Suddenly, Elizabeth broke off the mutual glaring match. She even seemed a bit embarrassed. "Still," she said lamely.
Michael wasn't going to relent. "I will also point out to my esteemed older sister that whatever criticism she-or I myself, or Judith, or anyone-might have of my daughter's judgment, no one can question her courage. Nor that of her companion, Berry Zilwicki. Which is no small thing in this universe, Elizabeth Winton."
Judith spoke up. Her eyes were moist. "Whatever else, Elizabeth, they seem to have saved the lives of several thousand people."
"Aboard a ship full of exiles," Honor took the opportunity to murmur, and smiled faintly as aunt and parents both looked at her quickly. "Seems like something of a family tradition to me," she pointed out. No one spoke for a moment, and then Winton-Serisburg chuckled and gave her an appreciative nod.
The air of tension eased still further, and Honor felt a distinct sense of relief as the emotional tempest receded. She reached up and stroked Nimitz's ears gently, and he pressed back against her palm, sharing her relief.
Then Willie Alexander cleared his throat.
"While we're looking at the bright side-such as it is, and what there is of it-I suppose I should point out that, from what little I can tell at this distance, they've also managed to salvage something from what's obviously a disastrous situation. And by 'disastrous,' I'm not referring to the episode on the slave ship. I'm talking about the very real damage our relationship with Erewhon has obviously suffered."
He gave Michael and Judith an apologetic glance. "Fortunately, Ruth survived. But, to be blunt, the damage we could suffer if Erewhon opts to withdraw from the Alliance is far worse than even the killing of a Manticoran royal daughter would have been. Especially if that idiot High Ridge keeps right on screwing around until we're back at war and need every ally we can find!"
Elizabeth looked at him, then nodded curtly and drew a deep breath. Ariel flowed down from her chair back, and she folded her arms about him, her dark eyes darker than ever as she hugged him. Her anger was fading, replaced by concern and calculation, as she finally began to consider the reports brought back by the courier ship as a monarch instead of a furious aunt whose rage had stemmed far more from fear for her niece than actual analysis of the situation. Famous as her temper might be, her political acumen was equally well known, especially in foreign affairs, and as she brought that acumen to bear now the political implications and possible ramifications of those reports she'd managed to evade, however briefly, leapt out at her. They were…
Not good. Not good at all.
"How likely do you think that is, Willie?" asked Hamish. Of the two Alexander brothers, Willie was the recognized expert on foreign relations. Hamish was very knowledgeable himself, of course. But, like Honor, his career had been entirely in the Navy.
Willie shrugged.
"That's hard to say, Ham. The imponderable factor is that touchy Erewhonese sense of honor. That was something Allen was always very careful to treat with kid gloves," he said, referring to Allen Summervale, the assassinated Duke of Cromarty who'd been Manticore's prime minister for so long. Then he went on gloomily. "Whereas if High Ridge and his people were deliberately trying to provoke it, they couldn't have done a better job-or a worse one-than what they have done."
He shook his head. "That statement from Countess Fraser! Was the woman insane?"
Now that the Queen's anger had a different target-and a far more legitimate one-it came back in focus. Fortunately, an actual focusrather than a shriek of quasi-parental fury.
"No, 'insane' is being too charitable. She's a coward, Willie, like they all are. Passing the buck and shifting the blame comes as naturally to that High Ridge crowd as gorging does to a hog."
She laughed, harshly, upper lip curled in a snarl which would have done Ariel proud. One which mingled contempt for "her" ambassador with something else. Something suspiciously like naked pride. "I take it all back, Michael. And I apologize, to you and Judith, both. Say what you will about the good sense of our girls"-proudly, that last, and no suspicion about it now-"they were no cowards, that's for sure."
The Queen shook her head. "And now what do we do? Not that I suppose it matters. Any suggestion I send over to the Government will just be shrugged off. Nor do I have anyone on the spot in Erewhon I can use as a private channel. Except those-ah, how to put it delicately?-not-too-cautious girls."
Willie cleared his throat. "Actually, Elizabeth, I disagree." With a little wave of the hand: "Not about the likely response from High Ridge, of course. I have no doubt at all he'll take the same tack Fraser took on the spot. Pass the buck, shift the blame, and do everything conceivable to aggravate the Erewhonese still further. But I do disagree-have reservations, let's say-about your assessment of the rest of it."
Elizabeth cocked an eyebrow. It was an invitation to continue, not a reproof. The Queen's hot temper was never inflicted on someone for simply questioning her judgment, unless it was done in a disrespectful manner.
"The thing is that now that I've had a bit of time to digest the reports, I'm not at all sure your niece and the Zilwicki girl were reckless. I suspect the opposite may well prove to be true-that, faced with a very bad situation, they did exactly the best thing they could have done. Very boldly, to be sure. But 'boldness' and 'recklessness' are not the same, even if they often appear to be from a safe distance."
Honor nodded. She'd already come to the same tentative conclusion.
Elizabeth spotted the nod. "Et tu, Honor?" she half-chuckled.
Honor hesitated. She had far more experience gauging military situations than she did the forms of combat involved in this episode. She might have operated on the periphery of a few black ops during her career, but never one this… fraught with potential disaster, and she was acutely aware of her own lack of expertise. Yet for all that, her instincts were leading her to the same conclusion Alexander had just stated.
"I think so, yes. The key thing that strikes me, taking the reports as a whole, is the role the girls are playing in the future. By which I mean this Congo strategy."
"I don't necessarily disagree, Honor," White Haven interjected, "but I would point out that the report also indicates that the strategy seems to have been proposed and shaped by a Havenite agent. That Cachat fellow, whoever he may be. Both reports, in fact, Ruth's as well as Captain Oversteegen's." He smiled crookedly and shrugged the shoulder not encumbered by a treecat. "Even though the Princess obviously did her best to minimize his role in the affair. For what you might call 'home consumption,' I suspect."
Honor matched the smile. She'd noticed that herself. If they'd had only Ruth Winton's report, without the far more dispassionate one from Oversteegen which had accompanied it, the name "Victor Cachat" would have been mentioned exactly once-and almost in passing.
"True enough, Hamish. But so what? On that score, I have to say I agree with Princess Ruth and Captain Oversteegen. Regardless of whofirst advanced the strategy-or who's playing the major role in shaping it-the strategy itself is impossible for us to oppose." She considered what she'd just said, then frowned slightly. "Actually, that's not putting it strongly enough. Under the circumstances, at least from what I can see at a distance, it sounds like a very good strategy. Taking away one of Manpower's most notorious hellholes and handing it over to their slaves for a homeland strikes me as a dandy proposition."
"I agree with Honor," Alexander said firmly. "Elizabeth-Hamish-we can't oppose it. Not now, for a certainty. I suppose, being completely cold-blooded, we could have tried to sabotage the scheme before it got off the ground. But it is off the ground. Or, rather, sailing forth soon enough in a merchant ship packed with thousands of former slaves. So do we support it, as best we can, or try to… try to do what?We can't stop it anyway. Nor, to be honest, do I even want to. As Honor said, this would be a splendid hammer stroke at those stinking slavers, if they can pull it off."