you were in control. But how I felt at that time is irrelevant. As I’ve told you, I’ve come to recognize your value as a resource and a friend.”
“How could you ever perceive us to be friends? You’ve lied to me for decades.”
“I understand that is how you see things, but though I had little respect for you in the past, and less love, my lie became a benign form of duplicity, a means of preserving the friendship. Your lies, on the other hand, have been funded, without exception, by your self-interest.”
“Is this confession intended to persuade me to lower my guard where you’re concerned? If so, I must tell you it has achieved the opposite effect.”
Breque gestured to the heavens—he might have been importuning a deity. “I’ve always thought of myself as a ruthless politician, a skilled manipulator. Now that we are both facing the possibility of death, I felt that honesty might prove a comfort to us both. As I’ve grown older, I’ve softened my stance, but even in my salad days, I could never match you as regards ruthlessness and manipulation. You are relentless in the practice of those arts. Perhaps the fact that you don’t appear to have aged…perhaps it is not merely appearance. That might explain why you have failed to grow more understanding of other men’s frailties.” He stood. “At any rate, there it is. You have regained the advantage over me. I have no cards left to play.”