K Parker - Evil for Evil

Valens looked at him. It wasn't like Carausius to be brave unless he was in severe danger of being found out about something, and for once he had every right to a clear conscience. The only explanation, therefore, was that he was sincere. "All right," he said gently, "maybe you've got a point. But you know the reason as well as I do. There's no suitable candidates. I can't just go marrying some girl with a nice smile. We've got to find someone who's got something we need. Right now, that's either money or high-quality heavy infantry. If you can give me three names right now, I promise I'll listen."

A split second of silence, and Valens knew he'd walked into a snare.

"Not three," Carausius said; he'd taken the risk and won, and he was enjoying the moment. "Just one, I'm afraid. But, given the urgency…"

Valens put down his knife and folded his arms. "I'm listening," he said.

Carausius composed himself. "Her name," he said, then he smiled. It wasn't something he did very often, sensibly enough. "Actually," he said, "I can't pronounce her name. However, I understand that it translates as White Falcon Soaring."

Just as well Valens had put his knife down, or he'd have stabbed himself in the knee. "You're joking," he said. "No, really, you can't be serious."

"I think it's a charming name."

"You know perfectly well…" Valens breathed out slowly. He was determined he wouldn't play the straight man to Garausius, even if he had walked into a painfully obvious trap. "A name like that's obviously Cure Hardy," he said. "Presumably this female of yours is something to do with the delegation we're meeting. And no, not even if it means we win the war and conquer Mezentia and ascend bodily to heaven on the backs of eagles. Not Cure Hardy."

Carausius took a moment to butter a scone. "In your own words," he said, "money or soldiers. The Cure Hardy have both."

"I said heavy infantry," Valens pointed out. It was a bit like trying to sink a warship with a slingshot, but he was determined to fight to the last. "And the Cure Hardy don't even use money."

"They have gold and silver, which amounts to the same thing. Also, I don't agree that we necessarily need heavy infantry. Light cavalry, which is the Cure Hardy's traditional strength-"

"We've got the best cavalry in the world."

"Acknowledged," Carausius said through his scone. "Heavy cavalry, and not nearly enough. The Cure Hardy are faster, more mobile, better suited for informal and irregular campaigning; most of all," he added, "they're one thing our men most certainly aren't. They're expendable."

Valens sighed. What he really wanted to do was run away. "For pity's sake," he said peevishly. "They don't even live in proper houses. Do you really see me with a wife who insists on camping out in a tent in the pear orchard?"

Another smile. Carausius was indulging himself. "The princess-her name, I believe, begins with an A-has spent the last four years being educated in Tannasep; I believe she's been studying music, astronomy, poetry, needlework and constitutional and civil law. Presumably while she was there, she slept in a bed and learned how to use a knife and spoon. I gather she's also interested in-"

"I couldn't care less what the bloody woman does in her spare time," Valens snapped. "I don't want to get married, and I most definitely don't want to get married to a savage, thank you all the same. Maybe when the war's over, or at least once we're settled somewhere…"

Carausius teased his napkin out of his collar and folded it precisely. "Logically," he said, "given our immediate plans, a wife who's used to living under canvas has to be a most suitable choice."

Valens closed his eyes. When Carausius started making jokes, it was time to assert his authority. "Thank you for raising the issue with me," he said, "and I shall give it careful thought. Meanwhile, if that's the only reason why these Cure Hardy are coming here, maybe it'd be better if you saw them instead of me. I'm sure you can handle the diplomatic stuff, and I have rather a lot of work to do."

"That would be unfortunate," Carausius said smugly. "Perhaps I forgot to mention it, but among the gifts they're bringing with them are four hundred mounted archers. Not a loan," he added firmly. "To keep, for our very own. Just for meeting you. I imagine that if they're fobbed off with a substitute, they may think better of their generosity."

Valens opened his eyes wide. "They're serious, then," he said.

"I believe so." Carausius had had his moment of revenge. His voice was back to normal, soft, businesslike and anxious to please. "My understanding is that they're very keen indeed to make an alliance with a settled nation. Their chieftain is something of a visionary. He believes that the nomadic life is all very well, but it's time his people bettered themselves. In the long term, I imagine he wants to cross the desert and settle on this side; the tragic fate of the Eremians means that there's now empty land for the taking. Naturally he needs an ally, but his choices are clearly limited. Not the Mezentines, for obvious reasons; similarly, not the Eremians. That means the Cure Doce-but they're too far away from the land he's got his eye on-or us. If you care to consider what that could mean to us: a powerful, friendly neighbor with practically unlimited manpower…"

Valens nodded. "All right," he said. "And thank you, you've done well. But all the same; marrying one…"

"It's their principal means of securing alliances," Garausius said firmly. "Without a marriage, as far as they're concerned it's not a proper treaty; once it's done, it means we can rely on them absolutely. They take it very seriously. It's not like the political alliances we're used to. I'm not sure they even have politics where they come from, or at least not in any sense we'd understand." He leaned forward a little, lowered his voice. "They aren't complete barbarians," he went on, "they understand that strategic and dynastic marriages aren't necessarily the perfect union of heart and mind. If you hate the girl that much, you won't have to see her more than absolutely necessary, she'll understand that. If that's the reason-"

Valens frowned. "I hope you know me better than that," he said. "I understand how things are. I'm just a bit concerned about ending up with a wife who dresses in animal bones and feathers. Which," he added quickly, before Carausius could say anything, "I'd be perfectly prepared to do if I was sure it'd help the war or put our economy straight. But I'm not; so either come up with some better arguments or drop the whole thing."

Carausius looked at him. He knows me too well, Valens reflected. "There's something else," Carausius said.

"Yes."

"I see." Carausius frowned. "Can I ask what it is?"

"No." As soon as he said the word, he knew he'd lost. "But I will meet these savages of yours, and yes, I'll be civil to them, so don't nag." He shrugged, rather more floridly than usual. "Four hundred cavalry, just for being hospitable. I think I can handle that. Tell me, did the offer come from them, or did you have to haggle?"

"Their idea," Carausius said. "I don't think the Cure Hardy understand bargaining in quite the same way as we do. I don't know if it's true, but someone told me once that their word for trade literally means 'to steal by purchase.' I gather they're a fascinating people, once you get to know them."

"I'm sure," Valens said. "Now, by rights I ought to threaten you with awful retribution if you ever ambush me with something like that again. But I don't need to do that, do I?"

"Certainly not."

"Splendid. I'm a strong supporter of the old tradition that every dog's allowed one bite. I hope it was worth it."

For the rest of the meal they talked about barrel-staves, canvas, salt and rope. Carausius said he was sure they'd be able to get what they needed for the evacuation from the merchants; he'd sounded out the likeliest suppliers, in very general terms so as not to raise suspicions, and the consensus was that it was a buyers' market at the moment; supply wouldn't be a problem, and an acceptable price could easily be agreed as soon as they were in a position to discuss firm orders. "Which means," Carausius went on, "they don't yet know where to lay their hands on what we want, in the quantities we want it in, but they're happy to go away and find out. Luckily, none of the supplies we're after has ever been a Mezentine monopoly, so we should be all right." He paused, just for a moment, then went on, "Have you decided on a date yet? Or are we still working on the basis of six to nine weeks?"