‘You’ll do just fine, your Excellency,’ she laughed.
‘I must say, however, with your Majesty’s permission, that you’re a devilishly attractive young lady. I’ve known a few queens in my time, and the customary compliments usually cost one a certain amount of wrestling with one’s conscience.’ Ambassador Oscagne spoke flawless Elenic.
‘May I present my husband, Prince Sparhawk?’ Ehlana suggested.
‘The legendary Sir Sparhawk? Most assuredly, dear lady. I’ve travelled half-round the world to make his acquaintance. Well met, Sir Sparhawk.’ Oscagne bowed.
‘Your Excellency,’ Sparhawk replied, also bowing.
Ehlana then introduced the others, and the ongoing exchange of diplomatic pleasantries continued for the better part of an hour. Oscagne and Mirtai spoke at some length in the Tamul tongue, a language which Sparhawk found quite musical.
‘Have we concluded all the necessary genuflections in courtesy’s direction?’ the ambassador asked at last. ‘Cultures vary, of course, but in Tamuli three-quarters of an hour is the customary amount of time one is expected to waste on polite trivialities.’
‘That seems about right to me too,’ Stragen grinned. ‘If we overdo our homage to courtesy, she becomes a bit conceited and expects more and more obeisance every time.’
‘Well said, Milord Stragen,’ Oscagne approved. ‘The reason for my visit is fairly simple, my friends. I’m in trouble.’ He looked around. ‘I pause for the customary gasps of surprise while you try to adjust your thinking to accept the notion that anyone could possibly find any fault in so witty and charming a fellow as I.’
‘I think I’m going to like him,’ Stragen murmured.
‘You would,’ Ulath grunted.
‘Pray tell, your Excellency,’ Ehlana said, ‘how on earth could anyone find reason to be dissatisfied with you?’ The ambassador’s flowery speech was contagious.
‘I exaggerated slightly for effect,’ Oscagne admitted. ‘I’m not really in all that much trouble. It’s just that his Imperial Majesty has sent me to Chyrellos to appeal for aid, and I’m supposed to couch the request in such a way that it won’t humiliate him.’
Emban’s eyes were very, very bright. He was in his natural element here. ‘I think the way we’ll want to proceed here is to just lay the problem out on the table for our friends in bold flat terms,’ he suggested, ‘and then they can concentrate on the real issue of avoiding embarrassment to the imperial government. They’re all unspeakably clever. I’m sure that if they put their heads together, they’ll be able to come up with something.’
Dolmant sighed. ‘Was there no one else you could have selected for my job, Ehlana?’ he asked plaintively.
Oscagne gave the two of them a questioning look.
‘It’s a long story, your Excellency.’ Emban told him. ‘I’ll tell you all about it someday when neither of us has anything better to do. Tell them what it is in Tamuli that’s so serious that his Imperial Majesty had to send you here to look for help.’
‘Promise not to laugh?’ Oscagne said to Ehlana.
‘I’ll do my best to stifle my guffaws,’ she promised.
‘We’ve got a bit of civil unrest in Tamuli,’ Oscagne told them.
They all waited.
‘That’s it.’ Oscagne confessed ruefully. ‘Of course I’m quoting the emperor verbatim – at his instruction. You’d almost have to know our emperor to understand. He’d sooner die than overstate anything. He once referred to a hurricane as a “little breeze” and the loss of half his fleet as a minor inconvenience.’
‘Very well, your Excellency,’ Ehlana said. ‘Now we know how your emperor would characterise the problem. What words would you use to describe it?’
‘Well,’ Oscagne said, ‘since your Majesty is so kind as to ask, “catastrophic” does sort of leap to mind. We might consider “insoluble”, “cataclysmic”, “overwhelming” – little things like that. I really think you should give some consideration to his Majesty’s request, my friends, because we have some fairly strong evidence that what’s happening on the Daresian continent may soon spread to Eosia as well, and if it does, it’s probably going to mean the end of civilisation as we know it. I’m not entirely positive how you Elenes feel about that sort of thing, but we Tamuls are more or less convinced that some effort ought to be made to fend it off. It sets such a bad precedent when you start letting the world come to an end every week or so. It seems to erode the confidence people have in their governments for some reason.’
CHAPTER 5 (#ulink_60d29a86-3d74-59a3-afb9-996a86e72849)
Ambassador Oscagne leaned back in his chair. ‘Where to begin?’ he pondered. ‘When one looks at the incidents individually, they almost appear trivial. It’s the cumulative effect that’s brought the empire to the brink of collapse.’
‘We can understand that sort of thing, your Excellency,’ Emban assured him. ‘The Church has been on the brink of collapse for centuries now. Our Holy Mother reels from crisis to crisis like a drunken sailor.’
