'There you are,' Daurenja said, materializing suddenly in the doorway of the tent.
Ziani looked up and scowled. 'Not now,' he said. 'I'm busy.'
'Are you?' Daurenja ducked, his ridiculously long neck bending like a drawn bow, and stepped inside the tent, blotting out the light for a moment or so as he came. 'Doing what?'
'Resting. Go away.'
Daurenja folded his legs and back and sat down on the ground next to him. 'Really,' he said cheerfully. 'That's no way to talk to your business partner.'
'I haven't got one.'
'Yes you have.' He was sitting unpleasantly close, his back to the tent's center pole. His hair was wet and hung loose down his back in rat-tails. He was wearing a pristine white robe, like the ones the Aram Chantat nobles wore, and on his feet were a pair of curly-toed red velvet slippers. 'That's one of the things I wanted to talk to you about. Not the main thing, though. Mostly, I wanted a few quiet minutes to tell you how brilliant you are.'
Ziani sighed and started to get up. A hand with a grip like a bench-vise grabbed his shoulder and pulled him down, so fast and so smooth that he had no chance to resist. 'Please stay and listen,' Daurenja said. 'Surely you can spare a few moments to hear a few nice things about yourself.'
Ziani picked the hand off his shoulder; touching it was like drawing the guts out of dead poultry after it's hung for a week. 'If they're nice,' he said, 'they probably aren't true. I've never gone much on fiction.'
'Don't worry on that score,' Daurenja said with a mild giggle. 'Everything I'm about to say is perfectly true. Well, you can be the judge of that.'
Ziani tried to get up again, but his knees were too weak. 'I don't want to talk to you,' he said.
'In a minute you will.' Daurenja yawned. 'Where's the best place to start? Shall we begin with the Duke's wedding day, when you betrayed the hunting party to the Mezentines?'
Ziani felt cold, and all his joints appeared to have seized. 'That's bullshit,' he said. 'And you know as well as I do, it was Duke Orsea who-'
'Ah. Poor Duke Orsea. But I think we'll come to him later. Actually, on reflection, I think we ought to start at the beginning, or as close to it as makes no odds. Tell me; after you ran away from the city, were you actually heading for the Eremian camp, or was running into them a fat slice of sheer good luck?'
This time, Ziani lashed out. He was aiming for Daurenja's chin, but when his fist reached the place where the target should have been, it met nothing but air. Almost simultaneously, something very hard and fast hit Ziani just above the right ear. More surprised than anything else, he folded his arms and legs, like a spider killed suddenly on its web, and dropped to the floor.
'As I was saying.' Daurenja's voice, blurred and distant, reached him through the pain like a far-off light glimpsed through mist. 'Did you deliberately set out to find Orsea from the start? I suppose what I'm asking is, was the plan already more or less complete in your mind at that early stage, or were you still making it up as you went along?'
Ziani felt sick and dizzy; it was like being very drunk and having the hangover at the same time. He tried to gauge the distance between Daurenja's legs and himself, but it was too much effort.
'I don't know what you're talking about,' he mumbled.
'By all means lie if you want to,' Daurenja said pleasantly. 'It doesn't matter to me, because I know the truth. And yes, I know it's true. The plan's there for anybody to see, if he's got the wit to know what he's looking at. I've been studying it for months now, piecing it together. It's been an education, and an honor. I was only able to figure it out because we're so very much alike, you and me.' He shifted a little, moving slightly sideways, slightly back. There was some fencing move or other where you did that. 'Ever since I saw it for what it is, I've been trying to take it apart, bit by bit, to figure out how it works. You know, you really are a clever man, Ziani. It's the combination of imaginative flair and scrupulous attention to detail that does it. It's odd, really; I mean, the Mezentine tradition hardly encourages innovative design, does it? There's a set specification, you copy it exactly or they string you up. Really, when you think of a talent like yours being neglected like that, it's a crying shame.'
Ziani saw movement out of the corner of his eye, then felt the impact of a powerful blow; a kick in the ribs, which squeezed all the air put of his body.
