Paul Thompson - Firstborn

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“You are clever. My father chose well when he picked you.” The female voice was once more calm and soft. There was the sound of heavy cloth being crushed and a kiss. “I wish we didn’t have to meet in shadows like this.”

“Don’t you think it’s romantic?” murmured the male voice.

“Yes…but it annoys me that so many think you are harmless.”

“My best weapon. Would you take it away from me?”

“Oh, never….”

There was silence for a while, then the female voice said, “How long till sun-up?”

“An hour or so.”

“I’m worried.”

“What about?” he asked.

“The whole affair is getting too complicated. Sometimes when I’m sitting in the audience hall I want to scream, the tension is so great.”

“I know,” the male voice said soothingly, “but our task is quite simple. We have only to delay and dissemble and keep the elves talking. Daily, our numbers swell. Time is our ally, my darling. Given enough time, the mighty elven nation will fall!”

Their slippered feet made only the slightest whisper on the cool marble floor as the conspirators stole down the gallery to the steps. They had to get back to their rooms before the palace stirred. No one must see them together, not even the members of their own delegation.

24 — The Day Following

The entrance of Kith-Kanan into the Tower of the Stars the next day created a stir. Gone were Kith-Kanan’s tattered green buckskins. Now he wore smooth white robes and a silver circlet on his head. With great ceremony he was introduced to Lord Dunbarth. The dwarf doffed his floppy hat and said, “It is a great honor to meet you, Prince. I’ve heard much about you.”

“Perhaps we shall be friends anyway,” was the wry reply.

Meeting the human delegation was more forced. Praetor Ulwen sat in his portable chair like a wax image. Only the slight rise and fall of the blanket over his chest testified he was alive. Lady Teralind accepted Kith-Kanan’s hand, holding it for a long minute as she assessed this newest addition to the conference. He noted the dark circles under her eyes. The lady hadn’t slept very well the night before.

Ulvissen saluted, human fashion. Kith-Kanan imitated his gesture.

“Have we met before?” the elf prince asked, looking carefully at the bearded human.

“I don’t think so, noble prince,” Ulvissen replied coolly. “I served most of my military career on ships. Perhaps Your Highness met another human who looked like me. I understand it is hard for elves to distinguish one bearded man from another.”

“There is much in what you say.” Kith-Kanan walked away, but the idea that he’d seen Ulvissen before troubled him still. He paused before his father, bowed, and took his old seat on the speaker’s right. A human with a full, red-brown beard—where had he seen him?

“The fifteenth session of the Conference of Three Nations will now begin,” said Sithas, acting as his father’s herald. “Seated for Silvanesti is Prince Kith-Kanan.” The scribes at their tables wrote busily.

Dunbarth stood up—which had the effect of making him shorter, as his chair’s legs were longer than his own. “Great speaker, noble princes, Lord Praetor, Lady Teralind,” he began. “We have been here many days, and the principal obstacle in the way of peace is this question: Who rules the western plains and the forest? The noble speaker and his heir present as proof of their claim ancient treaties and documents. Lady Teralind, on behalf of the emperor of Ergoth, makes her claim from the point of view of the majority, claiming that most of the people who live in the disputed territory are Ergothians.” Dunbarth took a deep breath. “I summarize these positions as I have presented them to my king. I have this day received his reply.”

Murmurs of interest rose. Dunbarth unfolded a heavy piece of parchment. The golden wax seal of the king of Thorbardin was visible.

“Ahem,” said the dwarf. The muttering subsided. “To my right trusty and well-loved cousin, Dunbarth of Dunbarth, greetings: I hope the elves are feeding you well, cousin; you know how meager their eating habits are…” The emissary peered over the parchment at the speaker and winked. Kith-Kanan covered his mouth with one hand to hide his smile.

Dunbarth continued: “I charge you, Dunbarth of Dunbarth, to deliver to the Speaker of the Stars and the praetor of Ergoth this proposal—that the territory lying on each side of the Kharolis Mountains, seventy-five miles east and west, be entrusted to the Kingdom of Thorbardin, to be governed and administered by us as a buffer zone between the empires of Ergoth and Silvanesti.”

There was a moment of crystalline silence as everyone in the tower took in the message.

“Absolutely preposterous!” Teralind exploded.

“Not an acceptable proposal,” said Sithas, albeit more calmly.

“It’s only a preliminary idea,” Dunbarth protested. “His Majesty offers concessions, here…”

“Totally unacceptable!” Teralind was on her feet. “I ask the speaker, what do you think of this outlandish notion?”

All eyes turned to Sithel. He leaned back against his throne, his mask of composed command perfect. “The idea has some merit,” he said slowly. “Let us discuss it.” Dunbarth beamed. Teralind’s face got very white, and Ulvissen was suddenly at her elbow, warning her to stay calm.

At that moment Kith-Kanan felt a flash of recognition; he remembered where he’d seen Ulvissen before. It had been the day he’d rescued Mackeli from Voltorno. When the half-human had fallen after their duel, a crowd of humans from his ship had raced up the hillside. The tallest human there had had a full, red-brown beard like Ulvissen’s. And since the human had already admitted that he’d spent most of his career aboard ships…The prince started as his twin’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

Sithas was asking the speaker what merit he had found in the dwarves’ suggestion.

Sithel paused a moment before replying, considering his words carefully. “It is not King Voldrin’s offer to rule the troublesome region that I favor,” he said. “It is the idea of a buffer zone, independent of not just our rule and the emperor’s, but of Thorbardin’s as well.”

“Are you proposing we create a new country?” Teralind said curiously.

“Not a sovereign state, a buffer state,” replied the speaker.

Ulvissen tugged on his mistress’s sleeve urgently. Feeling harassed, Teralind turned her back to Sithel for a moment to speak with the seneschal. She then asked the company for a brief adjournment. Dunbarth sat down, carefully tucking the crinkly parchment letter from his king into his brocade vest. Despite the opposition to his king’s proposal, he was quite pleased with himself.

Kith-Kanan watched all this with barely contained agitation. He could hardly denounce Ulvissen during a diplomatic meeting—not when such an accusation would violate the law of good behavior in the Tower of the Stars on his first day back in Silvanost! Moreover, could he be certain Ulvissen was the man he’d seen with Voltorno? Bearded humans did tend to look alike. In any event, the elaborate manners and elliptical conversations of the ambassadors struck him as silly and wasteful of time.

“My king suggests a division of rights among the three nations,” Dunbarth resumed when Teralind signaled herself ready. “Ergoth to have grazing rights, Silvanesti to have growing rights, and Thorbardin to have the mineral rights.”

“Any proposal that puts the territory under any one nation’s control is unacceptable,” Teralind said shrilly. A strand of dark brown hair had come loose from its confining clasp. She absently looped it behind one ear. “Unless Ergothian rights are guaranteed,” she added curtly.

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