David Eddings - Enchanter's End Game

Brador’s shoulders, however, had slumped in defeat. “No, your Highness,” he replied in a voice filled with resignation, “not really. The royal house of Sendaria has me quite outnumbered, it appears.” He rose to his feet. “Perhaps another time,” he murmured, bowing. “With your Highness’s permission,” he said, preparing to leave.

“You mustn’t forget this, Count Brador,” Layla said, pressing the parchment into his cringing hands.

The count’s face had a faintly martyred expression as he withdrew. Queen Layla turned back to her children, who were grinning impishly at her. She began to scold them in a loud voice until she was certain the count was well out of earshot, then she knelt, embraced them all and began to laugh.

“Did we do it right, Mother?” Princess Gelda asked.

“You were absolutely perfect,” Queen Layla replied, still laughing.

Sadi the eunuch had grown careless, lulled somewhat by the air of polite civility that had pervaded the palace at Sthiss Tor for the past year, and one of his associates, seizing upon his unwariness, had taken the opportunity to poison him. Sadi definitely did not appreciate being poisoned. The antidotes all tasted vile, and the aftereffects left him weak and light-headed. Thus it was that he viewed the appearance of the mail-skirted emissary of King Taur Urgas with thinly veiled irritation.

“Taur Urgas, King of the Murgos, greets Sadi, chief servant of Immortal Salmissra,” the Murgo declaimed with a deep bow as he entered the cool, dimly lighted study from which Sadi conducted most of the nation’s affairs.

“The servant of the Serpent Queen returns the greetings of the right arm of the Dragon-God of Angarak.” Sadi mouthed the formula phrases almost indifferently. “Do you suppose we could get to the point? I’m feeling a bit indisposed at the moment.”

“I was very pleased at your recovery,” the ambassador lied, his scarred face carefully expressionless. “Has the poisoner been apprehended yet?” He drew up a chair and sat down at the polished table Sadi used for a desk.

“Naturally,” Sadi replied,absently rubbing his hand over his shaved scalp.

“And executed?”

“Why would we want to do that? The man’s a professional poisoner. He was only doing his job.”

The Murgo looked a bit startled.

“We look upon a good poisoner as a national asset,” Sadi told him. “If we start killing them every time they poison somebody, very soon there won’t be any of them left, and you never know when I might want somebody poisoned.”

The Murgo ambassador shook his head incredulously. “You people have an amazing amount of tolerance, Sadi,” he said in his harshly accented voice. “What about his employer?”

“That’s another matter,” Sadi replied. “His employer is currently entertaining the leeches at the bottom of the river. Is your visit official, or did you merely stop by to inquire after my health?”

“A bit of each, Excellency.”

“You Murgos are an economical race,” Sadi observed dryly. “What does Taur Urgas want this time?”

“The Alorns are preparing to invade Mishrak ac Thull, your Excellency.”

“So I’ve heard. What’s that got to do with Nyissa?”

“Nyissans have no reason to be fond of Alorns.”

“Nor any to be fond of Murgos, either,” Sadi pointed out.

“It was Aloria that invaded Nyissa following the death of the Rivan King,” the Murgo reminded him, “and it was Cthol Murgos that provided the market for Nyissa’s primary export.”

“My dear fellow, please get to the point,” Sadi said, rubbing his scalp wearily. “I’m not going to operate on the basis of long-past insults or long-forgotten favors. The slave trade is no longer significant, and the scars left by the Alorn invasion disappeared centuries ago. What does Taur Urgas want?”

“My king wishes to avoid bloodshed,” the Murgo stated. “The Tolnedran legions form a significant part of the armies massing in Algaria. If a threat just a threat, mind you—of unfriendly activity suddenly appeared on his unprotected southern frontier, Ran Borune would recall those legions. Their loss would persuade the Alorns to abandon this adventure.”

“You want me to invade Tolnedra?” Sadi demanded incredulously.

“Naturally not, Lord Sadi. His Majesty merely wishes your permission to move certain forces through your territory to pose the threat on Tolnedra’s southern border. No blood need be shed at all.”

“Except Nyissan blood, once the Murgo army withdraws. The legions would swarm down across the River of the Woods like angry hornets.”

“Taur Urgas would be more than willing to leave garrisons behind to guarantee the integrity of Nyissan territory.”

“I’m sure he would,” Sadi observed dryly. “Advise your king that his proposal is quite unacceptable at this particular time.”

“The King of Cthol Murgos is a powerful man,” the Murgo said firmly, “and he remembers those who thwart him even more keenly than he remembers his friends.”

“Taur Urgas is a madman,” Sadi told him bluntly. “He wants to avoid trouble with the Alorns so that he can concentrate on ’Zakath. Despite his insanity, however, he’s not so foolish as to send an army into Nyissa uninvited. An army must eat, and Nyissa’s a bad place to forage for food—as history has demonstrated. The most tempting fruit has bitter juice.”

“A Murgo army carries its own food,” the ambassador replied stiffly.

“Good for them. But where do they plan to find drinking water? I don’t believe we’re getting anywhere with this. I’ll convey your proposal to her Majesty. She, of course, will make the final decision. I suspect, however, that you’ll need to offer something much more attractive than a permanent Murgo occupation to persuade her to consider the matter favorably. Was that all?”

The Murgo rose to his feet, his scarred face angry. He bowed coldly to Sadi and withdrew without further conversation.

Sadi thought about it for a while. He could gain a great deal of advantage at a minimal cost if he played this right. A few carefully worded dispatches to King Rhodar in Algaria would put Nyissa among the friends of the west. If Rhodar’s army should happen to win, Nyissa would benefit. If, on the other hand, it appeared that the west was about to lose, the proposal of Taur Urgas could be accepted. In either case, Nyissa would be on the winning side. The whole notion appealed to Sadi enormously. He stood up, his iridescent silk robe rustling, and went to a nearby cabinet. He took out a crystal decanter containing a dark blue liquid and carefully measured some of the thick syrup into a small glass and drank it. Almost immediately a euphoric calm came over him as his favorite drug took effect. A moment or two later, he felt that he was ready to face his queen. He was even smiling as he walked from his study into the dim corridor leading to the throne room.

As always, Salmissra’s chamber was dimly lighted by oil lamps hanging on long silver chains from the shadowy ceiling. The chorus of eunuchs still knelt adoringly in the queen’s presence, but they no longer sang her praises. Noise of any kind irritated Salmissra now, and it was wise not to irritate her. The Serpent Queen still occupied the divan-like throne beneath the towering statue of Issa. She dozed interminably, stirring her mottled coils with the seething dry hiss of scale rubbing against scale. But even in restless doze, her tongue flickered nervously. Sadi approached the throne, perfunctorily prostrated himself on the polished stone floor, and waited. His scent on the air would announce him to the hooded serpent who was his queen.

“Yes, Sadi?” she whispered finally, her voice a dusty hiss.

“The Murgos wish an alliance, my Queen,” Sadi informed her. “Taur Urgas wants to threaten the Tolnedrans from the south to force Ran Borune to withdraw his legions from the Thullish border.”