'Do you travel also to Bethlar?’ Arwain risked.
'Oh yes,’ came the unhesitating reply. ‘Though not as much. They do precious little in the way of trading and they aren't the happiest of people to be among.’ He laughed. ‘I don't suppose I should say that really in view of the fact that I'm at least three-quarters Bethlarii myself.’ The man's informality and joviality were infectious, but Arwain carefully avoided relaxing too much. He has seen his father use precisely the same technique to lure information gently from some unsuspecting individual.
'Anyway,’ Haynar continued. ‘I've sprung my little surprise, now perhaps you could spring yours.'
'I have nothing to spring, I hope, sir,’ Arwain said, blandly. ‘I was asked to come here by my father to seek information.’ Briefly he outlined the message that the Bethlarii envoy had brought to Serenstad.
As he spoke, Haynar began to tap his foot agitatedly.
'This is appalling,’ he burst out, when Arwain had finished. He jabbed his forefinger into the arm of his chair. ‘We won't tolerate it. Never again will we allow ourselves to be used as some kind of a pawn in the eternal games that Bethlar and Serenstad play,’ he said fiercely, now very much a leader of men.
Arwain was taken aback. ‘We play no game, sir,’ he said earnestly. ‘You said yourself, our city is a marvellous place, bustling with vigour and opportunity. The only opportunities in war are death and survival, and it was war that the Bethlarii envoy spoke of as a result of what was happening here. If you know Serenstad and its people at all, you know that we seek no war. We'll fight if we have to, but
Haynar's eyes narrowed. ‘Let's not be naive, Lord,’ he said. ‘There are other opportunities in war. Your brother's factories forge weapons as well as ploughshares and coach wheels. And he's a wild man. War might well suit many of his ends. And you've more than a few problems with some of your people that a war might judiciously alleviate.'
Arwain felt anger flare up inside him. Desperately he forced the image of his father into his mind; his father sitting calmly while the Bethlarii envoy had publicly insulted him. Sitting calmly and prevailing.
Surreptitiously he took a deep breath and released it slowly.
'I can't deny that there's a considerable element of truth in what you say, sir,’ he said, as quietly as he could manage, though it made his tightened jaw ache. ‘But if you feel that is the predominant element, then I must return to my father and confess that I have failed in my mission here, and advise him to send others, perhaps better suited to diplomacy.'
Haynar put his hand to his mouth casually, hiding further his already shaded face. He did not speak.
Arwain made to rise, but Haynar gently motioned him to remain seated. After a long pause, he stood up and walked over to the window.
'Did you notice the work on our walls as you arrived?’ he said, almost absently, after a further pause.
'Yes.'
'Expensive,’ Haynar said, shaking his head. ‘And wasteful. Time, effort, resources. All could be better spent. But we intend to emulate your father, Lord. We intend to be strong.’ He turned to look at Arwain. ‘Neutral,’ he insisted, raising a hand in emphasis. ‘But strong, resolute. Not aggressive.’ He gave a short, grim laugh. ‘The last thing we want is control over others. We're a people shaped through countless generations by the warfare of others and we intend to use the peace that your father began to become a third force in the land. A force that will bind us, Bethlar, Serenstad, all the cities and towns, with a myriad of tiny bonds of trade, trust and blood, so complex and intricate that war will cease to exist as a practical alternative in solving disputes.'
Some merchant! Arwain thought.
'I commend you,’ he said. ‘As would my father, if you would not consider such a commendation to be demeaning.'
Haynar returned to his chair. ‘Wouldn't your father be concerned that such a third power might combine with the Bethlarii to form an army that could take Serenstad's dominions from it as from a child, and then finally sweep the city itself aside?'
Arwain thought for a moment. ‘He would consider it, I'm sure,’ he said, with a slight smile. ‘And he would watch, and listen. Which is no more than he does now. And should he see such a development beginning to occur, then he would ask you about it, probably very straightforwardly. Just as I asked you about the truth in the Bethlarii envoy's claims about the treatment of those they call their people here.'