‘Emban,’ Dolmant chided gently.
‘Sorry,’ the fat little churchman apologised.
Oscagne was smiling. ‘Sometimes it seems that way, though, doesn’t it, your Grace,’ he said to Emban. ‘I’d imagine that the government of the Church is not really all that much different from the government of the empire. Bureaucrats need crisis in order to survive. If there isn’t a crisis of some kind, someone might decide that a number of positions could be eliminated.’
‘I’ve noticed the same sort of thing myself,’ Emban agreed.
‘I assure you, however, that what we have in Tamuli is not some absurd little flap generated for the purposes of making someone’s position secure. I’m not exaggerating in the slightest when I say that the empire’s on the brink of collapse.’ His bronze face became thoughtful. ‘We are not one homogeneous people as you here in Eosia are,’ he began. ‘There are five races on the Daresian continent. We Tamuls live to the east, there are Elenes in the west, Styrics around Sarsos, the Valesians on their island and the Cynesgans in the centre. It’s probably not natural for so many different kinds of people to all be gathered under one roof. Our cultures are different, our religions are different, and each race is sublimely convinced that it’s the crown of the universe.’ He sighed. ‘We’d probably have been better off if we’d remained separate.’
‘But, at some time in the past someone grew ambitious?’ Tynian surmised.
‘Far from it, Sir Knight,’ Oscagne replied. ‘You could almost say that we Tamuls blundered into empire.’ He looked at Mirtai, who sat quietly with Danae in her lap. ‘And that’s the reason,’ he said, pointing at the giantess.
‘It wasn’t my fault, Oscagne,’ she protested.
‘I wasn’t blaming you personally, Atana,’ he smiled. ‘It’s your people.’
She smiled. ‘I haven’t heard that term since I was a child. No one’s ever called me “Atana” before.’
‘What’s it mean?’ Talen asked her curiously.
‘Warrior,’ she shrugged.
‘Warrioress, actually,’ Oscagne corrected. He frowned. ‘I don’t want to be offensive, but your Elene tongue is limited in its ability to convey subtleties.’ He looked at Ehlana. ‘Has your Majesty noticed that your slave is not exactly like other women?’ he asked her.
‘She’s my friend,’ Ehlana objected, ‘not my slave.’
‘Don’t be ignorant, Ehlana,’ Mirtai told her crisply. ‘Of course I’m a slave. I’m supposed to be. Go on with your story, Oscagne. I’ll explain it to them later.’
‘Do you really think they’ll understand?’
‘No. But I’ll explain it anyway.’
‘And there, revered Archprelate,’ Oscagne said to Dolmant, ‘there lies the key to the empire. The Atans placed themselves in thrall to us some fifteen hundred years ago to prevent their homicidal instincts from obliterating their entire race. As a result, we Tamuls have the finest army in the world – even though we’re basically a non-violent people. We tended to win those incidental little arguments with other nations which crop up from time to time and are usually settled by negotiation. In our view, our neighbours are like children, hopelessly incapable of managing their own affairs. The empire came into being largely in the interests of good order.’ He looked around at the Church Knights. ‘Once again, I’m not trying to be offensive, but war is probably the stupidest of human activities. There are much more efficient ways to persuade people to change their minds.’
‘Such as the threat to unleash the Atans?’ Emban suggested slyly.
‘That does work rather well, your Grace,’ Oscagne admitted. ‘The presence of the Atans has usually been enough in the past to keep political discussion from becoming too spirited. Atans make excellent policemen.’ He sighed. ‘You noted that slight qualification, I’m sure. I said, “in the past”. Unfortunately, that doesn’t hold true any more. An empire comprised of disparate peoples must always expect these little outbreaks of nationalism and racial discord. It’s the nature of the insignificant to try to find some way to assert their own importance. It’s pathetic, but racism is generally the last refuge of the unimportant. These outbreaks of insignificance aren’t normally too widespread, but suddenly all of Tamuli is in the throes of an epidemic of them. Everyone’s sewing flags and singing national anthems and labouring over well-honed insults to be directed at “the yellow dogs”. That’s us, of course.’ He held out his hand and looked at it critically. ‘Our skins aren’t really yellow, you know. They’re more …’ He pondered it.
‘Beige?’ Stragen suggested.
‘That’s not too flattering either, Milord Stragen.’ Oscagne smiled. ‘Oh, well. Perhaps the emperor will appoint a special commission to define our skin tone once and for all.’ He shrugged. ‘At any rate, incidental outbreaks of nationalism and racial bigotry would be no real problem for the Atans, even if they occurred in every town in the empire. It’s the unnatural incidents that cause us all this concern.’
‘I thought there might be more,’ Ulath murmured.
