Written by Lady Berenice
The usual deal: Tortall and all its inhabitants and fixtures, including its deities and assorted Immortals, major and minor characters, from Alanna to the second stone from the right on the road from Trebond to Corus, Tortall's neighbours, and everything even remotely connected to Tortall are the property of Tamora Pierce. It would be pretty useless suing me anyway because I've only got Australian dollars (and not very many of those, either) which are running second only to the Turkish lira in plummeting value against the US dollar anyway.
Oh, I haven't got around to reading Squire yet (it doesn't come out here for a few more months), so some things may be different.
Sarain had fallen.
After decades of civil war, it was not any of the Warlords who had declared themselves over the years, none of the noble families, none of the K'miri clans. The new rulers of Sarain came from beyond the Roof Of the World, and Empire so old it did not have a name. An Empire so powerful it didn't need one, for it ruled lands as far as the eye could reach beyond the mountains.
They had watched the wars with great interest, moving their troops in only when all sides had fought to a standstill, moved in with their fleet light cavalry, their famed heavy cavalry, the never-ending waves of their infantry. They had invaded Sarain with barely a single casualty on their side, because what little resistance they encountered was often too busy fighting among themselves to come to any semblance of order.
After they had conquered Sarain, they sent messengers to all the lands that lay further to the west - from Galla, Maren and Cathark all the way to the Yamani Empire and the Copper Isles. But it was to Tortall that a special message was sent. Tortall, with its Queen the only surviving member of the old Sarain royal house. Tortall, with its two half-Sarain, quarter-K'miri princesses, conveniently near in age to the only Imperial Prince, who would provide a most suitable way to manage a sensitive new province.
Corus
<I>...In light of the recent marriage of the Emperor Kaddar of Cathark, we would be most gratified if your Majesty would consider the suit of Our son, Prince Yevgen for your daughters, their Highnesses, the Princesses Kalasin and Lianne. If your Majesty is agreeable, We shall be agreeable to opening negotiations as soon as is practicable..... </I>
"Well." King Jonathan said as the scribe read through the rest of the letter, most of it standard diplomatic waffle. The real point had been made. "What do we know of this Empire?"
"Old. And evidently possessed of a first-class intelligence service," Sir Myles of Olau observed, with just a trace of professional envy. "From the date, they knew about the Emperor's marriage as soon as any of the Eastern lands. Their counter-intelligence is just as professional. I haven't been able to get anything more than marketplace gossip from their provincial towns, and virtually nothing from the capital. The Empire," he started to sound as though he were beginning a lecture. Since most of those on the King's Council table had been his students, they listened avidly, "is currently ruled by an Empress - Vanaria, and their throne is passed to the eldest daughter. Prince Yevgen is unlikely to be the heir, as there are at least two princesses in the family. However, he is likely to receive a substantial gift from the Crown on the occasion of his marriage. The Empress may be considering making Sarain a part of that gift, which is why she seeks alliance from the last surviving members of the royal family." He nodded slightly to Queen Thayet.
Thayet exchanged a look with her husband before sighing. As the Doi woman had said, so many years ago, Sarain was a lost dream. She would never return there.
Perhaps one of her daughters would build a better Sarain.
"I shall need to speak to both of my daughters," she said, standing gracefully. "I trust that all of you will decided as is appropriate."
She left the chamber before she could scream.
__
Bersone, The capital of the Empire
"Radanae!"
She would know that voice anywhere. Dama Radanae Gavrillian, personal aide/secretary to Ambassador Hypathia Lansherry, spun around, almost dropping the currycomb in the thick straw at her feet. Her destrier, Luana, nudged her with disapproval, but Radanae barely noticed.
"Justinia!" she waved to her former roommate and fellow knight, as the taller woman picked her way into the knights' stables to stand by Luana's stall. "What are you doing back here?"
Dama Justinia Ferox snorted. "Honor Guard to Tortall. The end of the world. I saw them packing Lansherry's chariot outside. Where are you off to?"
Radanae smiled. "Tortall. Negotiations for one of their princesses for Yevgen."
