“Ahem,” said the dwarf. The muttering subsided. “To my right trusty and well-loved cousin, Dunbarth of Dunbarth, greetings: I hope the elves are feeding you well, cousin; you know how meager their eating habits are…” The emissary peered over the parchment at the speaker and winked. Kith-Kanan covered his mouth with one hand to hide his smile.
Dunbarth continued: “I charge you, Dunbarth of Dunbarth, to deliver to the Speaker of the Stars and the praetor of Ergoth this proposal—that the territory lying on each side of the Kharolis Mountains, seventy-five miles east and west, be entrusted to the Kingdom of Thorbardin, to be governed and administered by us as a buffer zone between the empires of Ergoth and Silvanesti.”
There was a moment of crystalline silence as everyone in the tower took in the message.
“Absolutely preposterous!” Teralind exploded.
“Not an acceptable proposal,” said Sithas, albeit more calmly.
“It’s only a preliminary idea,” Dunbarth protested. “His Majesty offers concessions, here…”
“Totally unacceptable!” Teralind was on her feet. “I ask the speaker, what do you think of this outlandish notion?”
All eyes turned to Sithel. He leaned back against his throne, his mask of composed command perfect. “The idea has some merit,” he said slowly. “Let us discuss it.” Dunbarth beamed. Teralind’s face got very white, and Ulvissen was suddenly at her elbow, warning her to stay calm.
At that moment Kith-Kanan felt a flash of recognition; he remembered where he’d seen Ulvissen before. It had been the day he’d rescued Mackeli from Voltorno. When the half-human had fallen after their duel, a crowd of humans from his ship had raced up the hillside. The tallest human there had had a full, red-brown beard like Ulvissen’s. And since the human had already admitted that he’d spent most of his career aboard ships…The prince started as his twin’s voice interrupted his thoughts.
Sithas was asking the speaker what merit he had found in the dwarves’ suggestion.
Sithel paused a moment before replying, considering his words carefully. “It is not King Voldrin’s offer to rule the troublesome region that I favor,” he said. “It is the idea of a buffer zone, independent of not just our rule and the emperor’s, but of Thorbardin’s as well.”
“Are you proposing we create a new country?” Teralind said curiously.
“Not a sovereign state, a buffer state,” replied the speaker.
Ulvissen tugged on his mistress’s sleeve urgently. Feeling harassed, Teralind turned her back to Sithel for a moment to speak with the seneschal. She then asked the company for a brief adjournment. Dunbarth sat down, carefully tucking the crinkly parchment letter from his king into his brocade vest. Despite the opposition to his king’s proposal, he was quite pleased with himself.
Kith-Kanan watched all this with barely contained agitation. He could hardly denounce Ulvissen during a diplomatic meeting—not when such an accusation would violate the law of good behavior in the Tower of the Stars on his first day back in Silvanost! Moreover, could he be certain Ulvissen was the man he’d seen with Voltorno? Bearded humans did tend to look alike. In any event, the elaborate manners and elliptical conversations of the ambassadors struck him as silly and wasteful of time.
“My king suggests a division of rights among the three nations,” Dunbarth resumed when Teralind signaled herself ready. “Ergoth to have grazing rights, Silvanesti to have growing rights, and Thorbardin to have the mineral rights.”
“Any proposal that puts the territory under any one nation’s control is unacceptable,” Teralind said shrilly. A strand of dark brown hair had come loose from its confining clasp. She absently looped it behind one ear. “Unless Ergothian rights are guaranteed,” she added curtly.
The delegations, mingled as they were behind the chairs of their respective leaders, began to debate among themselves the merits of a joint administration of the disputed land. Their voices got louder and louder. After a moment, Kith-Kanan couldn’t stand it any longer. He jumped to his feet.
Sithel raised a hand for quiet. “My son Kith-Kanan would speak,” he said. The faintest trace of a smile crossed his lips.
“As you know, I have only just returned to Silvanost,” the prince said, speaking quickly and nervously. “For some time I have been living in the wildwood, far to the south, where I came to know all sorts of people. Some, like my friend Mackeli, called the forest home. Others saw it as a place to be plundered. Ships from Ergoth have been lying off the coast while their crews steal inland to cut timber.”
“This is outrageous!” Teralind exploded. “What has this to do with the current question? Worse, these charges have no proof behind them!”
For once Sithel cast aside his assumed air of impartiality. “What my son tells you is true,” he said icily. “Believe it.” The force in his words stifled Teralind’s reply, and the speaker bade Kith-Kanan continue.
“The heart of the matter is that while kings and emperors wrestle over problems off national pride and prestige, people—innocent elves and humans—are dying. The gods alone know where the true blame lies, but now we have a chance to put an end to the suffering.”
“Tell us how!” said Teralind sarcastically.
“First, by admitting that peace is what we all want. I don’t have to be a soothsayer to know there are many in Daltigoth and Silvanost who think war is inevitable. So I ask you, is war the answer?” He turned to Lord Dunbarth. “You, my, lord. Is war the answer?”
“That’s not a proper diplomatic question,” countered the dwarf uncomfortably.
Kith-Kanan would not be put off. “Yes or no?” he insisted.
The entire company was looking at Dunbarth. He shifted in his chair. “War is never the answer, where people of good will…”
“Just answer the question!” snapped Teralind. Dunbarth arched one bushy eyebrow.
“No,” he said firmly. “War is not the answer.”
Kith-Kanan turned to the silent, crippled praetor and his wife. “Does Ergoth think war is the answer?”
The praetor’s head jerked slightly. As usual, his wife answered for him. “No,” Teralind replied. “Not when peace is cheaper.”
He turned at last to his father. “What do you say, great speaker?”
“You’re being impudent,” Sithas warned.
“No,” his father said simply, “it’s only right he ask us all. I don’t want war. I never have.”
Kith-Kanan nodded and looked around at the entire group. “Then, can’t some way be found to rule the land jointly, elves, humans, and dwarves?”
“I don’t see what the dwarves have to do with this,” said Teralind sulkily. “Hardly any of them live in the disputed land.”
“Yes, but we’re speaking of our entire land border,” Dunbarth reminded her. “Naturally, we are concerned with who is on the other side of it.”
Sunlight filtered into the hall through the hundreds of window slits up the walls of the tower; a mild breeze flowed in through the doorway. The day beckoned them out of the stuffy debate. Sithel rubbed his hands together and announced, “This is a good time to pause, not only for reflection on the question of peace, but also to take bread and meat, and stroll in the sunshine.”
“As ever, Your Highness is the wisest of us all,” said Dunbarth with a tired smile.
Teralind started to object, but the speaker declared the meeting adjourned for lunch. The hall rapidly emptied, leaving Teralind, Praetor Ulwen, and Ulvissen by themselves. Wordlessly, Ulvissen gathered the frail praetor in his strong arms and carried him out. Teralind worked to master her anger, tearing one of her lace handkerchiefs to bits.
It was a fine day, and the delegations spilled out the huge front doors into the garden that surrounded the mighty tower. Servants from the palace arrived bearing tables on their shoulders. In short order the processional walkway at the tower’s main entrance was filled with tables. Snow-white linen was spread on the tables, and a pleasant array of fruit and meats was set out for the speaker’s guests. A cask of blush nectar was rolled to the site, its staves making booming noises like summer thunder as the barrel rolled.