'Now I'm pretty clear in my mind about what happened up to the fall of Eremia,' Daurenja went on. 'By arming the Eremians with scorpions, you made sure that the war escalated out of control, making the Republic commit itself far more deeply than it wanted to. The sideshow with Duke Valens and Orsea's wife; clearly you didn't set any of that up, but you did ensure that Orsea found out about it; that suggests you were planning a long way ahead by that point, so I'm assuming that most of the main elements were already clearly established in your mind.' He paused, as though waiting for a reply or some sort of comment. There was disappointment in his voice when he resumed. 'Now I'm going to have to press you for an answer here,' he said, 'because obviously the next bit is crucial to a clear understanding of the mechanism. Was it you who opened the gates and let the Mezentines in to Civitas Eremiae?'
'No.'
He could see Daurenja frowning. 'I think you did,' he said. 'It's the sort of bold, radical approach that hallmarks your work; also the way you make one process further several different functions. For example: you needed to draw the Vadani into the war. I'm guessing you assumed that Orsea and Veatriz would seek asylum with Valens; I don't imagine you actually predicted Valens' big, romantic gesture, that was really just a massive bonus. Still, no shame in being lucky; and a beautiful design like yours sort of encourages luck to happen; you attract it, like decoying geese.' He stopped, then said, 'Anything you'd like to add before we move on? No? Oh, I wish you'd share with me. I'd love to know how you went about figuring it all out, it'd be a master class in design. Oh well.' He waited hopefully a little longer, then went on: 'The other function was controlling Valens himself, through his thwarted love for Orsea's wife. Very clever. What Valens secretly wants more than anything is to snatch Veatriz out of the jaws of death and have her fall into his arms; but just when he thinks he's getting there, he finds himself lumbered with Orsea as well. Obviously, that's an intolerable position to be in-which is exactly what you want, since you need to break Valens down-gradually, at a carefully controlled rate of decay-to the point where he's weak enough for you to manipulate him directly. The love-triangle thing does that perfectly, and I'm guessing that that's the real reason Civitas Eremiae had to fall. You'd never get Orsea away from his city unless it was burned to the ground, and you'd never get Veatriz to Valens' court without Orsea. On reflection, I bet you were expecting the rescue or something like it; not banking on it, of course, but quietly confident it'd happen. There, you see; decoying luck, like I said a moment ago.'
Ziani tried to speak, but he hadn't got enough breath back yet.
'Talking of luck,' Daurenja went on, 'I'm going to stick my neck out and say that the hidden way across the desert was the major breakthrough. Sorry, but there's no way you could have known about that until you reached Civitas Vadanis. On the other hand, I'm pretty sure you'd already resolved on bringing about the marriage alliance with the Cure Hardy. That must've come at a very early stage, because of course that's what everything's been about: bringing the Cure Hardy into the war, since they're the only power on earth that could beat the Republic. You must've decided to involve them, I'm assuming through the marriage-alliance mechanism, right back in the very early stages, probably before you first met Orsea. In which case, I insist on you answering this one, you must've just left a gap in the design-a big hole marked Find a way of getting Valens to marry a Cure Hardy princess-and worked round it until you heard about Skeddanlothi's raid-was that before or after you arrived in Civitas Vadanis? — and realized there must be a secret way across the desert out there somewhere, waiting to be rediscovered. Am I right?'
'No,' Ziani said. Daurenja kicked him again. He retched violently, but nothing came out.
'I think I'm right,' Daurenja went on. 'I have to say, it's a privilege to study a mind like yours in action. All right, there was that crucial slice of luck; just like the thing between Valens and Veatriz was a slice of luck. What matters is how you used it; and that's where this fantastic attention to detail comes in. As soon as you've realized the significance of Skeddanlothi, you ferret around until you find the trader's widow and the map. Not just more luck; you found it because you had a pretty good idea of where to look. What, you asked yourself, could the Vadani possibly want from the Cure Hardy that'd make it worth someone's while finding out about the oasis route? Answer: salt, of course. Once you've got salt, you can target salt traders past and present, and sooner or later you'll find what you're after. I always think luck's a bit like splitting a log. You're much more likely to succeed if you read the grain and look for flaw-lines.'
Ziani made a monstrous effort and spasmed his back into a sharp contraction, enough to get him onto his
