“Olivenko, you are so full of poo,” said Param.
“I meant every word,” said Olivenko, smiling even more broadly.
Now, the sights and smells made her wish she had not been so noble, or that someone had argued against this. Every corpse told a story to her souclass="underline" This was someone’s son. This man had hopes and dreams. Even if his only joy was to drink and carouse, those days are over.
“I can see that the smell bothers you,” said Loaf quietly. “But I assure you, today the bodies are still fresh and the rot has not set in. Tomorrow I would urge you strongly not to come. You would vomit, and that is not something your people need to see.”
Param had been trying not to think of vomit, since, as with yawning, the very thought made it more likely she would do it. But she understood his point, and stopped allowing herself to imagine these as living men. She cast her eyes toward them, but did not allow the sights to register. She was not here to learn about all the positions a broken body can collapse into when death comes by sudden violence. She was here to be seen caring about the fallen. So she fixed the proper expression of sympathy and barely-contained grief on her face, and allowed herself to be led where there were the most spectators to see how the Queen-in-the-Tent loved her soldiers.
And when a particularly pungent spot made her gorge rise, she allowed herself to burst into tears so she could be led away from the malodorous spot. Thus she prevented herself from throwing up and disgracing herself. Vomiting was not sympathy. Nausea and nobility were not compatible. But weeping went well with both sympathy and nobility, especially because she was a woman. She noticed that Umbo matched her step for step, but did not weep. She didn’t know if this was because he had seen worse, or smelled worse, or cared less, or was simply stronger than she was. Probably all of those were true.
This is why she was on the battlefield when the emissary arrived from Mother’s army. Param did not recognize the man, but that did not surprise her. In Flacommo’s house she had seen only sycophants, and mostly those who were in favor with the People’s Revolutionary Council. None of those would be in General Haddamander’s army.
“Hagia Sessaminiak sees no reason for this war to continue,” said the emissary. “She is ready to recognize her daughter, Param Sessamin, as Queen-in-the-Tent-of-Light, and her husband as Umbo Sissamik.”
The names were right: “Sissamik” as the male consort of a reigning queen; “Sessaminiak” as a former queen, now rightfully deposed. Deposed, not abdicating voluntarily; that would have been Sessaminissa, and it was a decision that could be rescinded. Mother was saying that she was prepared to recognize that she had been thrown down, and could not rise again.
“I am sure that Mother has terms and conditions to propose,” said Param to the emissary.
She noticed that none of her own people showed the slightest sign that they were worried she would say the wrong thing or agree to too many concessions—or, even worse, needlessly prolong the war out of some point of pride.
“Hagia Sessaminiak wishes to meet with her daughter and her son face to face to make the formal surrender,” she said. “Whether her consort, Haddamander Citizen, should be with her is a point on which she will gladly bend to your will.”
“Such a meeting will not be pleasant for anyone, but it is wise for there to be a public ritual of surrender, and for Mother to do it personally,” said Param. “I commend her courage and generosity to our people. Let the time and place be worked out with General Olivenko or someone he designates. I will attend, as will my brother. Now you must excuse me. I am visiting wounded soldiers, and must not be delayed any further.”
With that, Param swept away, leaving Olivenko to deal with the logistics of the meeting.
That evening, in the meeting of the council of war, it was Param who broached the obvious problem. “Of course it’s a trap,” she said. “I’m assuming it’s an assassination attempt, though they must know it’s impossible to kill us.”
“It is far from impossible,” said Olivenko, “and you can be sure they’ve been wracking their brains for a long time, devising a foolproof plan.”
“And they are not fools,” said Param, “so it may work. Therefore, before Rigg and I go, we will publicly invest Umbo as Sissaminkesh, heir to the Tent of Light if both Rigg and I die.”
Umbo gave a bark of laughter. “If you die,” he said, “I might as well call myself Ring-in-the-Sky for all the attention anyone will pay to me as king.”
“They aren’t going to die,” said Square. “My Masks and I will never allow it.”
“You and the Masks will not be there,” said Param. “It will be only Rigg and myself, along with a few witnesses. There will be no fighting.”
“But if it’s an assassination attempt!” Square cried.
“It is an assassination attempt,” said Param.
“Or a kidnapping,” said Rigg.
“But between us, Rigg and I can get ourselves out of anything. All that anyone else would be is a distraction, someone for them to hold hostage in order to get us not to resist them.”
“No one can stand against facemask soldiers,” said Square.
“So far, you’re right,” said Loaf. “But imagine that you fought, and were victorious. Then everyone would say it was Captain Toad and his Masks who broke the truce and slaughtered Hagia’s men.”
“There will be witnesses!”
“Their witnesses will say whatever they’ve been told to say,” said Loaf. “And their supporters will believe any lie.”
“There has been enough killing,” said Param. “They will try to kill us, and they will fail.”
“Or they’ll succeed,” said Rigg. “Either way, they’ll be the ones who betray their word, not us.”
“You speak blithely of dying,” said Loaf, “because you’ve never done it.”
“Neither have you,” said Rigg.
“But I’ve seen it more often,” said Loaf, “and I’ve never seen any of my friends who was happy to do it. Or any of my enemies, for that matter—they seemed to be quite reluctant to begin, and it took a good deal of exertion to get them to change their minds.”
“We won’t die,” said Param.
“Everyone dies,” said Loaf. “But it’s also true that there’s no escort we could give you that would improve your chances. What we will do is station Umbo in a location that you know about, but they do not—right, Umbo? You’ll go there in the past and then jump forward?”
“Will I be able to see what happens?” asked Umbo.
“If you’re close enough to see,” said Loaf, “I imagine you’ll be close enough to be seen. What matters is that they’ll know where you are. So if things go badly wrong, but one of them survives, they can go to where you are and put a message into your hands, warning you to warn them about the danger. Then either they don’t go after all, or they go in prepared.”
“Good plan,” said Umbo. “But I also want to be able to see.”
“We’ll look for a hiding place that can do that,” said Rigg. “Once we have some idea of where it will be.”
It turned out to be a place that was far from any of Haddamander’s army camps, far from any major cities. As they approached along a road in deep woods, Rigg looked at the tangle of paths up ahead. “I think they’ve prepared this place especially for us, to block our escape.”
Param was not surprised. “How can they block an escape into the past?” she asked.