Justinia raised an eyebrow, then sighed. Radanae and Justinia had both been in the same graduating class of the Knight's Academy as Prince Yevgen and his twin sister, Princess Berenice.
Radanae and Justinia were examples to the exactly two careers possible for knights. Justinia was a traditional 'military' knight, who rode patrols, commanded garrisons and fought in the front lines during campaigns. Virtually all male knights, and slightly over half the female knights chose that life. Radanae, on the other hand, was in the remainder, who trained as diplomats, ambassadors, judges and administrators. Her superior, Ambassador Lansherry, was once that most unusual of things, both - at least until a crushed leg in a jousting accident had removed her from the active rolls permanently.
"Are any of them coming?" Justinia asked, meaning Yevgen, Berenice and their elder sister, the Imperial Heir, Rislyn.
"No." Radanae shook her head. "Yevgen was, originally, but..."
They all knew. Prince Yevgen had not been at all happy about the prospect of an arranged marriage, and after a confrontation with his mother, had been confined to the Palace grounds for the foreseeable future. Rislyn and Berenice had other responsibilities in the provinces.
Several weeks later, the Tortallan sector of the fleet that had set off from the Empire for the Eastern lands finally caught sight of their destination, Port Caynn, where they would be met by Sir Gareth of Naxen, the King's Prime Minister, and Sir Alanna, the King's Champion.
Justinia and other members of the Honor Guard had been practicing their weaponsdrill on the top deck, a most exhilarating sight, involving a great many athletic and acrobatic movements, the best that could be managed in the confined space. The knights had been forced to go down to the lower decks to exercise their destriers by lunge, since there was not enough room below to ride them, nor was it safe or practical enough to take them to the upper levels.
Radanae, though she was a better-than-average fighter and a good fencer, spent most of her time on deck studying their destination, with only two practice sessions a day - practically a holiday for an Imperial Knight. She was religiously working her way through a pile of books that appeared, from the bright markings on their spines, to have been filched from the Imperial University Library.
She read aloud a passage of interest as Justinia walked towards her, toweling off after yet another session that she had won in her typical convincing fashion.
"...while K'miri, Yamani, and Shang societies have long histories of female warriors, Tortall is the only Eastern land to officially grant knighthood to women. To date, there has been only one recorded female knight in the last few centuries, Sir Alanna of Trebond, Olau and Pirate's Swoop, the King's Champion. She is a legendary figure in the Eastern lands, allegedly disguising herself as a boy for eight years to earn her knighthood. She is credited with foiling two attempted coups by Duke Roger of Conte, a minor royal, initializing peace treaties with the Bazhir people of Tortall's desert region, and introducing Queen Thayet, formerly a Princess of Sarain, to Tortall."
"Impressive lady." Justinia commented, sitting down beside her friend on the deck.
"Which begs the question," Radanae said, shutting the book, "of why there aren't more of them here?"
Land was getting closer, and several figures on the dock were becoming visible.
"As to that," Justinia replied, "We'll find out soon enough."
It was sweltering on the dock as the ship came into view. It was huge, easily towering over the most impressive of those in the Royal Navy, and bore the arms of a diplomatic vessel.
"What do we know of the Empire?" Gary asked casually.
"You were there when Sir Myles told us," Alanna snapped. "There's barely a mention of them in the Royal Library, and that makes me uneasy, especially when they seem to know so much about this side of the world."
"There wasn't a single navigational mistake in the entire fleet on the way here," Gary observed. "Each ship broke off from the main fleet at precisely the right time, and arrived at their destinations exactly as planned."
"As this one is," Alanna muttered as the ship drew closer.
In the main cabin, Ambassador Lansherry and the rest of her diplomatic staff were getting ready. Justinia and the rest of the Honor Guard were donning their ceremonial uniforms - shirts, breeches, velvet tunics, engraved breastplates and half-visored helmets. They were meant to present the military might and discipline of the Empire.
