Hell's Gate

Perhaps I'm better matched than I expected, he thought almost cheerfully. After all, it was always more satisfying to match wits with a fellow professional, rather than simply steal candy from unwary babies. Not that the end result was likely to be any different.

"In that case," he gestured casually and spoke the word which activated the spell accumulators on the camp chairs he'd had a member of his military escort arrange around the conference table. The comfortably cushioned chairs rose immediately, floating levelly at the exactly correct height.

"Be seated, please," he invited blandly.

This time, chan Baskay didn't even turn a hair. He'd expected nothing less, and he simply smiled, handed his cloak to one of Platoon-Captain Arthag's troopers, and seated himself. The pit of his stomach felt just a bit hollow as he parked his posterior on the u

Like the comfortably padded chair underneath him, the conference table didn't even quiver under the weight of his arms. It was as rock-steady as any table he'd ever sat at before, which his intellect had known would be the case. It would scarcely have worked to the Arcanans' advantage for it to be anything else, after all.

Definitely a professional, Skirvon thought ungrudgingly, giving the Sharonian diplomat points for composure.

He glanced at Dastiri as the junior Sharonian diplomat, Rothag, seated himself somewhat more gingerly at Simrath's right. Then they took their own seats, facing the Sharonians across the conference table. Skirvon opened his mouth, but Simrath spoke before he could say anything.

"This translating rock of yours will be most convenient," he observed. "On the other hand, words are only tools, are they not? What truly matters are the answers to two simple questions. Do you plan to end your acts of violence against Sharonian civilians? And do you intend to stop attacking soldiers attempting to negotiate under flags of truce?"

Skirvon's eyes widened. Despite his own many years of experience, he couldn't quite conceal his surprise at the other man's directness.

"With all respect, Viscount," he said after a moment, "those questions are not as simple as you suggest. You say your people were civilians. Our soldiers did not know that, and many of them were killed in the same fight. Arcana deeply regrets what happened, but how it came about is not at all clear to us at this time."

"It is very clear to us," Simrath said with a pleasant smile. "Your soldiers attacked our civilians. When one of our officers?Platoon-Captain Arthag, I believe?" he gestured at one of the officers who had accompanied the Arcanans and their escort from the swamp portal "?attempted to approach your soldiers under a flag of truce to inquire as to the fate of our people, he was fired upon. From our viewpoint, it's quite clear who fired the first shot in each of those incidents."

Skirvon ordered his expression not to change. Clearly, Simrath intended to cut right to the heart of things, and it was equally obvious that his plan was to place Arcana squarely on the defensive. To some extent, that would work out very well for Skirvon's chosen strategy, but it would never do to allow the Sharonians to feel they were driving the negotiations. Or, rather, to allow them an expectation of a quick resolution to those same negotiations. He had to keep them talking for at least a couple of weeks, and allowing this Simrath's forcefulness to push him into premature concessions or admissions could make that considerably more difficult. What he needed was something that could keep them "negotiating" without reaching any premature final agreement.

"Excuse me, Viscount," he said, "but I am afraid you are speaking too quickly and using too many new words for my crystal to translate them correctly. It will get better as we continue to speak to each other, but it has not yet learned enough words for long, complicated talk."

chan Baskay laced his fingers together atop the conference table as he considered what the Arcanan had just said. It made sense, he supposed. And he certainly had no way to judge what the glowing hunk of rock's true capabilities might be.

"So," he said with a thin smile which would have done his most arrogant ancestor proud, "your … crystal isn't up to the task after all?"

"That is not what I said," the crystal translated a moment later. "What I said is that it will take time. We wish to talk, wish for there to be no more shooting, but it is important that we understand what is said. That we are clear when we talk. And that you understand what we think happened while we understand what you think happened."

chan Baskay cocked his head to one side and pursed his lips thoughtfully. He suspected that the Arcanans' marvelous hunk of rock was doing a better job of translating than this Skirvon wanted to admit. At the same time, he had to concede that the man had a point. If they were going to talk to each other at all, they had to at least listen to the other side's view of the events which had led them to this point.

"Very well," he said after a moment. "You asked us to meet with you. What does Arcana wish to say? Sharona is willing to listen."

That's better, Skirvon thought. Get him tied up in formal exchanges and we can kill lots of time without actually saying a damned thing we don't already both know anyway.

"Arcana is grateful that Sharona is willing to listen," he said aloud, and arranged himself into what he thought of as "formal discourse posture" to make it clear that what he was about to say was a formal position statement.

"Arcana is shocked by the violence that has taken place between our people and yours," he continued. "It caused us great grief to discover that the sole survivor was a young woman. We do not allow women to serve in our military, so we were not expecting to find one."

"She was not serving in the military," Simrath said in a voice chipped from solid ice. "They were civilians."

"Yes," Skirvon said. "We know that now. We did not know that then, however. And we did not expect to find a girl in the middle of such combat."

chan Baskay considered pointing out that the Arcanans had gone into that same battle with a woman of their own in tow, but he chose not to play that particular card just yet. So far, the other side had given no indication that there were any Talented Arcanans. It was difficult for him to conceive of a human civilization in which that was true, but, then, he'd never seriously conceived of one which routinely used magic to float tables in midair, either. So it was entirely possible the Arcanans were as ignorant of the possibilities open to the Talented as Sharona was?or had been?to the possibilities of magic. If that was the case, the less the Arcanans knew about the capabilities of Sharonian Whiffers and Tracers, the better.

"Very well," he said instead, after a moment. "I will accept that you were not aware our people were civilians … at first, at least. Continue."

"Thank you, Viscount," Skirvon replied, then drew a breath.

"We were horrified to find her," he resumed after a moment. "We tried hard to keep her alive. But the healer attached to our soldiers was killed in the fighting. They had a magister with a minor arcana for healing, but nothing even remotely close to an actual healer. So they tried to carry her to a real healer."

chan Baskay frowned, then unlaced his fingers and leaned back in his floating chair, tugging at the lobe of his right ear in one of his prearranged signals to chan Rothag. The Narhathan petty-captain didn't appear to notice, but he sat back himself and crossed his legs.