into the ruins of Civitas Eremiae, had snatched her away to safety, like the hawk striking the heron, and it was wrong, against nature, to deny the supremacy of the stronger, the absolute right of conquest. Keeping her (being allowed to keep her) was therefore an abomination; his fault and hers, for which they must inevitably pay a price.
I could explain all this so clearly, Orsea thought, if there was anybody in the world I could talk to.
'I love you too,' he said, casually as a sleepy monk making his responses in the middle of the night. 'I'm sorry I mentioned-'
'It's all right,' she said. 'Just, don't talk about it again. It's all my fault, all of this.'
No, he couldn't have that. 'Oh, right,' he said. 'It's your fault we're both here, alive, instead of being killed when they took the city. Well, that's what would've happened, if Valens hadn't rescued us, because of the letters.' He smiled, cold as breath condensing on steel. 'I really wish there was some way I could thank him, given I owe him my life, but I can't; how could I? You know what? I should've stayed in the city and been killed; I'd have been out of the way then. You and Valens-'
'Please don't.' She was right, of course. Just melodrama, a big speech, with no audience. Even a duke can't make speeches if there's nobody left to listen to them. 'I'm sorry,' he said, and pulled a face that was almost comic in its intensity. 'I shouldn't-'
He stopped short; someone was coming. An officer and two soldiers, walking briskly, on their way somewhere, with important business to see to. He stepped aside to let them go past, but they stopped. Apparently they had something to say to him.
'Duke Orsea.' A statement rather than an inquiry.
'That's right.'
'My name is Major Nennius. I have to tell you that you're under arrest.'
While they waited, they talked about silver; better and more efficient ways of mining it, smelting the ore, refining the bloom to leach out traces of copper and other impurities. The Mezentines, he said, were capable of producing silver that was ninety-five parts in a hundred pure, although the specification allowed an additional margin of three parts for export work, five for domestic consumption. When the war was over and they opened the mines up again, he'd teach the superintendents how to improve purity and increase production by means of a few simple procedures, which could be incorporated into the mines' established working practices without the need for significant investment or extensive retraining. Valens replied that he would appreciate any help that Ziani could give them; once the war was over, the cost of reconstruction and making good would inevitably be high, and a quick, efficient recommencement of silver production would make all the difference. Fortuitously, given that nearly all the mine-owners and representatives of the major cartels had been killed, either in the wedding-day raid or the recent battle, obstruction from vested interests ought not to be as much of a problem as it would have been before the war.
The tent flap opened. Ziani recognized the newcomer, though he couldn't recall his name; a busy young man who'd been doing rather well during the emergency. He made a mental note to find out more about him, in case he could be made useful.
'Duke Orsea,' the young officer said.
He stood back to let the escort bring Orsea in. Ziani made himself keep perfectly still, and it was probably just as well that Orsea didn't look at him as he came into the tent.
'Valens?' he asked mildly. The two soldiers weren't touching him, but they flanked him on either side, with the officer blocking the doorway to cut off his escape. 'What's going on?'
There wasn't the faintest trace of expression on Valens' face; but he said, 'Oh, I think you can probably guess. Sit down, please.'
But there wasn't a chair; so the officer (Nennius, Ziani remembered. Recently promoted) had to fetch a folding chair from the back of the tent and set it up. 'I'm sorry,' Orsea was saying, 'but I really don't have a clue. Is this something to do with Miel Ducas? I've been meaning to talk to you about that, but you've been so busy.'
Valens was scowling. 'Fine,' he said. 'I'm all for proper procedure. That way, everybody knows where they stand.'
'You're sounding very official. Is something wrong?' Orsea glanced over his shoulder; he seemed surprised to find that Nennius and the two guards were still there.
'I have reason to believe…' Valens hesitated, then went on: 'I have reason to believe that you've been in contact with the enemy. I'd like to hear what you've got to say about that.'
Orsea looked so utterly bewildered that for a moment Ziani held his breath. Then Orsea said: 'Contact with the enemy? You mean, in the battle?'
'Before the battle,' Valens said quietly. 'That's rather the point.' He opened the wooden box that stood on the folding table in front of him, and took out a small square of folded parchment. 'I'm afraid I've been reading your mail,' he said.
Orsea frowned. 'That's a letter, is it? For me?'
'Yes.' His hand was resting on it. 'I can't let you have it, I'm afraid; evidence and all that. Major Nennius, would you please read the letter out loud? Admirably clear handwriting,' he added. 'I hate it when people scrawl.'
Nennius stepped forward, and Valens handed him the letter. Nennius opened it and cleared his throat; that made Valens smile, just briefly. Lucao Psellus to Orsea Orseoli, greetings.
Everything's been arranged as we agreed. The only change of plan is that we can't send a whole division; there simply isn't enough time. I'm sure it won't make any difference, since we'll have an overwhelming advantage of surprise.
Concerning your own personal safety. Naturally, it's got to look right. I've briefed the expedition commander, and he'll see to it that all his officers will know what to expect. To begin with, stay in your coach. As soon as the fighting reaches you, come straight out and give yourself up. Say, in a loud, clear voice, 'I am Duke Orsea, I surrender.' You have my solemn undertaking that you will not be harmed. You'll be taken straight to a Mezentine officer. Give him this letter. He'll recognize the seal. I'll be there at the Unswerving Loyalty to meet you after the battle and escort you back to Mezentia; from there you'll go directly to your new estate at Lonazep, where you can start your new life. Unfortunately, it won't be possible for your wife to accompany you; but rest assured that our men will have strict instructions not to harm her; she'll be separated out from the rest of the prisoners and sent to join you as quickly as possible. I know this may sound unduly haphazard, but I assure you that you can rely on us; I've arranged for a substantial bounty to be paid to the men who secure your wife and yourself, alive and unharmed. That's the joy of mercenaries; motivating them is never a problem if you've got the money.
I appreciate that this has all been very difficult for you, and I may say that your misgivings do you credit. It can't have been an easy decision to take. However, believe me when I tell you that you're doing precisely the right thing. The only hope, for your people and yourself, is to end the war before the Vadani contrive to inflict serious losses on the Republic. As for Duke Valens: by seducing your wife he has betrayed you in a manner that is beyond all forgiveness. A man like that can have no claim on your loyalties; and, by your own admission, your duty to your people overrides all personal obligations.
I look forward to meeting you in person at last, when all this is over. During the long silence that followed, Ziani forced himself to keep his eyes fixed on the patch of ground directly in front of him. The last thing he wanted was to catch Valens' eye, or Orsea's. It had all been beautifully clear in his mind when he was giving Psellus his instructions back in the deserted city; he'd seen it in his mind's eye as a splendid piece of geometry, a work of clear lines and simple design-a tumbler under pressure from a spring, retained by a sear tripped by a lever. This close, all he could see was tool-marks and burred edges.
'The letter was found,' Valens said eventually, in a perfectly flat voice, 'on the body of a merchant woman. Pure chance, as far as I can tell; by the looks of it, she was thrown by her horse and broke her neck tumbling down a rocky slope. Fortuitously, she was discovered by the miners coming up to meet us from Boatta. Ziani Vaatzes searched the body and found the letter, and showed it to me. He's identified the seal. Apparently it's rather special. Ziani, what was it again?'
His cue. 'The Republic's defense committee,' he said. 'Commonly known as Necessary Evil. My understanding is that they're the ones running the war. I vaguely remember there was a Lucao Psellus on the committee, though I never had anything to do with anybody that high up the hierarchy.'