The Ambassador and her staff, however, represented the grandeur and wealth of the Empire. Lansherry wore a simple sleeveless silk dress in ruby read, but it was completely overshadowed by the rich embroidered mantle she wore in elaborate folds. Radanae and another knight, Dama Ryane, helped the Ambassador fix her flowing silver-gilt locks with a heavy diamond and opal tiara.
Radanae and the rest of the diplomatic staff would wear more elaborate versions of the uniform of the honor guard, but without arms or armor. A few of the more appearance-conscious even painted their nails in the Imperial colors of purple and red, decorated with minute flakes of gold and silver leaf, pressed on while the polish was wet.
A knock at the door meant that they were nearing the docks. With a deep breath, they stepped out onto the deck.
"Her Excellency, the Imperial Ambassador to Tortall, Dama Hypathia Lansherry!" the herald's voice rang out over the huge crowd gathered to gape at the sight.
The gangplank was lowered and they had their first glance of each other.
Radanae felt a surge of pride as Lansherry glided down the gangplank, without even a trace of stiffness to compensate for her stiff leg.
There were two 'importances' on the deck, a tall, thinnish man with the slight squint of one who stays up late reading in inadequate light, and a short, stocky woman with red hair and the stance of a knight. With a shock, Radanae realized that she was looking at the King's Champion, Sir Alanna.
She really expected somebody bigger. She would have come barely to Radanae's shoulder, and Radanae was smaller than average, by knightly standards.
Even though she was directly behind Lansherry, she could not hear much of the polite exchange of greetings over the murmuring of the crowd, and the sound of the waves. Her only clue that the conversation was over was a prearranged signal which lead to the two secondary gangplanks being lowered with loud thumps, and the Honor Guard come jogging down, leading their destriers. With a snort, Radanae realized that they had arranged the horses according to color, with the darkest ones first, graduating to the palest creams. They sorted themselves and then mounted as one, unfurling the flags that bore Imperial arms on one side, and the arms of various provinces on the other.
While the crowd gaped, and Sir Gareth and Sir Alanna hid looks of equal surprise, stablehands from the ship brought out the destriers of Radanae and her fellow aides, and the Ambassador's magnificent gold-embossed chariot with its quartet of silver-maned golden palominos.
The team was harnessed, and the aides mounted with a minimum of fuss, and then they all started on their way to the capital.
It was a pleasant enough ride. Radanae was between Justinia and Sir Tomas Carlyse, another military knight from her year, as they trotted through the Tortallan countryside. Ahead of them, with Sir Gareth and Sir Alanna on either side, the Ambassador made small talk and passing remarks about the scenery. The Imperials were surrounded on either side by men in blue and silver, who were apparently the King's personal bodyguard, and commanded by a huge knight who occasionally joined in the conversation with the three personages at the head of the column.
Corus was a good-sized city. Not so large as Bersone, of course, thought Radanae, but certainly the size of an administrative center. The Palace was at its highest point, and they made their way through the streets, carrying themselves as befit Imperial Knights.
Prince Roald, heir to the Tortallan Throne, and his sister Princess Kalasin met them in a large outdoor courtyard not too far from the entrance and made the obligatory noises of welcome, roughly equivalent to what his father's Prime Minister and Champion had on the docks but adding an invitation to a Grand Ball and Reception that evening. It included all the aides, of course, he added, but then looked doubtfully at the Honor Guard.
Lansherry made a pre-arranged gesture, and they all dismounted, the aides bowing, and the Honor Guard removing their helmets and bending down on one knee before straightening up with helmets tucked under their arms.
"My Honor Guard is made up of Imperial Knights of the noblest Houses in the Empire, and have ranks at least equal to those of my aides," she said politely.
Roald stammered something about all the members of the Honor Guard being welcome too, and then muttered the standard remarks about being rude to leave them without rest after so long a journey. He ordered some knights and squires to show them to their quarters and then he and his sister watched as they left.
