David Weber - Hell Hath No Fury

Chava's voice dripped derision, and the Seneschal's jaw tightened once more. Othmaliz had long coveted Shurkhal, not least because of the Grand Ternathian Canal. Long before the canal's eventual construction, the possibilities it had raised-particularly in conjunction with control of Tajvana itself and the Ibral Strait-had been obvious to everyone … including several generations of Seneschals. The relatively sparse Shurkhali population had made the notion of a quick, tidy little war of conquest appealing. In fact, that conquest had been attempted on two separate occasions, with a notable lack of success-a fact which went far towards explaining the long-standing hostility between Othmaliz and the desert kingdom.

"I cannot disagree with you, Your Majesty," the Seneschal said finally. "Unfortunately, it would appear to be a little too late to rectify the situation at this time. The Act of Unification has already been ratified, and while it might be possible for you to decline to conform with its terms, I, unfortunately, have a Parliament to which I must answer."

And very irritating it must be, too, Chava thought sardonically. Especially after so many years of having it automatically rubberstamp any proposal you chose to have your mouthpieces put before it.

"Oh, I agree-both that it's too late, and that it's unfortunate that should be the case," he said aloud.

"Nonetheless, as men with responsibilities to those they govern, it behooves us to do what we may to restrain the excesses of the panic-mongers. And while one would never suggest or encourage the adoption of extralegal resistance of what, after all, will be a legitimate, properly approved world government, it also behooves us to resist the potential abuse of power by the cabal which has obviously come together to secure the Ternathian domination of the entire explored multiverse."

"I thoroughly agree that one should eschew 'extralegal' measures," the Seneschal replied. "Even when they succeed, they tend to undermine the legitimacy of anyone willing to embrace them. After all, if one is willing to step outside the law in pursuit of one's own goals, then how can one legitimately argue that others are not fully justified in doing the same thing if their interests conflict with one's own? Of course," he looked directly into Chava's eyes, "that assumes such measures become public knowledge, does it not?"

Chava arched a mental eyebrow. So, the Seneschal knew about the covert activities of his own secret police, did he? Well, it had always been unlikely those activities could escape scrutiny forever.

"I'm sure it would … assuming, of course, that one had any inclination to resort to them in the first place," he said piously.

"Assuming that, of course," the Seneschal agreed politely. Then he pursed his lips thoughtfully.

"Your Majesty, I've greatly enjoyed our conversation, and I appreciate the candor with which you've addressed our common concerns. Still, it occurs to me that you, at least, are in a position from which you will eventually see your grandchild on the throne of that same world-empire. In light of that, it would appear to me that the degree to which our two peoples are likely to suffer under its dominion aren't precisely equal, shall we say?"

"Yes, and no, Your Eminence." Chava sighed. "One would like to think your analysis would be accurate.

However, while I would regard any child of this proposed union as my grandchild, Zindel chan Calirath will almost certainly regard that child as his grandchild. And given that the crown will be placed upon Zindel's head, not mine, I greatly fear that under normal circumstances, that grandchild will grow up under Ternathian influence. It may be a child of my blood, Your Eminence, but it will regard Uromathia through Ternathian eyes."

"If that should happen, I would grieve for you, Your Majesty. In the meantime, of course, I will pray to Bergahl on your behalf. He is, after all, a god of justice, and if there is any justice, Zindel's blatant manipulation of this crisis to his own advantage will not prosper."

"I thank you for your prayers, Your Eminence. And I fear you're probably correct-it would take the intervention of the gods themselves to thwart the ambitions Zindel has obviously cherished since well before these 'Arcanans' turned up to provide him with the pretext he required."

"Perhaps so," the Seneschal agreed.

"Still," Chava straightened in his chair, smiling brightly, with the air of a man determined to find a bright side so that he could look upon its, "one ought to be willing to extend at least a little trust and faith that the gods will intervene on the side of right. And, of course, it's also possible I'm being unduly pessimistic about how the child of any union between Prince Janaki and one of my daughters would be reared. There could be many influences in such a child's life, after all. That's a point we would all do well to remember. Indeed, it's in my mind that should my daughter become pregnant, and should the child be born whole and healthy, fit to take up the burden of the crown of Sharona in the fullness of time, it would be only fitting for me to make a substantial offering to the gods, both in gratitude for the birth and to petition the gods to keep that child safe and raise him-or her-free of pernicious influences."

"Indeed, Your Majesty," the Seneschal agreed once again.

"In fact," Chava continued, obviously warming to his theme, "it would be appropriate, I think, for me to make that offering not simply to Dosaru, but to other gods of justice, as well. After all, that child will one day govern all of us, so surely it wouldn't be amiss to petition all of the gods whose worshipers will be his subjects."

"I would think such a gesture of largess on your part would be deeply appreciated by pious people everywhere, Your Majesty," the Seneschal said warmly.

"Well, in that case," Chava's eyes narrowed as they bored into the Seneschal's, "I imagine Bergahl's Comforters would undoubtedly receive a significant contribution at such time as that child was declared healthy and fit to rule."

The Seneschal's face was very still for a heartbeat or two. Then he nodded slowly.

"I think that would be most appropriate, Your Majesty," he said. "Most appropriate, indeed."

"Sit down. Sit down, Klayrman!"

Commander of One Thousand Toralk obeyed Commander of Two Thousand Harshu's ebullient invitation and seated himself across the snow-white tablecloth from him. Harshu's command tent was pitched upwind of the smoke-and smell of seared flesh-rising from what had once been Fort Brithik, but occasional tendrils of that smoke still reached it, and the silver, china, and crystal glittering on the table under the accumulator-powered light globe seemed almost … bizarre to the Air Force officer.

"Wine?" Harshu invited, and beckoned to his orderly before Toralk could reply. The orderly poured ruby-colored wine from a bottle whose label had never been printed in Arcana into Toralk's glass, and Harshu smiled.

"Whatever else we might want to say about these people, they seem to be excellent vintners," he observed. "Try it. I think you like it."

Toralk sipped obediently, then nodded. It was excellent, rather like one of the better Hilmaran reds.

"It's good, Sir," he said, and Harshu chuckled.

""thinspace"'Good'?" The two thousand shook his head. "And here I thought all Air Force officers had an appreciation for the finer things in life! Oh, well, I suppose I can't have everything. I'll just have to settle for the frankly remarkable job you've been doing managing this advance, Klayrman."

"I'm glad you're satisfied, Sir," Toralk replied.

"I'm a lot more than just 'satisfied,'"thinspace"" Harshu told him. "So far, you've hit every objective ahead of schedule. Your SpecOps teams have done a remarkable job of cutting the Voice chain ahead of our attacks, and we haven't lost a battle dragon since the swamp portal. I'm very pleased, Klayrman.