Ylith leaned back in her chair and accepted the respects of the small group of defeated men kneeling on her deck. “You may all rise,” she said, which was generous under the circumstances. “T’Elas, t’Morgan, I am glad you have returned safely. Who heads this delegation?”
T’Ilev bowed slightly. “Ian t’Ilev uv Ulmar,” he identified himself. “Lord of Ilev.” And there was sadness in that assumption of the title, raw and recent. “I am not eldest, but the fleet chose me for my father’s sake.”
“Do you ask conditions?” asked Ylith.
“We will hear conditions,” said t’Ilev.
“I will be brief,” said Ylith. “We intend to enter Nephane, with your consent or without it. I will not leave the woman Djan in authority; I will not deal with her or negotiate with those who represent her. I will have order restored in Nephane and a government installed in which I have confidence. The city will thereafter remain in full and constant communication with the mother of cities. I will, however, negotiate the extent of the bond between our cities. Have you any comment, t’Ilev?”
“We are the fleet, not the Upei, and we are not able to negotiate anything but our own actions. But I know the Families will not accept any solution which does not promise us our essential freedoms.”
“And neither,” Kta interjected unbidden, “will the Sufaki.”
Ylith’s eyes went to him. Behind her, Lhe t’Nethim laid hand uneasily on the hilt of his ypan. Ylith’s wit and Ylith’s power were sufficient to deliver Kta an answer, and Kurt clenched his hands, hoping Kta would not be humiliated before these men. Then of a sudden he saw what game Kta was playing with his life and went cold inside. The Methi too was before witnesses, whose offense now could mean a battle, one ugly and, for the Methi’s forces, honorless.
Her lips smiled. She looked Kta slowly up and down, finally acknowledged him by looking at him directly. “I have studied your city, t’Elas. I have gathered information from most unlikely sources, even you and my human, t’Morgan.”
“And what,” Kta asked softly, “has the Methi concluded?”
“That a wise person does not contest reality. Sufaki… are a reality. Annihilation of all Sufaki is hardly practical, since they are the population of the entire coast of Sufak. T’Morgan has told me a fable of human wars. I considered the prospect of dead villages, wasted fields. Somehow this
did not seem profitable. Therefore, although I do not think the sons of the east will ever be other than trouble to us, I consider that they are less trouble where they are, in Nephane and in their villages, rather than scattered and shooting arrows at my occupation forces. Religiously, I will yield nothing. But I had rather have a city than a ruin, a province than a desolation. Considering that it is your city and your land in question, you may perhaps agree with me.”
“We might,” said Ian t’Ilev when she looked aside at him. “If not for that phrase occupation forces. The Families rule Nephane.”
“Ai, no word of Sufaki? Well, but you know the law, t’Ilev. A methi does not reach within families. The question of precedence would be between your two hearths. How you resolve it is not mine to say. But I cannot foresee that Ilev-in-Indresul would be eager to cross the sea to intervene in the affairs of Ilev-in-Nephane. I do not think occupation would prove necessary.”
“Your word on that?” asked Kta.
The Methi gave a curious look to him, a smile of faint irony. Then she opened both palms to the sky. “So let the holy light of heaven regard me: I do not mislead you.” She leaned back then, stretched her hands along the arms of her chair, her lovely face suddenly grave and businesslike. “Terms: removal of Djan, the dissolution of the t’Tefuri’s party, the death of t’Tefur himself, the allegiance of the Families to Indresul and to me. That is the limit of what I demand.”
“And the fleet?” asked Ian t’Ilev.
“You can make Nephane in a day, I think. By this time tomorrow you could reach port. You will have a day further to accomplish what I have named or find us among you by force.”