What can you say? he thought. The School of the Grove taught that the love of women was a weakness, disturbing the equilibrium that a wise man constantly sought. He didn't think that was what Esmond's grief needed to hear; and he'd obviously loved Nanya with exactly the sort of grand obsessive passion that Bestmun had denounced, the sort that had set a thousand ships to sailing and brought the wrath of the Gods down on the city of Windhaven in the ancient epics. The problem is, he'd say it was worth it, even with the pain, Adrian decided. Thank the gods I'm free of that, at least. It would have been more wholehearted if he'd been able to deny an element of wistful envy. .
His host saved him the embarassment of speech. "Come," he said, smiling. "The King will hear you, most fortunate of men."
Adrian's eyes went to the volcano for a moment. The slopes of such mountains bore soil of marvelous richness. . but anything a man grew there might be destroyed by fire and ash at any moment.
We never said it would be easy, lad, Raj said.
Adrian took a deep breath and bowed in his turn. "The King does us honor," he began.
* * *
"The King does us honor," Adrian said again as they sat awkwardly, unused to the cross-legged position.
"The King is finished with ceremony," Casull said, leaning back against the pile of cushions. "I can see men beating their heads on the floor of the throne room any time of the day-men with something interesting to say are much rarer, and I prefer not to have important news bellowed out in open durbar. Even the Confederacy can find the occasional able spy."
The day had turned warm; the King was glad enough of the peacock-feather fans stirring a little air across his face, and the fine mist from the fountain in the courtyard. The palace of the Kings of the Isles was a warren that had grown by accretion over four centuries, every new monarch adding something and few tearing anything down. This chamber was open at both ends, slender pillars with coral capitals giving onto the corridor and a terrace that looked over the outer gardens; the through breeze made it tolerable on these hot rainy-season afternoons. From the raised platform where he sat Casull could see past the Emeralds to the city, and to the black thunderclouds piling up on the eastern horizon.
Luridly appropriate, he thought.
"The. . grenade, did you call it? The grenade was very impressive. At sea, such weapons could be decisive-at least for the first few times, when the enemy were unused to them, and had none themselves."
He spoke Emerald, the cultured version of Solinga's gentlefolk, not the patois of the sea. The younger Emerald's Islander was impressively fluent, but it wouldn't do to let him think he was dealing with a boor, a mere jumped-up pirate chief. Casull's mental eyes narrowed as he appraised this Adrian Gellert; outwardly he was very much a young Scholar of the Grove, but there was something else. . Harder than one might expect, he thought. And more perceptive-he misses nothing.
The brother was more outwardly formidable. A fighting man, Casull judged, and not just an athlete. The reports from the mainland, and from the spies among the barkeeps, whores and gamblers who'd had contact with the mercenary troop the Gellerts had brought with them, all said he had the baraka, the gift of inspiring men in battle. Wits besides; and he certainly looked like an incarnation of Wodep, the ancient War God of the mainlanders.
The younger Emerald bowed. "O King, the grenades are the least of what can be done with the new. . new principle involved in these explosive weapons."
Casull raised his eyebrows. The Emerald word meant underlying cause, and he didn't quite see how it applied.
"Speak on," he said mildly, quelling a restless stir by his son Tenny. Let the boy learn patience; that's not the least of a ruler's virtues.
"If my lord the King would deign to look at these-the first is what is called a cannon, for hurling iron balls and giant grenades; to smash ships, or batter down the walls of a fort. ."
Two hours later Casull leaned back again. "Interesting indeed," he said. His eyes turned to Esmond. "And you, young sir, what have you to say?"
Esmond smiled, a gesture that did not reach the cold blue eyes. "My brother is the scholar," he said. "What I do is fight. I've managed to kill a fair number of Confeds, over the past six months. I intend to kill a good many more." His fist tightened on his knee; the scars and burns across the back showed white against his tanned skin. "For every slight, for every humiliation they've inflicted on me and my city, I shall take recompense in blood-and they owe me a debt beyond that. When the last trooper dies in the burning ruins of Vanbert and the Confederacy is a memory, then perhaps I'll consider the account settled."
Casull nodded thoughtfully; he'd seen hatred before, but none more bitter. Pity, he thought. A man that eaten with hate turned inward on himself; his luck might be strong, but it would run too swiftly, carrying out the current of his life. But I can use him.
He clapped his hands. "Hear the commands of the King!" he said, his tone slightly formal. The wakil leaned forward, pen poised over a sheet of reed-paper.
"It is the command of the King that the noble warrior Esmond Gellert's-son of Solinga, be taken into the forces of the King, to command the Sea Striker regiment; he shall rank as a Commander of Five Hundred-which is about what they'll come to, with the men he brought with him. The usual pay and plunder-shares."
Esmond bowed again, and this time his smile was more genuine.
Casull turned his eyes back to the younger man. "You shall have a chance to demonstrate your new weapons," he said. "It is the command of the King that Adrian Gellert be accepted into the Court with the rank of Scholar-Advisor, with the usual pay and perquisites. For the purpose of building his weapons, he may exert the royal prerogative of eminent domain, acquiring land, and requiring artisans and merchants to furnish the materials he needs. . saltpeter, you said? And the metals. He may use a royal estate to be designated hereafter, and royal vessels, within reason. All goods and labor to be paid for at fair market prices, of course."
A King of the Isles was theoretically absolute; in practice there were always enough claimants that a monarch who angered enough of the powerful merchants and ship owners would find that the despotism was tempered by assassination and leavened by coup d'etat. He certainly wasn't going to risk that for this Emerald's untried notions. The potential payoff was certainly huge, though.
"Ah. ." Adrian looked uncertain. "My lord King, this work will require considerable funds," he said. "Even for demonstration purposes. How. ."
Casull smiled at Enri and Pyhar Lowisson. "Your patrons will, of course-out of patriotic duty as well-loan you the funds at a reasonable rate of interest. No more than fifteen percent, annual, compounded."
The two Islander merchants winced; that was the rate for a bottomry loan, with no premium for risk.
"If the weapons are satisfactory, I will reward you richly; and they shall have the interest doubled from the royal treasury, as well as my favor, of course."
He beamed at the Emeralds and the two Islanders as well. Unspoken went the fact that if the weapons failed to satisfy they would get nothing, and the Lowissons could try as best they could to get satisfaction from their penniless guests.
Casull clapped his hands. "This audience is at an end!"