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Barty. He shut his mouth as a trout shuts on a fly.
I repeat. At the least, these are Vallians.
Now, I said this with some malice. I had sojourned long in Hamal, and knew its ways and people
passing well. I had good friends there admittedly, friends who did not know I was at the time Prince
Majister of Vallia. Hamal as the hated enemy had wronged Vallia, that was generally acknowledged. But
the Empress Thyllis must answer for much of those crimes. Once this mess was sorted out we must
march in friendship with Hamal. Common sanity indicated that. So by stressing the very Vallianness of the
compact offered, I sought to open their eyes. Once they agreed, then I could spring the snapper...
Old Archolax the Bones, spare, wiry, dressed somberly in dark gray with a golden and scarron chain
about him, spoke up. His face bore deep lines from nose to mouth, and his air of gravitas was heightened
by the emphasis of his diction. He had been newly appointed Pallan of the Treasury for Lykon
Crimahan was still away fighting for his estates of Forli and the money situation needed immediate
attention and he took his position seriously.
If they offer an alliance through their embassies, majister, they are in need of assistance, one against the
other. It would be well to seek to know to what degree and amount they are willing to pay for such an
alliance. Opaz knows, the treasury is bone dry.
A shrewd thought, Archolax.
Anyway, said Barty, a little mollified and once again able to meet Delia s eye. Let them wait a while.
He handed me a plate heaped with sandwiches and with a cup perched on the side. We habitually stood
to talk and eat during these sessions, although comfortable seats, brought from all over the ruins of the
palace, were available.
I started to eat, and, wolfing down a bamber sandwich, said, I ll keep em waiting just as long as
protocol demands.
In the event I gulped down the rest of the meal and wiped my hands on a yellow cloth and went away to
the Second Enrobing Chamber, determined to let chance arrange which embassy I saw first. Garfon the
Staff had left that from the Racters there, and had shown that from Layco Jhansi to the Samphron Hall s
anteroom. The Samphron Hall no longer existed, being a mere maze of foundations, and the anteroom
still persisted in smelling of smoke.
The party from the Racters numbered four, and they were led by a man I knew, Strom Luthien.
His thin shrewd face with the bright sharp eyes and the permanently hungry expression did not betray his
thoughts as I entered. Guards stood at the door. I wore a rapier, picked up from Emder on the way. We
regarded each other for a space.
Finally, with an ironical bow, he said: Majister. With a sweep of his hand he indicated his companions
and named them. Each one wore the black and white favors of the Racters, flaunting those colors here in
Vondium from whence all the known Racters had fled.
Luthien was a Strom that is roughly equivalent to an Earthly count by title alone, for he no longer
owned lands. He was the perfect agent for the Racters, and knew it and acted the part well. His
insolence was veiled just enough so that no offense might be taken at least, not by me, who was not
an emperor in the mold of emperors of the past.
The offer was as we had expected. Alliance between our two forces, first against Layco Jhansi, and then
against the Hamalese and the mercenaries and all the other vermin who had flooded into Vallia to pillage.
He made no mention of the embassy from Jhansi. I forbore to bring up what was clearly a prickly
subject. I kept a graven and serious look on my face not a difficult task, by Krun! and heard him
out.
The clothes these four Racters wore were the usual decent Vallian buff coats and breeches. Their wide
Vallian hats with the black and white feathers lay on a side table. They bore no arms. My guards would
have seen to that, and relieved them of their rapiers and main gauches long before they were conducted
here. I studied the clothes and discreet insignia. Nothing out of the way there.
Memory of the golden image of the grascent, that leaping scaled risslaca with the powerful hind legs and
wedge-shaped head of destruction, worn by the Chulik who had attempted to slay us under the Gate of
Voxyri, made me wonder if Phu-Si-Yantong had infiltrated the ranks of the Racters. It was most unlikely
that he had not. But he would scarcely parade that kind of hidden exercise of power openly.
When that particular Wizard of Loh struck, he struck from the shadows.
Well, of course, they all do. But Yantong s menace held a special brand of cunning and absolute
conviction of superiority. I still fancied I could find something in him of admiration to ordinary folk; but I
had to acknowledge that it would be damned hard to unearth.
What answer shall we carry back, majister?
I let them hang a space before I replied.
I must ponder on this, I said, at last, keeping a straight face. It is not a light matter.
It touches the well-being of all Vallia.
That is sooth. Tell me, from whom do you come?
We represent the Racters.
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