Radanae caught a glimpse of Princess Kalasin as they left. For a moment, the beautiful, blue eyed, black haired young woman had stared at something as though she couldn't quite believe her eyes, before resuming what the Imperial Princess Berenice called a 'royal mask'. Radanae tried to see what had caught the attention of Yevgen's possible bride, but saw nothing untoward.
Just Justinia and the other female knights in the Honor Guard handing their horses over. Nothing special.
Kalasin wasn't sure whether she was going to scream or cry. She was sure that her footsteps could be heard all the way in the City of the Gods. Roald was barely able to keep from breaking into a run to keep up with her. She knew exactly where she was going. To her father's study, where there would be last-minute preparations for the diplomatic shuffling.
She burst in without knocking. Cousin Gary and Sir Alanna were there already with Sir Myles and Great-Uncle Gareth with her father, presumably analyzing every single remark about the weather.
"Why?" she choked, to no one in particular, heedless of the tears streaming down her face as the full enormity of her new realization hit her, "didn't you tell me that there are female knights in the Empire?"
She'd given up her dreams when she was ten, on her father's orders. Princesses couldn't be like other noble girls, he said - or to precise, they were just like noble girls - the stupid ones who didn't take the option of being knights with both hands when it was offered. They were traded off for political gain, sent far away from home in exchange for a bit of paper and an island or two. For almost ten years she had dreamt of what might have been, watching with envy her brother's friend, Keladry of Mindelan, making her way from page to squire and knight.
Knowing that she'd never be able to fight that battle.
At least she had the comfort of knowing it hadn't occurred to anyone else either. They all looked dumbfounded, then all started speaking at once, the din terrible, until she raced out again and didn't stop until she was back in her room.
One thing you could say about Tortall, Radanae thought. The wine was good. There had been the usual speeches at the banquet, and they were served by nervous-looking teenagers in red and gold uniforms, mainly boys but there were one or two girls among them. Someone whispered that they were pages and squires, knights-in-training. Radanae started at that. Cadets at the Knight's Academy would never have performed such tasks.
She sidled over to where the Ambassador had managed to trap Justinia and hold her in conversation with the King, Queen, Princess Kalasin, Sir Alanna and an older, stocky man. She noted with interest that Alanna and the stocky man seemed wary of each other.
"This is Dama Justinia Ferox of the House of Zevran, of my Honor Guard," Lansherry was saying as Justinia bowed. For some reason, the King looked a little relieved, as though something was just disproved that he had feared. "She's a Duxa Prima, which means that she was the best of all the knights in her year,"
Justinia did another little bow.
The Tortallans all did well-hidden double takes, except for Princess Kalasin, who appeared to be pretending she wasn't sulking.
"How many were in your year?" that was the stocky man. He had been introduced to the Ambassador as some sort of training master.
"One thousand and twenty-four....no one thousand and nineteen." Justinia recited, "we had two deaths and three serious injuries during our Trials of Knighthood."
The Tortallans looked shocked, but to cover it, Sir Alanna asked the importance of knights in the Empire.
"All nobles are knights, madam," Justinia replied, "we're not considered full members of our Houses until we have our shields, and children aren't usually eligible for membership into the noble ranks unless at least one parent is a knight."
There was a subtext between the King, Queen, Princess and Champion that didn't look positive. Ambassador Lansherry was no fool, so she stopped that line of conversation by calling Radanae over.
"This is my personal aide, Dama Radanae Gavrillian of the House of Gavrillian. She's Duxa Sapra Aude - literally 'she who dares to be wise' - she had the highest academic marks of the knights in her year - the same as Dama Justinia's."
The conversation turned to the education of young knights, but there was something about the mood at the reception that was not at all pleasant.
"Over one thousand new knights a year!" Lord Wyldon raged as soon as they were safely behind the walls of the Council chamber. No one had taken the time to change out of their Court finery, so serious was the information they'd uncovered just in light conversation.
"It gets worse," Sir Gareth the Elder said gloomily. "I had a conversation with one of the older members of the Honor Guard. He mentioned very casually that military knights make up no more than one fifth of the officer corps, and that the smallest unit of command is one hundred troops. Even when we tie in the Ambassador's comment that almost one quarter of knights are confined to paperwork, that's still an officer corps alone roughly half the size of our entire Army, and, assuming they have the same chains of command we do, a standing Army of over a million troops."
