"Leave to, Thes," Tarsus said, putting a restraining hand on Thessan’s arm. He appeared torn between agreeing with the Prince and the knowledge that Illukar – a White Snake – was giving his life to stop a disaster Tarsus had sparked. "Lady an Rynstar, then," he said. "I wished to ask you of Emperor Grevain. You knew him–"
"I was sworn to him," Medair said, softly.
"Yes. You served him." Tarsus brushed at his curly hair, as if looking for a delay. "It has been put to me that…to press my claim to the Silver Throne is not in Palladium’s best interests. I would know–"
"You would let yourself be talked out of what is yours by right!" Thessan said hotly, subsiding only when Tarsus gave him a pained, pleading look. It was obvious that there was considerable affection between the pair. And that Thessan would happily throw Medair and Islantar into the Blight, if not for the guards who watched.
"Let me do this, Thes," Tarsus muttered, then met Medair’s eyes squarely. "I would know what Emperor Grevain would do, at such a pass. Whether he would approve of my quest."
"I can’t answer for the Emperor," Medair said, dismayed. "Nor," she added, glancing at Thessan’s angry face, "would you have any way of knowing if I was honest in any opinion I gave you."
"I am aware of that, Lady an Rynstar," said Tarsus. "But you alone of all the world have met the Emperor. You witnessed the invasion, you quested to stop it, no matter what the outcome. Truth or lie, I feel I need to hear what you have to say. What kind of man was he? Would he have surrendered his crown to benefit his people?"
Medair blinked, trying to bend her mind away from her grief, to think along unfamiliar courses. The intensity of power emitted by the Blight made it impossible to forget that Illukar was out there, preparing to die because of this boy. Grevain Corminevar seemed so impossibly long ago.
"I…cannot really picture him as anything but Emperor," she said, slowly. "He was born to the rule. If he had survived Athere’s fall, if he had been – if he had been allowed to live after Kier Ieskar took the Silver Throne…" She shook her head blankly. "No, the situations are too dissimilar. If the Emperor, instead, had woken as I did, five hundred years too late, would he have raised an army to take back his throne?" She thought about the ever-busy, abrupt man she had sworn her life to, and realised how little she knew of him. To her, he was Lord and Law and there was no bond of friendship. Simply Emperor, the ruler she had so admired.
"This is useless," Thessan muttered, and Medair searched her memory, not willing to leave Tarsus completely unanswered.
"He was a proud man," she said, carefully. "Wise to the political games. He offered his opinions rarely, for his every word was weighted. He disliked intensely things not going to order. He would give second chances, but never a third." She remembered Grevain’s manner when he sat in judgment over some dispute. It gave her more confidence. "If he had found himself in today’s Palladium, he might well have sought his throne," she said, looking directly into Tarsus' eyes. "If he believed that it would benefit Palladium, if he thought Ibisian rule, in practice, was unjust. But I don’t believe he would feel that way."
"That’s just what you would say," Thessan snapped, predictably. "But Ibisian rule is anything but just. How many true Palladians do you see in power? How many rise from beneath the White Snake boot?"
Medair stared at him, realising that Thessan knew less of the reality of Palladium than she did, no matter what changes the Conflagration had made. How could she tell him that very few Palladians seemed to object to Ibisians? That those who still nurtured hatreds were a minority, no matter how powerful their effect on their land. It was obvious that, whether it had been greed or justice which motivated Xarus Estarion, Thessan truly did believe Decia’s war had been to benefit Palladians.
"I won’t pretend that most of those who rule aren’t of Ibisian descent," she said, trying to be absolutely fair. "That is hardly surprising, when titles are hereditary. And Ibisians are not thought arrogant merely by accident. But I have seen no suffering. Or any indication that laws are interpreted in the favour of Ibis-lar over Farak-lar. Though hampered by Medarists and perhaps the pure camp of Ibisians, Palladians as a whole are prospering. It is only my opinion, but I do not think Emperor Grevain would overset that, simply to replace Kier Inelkar on the Silver Throne.
Tarsus' reaction was overwhelmed by Thessan’s. "You could hardly give us any other answer," he said, in a low, trembling voice. "I will not forget what you have done. You killed those who would have redressed the old wrong–"
"No." Medair said the word flatly, angrily. "I defended Athere against an invasion. Stop trying to fight a five-hundred year past war."
Tarsus again restrained his fellow, gripping Thessan’s arm tightly, then asked in a quieter, but no less accusative tone: "Can you deny that there are those in Palladium who wish to be freed from White Snake tyranny?"
Medair had to force herself not to simply send them away so she could return to mourning. Or give in to the very large part of her which wanted to slap Tarsus, to shriek and tear his hair and ask him how he dared to show himself before her when he had ignored their warnings, when he had run with that mirror, and let it fall and brought Illukar’s death down on him and left her with no way out.
She took a breath, slow and deep.
"Of course I can’t. What you refuse to let yourself acknowledge is that they are not the only true Palladians." Medair gestured past Tarsus, to the row of guards silently watching them, and flame-haired Liak ar Haedrin with her Ibisian uniform and creamy skin. "Were you going to liberate her from Ibisian rule? Or kill her along with the White Snakes you hate so much?"
Tarsus looked at Kel ar Haedrin for a long moment, and the Velvet Sword blinked back impassively. "The White Snake invasion was wrong," he said, apparently trying to rebuild the foundations of his animosity.
"Yes. And the Empire defended itself."
"They stole the throne!"
"They conquered Palladium," Medair said. "Five hundred years ago. And became part of it."
"What of those who don’t think White Snakes are a part of Palladium? What of those who raise their voices to me, to the true heir of that line, and ask for their freedom? Should I just ignore them?"
"Perhaps not." Medair looked at him, and her own anger faded. So earnest, so impassioned. But no longer sure that hate was the way. "Where would the killing have stopped, Tarsus? How many would it have taken, before you considered Palladium cleansed? Would you have killed all who were pale, or over-tall, just to be sure? Or would it be permitted to have a quarter Ibisian blood? An eighth? People who have lived in Palladium all their lives, who think of themselves as Palladian, who speak Parlance and who would consider you the invader? Will you also oust those who are Farakkian blood who have been appointed by Ibisians? Yes, you could make the Ibisians pay, but is it worth destroying Palladium in the process?"
"It can’t be forgotten," Thessan broke in. "It can’t just be put aside. They will always be invaders, they will always have been the ones who made war. They can’t be allowed to live." His voice was a pitch higher than usual, and he said the words as if he repeated a child’s well-worn lesson, a litany to block out any doubt. "A war does not finish merely because the victors have claimed the prize."
"What is your position, then, Thessan, by that way of thinking? Decia just invaded. Should that never be forgiven? Should Palladians not tolerate Decians to live?"
"No doubt the White Snakes are greedy for our land–" Thessan retorted, hotly, but Islantar’s cool voice slid into the fray.