axes that formed so large a part of the decoration, all reminded him how different these folk were from his own.
Even Horthy's invitation felt strange. Alone among civilized folk, the Gyongyosians cared nothing for the powers above and the powers below. They measured their life in this world and the world to come by the stars. Hajjaj had never understood that, but there were a great many more urgent things in the world that he didn't understand, either.
He got himself a glass of wine: grape wine, for date wine was as alien to Gyongyos as swearing by the stars was to him. He took a chicken leg roasted with Gyongyosian spices, chief among them a reddish powder that reminded him a little of pepper. Nothing quite like it grew in Zuwayza.
One of the Gyongyosians was an excellent fiddler. He strolled through the reception hall, coaxing fiery music from his instrument as he went. Hajjaj had never imagined going to war behind a fiddle- drums and blaring horns were Zuwayza's martial instruments- but this fellow showed him a different way might be as good as his own.
There was Iskakis of Yanina, in earnest conversation with a handsome junior military attachй from Gyongyos. And there, over in a corner, stood Balastro of Algarve, in earnest conversation with Iskakis' lovely young wife. Hajjaj strolled over to them. He had not the slightest intention of asking about the military situation in southern Unkerlant, not at the moment. Instead, he hoped to head off trouble before it started. Iskakis might not be passionately devoted to her as a lover, but he did have a certain pride of possession. And Balastro… Balastro was an Algarvian, which meant, where women were concerned, he was trouble waiting to happen.
Seeing Hajjaj approach, he bowed. 'Good evening, your Excellency,' he said. 'Coming to save me from myself?'
'By all appearances, someone should,' Hajjaj replied.
'And what would you save me from, your Excellency?' Iskakis' wife asked in fair Algarvian. 'The marquis, at least, seeks to save me from boredom.'
'Is that what they call it these days?' Hajjaj murmured. Rather louder, he added, 'Milady, I might hope to help save you from yourself.'
Not caring in the least who heard her, she answered, 'I would like you better if you looked to save me from my husband.' With a sigh, Hajjaj went off to find himself another goblet of wine. Diplomacy had failed here, as it had all over Derlavai.
Part of Pekka wished she'd never gone home to Kajaani, never spent most of her leave in her husband's arms. It made coming back to the Naantali district and the rigors of theoretical sorcery all the harder. Another part of her, though, quite simply wished she hadn't come back. The wilderness seemed doubly desolate after seeing a city, even a moderate-sized one like Kajaani.
And she had trouble returning to the narrow world that centered on the newly built hostel and the blockhouse and the journey between them. Everything felt tiny, artificial. People rubbed her raw without intending to do it. Or, as in the case of Ilmarinen, they meant every bit of it.
'No, we are not going to do that,' she told the elderly theoretical sorcerer. She sounded sharper than she'd intended. 'I've told you why not before- we're trying to make a weapon here. We can investigate the theoretical aspects that haven't got anything to do with weapons when we have more time. Till then, we have to concentrate on what needs doing most.'
'How can we be sure of what that is unless we investigate widely?' Ilmarinen demanded.
'We don't have the people to investigate as widely as you want,' Pekka answered. 'We barely have the people to investigate all the ley lines we're on right now. There aren't enough theoretical sorcerers in the whole land of the Seven Princes to do everything you want done.'
'You're a professor yourself,' Ilmarinen said. 'On whom do you blame that?' Sure enough, he was being as difficult as he could.
Pekka refused to rise to the bait. 'I don't blame anyone. It's just the way things are.' She smiled an unpleasant smile. If Ilmarinen felt like being difficult, she could be difficult, too. 'Or would you like us to bring in more mages from Lagoas? That might give us the manpower we'd need.'
'And it might give Lagoas the edge against us in any trouble we have with them,' Ilmarinen answered. Then he paused and scowled at Pekka. 'It might give you the chance to poke pins in me to see me jump, too.'
'Master Ilmarinen, when you are contrary with numbers, wonderful things happen,' Pekka said. 'You see things no one else can- you see things where no one else would think to look. But when you are contrary with people, you drive everyone around you mad. I know you do at least some of it for your amusement, but we haven't got time for that, either. Who knows what the Algarvians are doing?'
'I do,' he answered at once. 'They're retreating. I wonder how good they'll be at it. They haven't had much practice.'
That wasn't what she'd meant. Ilmarinen doubtless knew as much, too. He hated the Algarvians' murderous magecraft perhaps even more than she did. But she thought- she hoped- he'd made the crack as a sort of peace offering. She answered in that spirit, saying, 'May they learn it, and learn it well.'
'No.' Ilmarinen shook his head. 'May they learn it, and learn it badly. That will cost them more.' He called down imaginative curses on the heads of King Mezentio and all his ancestors. Before long, in spite of everything, he had Pekka giggling. Then, making her gladder still, he left without arguing anymore for abstract research at the expense of military research.
'He has lost his sense of proportion,' Pekka told Fernao at breakfast the next morning. The Lagoan mage probably would have understood had she spoken Kuusaman; he'd made new strides in her language even in the short time she'd been away. But she spoke classical Kaunian anyhow- using the international language of scholarship helped give her some distance from what had gone on.
Fernao spooned up more barley porridge seasoned with butter and salt. His answer also came in classical Kaunian: 'That is why you head this project and he does not, or does not anymore. You can supply that sense of proportion, even if he has lost it.'
'I suppose so.' Pekka sighed. 'But I wish he would remember that, too. Of course, if he remembered such things, I would not have to lead the way here now. I rather wish I did not.'
'Someone must,' Fernao said. 'You are the best suited.'
'Maybe.' Pekka had a little bone from her grilled smoked herring stuck between two teeth. After worrying it free with her tongue, she said, 'I had hoped more would be done while I was away.'
'I am sorry,' Fernao said, as if the failure were his fault.
Pekka didn't think that was true. She knew, however, that Fernao was the only theoretical sorcerer who showed any sign of taking responsibility for the lull. She said, 'Maybe you should have been in charge while I went to Kajaani.'
'I doubt it,' he answered. 'I would not care to take orders from a Kuusaman in Lagoas. No wonder the reverse holds true here.'
'Why would you not want to take orders from one of my countrymen in your kingdom?' Pekka asked. 'If the Kuusaman were best suited to lead the job, whatever it was…'
Fernao laughed, which bewildered Pekka. He said, 'I think you may be too sane for your own good.'
That made her laugh in turn. Before she could say anything, a crystallomancer came into the dining hall calling her name. 'I'm here,' she said, getting to her feet. 'What is it?'
'A message for you,' the young woman answered stolidly.
'I suspected that, aye,' Pekka said. 'But from whom? My son? My husband? My laundryman back in Kajaani?' That was a bit of sarcasm of which she thought even Ilmarinen might have approved.
'It's Prince Juhainen, Mistress Pekka,' the crystallomancer said.
'What?' Pekka squeaked. 'Powers above, why didn't you say so?' She rushed out of the dining hall past the crystallomancer, not bothering to wait for her. The woman hurried after her, stammering apologies. Pekka ignored those, but dashed into the room where the crystals were kept. Sure enough, Prince Juhainen's image waited in one of them. She went down to a knee for a moment before asking, 'How may I serve you, your Highness?'
'Along with two of my colleagues, I propose visiting your establishment soon,' the young prince answered. 'We have spent a good deal of money over in Naantali, and we want to discover what we are getting for it.'
