Hell's Gate

So, chan Baskay reflected, not exactly a lie, but not the entire truth, either. Well, that's hardly a surprise from a diplomat, now is it?

"A moment," he said. "Your crystal failed to translate two of the terms you just used. What is a 'magister'? And what is a 'minor arcana'? Isn't Arcana the name of your world?"

Skirvon blinked in what certainly looked like genuine surprise. Then he smiled.

"Ah, I see the problem. First, Viscount, a 'magister' is someone with a Gift, an ability to use magic." He tapped the floating table. "Like this. Some people with Gifts can make things float or perform other similar actions. Others?what we call 'magistrons'?are able to use healing magic. The only magister our soldiers had with them immediately after the fighting was not a magistron.

"Second, we use the word 'arcana' to mean a specific Gift or magical ability. The tradition among my people is that the same word is used to mean the entire world because the world is a gift from the gods to all men. That is where the confusion about 'minor arcana' came from.

"What I tried to say was that the magister who was with our soldiers had only a minor, weaker, Gift for healing. It was not a strong, trained Gift, which could have healed the young woman's injuries."

"I see." chan Baskay nodded, then glanced at chan Rothag. The petty-captain's posture was unchanged, but he rubbed the tip of his right index finger gently across the cuff of his left sleeve. Which meant that this time, at least, the Narhathan was confident that pretty much everything Skirvon had just said was the truth.

"Very well," he said. "You say you were horrified to discover a woman among your victims." He allowed his eyes to harden slightly. "How and when did Shaylar die?"

"She had suffered a terrible head injury," Skirvon said. "She was burned, as well. Not as badly as some of the others, but the burns made her other injuries worse. We transported her as quickly as we could to our nearest base with a fully trained healer, but we were unable to get her there in time. She lived for six days."

chan Rothag sat up, uncrossing his legs, and chan Baskay's nerves tightened abruptly.

"A moment, please," he said courteously, and glanced at chan Rothag. "Look sad," he said in Farnalian. "Then tell me what he's lying about."

"He's lying through his teeth about the burns, and about the six days," chan Rothag replied in the same language. He looked as if he wanted to weep. "The rest of it is pretty much true. Do we want to call him on the part that isn't?"

"Not yet." chan Baskay leaned towards the other man, laying a hand on his shoulder with a concerned, sorrowful expression. "There's no point letting them know you can tell when they're lying," he said softly, gently. "Besides, let's see how much rope he'll give himself."

chan Rothag nodded, still looking stricken, and chan Baskay patted his shoulder comfortingly, then turned back to Skirvon.

"Lord Rothag is Shurkhali," he lied with an absolutely straight face. "The confirmation that his countrywoman suffered such horrible wounds and lingered for so long is very painful to him."

He watched Skirvon's expression carefully without seeming too. Presenting such a bald-faced lie would have been unthinkable if he'd faced other Sharonians, since both sides knew the other one was bound to bring its own Sifters to any negotiations. But he'd done it deliberately, as a test, and he saw no sign Skirvon could tell that he'd just lied. Which was something to bear in mind. Clearly, Skirvon and Dastiri came from a totally different tradition, one which used no equivalent of Sifters.

I'll bet they're used to being able to lie to each other, he thought. Which means they'll do it at the drop of a hat. That's something else to bear in mind.

"I am sorry to have caused him grief," Skirvon said. "But there is great grief in Arcana, as well. We had never met you or any of your people before. We did not mean for the original battle to take place. The officer in charge of the soldiers in that battle was removed from command as soon as his superiors heard what had happened. Yet before we could learn your language, or make any new, peaceful contact with you, you attacked our camp without warning and killed still more soldiers." He allowed himself a slightly aggrieved expression. "The officer you attacked was not even the one responsible for the attack on your civilians, but you did not attempt to learn that before you attacked."

"When we attacked your camp without warning?" chan Baskay repeated flatly, shaking his head. "We did not do the attacking. Your officer may have been 'i

He met Skirvon's eye very levelly, his expression cold.

"It's one thing to state your position, Skirvon. It's quite another to twist the truth out of all recognition, and to insult our intelligence in the process."

Skirvon and Dastiri conferred briefly in a language that wasn't Andaran and which the crystal didn't translate into Ternathian. Then Skirvon turned back to him.

"This is very difficult," he said. "We have one view of these things; you have another view. We are trying to apologize for the violence, but you are so suspicious, we ca

"The civilian killed in your attack on our camp was one of the most important research magisters our civilization has ever produced. Magister Halathyn vos Dulainah was in our camp. He did not even try to fight, but he was killed without pity. The whole of Arcana is or soon will be in an uproar. Magister Halathyn was beloved by millions, hundreds of millions. The shock of his death, the anger felt over it, is very terrible."

"So now you say one of your civilians has been killed as well?" chan Baskay frowned.

"Indeed, a most important and very beloved one."

"Perhaps," chan Baskay said coolly, "one as beloved as Shaylar Nargra-Kolmayr was among our people?"

Skirvon appeared to wince slightly, and chan Baskay shook his head.

"Lord Rothag is Shurkhali," he said, repeating his earlier … misrepresentation. "A moment, please, while I discuss this with him. I'll be . . . interested in his perspective on our relative losses."

He turned to chan Rothag and cocked his head.

"I think we may actually be looking at something important here, Trekar," he said, once again in Farnalian. "The problem is, I don't know what?or how important it may be?and I've got the feeling he's about to try selling me a used horse. Can you give me any guidance on how many lies he's telling this time?"

"Actually he's telling the truth about this fellow being killed," chan Rothag replied in the same language. "And about how popular he was and the sort of reaction he anticipates. But you're right that something fu

"I caught that, as well," chan Baskay replied, managing to keep his frustration out of his tone or his expression. "I wonder what these twisty bastards are up to this time?"

He turned back to Skirvon. The Arcanan's expression remained attentive, leavened with exactly the right degree of sorrow and regret, but chan Baskay saw the curiosity in the backs of the man's eyes. Obviously, Skirvon was simply dying to know what he and chan Rothag had just said to one another. The thought gave chan Baskay a certain amount of amusement, but he produced a dutifully sad frown of his own.