"And, aside from that, we don't even know how large the Empire is. No one this side of the Roof of the World does." Sir Myles concluded.
"So why do they want Kalasin or Lianne to cement their hold on Sarain?" Gary was perplexed. "They could easily hold that much territory with a few reserve units."
"I don't know," Jonathan said uneasily. "But I intend to find out."
"Prince Yevgen is twenty years old, considered handsome, at least by the other female knights, and prefers the country," Queen Thayet announced as she opened the door and entered the Council Chamber, followed by Alanna and her husband, Baron George. "By that," she said wearily, "it probably means that he's twenty, has slept around most of the Court and the Empress needs a place as far from the capital as possible to dispose of him before he stirs up trouble for his sisters." She sat down in her chair with a sigh. "You don't know how much I wish that I'm wrong"
"Where are Kalasin and Roald?" Jonathan asked.
"Hovering around the female knights," Alanna almost snapped, "as you would expect. Roald's fascinated for the usual reasons - a few of them are beauties, as you would imagine, and Kalasin looks at them as though she imagines she was wearing their swords. As you would expect." She repeated through clenched teeth.
"Kalasin spent the entire evening seconds away from tears." Thayet added with a sharp look at her husband. "Dama Justinia said something about the only noble girls who weren't knights were either priestesses or seriously ill and not expected to survive until adulthood."
Jonathan threw up his hands in resignation. "What's done is done. We start negotiations tomorrow."
___________________________-
Chapter 2 – Now that the introduction’s over, let the fun begin
The day dawned bright and clear, the sparkling rays on sunlight tinkled into the sun-filled conservatory of Ambassador Lansherry’s main room…
Radanae gave herself a brisk mental shake of the head. She was definitely under the weather if she was thinking in sentences like that. With a sigh, she poked at the
breakfast of baked rolls, muffins, pastries and preserves. It looked very nice, but suffered from the usual effects of large-scale catering, tasting rather like sugared
cardboard.
The King and Queen had sent a very politely worded note around with breakfast inviting the Ambassador to meet with them that afternoon to begin discussions to the possible betrothal. That meant they had the morning technically ‘free’. Justinia and some of the Honour Guard would be wandering around to judge to comparative
standards of the pages, squires and knights. Most of the aides would be doing further research into the culture and customs of the Eastern lands. Radanae had at once the easiest and the hardest job – she was to hover around the Court making small talk and picking up gossip.
Lansherry gave them all last minute instructions to their tasks, then retired to her rooms to read the sealed documents sent by the Empress.
Kalasin was watching the knights at the training courts, as she did whenever she had the opportunity. It was a sort of self-inflicted torture, more so as increasing numbers of girls presented themselves as pages, much to Lord Wyldon’s consternation. Many of the younger knights were out there today, Sir Keladry of Mindelan one of the more conspicuous. She felt a bump at her elbow and turned around.
It was one of the female Imperial knights – the tall, muscular one with crinkled black hair introduced as ‘Justinia’, who bowed smoothly and apologised.
“Don’t worry about it,” Kally replied as Justinia came to stand and watch.
“Good morning, your Highness,” Justinia remembered.
“Good morning.” Kally replied politely, “What do you think of Tortall?”
“It is very pleasant,” Justinia replied neutrally.
“Is it anything like your home?”
“My home? Or the Empire? The Empire has many different varied provinces, each with its own beauties and climate. I was born in Bersone – the capital – but my
mother’s people were from the grasslands, and my father’s from a desert province – his people are rather like your Bazhir, I think.”
“It sounds a fascinating place,” Kally said diplomatically, not liking the idea of moving either to a grassland or a desert populated with Bazhir.
“It’s not too different from your Eastern Lands – though it seems strange to call them that, when we are further east – save that we are but one realm, whereas the Eastern Lands are many different countries.”
