Diplomats and Fugitives (The Emperor's Edge Book 9) (24 page)

Basilard felt his cheeks warm, even though she hadn’t insinuated anything, not truly.
She’s been very helpful in all of our skirmishes, both with the predators and…
He hesitated. He still wasn’t sure what it had meant the other night when he had come across her on the ground, with that shaman nearby. They hadn’t been talking as equals, but Basilard feared the shaman might have been punishing her because she hadn’t found the information she had been supposed to find.

Yes, she was helping Maldynado and the others when Sicarius and I came up on your party today
, Amaranthe signed.
She shot at least two of her own people that I saw.

She did?
Basilard hadn’t received the information about the Kendorian attack yet, but now the funeral pyre made more sense.

Amaranthe nodded.
When I say,
her people,
I just mean Kendorians. I know there are factions, the same as there always have been in Turgonia, and she might not have any love for those who are invading here, but I thought her willingness to shoot other Kendorians was interesting. Why would she commit to help you so? Maybe Maldynado was right, and you’ve managed to charm her.

Basilard snorted.
Not me.

“Hm.”

Perhaps you could talk to her,
Basilard signed, remembering his earlier idea.
If I had a conversation with Ashara in the morning, with you acting as my translator, you could observe her without her being wary about you, and then you could let me know what you think, if we might truly bring her over to our side or if she’s been Shukura’s man, er, woman, all along, and if she’s here to hinder us rather than help us.

I think you’re overvaluing my social abilities
. Amaranthe’s lips thinned in a self-deprecating smirk.

No, I’m not. You tamed Sicarius.

“Tamed?” She laughed softly.
He’s not a grimbal.

No, he’s flintier.

And he’s probably observing this conversation from whatever shadow he’s skulking in. Maybe you should say some nice things about him before we need him to get us out of trouble in the Kendorian camp.

I thought you intended not to need his help.

You don’t bet on a duel based on the combatants’ intentions.
Amaranthe patted Basilard on the shoulder, then stood up. “I’m going to get some sleep and suggest you do too. Tomorrow might be an eventful day.”

Of that Basilard had little doubt.

As he headed for his pack to spread out a blanket for himself, he caught a murmur from the trees.

“Skulking,” Sicarius said. “Really.”

Amaranthe chuckled, slipping into the shadows to join him. “Was I wrong?”

Instead of answering, Sicarius pulled her toward him.

Basilard lay on his blanket, turning his back to them. Even if they were the most subtle of couples, he had no trouble telling when two people were retreating into the trees to share a private moment. He had no wish to intrude in any way. Nor did he want to think about other people enjoying each other’s company when it had been so long since he’d had any company to enjoy.

Focus on the mission, he told himself, on refining the plan. He would only get one chance to try and bluff those Kendorians out of his homeland. If he failed, more than his life would be at stake.

• • • • •

The first light of dawn found Ashara sitting cross-legged on a rocky bank overlooking the lake. As the birds awoke, chirping their songs to welcome the day, she hunkered over a pile of sturdy reeds she had cut. She had retrieved most of her arrows from the skirmish the day before, but she had lost many in the fights with the grimbals, leaving her ammunition depleted. She had heads and a strong glue that she carried in her kit at all times, but the shafts had to be collected from materials found in the woods. Wood would be sturdier, but the reeds would take much less time to turn into weapons, and if she was going to be shooting humans instead of giant, shaggy predators with thick hides, she didn’t need strong, heavy shafts.

She grimaced at the thought of shooting more people, especially more of
her
people, but she didn’t know what the next few days would bring. Despite being exhausted, she had lain awake for much of the night, dwelling on what she should do. Not only was this not her fight, but by siding with the Mangdorians and Turgonians, she was siding against her people. Whether she agreed with creating or taking advantage of a blight or not, who was she to decide to stop a Kendorian invasion? More than once, she had wondered if she should simply go home. Wherever that was. She couldn’t go back to the Turognian capital where a word from Shukura could even see her extradited back to Kendor. Further—she gritted her teeth—he had said that her children might not be safe if she failed him.

“I’m doing what?” Maldynado asked from his blanket.

