Although he didn’t want to be seen to be taking sides, Venart turned the suggestion into an order, backed up by the full majesty of his office and the frantic waggling of his hands. When the noise had ceased, an extraordinarily tall, thin Son of Heaven emerged from the sloop’s small cabin and walked slowly to the prow, where he stood looking impatient.
‘A plank, quick,’ Venart hissed. Someone brought up a plank – actually, it was a long board for gutting fish, but it was the nearest suitable object – and the envoy came ashore.
‘I’m Colonel Tejar,’ he announced, with a tiny nod in Venart’s direction. ‘I’m here on behalf of the prefect of Ap’ Escatoy. I’d like to talk to whoever’s in charge here.’
It took Venart a moment to realise that it was up to him to reply. He’d seen Sons of Heaven before, even spoken to a few of them, but never one quite this tall or angular or official-looking. ‘That’s me,’ he squeaked, bitterly regretting the big red hat, which was flopping down over his left eye. ‘Venart Auzeil. First Citizen,’ he added.
The Son of Heaven looked at him. ‘Thank you for being here to greet me,’ he said. ‘Can we make a start, please? We have a lot to get through.’
‘Of course,’ Venart said, and a moment later found himself trotting along in the envoy’s wake like (for example) the sausage-maker’s dog. Fortunately, the envoy seemed to know where he was going. Venart didn’t.
‘Do you speak for the Ship-Owners’ Association?’ asked the envoy over his shoulder.
‘Oh, yes,’ Venart assured him, taking a couple of skips to keep up. He’d never seen legs that long on a human before.
‘And the Merchant Seamen’s Guild?’
‘Um,’ Venart said. ‘Yes, of course.’
‘Good,’ said the envoy. ‘Then we won’t need to have their representatives present during the talks. I assume they’re aware of that?’
‘What? Oh, yes,’ Venart panted, and passed the message on to the relevant parties. Fortunately, since their legs were even shorter than his, he wasn’t able to hang around and listen to their reaction.
He still didn’t know where they were going, but it didn’t really seem appropriate to ask. It was vaguely disquieting to think that the enemy knew their way round the Island better than the First Citizen did, but the sensible way to handle that was to file it under significant information and call it up again the next time he felt the slightest inclination to underestimate these people.
They stopped. To be exact, the envoy stopped (outside the Four Blazons Of Virtue, which Venart hadn’t been in since he was a very young man; in fact, he had an uneasy feeling he’d been banned from there for life – or was he thinking of the Blameless Virtue in the Sheepwalk?) and waited for him to catch up.
‘I took the liberty of hiring a room,’ the envoy said, ‘through an intermediary, of course. I hope you find it acceptable.’
‘Fine,’ Venart replied breathlessly. ‘After you.’
The sight of a Son of Heaven in the public bar of the Four Blazons caused a considerable amount of alarm and despondency, which the presence of the First Citizen didn’t do much to assuage. But Colonel Tejar obviously knew the way; he walked straight through the bar, up a short staircase, across the landing and down a corridor. The door was open, and there was a tray with food and a wine-jug on the table. Impressive, Venart admitted to himself, but a tactical error, surely. Why make a display of your strength unless you want to persuade me it’s greater than it is? ‘This looks fine,’ he said, and sat down in the more comfortable-looking of the two chairs.
‘Now,’ said Coloner Tejar, perching on the other chair and taking a writing tablet out of his sleeve. ‘Do you wish to start with a statement or any questions, or shall we pass straight on to our proposals?’
‘Go ahead,’ Venart replied; and he was thinking, It may just be because he wanted to make sure we lost the other two, because he knows he can outsmart me, but he wasn’t sure about Votz or the Guild. Well, so long as I know that, I should be able to cope.
‘I’ve taken the liberty of drawing up a draft agreement, ’ the colonel continued, pulling a little brass tube out of his other sleeve. ‘If you’d care to spend a moment or so looking it over…’
Marvellous handwriting these people had, Venart couldn’t help thinking; and even for a thoroughly utilitarian document like this they’ve been to the trouble of illuminating the initial letter with three colours and just the tiniest touch of gold leaf.
– Item: the Island to be associated with the Empire as a protectorate.
– Item: an Imperial Protector to reside permanently on the Island.
– Item: a permanent honour guard to attend the Protector, such guard not to exceed three hundred men-at-arms.
– Item: the expenses of the Protector and his staff to be divided equally between the Island and the provincial office.
– Item: -
‘Excuse me, ‘ Venart said, ‘but what’s a Protector?’
The Colonel stared at him down his nose. ‘An Imperial official assigned to reside in an Imperial protectorate, ’ he replied.
‘Ah. Thank you.’
– Item: the Protector to be consulted concerning all aspects of public, Association or Guild policy in any way having bearing upon the relationship between the Island and the Empire.
– Item: upon such consultation, the Protector to issue an official endorsement of such policy, such endorsement to be published in the same way as such policy.
– Item: in the event that such endorsement is not issued, the matter to be referred back to a committee composed equally of Imperial staff and officers of all relevant representative bodies of the Island.
(Clever; if they want to stop us doing something, they bring in the other two factions and get them to veto it.)
– Item: the Empire and the Island to join in a pact for mutual defensive and offensive military support.
(They get the fleet.)
– Item: only weights and measures specified by the relevant officer of the provincial office to be used in commercial transactions.
– Item: a full extradition treaty in the standard form issued by the provincial office to be signed between the Island and the Empire.
Well, there were several more items, and taken together it was total and abject surrender, but with honour. What more could a First Citizen ask? ‘Excuse me.’
‘Yes?’
‘Just a small point,’ Venart said, ‘but you haven’t actually said here that the extradition thing won’t be retrospective. Do you want to put that in or shall I?’
The colonel frowned. ‘That’s not a standard term of provincial office extradition treaties,’ he said.
So no prizes for guessing who you’ll be extraditing first. ‘It’s pretty well standard for us,’ Venart said.
‘Really? I wasn’t aware you had any extant extradition agreements.’
Perfectly true. ‘We have arrangements,’ Venart lied. ‘Customary practices built up over the years. You know, precedents and the like.’
(And if he asks me to name one person we’ve extradited in the last six hundred years, I’ll have to admit there wasn’t any.)
‘I see.’ The envoy’s face was expressionless. ‘Perhaps it would be a more efficient use of our time to defer detailed discussion of treaty terms to a later date. It would be a shame to jeopardise the momentum towards an agreement by focusing too closely on individual issues. After all,’ he added, looking just over the top of Venart’s head, ‘we don’t have to finalise the whole thing here and now.’
‘Of course.’ Venart read the rest of the document, but he didn’t really take it in. They had no choice in the matter, after all. ‘One thing,’ he said, as he rolled up the paper. ‘I don’t suppose this has even been considered yet, but it’s worth asking, I suppose. Do you have any idea who they have in mind for the Protector’s job? Just on the off chance that it’s someone we’ve heard of, it could help to set people’s minds at rest-’
‘As a matter of fact,’ the envoy replied, ‘there’s a recommendation in place; and yes, it’s somebody you’re likely to be familiar with. Captain Bardas Loredan.’