“We discussed this,” Nicos said. “Until the unrest subsides, we need additional watchmen on the street.”
“Why?” Luthen said. “To protect wizards?” He waved a contemptuous hand. “To skulk around in disguise and spy on your behalf?”
Nicos directed his gaze at Shala. “Majesty, that insinuation is preposterous.”
“How so?” Luthen said. “The fact of the matter is, you’ve brought a private army into the capital-a force commanded by a Thayan mage and with other Thayans, wizards, and dwarves among the ranks.”
“Actually,” said Aoth, “I’m a Thayan renegade, with the torture chamber and the block awaiting me should I ever return. The other ‘Thayans’ in the Brotherhood are the descendents of men who came with me into exile a century ago. And at the moment, I only have one true wizard and one dwarf. Too bad-I could use more.”
Luthen kept his glare aimed at Nicos. “You claim to have placed this band of reavers and sorcerers at the service of Her Majesty. But the reality is that since you pay them, and rogues of their stripe care only for gold, they answer to you alone.”
“Well, I answer to Her Majesty,” said Nicos, “so even if your assessment were true, all’s well.”
“Far be it from me to impugn your loyalty, my lord. But history abounds in nobles who insinuated an excessive number of their personal troops into their sovereign’s capital, then turned them to some treasonous purpose. It’s simply poor policy to permit such maneuverings.”
Nicos looked to the throne. “Majesty, I know it takes more than empty prattle to make you doubt a vassal who has always served you loyally. Or to make you doubt your own decisions.”
Shala grunted. “I’ll consent to keep Captain Fezim’s sellswords patrolling the city until they prove unworthy of the trust.”
“Then if it pleases Your Majesty,” Zan-akar said, “may we return to the true business of this meeting? It’s vital that we discuss the crimes Tymanther has committed against both our realms.”
Perra snorted. “Get a grip, my lord. A scuffle in a tavern, however deplorable, scarcely warrants such a description.”
“That particular outrage,” said Zan-akar, light seething along the silvery lines in his skin, “was the least of it. Dragonborn are slipping into Akanul, slaughtering the inhabitants of remote settlements, and retreating back across the border.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Perra said.
“We have witnesses,” said Zan-akar. “Your marauders didn’t quite manage to murder everyone. And as Your Majesty knows, Akanul and Tymanther lack a common border. The only way for dragonborn raiders to reach us is to cross Chessentan territory. In light of the vows of friendship between our two realms, I assume you haven’t given them permission to do so.”
“No,” said the war hero, “of course not.”
“Then they’re trespassing on your lands just as they are on ours.”
“If these raiders actually existed,” said Perra, “then that would be a logical conclusion. But they don’t.”
“I repeat,” said Zan-akar, “we have witnesses.”
“Where?” replied Perra. “Not anyplace that Her Majesty or anyone else impartial can question them, apparently. Let’s be rational. If companies of dragonborn warriors were crossing Chessenta, then some of her own people would have noticed. Akanul wouldn’t need to tattle on us.”
“Western Chessenta is sparsely populated,” Zan-akar said, “and the hills and gullies offer excellent cover. Tymanther could sneak a whole army through.”
“Be that as it may, my lord,” said Perra, “since you didn’t bring any witnesses along with you today, in the end, this matter simply comes down to Akanul’s word against ours.”
“Perhaps I’ll send for the witnesses,” the stormsoul said, with such malevolent assurance in his tone that for just a moment, Balasar wondered if rogue dragonborn might actually have committed the alleged atrocities. “Meanwhile, I’m more than willing to discuss which kingdom’s word a sensible person ought to trust.”
Perra snorted. “Surely you aren’t going to suggest that the genasi’s reputation for honesty and steadfastness compares favorably to that of the dragonborn.”
“What I’m saying,” Zan-akar replied, “is that since the day we arrived in Faerun, Akanul has been purely and unequivocally a friend to Chessenta. Tymanther claims to be her ally, but you also profess the same to High Imaskar. The same degenerate horde of wizards and slave-takers currently sacking villages along the Chessentan coast and sinking her ships up and down the length of the Alamber Sea.”
For once, Perra seemed at a loss, at least momentarily, and Balasar didn’t blame her. Zan-akar, damn him, had landed a shrewd stroke. The war hero had made no secret of the fact that she resented Tymanther’s continued friendship with High Imaskar.
Maybe the dragonborn should pick a side. Or maybe Balasar simply thought so because at heart he was more a fighter than a diplomat. A person could certainly make a case that when a realm only had two allies, it would be a mistake to relinquish either.
“When you put it that way,” drawled Aoth, “the choice seems clear. But actually, Majesty, Lord Zan-akar is claiming a difference where none exists.”
“What do you mean?” Shala asked.
“I spent the first part of last year working for the Simbarchs,” the sellsword said, “and Aglarond and Akanul are friends. So there were genasi hanging around Veltalar. I didn’t make any special effort to pry into their affairs, but I didn’t need to in order to hear that not long ago, the queen of Akanul forged an alliance with High Imaskar. It’s no secret-except, evidently, when Lord Zan-akar and his associates are talking to you.”
Zan-akar smiled contemptuously, although the space in which he stood darkened a little more. “At a moment like this, it’s good to know that Her Majesty is far too shrewd to heed the forked tongue of a mage.”
Shala glared at him. “Is the sellsword lying? Answer honestly! You know I can find out the truth for myself.”
Zan-akar hesitated, then said, “Majesty, you know as well as I that the ministers of a realm receive envoys from here, there, and everywhere. I believe that Akanul has talked to High Imaskar, and possibly even worked out an arrangement or two regarding trade. But nothing that compromises our friendship with Chessenta!”
“Go,” Shala rapped. “Diplomats, counselors, the lot of you. We’ll take up your spite and accusations another day, when I’m in firmer control of my temper.”
It seemed to Balasar that thanks to Aoth, Tymanther had at least held its own in the battle of words, so that made two debts Clan Daardendrien owed the sellswords. As they all filed out, he caught the Thayan’s eye and gave him a respectful nod. Aoth responded with a smile that, though cordial enough, came with a certain sardonic crook.
Khouryn combed through Vigilant’s bronze and white plumage, checking for broken feathers and parasites with the two-tined iron fork designed for the purpose. Smelling of both bird and musky hunting cat, the griffon lay flat on the stable floor so the dwarf could reach all of her. In fact, she looked like she’d melted there. The grooming had produced a state of blissful relaxation.
“It sounds like everything went all right,” Khouryn said.
“Maybe,” Aoth replied. He’d already finished with Jet’s aquiline parts and started brushing his fur, first against the grain and then with it. The black steed’s eyes were scarlet slits. “But I hate talking to zulkirs-or lords or whatever-and getting mired in their lies and intrigues.”
Khouryn worked his way along Vigilant’s limply outstretched wing. “Such is the lot of a sellsword leader. But I don’t blame you. I’m not even sure I understand, from your account, what the palaver was fundamentally about.”
“Nor do I. The brawl? Our presence in Luthcheq? Some rivalry between our employer and Lord Luthen? The hatred between Akanul and Tymanther? Or between Chessenta and High Imaskar? Take your pick. It was all tangled up together.”
Khouryn spotted a nit lurking at the base of a feather. He set down the fork, took up his tongs, pulled the larva out, and crushed it. “Why do all these people despise one another anyway?”
“Aside from recent transgressions, you mean? As I understand it, everything goes back a long way. The