There was a clash and a yell as Kel won her bout with another knight that Kally didn’t recognise.
“She is very good.” Justinia observed.
“Sir Keladry is the second female knight of Tortall.” Kally said stiffly. “My father’s Champion was the first.”
“I have heard much of Sir Alanna’s success,” Justinia almost hesitated over the title, used to the Imperial feminine of ‘Dama’. In fact, all she knew of Alanna was
contained in the quote that Radanae had read on the ship. However, though she was a military knight, she was not so ignorant of diplomacy not to be able to distort facts a little.
“My uncle says that when it became known that she was female there was a great deal of discussion in Tortall, because we had not had female knights for centuries.”
Kalasin spoke as though it was a personal matter, and Justinia resolved to make enquiries about it. “Have there always been female knights in the Empire?”
“Always.” Justinia nodded, then immediately knew that she’d made a mistake, as Kalasin just looked more depressed.
*********************************
Meanwhile, Radanae was bored. A few gallants and giggling girls came to speak to her just for the sake of speaking to her about their completely uninteresting lives. She sighed as she drifted around the halls of the Palace and the gardens. They were beautifully kept, but nothing like the grand hanging gardens back at the Gavrillian
House seat, nor the elegant, manicured greenery of the Imperial Palace where she had spent most of her life. She looked up as an older man came into view.
Grey haired, hazel eyed, but there was an odd air around him that belied what appeared to be a carefully calculated absent-minded exterior. Radanae resolved to be
careful. He was some sort of scholar, a History teacher at the Tortallan version of the Knights’ Academy, presumably with all sorts of contacts to obtain books. She hadn’t slept thorough a six-month seminar on elementary espionage without picking up a few clues.
“Sir Myles,” she stood up from the bench and bowed.
“Dama Radanae,” he returned her courtesy, “I hope the Queen’s gardens are to your liking?”
“Yes…they are very beautifully kept,” Radanae looked around the garden for the first time. “I understand that you are a teacher of history.”
He laughed, “I try to introduce an interest in history in my students, it is true, but whether I teach them or not is a different matter entirely!”
Radanae smiled politely. “I was always very fond of history when I was at the Academy,” she lied, “but we did not have very many resources on recent Tortallan
history. I wonder if you might direct me to a place where I can find more formation?” she asked. That was a lie too. The Empress had up-to-the-week
intelligence on nearly every realm on the planet.
He looked at her carefully, then said brightly, “I was just going to the library just now myself. If you like, I can guide you there.”
Radanae nodded and walked beside him back into the Palace.
It was quiet in the corridors, so Sir Myles provided dry, rather unimportant and inoffensive information on Tortall, its formation, early kings, and even a few
references to the recent Immortals war.
In return, Radanae exchanged equally unimportant, inoffensive information on the Empire – largely the sort of thing any half-decent spy could gather just by sitting in
the marketplace. Sir Myles nodded very subtly as though she was confirming what he ready knew.
The Royal Library was quite large – and certainly better stocked that Radanae had expected. Sir Myles showed her the section on Tortallan history, and then made more small talk as he recommended the most concise volumes.
*****************************
The King, Queen, Sir Myles and various miscellaneous councillors were clustered around a table, trying to thrash out proposals before the scheduled preliminary
meetings with the Ambassador. It was rather difficult as they had only a sketchy idea of what the Imperials would ask for or offer.
“A few of them were on the practice courts comparing fighting styles.” Raoul sounded almost depressed. “Prince Roald, Keladry of Mindelan, Nealan of
Queensgrove, and a few of our other young knights managed very respectable showings…but for the others…”
He was interrupted by the entry of a definitely melancholic Lord Wyldon. Everyone understood.
“Well,” Myles said philosophically, “it stands to reason that they would send their best in order to create the right impression – which I gather it does. Who knows that if we gathered thirty of our best we might not have the same results – except many of ours are not at Court, so perhaps we should not jump too hastily to conclusions.”