“Pretending you’re good friends with the president and that you’re authorized to deliver important messages on his behalf,” Amaranthe said.

“How is that pretending? He’s living and working in a building named after me. We’re definitely good friends.”

“I see. And the part about delivering important messages?”

“I’ve been sent to the caterer on his behalf no less than three times. The last one was for that big shindig with all of the ministers. A lesser man wouldn’t have been trusted with delivering the dinner order.”

“We want to convince those Kendorians that Turgonia is bringing the military over to deal with them, because Turgonia has decided it wants Mangdoria’s ore for itself.”

“But that hasn’t happened, right?” Maldynado asked. “You didn’t brief us much when you showed up. You just accused me of crashing lorries.”

“No, it hasn’t happened,” Amaranthe said, ignoring the rest. “Basilard is hoping to use trickery to get those people out of his homeland until he can check with his chiefs and figure out what kind of long-term solution might be reached. Maybe the Mangdorians
will
want to try to make a deal with Turgonia.”

“Why not suggest that now?” Jomrik asked. He had stowed his blanket, cleaned his rifle, and appeared ready for the road. “That an alliance has been made and that we’re going to protect Mangdoria?”

“The empire has never been known for
protecting
its neighbors,” Amaranthe said. “Yes, Starcrest is different from the emperors of the past, but I doubt the Kendorians have seen any proof of that yet. It’s too early. They’re going to want to think the worst of Turgonia rather than the best. I think they’ll be more likely to believe that we’re after the ore here rather than that we care about the people.”

Basilard, who was sitting on a stump and listening to them talk, smiled ruefully and nodded.

“Am I going to get in trouble for pretending the president said something that he didn’t?” Maldynado pushed aside his blanket, tucked his shirt in, and grabbed his hat, a new one this morning. It was green with small faux antlers sticking up from the top.

“Thought you were good friends with him,” Jomrik said.

“That was before I started lying about him to an enemy nation.”

“Maybe Maldynado isn’t the best person for this,” Mahliki said.

“Are
you
volunteering?” Amaranthe asked.

“Well.” Mahliki frowned down at a notebook in her hands. She had woken early, lit a lantern, and been writing in it while she observed her glass dishes. “I don’t think Father would disown me for lying. There’s something in the parent handbook about that not being allowed.”

“Really?” Maldynado asked. “My old man must not have read that book. I didn’t even lie. He just disowned me for differences in opinions.”

“Will the Kendorians listen to a girl?” Jomrik asked. When Mahliki arched her eyebrows at him, he rushed to add, “Not that we don’t like girls back home. But has Turgonia ever sent a girl—a woman—to negotiate on its behalf?”

“Perhaps in matters related to money or trade,” Amaranthe said, then her expression grew wistful. “Books would know.”

“But women can join the military in Kendor, can’t they?” Mahliki looked toward Ashara. “And come into positions of political power? Haven’t there been a few female heads in their triumvirate?”

Ashara kept her focus on crafting her arrows. The others were far enough away from her that she didn’t feel compelled to join the conversation, and she didn’t know how she felt about the plan they had come up with. Bluffing hundreds of her people? It might be better than sending their assassin—Ashara hadn’t seen Sicarius yet this morning, but she sensed that he was around, keeping an eye on the perimeter—but would it work? Basilard might get himself killed. Tladik, or whoever was leading her people, clearly did not mind removing a few Mangdorians along their route.

“I believe that’s true,” Amaranthe said, “but Turgonia has always been male dominated, at least when it comes to war and politics. The Kendorians might find a female representative difficult to believe.”

Don’t you want to focus on the blight, Mahliki?
Basilard pointed at her notebook.

“Very much so,” Mahliki said. “I just don’t want anyone getting in trouble. Even Maldynado. My father is a reasonable man, but he wouldn’t like someone making claims on his behalf.”

“If Maldynado’s willing, we’ll have to risk it.” Amaranthe smiled. “Maybe your father will never hear about it.”

“Amaranthe adheres to the do-something-reckless-first-and-then-ask-if-it-was-a-good-idea-later philosophy,” Maldynado said. “I hold her jacket while she does them. That’s usually how I end up getting blamed when things go wrong. Or crash. Apparently, I look shiftier than she does.”