Haynar raised his emphatic finger again. ‘There are no Bethlarii people here. You know that,’ he said. ‘Nor Serens. There are only Whendreachi. What I just said: the work to the walls, the intention to be strong-this is
'Your vision though, Honoured Maeran?’ Arwain said.
Haynar nodded. ‘Possibly,’ he replied. ‘But their will nonetheless.'
'Then what did the envoy mean?’ Arwain asked simply. ‘Was he lying? And if so, to what end?'
Haynar leaned forward and frowned. ‘He was and he wasn't,’ he replied. ‘And the end they seek is war, without a doubt, which is why we're accelerating the work on our defences.’ He looked straight at Arwain. ‘But as to why…'
He gave a disowning shrug.
'I don't understand,’ Arwain said. ‘How can he lie and not lie?'
Haynar pulled a rueful face. ‘The same way that I just did,’ he said. ‘It's true there are no native Bethlarii and Serens here, except perhaps for a few who've come here following marriage. But adherence to your two states brings constant trouble to our streets.’ He began to gesticulate as he spoke. ‘Like Serenstad, we have our factions, Guilds, political parties, various cartels of influential people, businesses, malcontents. And where there is such variety there is inevitably confusion, inefficiency, mistrust and, sadly, corruption; and progress towards better times is at best … uneven. Then, the ignorant become impatient. They weave flights of fancy about the possibility of some simple sovereign remedy for all ills being at hand. Some will follow an eloquent and persuasive leader. Others will follow the holy writing of some confounded god or other. They come and go leaving varying amounts of emotional debris behind them, but, at the moment, we are suffering badly from those who, like me, are largely Bethlarii by blood, but who, unlike me, take an over-weaning pride in it and imagine that a return to Bethlarii puritanism and … harsh warrior training … will bring about a new age of prosperity and dignity.'
Arwain nodded. ‘As you say, troublesome factions are not uncommon in Serenstad, too,’ he said. ‘In what way are these people causing special problems?'
Haynar leaned back. ‘They're violent,’ he said bluntly. ‘Very violent. They march through the streets intimidating people, they disrupt Council meetings, Guild meetings, they attack people whom they consider to be “too Serens'. And when we take action against them, they send messages off to Bethlar saying we're victimizing them.'
'And has Bethlar replied?’ Arwain asked.
Haynar looked at him and then at a large, old-fashioned time-piece hanging on the wall. ‘Come with me,’ he said. ‘There's an emergency Council meeting in about an hour. I think you'll find it interesting and informative.'
The Council Chamber was smaller than Arwain had imagined, being used to the large Sened Hall and the even larger hall of the Gythrin-Dy. Nonetheless, it was impressive, with semicircular rows of seats laid out in tiers raking gently down to a raised platform at one end of the hall. The walls were covered with intricately carved wooden panels showing significant scenes from Whendrak's history but, as they were led in, both Arwain and Ryllans found their eyes drawn inexorably upwards. Instead of the smoothly polished wooden beams and plastered ceilings that would grace such a hall in Serenstad and most other cities, the ceiling seemed to grow naturally out of the wall panels and consisted of a complex, interwoven web of tree branches. They were of every conceivable girth, and they rambled their twisting way across the hall and up into an impenetrable darkness without any semblance of regularity of pattern.
Here and there, lamps were hanging from the lower branches, but there were also several shining high up within the labyrinthine structure, so that they looked almost like stars shining down through a forest canopy.
'It's like being under the roots of a great tree,’ Arwain whispered to Ryllans, involuntarily awed by the sight.
Ryllans nodded. ‘Remarkable,’ he said. ‘And an assassin's paradise if there's access to it.'
Arwain shot him a reproachful look, but the official escorting them, unabashed by the remark, said, ‘The only