Lord Wyldon didn’t look very comforted. Raoul, who had seen some of the carnage inflicted on his charges, looked at him sympathetically. Tortall’s knights had a solid reputation in the Eastern lands, and had been trounced by a completely new power. And with Sarain providing them with a foothold in the Eastern Lands, who knew what might happen? As Sir Myles had regretfully told them, even he had no idea how large the Empire was, though his chat with the Ambassador’s aide had been mildly informative.
Alanna, who had been stewing over the issue of the large number of female Imperial knights for a while, looked slightly satisfied. A third of the Honour Guard, and
virtually all the aides, she had learned, were female knights, as was the Ambassador herself.
“Back to this question,” she said as though it left a sour taste in her mouth. She was grateful that she had never had to submit to that great indignity of a noblewoman, marriage arranged for profit and politics, and more than a little annoyed that so many were. Not the least that her old friend was doing the same for his daughters. “I take it that it will be Kalasin?”
Queen Thayet gave a very regretful sigh. “Lianne is far too young, and besides, Kalasin is closer in age to this…boy.”
“Have you spoken to her?” Gary asked urgently.
“I spoke to both of them as soon as the letter came,” she snapped, but not sharply. “I spoke to Kalasin again last night – after she finished moping and writing bad poetry about how she couldn’t be a knight because of marriage considerations and now her prospective groom is from a realm full of female knights.”
Jon looked besieged. Since knighthood for women was not generally acceptable outside Tortall (and, to tell the truth, even nearly twenty years after Alanna won her
shield it still wasn’t that acceptable in Tortall), it would have been a serious liability for his daughters in the marriage/alliance market. There seemed to be a surfeit of
eligible princesses in this generation. It was all very well when it came to Roald, Liam or Jasson, but it meant that Kalasin and Lianne were only two in a vast number of candidates for eligible royals and nobles.
The one match that seemed to be even more advantageous that the one Jon had planned for Kalasin with Emperor Kaddar of Cathak - (Kaddar had fallen madly in
love with some noblewoman he had known from his University days and married her in a rather rushed ceremony. She was already expecting a child) – was from an
Empire that made his original argument seem completely pointless. From a few subtle, never expressed points in the previous evening’s conversation, the
Ambassador was actually a little disappointed that Kalasin wasn’t a knight! He only hoped that Kally hadn’t also picked up the undertone.
The sound of bells ringing the hour barely preceded the note from the Imperial Ambassador seeking entrance.
The began with the usual small talk – thanks for their hospitality, admiration for the gifts and accommodations – before they got down to the serious business. Even then, knowing the highly emotional situation of such negotiations (arranged marriages were very uncommon in the Empire, but they did occur, and usually between younger members of the Imperial family and scions of recently-conquered provinces – like this one), Lansherry preceded it with talk of trade agreements and displaced peoples. Imperial policy attempted to maintain largely open borders, with free movement between provinces and in and out of the Empire. It meant that whenever they - Lansherry used the word ‘absorbed’ and the Tortallans tacitly accepted it – more territory, there was usually an exodus of refugees. Just as usually, it soured relations with any neighbours of the recently absorbed territory, who suddenly found that they had thousands to feed, house, clothe, provide Healers for, and to prevent from rioting.
Radanae, taking notes on the meeting, remembered one time internal conflict had sent thousands streaming into an outlying province where her mother had been appointed the military governor. Knight-Governor Dama Teleri Gavrillian had written about her observations to her only daughter. When the first of the pitiful crowd had arrived, with nothing more than the clothes on their backs, the people of the province had been extraordinarily generous, opening hearts, homes and purses as though they were limitless for those who had fled their homeland. Later, however, when the tide of human misery had increased, and there was a corresponding strain on the food supplies and land in the border regions of the province, not to mention countless cultural and religious misunderstandings, the Imperial citizens gradually became resentful of their guests. Eventually, riots and open hostility broke out between the citizens and the refugees, and Gavrillian had been forced to send for reinforcements to resettle the refugees elsewhere.
