of the
mountains. They’ve made themselves a haven, difficult to reach, small enough to
crowd quickly. Strangers would be rare there, but when they came, they’d
threaten to strain the little space, and drive its people out by simple force
of numbers.”
“And,” said Talian, “their minds are walled as high as their
country. They’re afraid of new things, strange things. Their kingdom is
old—ancient, they say—and set in its ways. And they fear and hate magic. Their
first rulers were a god’s children, king and queen, brother and sister, who
fled some calamity that had to do with magic, and led their people to the
valley, and set up a kingdom that would be forever free of the taint. The word
for magic in their language is the word for evil, and for the excrement of
their oxen.”
The mages were appalled. Chakan laughed.
He caught Vanyi’s eye and sobered, if only a little. “Well,
Guildmaster. There’s your reason for the breaking of Gates, however they went
about it. How in the million worlds did they let one be set up there at all?”
“There is a faction in their court,” Vanyi said, “that wants
to be sensible, not to mention practical, about the existence and practice of
magic. It’s a heresy, I suppose, but it’s strong, and it’s been ruling
Shurakan. Its leaders welcomed our mages and allowed them to raise the Gate.”
“Ah,” said Chakan slowly. “So. This, you didn’t tell the
emperor.”
“Or me,” said Daruya, startling them all. They had forgotten
her, as quiet as she had been, sitting in a corner with her daughter playing at
her feet. “If you had, my grandfather would never have let me come here even
before the Gate fell. He wouldn’t have given you a company of his Olenyai,
either.”
“No,” said Vanyi. “He would have wanted to come himself with
an army at his back, and whole temples full of priest-mages to bring the
Shurakani round to the error of their religion.”
“He is not as bad as that,” Daruya said stiffly. “A company
of cavalry, yes, he would have wanted that, and more Olenyai. And a priest-mage
or two, such as he is himself, in case you forget.”
“And himself,” said Vanyi. “There’s the trouble, child. He’d
have insisted that he was the only right and proper ambassador to such a
benighted people, and run right over me, too, because he is strong enough to do
that. He’d want to conquer these people as he conquered the whole of our half
of the world, because it’s in his blood to do exactly that. How not? He’s the
god’s child. He was born to rule the world.”
“And I wasn’t?”
Vanyi faced her full on. “You, I think, for all your
crotchets and your persistent conviction that you have to be a scandal in order
to be noticed, are at heart a more reasonable creature than he is. And if you
aren’t, you’ll refuse to conquer Shurakan simply because your grandfather would
conquer it—purely for its own good, of course, and because he’s the god’s
however-many great-grandson, supposing that you accept the dogma that Mirain
An-Sh’Endor was the god’s son in truth and not the bastard-born offspring of a
northern priestess and the Red Prince of Han-Gilen.”
“They still repeat that slander?” Daruya was surprisingly
calm about it. “Ah well. You explain this”—she flashed her golden hand,
dazzling Vanyi briefly—“and then we consider who sowed the seed of the Sunborn.
Meanwhile, what if I decide that I can’t resist the urge to be a conqueror,
either?”
“I doubt that,” said Vanyi. “Men conquer by force of arms.
Women have other methods. Some of which I hope you’ll see fit to use.”
Daruya eyed her narrowly. She gave nothing back to that
stare but a bland expression and a faint smile.
“He can’t come now,” said Daruya, “even to drag me back home
in disgrace. By the time we have the Gates back up, we’ll have had time, I
should think, to fend him off. Unless you’re going to give him a new war to
fight,
mountains. They’ve made themselves a haven, difficult to reach, small enough to
crowd quickly. Strangers would be rare there, but when they came, they’d
threaten to strain the little space, and drive its people out by simple force
of numbers.”
“And,” said Talian, “their minds are walled as high as their
country. They’re afraid of new things, strange things. Their kingdom is
old—ancient, they say—and set in its ways. And they fear and hate magic. Their
first rulers were a god’s children, king and queen, brother and sister, who
fled some calamity that had to do with magic, and led their people to the
valley, and set up a kingdom that would be forever free of the taint. The word
for magic in their language is the word for evil, and for the excrement of
their oxen.”
The mages were appalled. Chakan laughed.
He caught Vanyi’s eye and sobered, if only a little. “Well,
Guildmaster. There’s your reason for the breaking of Gates, however they went
about it. How in the million worlds did they let one be set up there at all?”
“There is a faction in their court,” Vanyi said, “that wants
to be sensible, not to mention practical, about the existence and practice of
magic. It’s a heresy, I suppose, but it’s strong, and it’s been ruling
Shurakan. Its leaders welcomed our mages and allowed them to raise the Gate.”
“Ah,” said Chakan slowly. “So. This, you didn’t tell the
emperor.”
“Or me,” said Daruya, startling them all. They had forgotten
her, as quiet as she had been, sitting in a corner with her daughter playing at
her feet. “If you had, my grandfather would never have let me come here even
before the Gate fell. He wouldn’t have given you a company of his Olenyai,
either.”
“No,” said Vanyi. “He would have wanted to come himself with
an army at his back, and whole temples full of priest-mages to bring the
Shurakani round to the error of their religion.”
“He is not as bad as that,” Daruya said stiffly. “A company
of cavalry, yes, he would have wanted that, and more Olenyai. And a priest-mage
or two, such as he is himself, in case you forget.”
“And himself,” said Vanyi. “There’s the trouble, child. He’d
have insisted that he was the only right and proper ambassador to such a
benighted people, and run right over me, too, because he is strong enough to do
that. He’d want to conquer these people as he conquered the whole of our half
of the world, because it’s in his blood to do exactly that. How not? He’s the
god’s child. He was born to rule the world.”
“And I wasn’t?”
Vanyi faced her full on. “You, I think, for all your
crotchets and your persistent conviction that you have to be a scandal in order
to be noticed, are at heart a more reasonable creature than he is. And if you
aren’t, you’ll refuse to conquer Shurakan simply because your grandfather would
conquer it—purely for its own good, of course, and because he’s the god’s
however-many great-grandson, supposing that you accept the dogma that Mirain
An-Sh’Endor was the god’s son in truth and not the bastard-born offspring of a
northern priestess and the Red Prince of Han-Gilen.”
“They still repeat that slander?” Daruya was surprisingly
calm about it. “Ah well. You explain this”—she flashed her golden hand,
dazzling Vanyi briefly—“and then we consider who sowed the seed of the Sunborn.
Meanwhile, what if I decide that I can’t resist the urge to be a conqueror,
either?”
“I doubt that,” said Vanyi. “Men conquer by force of arms.
Women have other methods. Some of which I hope you’ll see fit to use.”
Daruya eyed her narrowly. She gave nothing back to that
stare but a bland expression and a faint smile.
“He can’t come now,” said Daruya, “even to drag me back home
in disgrace. By the time we have the Gates back up, we’ll have had time, I
should think, to fend him off. Unless you’re going to give him a new war to
fight,
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