own value, if I can put it like that; to get myself into a position where I could bargain with you from a position of strength. Is that right?'
Psellus frowned. 'Actually,' he said, 'that's not how we interpret it. We feel that when you first escaped from the city, you went to our most prominent enemy because it was the only place you felt safe; the Eremians would never hand you over to us, on principle. Particularly not after you'd shown them you could give them the same weapons that had wiped out their army. We assumed you hadn't thought it through; that giving them the scorpions would make it inevitable that we'd invade and wipe out the Eremians.' He paused. 'We underestimated you.'
Vaatzes smiled. 'The way you say it,' he said, 'I take it you didn't share the majority opinion.'
It was like the moment when the girl you love but know you'll never dare talk to comes across and asks you to dance. 'I had my doubts,' Psellus said. 'That's why…' All his courage. 'That's what led me to talk to people who knew you. Your work colleagues. Your wife.'
Vaatzes didn't move, not even a flicker.
'It began as little more than idle curiosity,' Psellus went on, trying to keep his voice from cracking. 'I was intrigued to know what motivated you; the great abominator, and so on. Then, after a while, I got the reputation of being the leading Vaatzes expert. I moved from Compliance to Necessary Evil as a result. That's what set me thinking.'
'Go on,' Vaatzes said.
'Well.' Now that the moment of moments had come, Psellus found he'd lost the ability to think of words. 'It seemed to me,' he said, 'that there were two explanations for why I'd been promoted like that. The obvious one was that they were expecting you'd be important in the scheme of things, sooner or later; they were expecting that you'd make us an offer, and so they needed to have an expert on you on the staff, so to speak.'
'Reasonable,' Vaatzes said quietly.
'I thought so,' Psellus replied, 'until I realized that they'd misunderstood you, the way we were talking about just now. They hadn't realized, or they didn't believe, that you'd got your plan of action more or less worked out from the start. That what you wanted-all you wanted-was to come home.' He paused, aware that he'd been talking too fast, tripping over words. 'That didn't make sense, of course,' he went on. 'That view of your motivations didn't fit with the idea that you'd be important, possibly the key to winning the war. Something as crucial as what you actually wanted…' He shook his head, and during the pause remarked to himself on the dead silence; here, at the main gate of a capital city. An abomination, if ever there was one. 'If they believed you were just a runaway, scared for your own skin, only interested in staying safe, what did they need a Vaatzes expert for? They didn't. So, that explanation didn't work.'
Vaatzes nodded slowly; a little genuine respect. As though she'd looked up at you and smiled.
'Which left the alternative,' Psellus went on. 'Namely, that they promoted me from Compliance up to Necessary Evil simply in order to keep me under control. Which is something I should've figured out long ago,' he went on, 'after I'd been sitting alone in my office with nothing to do for weeks on end; completely out of the loop, isolated-I might as well have been locked up in a cell somewhere. It was because there was something about you they didn't want me to find out. I was blundering about, talking to your wife, the people at the factory. Sheer aimless curiosity; but they didn't want me doing it. I knew something was funny when I tried to contact the men who'd investigated the case, the prosecutor, the advocate; and for one reason and another, all quite reasonable, I couldn't. They didn't answer my letters, they weren't available, they'd been reassigned. As far as I know, none of them've died or disappeared, but perhaps that's only because I stopped poking around. I wondered why they hadn't just got rid of me; I think that was when I started worrying about what the whole business was doing to me. But it's hard, when you're cooped up in an office all day long with absolutely nothing at all to do.'
He stopped. Vaatzes was looking at him.
'Which is all I can tell you, really,' he said. 'And it's just a theory, I can't prove anything. I believe that there's some unpleasant secret, something about the circumstances of your-' He was about to say offense. 'Of what you did. I'm more or less certain that you weren't aware of it; at least, not at the time. But now I've reached the dead end, as far as what I can find out on my own, back home. Basically, if I'm going to solve this puzzle, the only one who might be able to tell me anything useful is the source himself: you. And…' Deep breath. 'And I thought,' he went on, his voice shaking just a little in spite of everything, 'it also occurred to me that you'd probably be interested in any conclusion I might reach. Which is why I'm here,' he added feebly.
Silence; not even rats or chickens. Just the two of them.
'One thing,' Vaatzes said, eventually, in a voice so tense it hurt Psellus to listen to it. 'Is it true? Really? About…?'
'The wedding?' Psellus nodded. 'And no, it's nothing to do with me, not something we arranged. Probably I was the only one in Necessary Evil who even knew about it.'
'You told them?'
'Yes. By then I was starting to have my suspicions, about why I was there. On reflection, it didn't seem wise to advertise the fact that I was still-well, taking an interest.'
'I think it matters,' Vaatzes said. 'I think it's really important; if any of them knew, before you told them. Do you agree?'
One expert consulting another. Psellus nodded. 'I'm not sure how I can find out,' he added. 'Obviously. But I'll try.'
'Thank you.'
Two words that mean so much. 'That's all right,' Psellus said. 'I feel-'
Vaatzes interrupted him. 'This is getting strange,' he said, with a slight grin. 'Not what I expected. I hadn't anticipated you having anything to offer that I might actually want.'
'You think I'd come all this way with nothing to sell?' The words came out before Psellus was ready; but they were gone now, too late to worry about it. 'I would like to ask you some questions,' he said. 'But maybe not straightaway. I want…' He nerved himself. 'I want you to be able to trust me. So I'd like to get the other stuff out of the way. The stuff I was sent to do. If I bring it up afterward, you might think…'
'I understand.' Vaatzes' eyes were cold, but not hostile. 'I take it there's an offer.'
'Yes.'
'I'd be interested in hearing it.'
So Psellus told him. The Vadani, in return for immunity in exile.
'I see,' Vaatzes replied, after a long moment. 'Is that the opening bid, or the final offer?'
This was the boundary; he could cross it, or hold back. 'They feel it's important that you trust them,' he said. 'They know that you'd be suspicious if they offered you a chance to come home, but that's what they want you to hold out for. My mission isn't supposed to succeed. I'm supposed to make you an offer they know you'll reject. Accordingly, immunity in exile is all I'm authorized to offer you.'
'I see.'
'Which is where the marriage was useful,' Psellus said (bad choice of words; he cringed). 'I was supposed to tell you about it-well, it was my idea, they agreed-so you'd realize there's nothing left for you back home; you might as well accept exile, settle down, find a nice girl, get a job. I was supposed to believe there was a good chance you'd see the sense in that and accept.'
Vaatzes grinned. 'They underestimated you.'
'Something I'd have said was impossible,' Psellus replied, 'but apparently they managed it. So, there's the offer. Take it or leave it.'
They looked at each other across the table; two Mezentines in a strange, empty city.
'I accept,' Vaatzes said.
After Psellus had asked his questions and Ziani had answered them, they discussed the implications for a while. Then Ziani said, 'I think I understand now.'
'It's only a theory,' Psellus said nervously. 'I couldn't prove…'
Ziani shook his head. 'You don't have to,' he said. 'Not for my benefit. After all, it's not as though it changes anything.'
It amused him to see Psellus shocked. 'It doesn't?'
'Not now.' To make his point, he rested his hand lightly on the packet of documents lying on the table. 'That's changed everything, you see. You do understand, don't you?'
