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The viscount seemed singularly impervious to his anger.
"You've systematically lied to us," the Ternathian said, and his eyes were far colder—and far more lethal
—than Dastiri's. "You've violated the truce between us and killed our soldiers. No doubt, you intended to kill or capture Trekar and myself, as well. In short, you're guilty of premeditated murder, and the penalty for that is death."
"You wouldn't dare!" Dastiri shot back.
"I wouldn't?" Simrath repeated in a deadly calm voice.
"We're diplomats," Dastiri said. "Even barbarians like you ought to understand what that means!
Besides, it's only a matter of time until our soldiers get here."
"Barbarians, are we?" Simrath's voice was very soft. "The sort of barbarians who massacre civilians, perhaps? Or who systematically lie when they claim to want a negotiated end to the violence? Or who commit murder under cover of their diplomatic status?"
"Uthik, shut up!" Skirvon said harshly.
"I won't!" Dastiri shot back. "This bastard thinks he can threaten us? Well, he's wrong!" He turned his glare on the Ternathian. "Go ahead," he sneered. "Tell us what you're going to do to us! Just remember, our soldiers are coming!"
"Really?" Something about the Ternathian's smile tightened Skirvon's belly muscles even further.
"I'm afraid you've been operating under a bit of a misapprehension, Master Dastiri," Simrath continued, reaching back into his jacket and withdrawing his revolver once more. "I really am Viscount Simrath, and I really am Emperor Zindel's accredited representative to these negotiations. But I'm also Platoon- Captain chan Baskay, Imperial Ternathian Army, on assignment to the Portal Authority Armed Forces.
And I'm afraid that at the moment, I'm feeling much more like Platoon-Captain chan Baskay and very little like a diplomat."
Skirvon swallowed again, harder, and chan Baskay smiled icily.
"Under Ternathian military law, Master Dastiri, I have full authority to conduct summary courts-martial in the field and to carry out their verdicts."
"You can't bluff me," Dastiri sneered. "Not even you could be stupid enough to think you could get away with murdering an Arcanan diplomat!"
"Perhaps not," chan Baskay conceded. "On the other hand, I am 'stupid enough' to execute a murdering piece of scum."
He raised his pistol hand, and despite himself, Dastiri's eyes widened as the Polshana's muzzle aligned itself with the bridge of his nose. Chan Baskay's free hand waved two troopers standing behind Dastiri out of the line of fire, and the Manisthuan's nerve seemed to waver for a moment as the cavalrymen stepped aside. But then his mouth tightened once again, and he glared back at chan Baskay, as if his momentary weakness had only made him even angrier.
"I would most earnestly advise you to give me a reason not to kill you," chan Baskay said.
"Fuck you!" Dastiri spat.
"Wrong answer," chan Baskay said, and squeezed the trigger.
The black hole which appeared in Dastiri's forehead wasn't all that big, actually, a corner of Skirvon's brain reflected. But the entire back of the younger man's skull disintegrated in an explosion of red, gray, and splintered white bone. The body was flung backward. It thudded to the ground, quivering slightly, and chan Baskay brought that deadly muzzle to bear on Skirvon's forehead.
"You have five minutes to convince me not to kill you," chan Baskay told him. "I'm sure you know the sorts of things I'd be interested in hearing. And, just as a reminder, don't forget that Trekar will know the first time you lie to me. And if you ever lie to me again, Master Skirvon, I'll be very, very unhappy with you. Is that clear?"