According to the latest intelligence, they did not appear to be having similar problems in Sarain. Perhaps after the decades of erratic, despotic rule, and the more stable, but still despotic rule of the jian Wilimas, the people of Sarain felt that any new rulers couldn’t possibly be worse.
There was a significant pause in the conversation just after they finished something extremely boring about opening up a secure overland trade route between the Empire and Tortall, levels of tariffs, and responsibility for guarding against bandits. Radanae blinked, noticing that she had covered almost an entire stack of fine cloth-paper with her aggressively neat, cursive hand.
“Your Majesties, might I first complement you on the intelligence and beauty of your daughters,” Lansherry was new to marriage negotiations, but one never could have guessed. “Her Imperial Majesty is honoured that you would consider her son as worthy of their attention.”
“We are likewise honoured that her Majesty would regard us with such favour,” Thayet answered. “Might we enquire as to the reasons for such consideration?”
“The Empire is desirous of close alliances with all her neighbours, especially one so well-regarded and respected as the Kingdom of Tortall.” Lansherry was equally polite. “Tortall is the leader among the Eastern Lands, with strong alliances with the Yamani Empire and the Empire of Cathak. Galla, Tusaine and Maren pale in comparison to Tortall, and one must admit, that even if Tyra were able to compare to Tortall, they have no suitable candidates. Likewise, the eligible candidates from Scanra change every week, and seem to be uncomfortably prone to rearrangement.”
Radanae, who had swiped and read the sealed intelligence papers while the Ambassador was changing into her fancy clothes knew the real reasons. There were
already links with Cathak through a few regional inter-marriages and strong trade routes far to the south (which they were fairly sure Cathak had not divulged to their
Eastern allies. The Empire certainly wasn’t going to), and with only limited numbers of Imperial scions, they had to be apportioned carefully. Galla, Tusaine and Maren had no candidates that wouldn’t sent Yevgen screaming onto the steppes, renouncing his knighthood and nobility and spending the rest of his life as a hermit. The Empress was pragmatic to a fault, but she wasn’t stupid. The Yamani and Copper isles were really too far away to be worth an alliance for at least another generation. Eligible Scanran noblewomen seemed extremely vulnerable to murder.
Their goal was the peaceful new province of Sarain. The last surviving members of the old jian Wilima family were the Queen Consort and the princes and princesses of Tortall – possibly the only symbols that might bind a fractured country together. While they had suffered very few casualties in actually conquering Sarain, they’d had an absolute devil of a time trying to move troops through the mountains that separated the Empire from the Eastern lands. It wasn’t going to be something they wanted to repeat if Sarain ever became unworkable.
The Empress was willing to offer joint sovereignty of Sarain between her son and whichever Tortallan princess was available (the sketchy portraits the first spies had returned had made her prefer Kalasin, but mainly because she was closer to Yevgen’s age), and to allow them to beget a new Sarain dynasty with whatever name the princess chose. The Imperial, and most high noble Houses (like Radanae’s) were matriarchal, but they’d been in Tortall long enough to realise that it wasn’t the case there. Lansherry was going to offer the name as a last minute sweetener, though it had been assumed by the Imperial councillors as a done deal. Sarain would be an autonomous kingdom within the Empire, which would be largely independent, save that it would pay a portion of its taxes to the Imperial treasury, send children of noble Houses who wished to be knights to Bersone for schooling (which meant everyone who wanted to stay a noble), and allow Imperial trade through to the Eastern Lands without additional duties and tariffs. In return, the Empire would offer the support of its military in times of need. The Empire was also willing to sign a communication of understanding with Tortall, and a declaration of friendship. Lansherry stopped short of offering full alliance, knowing that it was going to be fairly useless considering the distances involved.
Tortall wished to know the Empire’s intentions in the Eastern lands, the role of their princess in Sarain (Queen, or whatever else she wants to call herself, Lansherry had reacted in a shocked manner), and how advisers to the Crown would be chosen (however the rulers wanted), and the possibilities of future exchange of permanent Ambassadors.
There was more waffling after that, and then the meeting finished so that everyone could prepare for a party that night.
*************************