Just like more of a troublemaker
, Basilard signed.

“Might I point out that this is Basilard’s plan,” Amaranthe said. “Sicarius and I have only agreed to help. Actually, Sicarius hasn’t commented on it yet. I’ve agreed to help.”

“And you’ve agreed me to help?” Maldynado asked.

“You came to mind since you’re tall, strong, broad, and clearly Turgonian. You look like the epitome of the warrior-caste scion, exactly what the Kendorians should expect from a representative for the president.”

“Aren’t warrior-caste scions usually more serious?” Jomrik asked.

“I can be serious when necessary,” Maldynado said.

Jomrik eyed him—and his antlers—skeptically.

“You don’t by chance have a more serious hat along, do you?” Amaranthe nodded at his head.

“This
is
my serious hat. It’s designed to help me blend into the wilderness, something that might be important if we get attacked again.”

“Maybe you can go hatless. Display your flowing locks. If the Kendorians have a female leader, she might be impressed by a handsome man with lush curls.”

“Talk about my lushness like that, and I’ll tell Yara you’re trying to steal me away.”

Since the planning phase of the conversation seemed to be over, Ashara turned her back to the others again, so she could craft a few more arrows before they left. She did not know what role she would be expected to play in this bluffing game, but she did not look forward to being seen by her people. Perhaps she could remain in the distance as a scout. The
far
distance.

“Ashara?” a woman asked softly from behind her.

Expecting Mahliki to want to talk about solving the blight again, Ashara waved for the speaker to approach. Then she realized it was Amaranthe, not Mahliki, and that she was with Basilard.

For some reason, a twinge of nervousness afflicted her. She turned slowly to face them, though she continued to work on the arrow she was making. That would give her an excuse not to meet their eyes. She did not want them to sense the uncertainty bubbling inside of her and see it as deceit.

“Basilard would like to speak with you,” Amaranthe said, waving him forward. “He tells me that he has not been entirely pleased with Maldynado’s interpretations of his signs.”

Basilard’s wry smirk made Ashara relax, even if she wasn’t sure it should. His blue eyes were warm, not suspicious, and he nodded at her in a friendly way as he sat down in front of her. Amaranthe sat on a rock to the side, where she could see his hands but where she wouldn’t be in the way of the conversation.

Basilard made several sentences worth of signs before pausing and nodding for Amaranthe to translate. Between the brief lessons, her previous understanding of the hand code, and a lot of observation, Ashara could have gotten the gist of Basilard’s comments without a translator, but she didn’t say that. This gave her more time to think before responding, without her pauses seeming suspicious.

“He says, ‘Yesterday I found out where the Kendorians were going. Hundreds of them. They’re setting up mines in a canyon not far from here. They’ve had people there for a while. Those were the reinforcements we saw on the trail. I intend to talk with their leader and negotiate on my people’s behalf, see if I can find a way to convince them to leave without resorting to violence.’”

Ashara understood this from listening to their conversation, but she did not want to admit to eavesdropping. “
Would
your people resort to violence?” she asked. “I thought…” She shrugged. She shouldn’t assume.

“‘We cannot allow our homeland to be pillaged by foreigners,’” Amaranthe said firmly after Basilard signed the same thing. There had been a slight hesitation to his gestures, and his expression wasn’t quite so firm. “‘It would set a precedent from which we could never recover. In a generation or less, we might not have a homeland to call our own again. I intend to do something about that.’”

Ashara did not know what to say. She wanted to warn Basilard to be careful and to assume the Kendorians had come prepared to defend themselves. But would he find it odd if she offered that warning? They all knew she was a spy. Would they think she had some ulterior motive? That she was telling him not to go because she wanted her people to succeed and not have opposition?

In addition to not wanting to see Basilard hurt, she did not want to walk into the Kendorian camp herself. They might be even more likely to shoot her than they would be to shoot Basilard, especially if Tladik had shared who she was.

She stared down at her half-assembled arrow and rubbed the back of her neck. “I don’t think I can go with you,” she said slowly, hating that it sounded cowardly. But as she had already been telling herself, this wasn’t her fight. To choose this battle was foolish, both for herself and for her children.