He climbed into the sled next to me, and we pulled away from the curb and down the driveway, undoubtedly heading for Mediation Hall. He’d made a good point about the way people think, and I was surprised to see such clear understanding from someone who couldn’t feel the emotions firsthand. Most unawakened people knew little enough about their own emotions, let alone about the emotions of others.
Garth seemed content to let the ride pass in silence, and in just a few minutes we pulled up beside Mediation Hall, a large, grim, blocky building made of dark stone rectangles piled one on top of the other. I felt my usual shudder at the appearance of that building, sensing the flood of desperate emotions locked in the cold, dark stone. But, as I’d always done in the past, I forced them away from me and followed Garth out of the sled. A Hall guide waited just inside the front entrance, and five minutes later we were entering Mediation Chamber C.
The Chamber itself was familiar enough, being a large room containing a small table at its center, three chairs around the table, and four benches lined up about ten feet behind each of the two chairs that faced one another. The chief adversaries were already in the room, each standing with his own group of supporters, all of them turning toward the door when I entered. Murmurs arose from each of the groups, underlining uneasiness and suspicion from both sides, but the tenor of thoughts changed immediately when Garth stepped in behind me. The Deffloran merchant group began buzzing frantically, outrage in their gestures almost as clearly as in their thoughts; the Kabran contingent hummed contentedly, considering their claim already conceded to. I stepped aside to let Garth move forward ahead of me, then watched the contenders as their attention centered on him.
“Gentlemen,” Garth announced, looking from one group to the other. “I am Colonel Garth R’Hem Solohr, assigned protector to the Prime Terrillian Reya. Should any of you attempt to harm her or interfere with her mission, that one must answer to me. Don’t make the mistake of considering my commission an idle one. I assure you I take it seriously.”
Garth stepped aside, letting the men see me again. All of their eyes were on me, the merchants with nervousness, the Kabras with faint annoyance mixed with uneasiness. None of them had ever been involved in Mediation before, and their hesitation was easy to feel.
“Gentlemen, please take your places,” I said, walking forward to the third chair at the small table. The room was unbearably close, and everyone in it was sweating. Two men, one merchant and one Kabra, separated themselves from their groups to join me at the table, and the rest of the men, six per side, retired to the benches behind their respective representative. The Kabras were dressed as all Kabras are, but the main representative wore the same sort of ceremonial sword as Garth had.
When we were all settled at the table, I nodded to each of the men studying me.
“You will now be discussing the disagreement between you,” I told them, settling myself more comfortably in the chair. “Speak to each other, not to me, and don’t look to me for decisions of any sort. Whatever decisions are agreed upon will be agreed upon by you two. You need only introduce yourselves when you first begin. Please proceed.”
The two men began glaring at each other as I closed my eyes, meshing in with the deep hostility they both felt. The Deffloran merchant stirred in his seat, probably tugging at the tight, high collar of his shirt. He and his contingent all wore the same sort of shirts, high collared and long sleeved, probably so that they might, when dealing, open the collar’s and roll up the sleeves. The gestures were meant to show their willingness to deal, but collars were unopened and sleeves unrolled that day. The merchants had taken their stand and had no intentions of abandoning it.
“I will begin,” announced the Deffloran merchant, his voice high and stiff with resentment and defensiveness. “I am Raskar Alnid, a man who has been done out of his duel A man who stands to lose all he possesses because of the knife at his throat! A man who was cruelly threatened and robbed ....”
“Gently,” I cautioned, projecting peace and calm at both men without opening my eyes. The Kabra had been about to retort in anger, but both men’s heat cooled when they felt my projection. The bands of fire red in their minds eased down to dull purple, still angered but well within their control. “Just the actual happenings, if you please,” I added.
“The happenings are not difficult to relate.” The man huffed, a faint, nearly unnoticed surprise behind his anger. He had intended pursuing his complaints and didn’t quite understand why he wasn’t doing so. “I engaged these—these—Kabras to aid me against my enemies and they accepted the commission then refused to uphold the contract. Therefore I, in the same manner, refuse to pay their outrageous demands.”
“Our demands are not outrageous,” the Kabran officer put in coldly. “We contracted to appear at a certain place and time and did so. We now seek no more than to collect our fee.”
“For standing about like statues?” Raskar Alnid demanded. “For greeting the troops of my enemy as brothers? For refusing to face them as fighters and men, in defense of my claims and attempts?”
“Merely for appearing as we contracted to do, if you care to put it in that light!” snapped the officer, sharing the other’s outrage. “Our bonds cover that, and battle against an equal Kabra force is specifically interdicted. With two forces of equal ability, what sense is there in fighting? Both would be wiped out without any settlement of the original argument ”
As soon as the attention of the two men left me and they began speaking to each other, I was able to move to the second phase of my purpose there. The Kabran officer felt deep conviction in what he was saying, and I passed that conviction on to the merchant, along with a sense of honor defended. The merchant felt the emotions and hesitated, then dropped the outrage that he’d been projecting so strongly.
“But Kabras are fighters!” he protested, not knowing I was passing on his bewilderment. “If you have no intentions of fighting, why do you accept commissions to appear?”
“We will fight any force other than our own people,” the officer said, made uncomfortable by the lack of understanding. “Should we slay our brothers, nothing would be accomplished but our own destruction. Surely this was explained to you?”
“I was told only of Kabran traditions,” the merchant sighed, feeling the officer’s guilt. “I was led to believe I would be triumphant if I engaged your force. Why do you hire out to both sides of a disagreement?”
“Would you have us practice favoritism?” the officer asked, attempting to soothe the merchant’s deep disappointment. “What if the commission we refused was yours, allowing your enemy a clear path to victory? Would you have more than you have now, or less?”
“The thought never occurred to me before,” the merchant responded, frowning. “What am I to do now? I haven’t got the amount contracted for, not without a victory.”
“But you agree we honored our contract?” the other man pursued, but gently. At the merchant’s defeated, reluctant nod, the officer added his own nod and a smile. “Then settlement should not be difficult. Our honor is more important than monetary considerations, and it was a recognition of honor we sought here, not gain. Are you able to meet half the agreed upon fee?”
“Half?” the merchant blurted, surprised. “You’re willing to fettle for half, without argument?”
“Certainly.” The officer smiled. “Our expenses were far less than they would have been if we’d fought”
“Excellent,” smiled the merchant, rubbing his hands together. “I’m sure we can work matters out now to our mutual satisfaction. Would you and your group care to join my cousins and myself at a meal? A tall, cold drink would work wonders right now.”
“That sounds perfect,” agreed the officer. “I know just the place, I’m sure you’ll love it.”