________________
Minis picked up the elaborate
presentation card, with a frilled, cutwork edge, tiny blue, white and red
ribbons, with gold stars on all four corners. The name was in black ink,
translated into Arkan characters, against the outspread wings of a white-headed
eagle. “Atzana, could you give me an
idea of how on the Earthsphere I am to pronounce this?”
She smiled. “Pronounce it as though you
had a mouthful of glass marbles and about twice as slowly as you normally
speak. I believe all that –“her finger
delineated two lines. “—are all titles.”
“So, Reynawed Pearse Beyauregar Aeesleen
is trying to impress me.”
She smiled. “He’s dressed plainly, but the cotton is fine
enough for a lady’s veils. Your scholar nearly fell over when his guard turned
in their weapons which look like glass gazing balls in glass boxes.”
Minis’s stomach clenched and he nearly
choked. “How many of those things did he
bring into the Marble Palace?”
“Four.” She nodded slowly. “I should be
glad that Matthas called four clerks to carry them off? He said they were
dangerous.”
Minis shook his head slowly. “Like wearing a lightning snake around your
neck like a scarf snake.”
“He intends to give you a message then,
because he didn’t protest his ‘protection’ getting carried away.”
Minis nodded. “And in the war they sold one of those things
to my father to assassinate Ch’venga... he paid the price of small castle in
Laka for just one.”
“I think I’ll ask him to take off his
jewellery then. He’s got a little one on a silver chain.”
“Hmm.
It’s probably just full of scent, but yes please.”
**
The Fehinnan was quite short and almost
as brown as a Lakan or a Niah, his hair braided in a hundred tiny braids
cascading to his shoulders, with a cone of scented oil melting into his
coif. He bowed elaborately, with both
arms spread, and then went into a credible prostration.
“Gehit, Ambassador Aeesleen.” Minis said
quietly, in Enchian. “We don’t often see
personages from the God-King on this side of the Lannic. Am I pronouncing your name properly?”
“Ayuh, You Whose Intelligence is
Excellent,” he answered in passable Enchian. “M’Gawd-Kaying... “ Minis’s ear
caught up to his drawl. “My God-King
appointed m’ to establish closer ties to this side of the pond. Your
pronunciation is perfect.”
“The pond? That’s amusing,
Ambassador. I have to comment on my
staff’s reaction to your bodyguard’s armourments. It was one of those very rare
weapons that – how should I put it?—dissolved one of Arko’s loyal and most
excellent generals in the war. Would you
care for some refreshment?”
“Ah, no thank you kindly,
Imperator. The globes... one of our
priests has found a way to make them far more easily and cheaply, especially since
our modest country has recently acquired a number of excellent glass
technicians, though they’re having some trouble with the sand... it is
different, you see.”
Arkan
glass workers as your ‘new techs’? Don’t let the Mahid see that they’re getting
to you. “How fortunate for your country to find
such skilled workers.” His eyes narrowed as he considered Minis’as words and a
faint scent of patchouli drifted from his hair oil. Minis held his breath.
“We were hoping to establish offices in
the city itself, now that the Empire has grown so open, with your gracious
permission.” Minis merely nodded.
Aeesleen cleared his throat. “My
God-King would like to inquire if the Imperator would be so gracious as to
allow some small, inoffensive settlements of Fehinnans on your Western coast,
to facilitate trade and goodfellowship between our two nations. The rocky cliffs, perhaps, or the barren
sandbar beaches? Just ports, no agricultural land at all. We would, of course, pay a yearly
fee for our used of the land-- and of course should something like your old 'Fours Prophet' raise its ugly head, we'd be placed to nip it in the bud for you.”
“Rent the land from Arko? Defense against a Quatrain prophet?” This is starting to sound like a fellow standing at a potter's with a couple of Familias thugs at his back, saying 'Nice business you've got here.' Minis looked
down at his desk as if checking to see if his notice flag was moving. It wasn’t
but the motion was caught by his watchers and someone sent a runner out to
Atzana. She’d signal him shortly.
“We would include an initial gift to the
Empire, as well. We have several strains
of animals that would be an excellent complement to Arkan lines. No slaves, of course, since you have recently
emancipated your human tools, but I have a priest in my entourage who might be
of interest to your Haians, with a possible cure for your little problem in the
city? Oh, do you? Offering help at a price. “Especially since your gathering of nations is being discussed.” You want in, to the International Assembly? I think I should rather want to tongue-kiss my
little brother’s domoctopus instead.
“Oh, you mean the fertility control that
we tested last year?” Let him think it
was entirely under my control. You want to buy a legitimate foothold on this
continent with this so call cure of yours.
Just as you sell weapons to the weaker side in every war.
“You... tested?” He looked chagrined but
only for a moment. Minis looked down to
the twitching flag on his desk.
“Ambassador, I’m afraid that my next
appointment has arrived. I’ve heard your
proposals.” He rose to his feet, seals twinkling on his hands as he leaned on
his fingers. “Please let my welcomist know your new office’s address so I may
answer you on paper. Once you’ve settled
in perhaps we may invite you to a Marble Palace gathering. Send your priest around to speak to my
grandfather, who shall be returning from the Winter Palace for our Solstice
Ritual on the fifth of the month.”
“Your grandfather?” He looked faintly
offended.
“The Imperial Pharmacist,” Minis raised
an eyebrow. “Surely you know my
grandfather is Amitzas Mahid?”
“Of course.” Because Minis was on his
feet, the Ambassador had to rise and then prostrate himself, since he had shown
himself willing to do so at the beginning of their meeting.
“Gehit.” You pustulent, virulent, disgusting excuse for a polititian. Minis’s
smile didn’t twitch as Aeesleen bowed himself out. I wonder if you made your chains on the illicit slaver settlements in
Sria? I need to find someone who speaks fluent Fehinnan to listen in on their
private conversations. Matthas will know
someone.
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