14
Dawn broke over Ardaig, and from the tower on Eidh Hill kettledrums spoke their ancient prayer. Admiralty House cast its shadow across the Oiss, blue upon the mists that still hid early river traffic. Inland the shadow was black, engulfing Castle Afon.
Yet Brechdan Ironrede chose to receive the Terrans there instead of in his new eyrie. He’s shaken, Abrams thought. He’s rallying quick, but he needs the help of his ancestors.
Entering the audience chamber, a human was at first dazed, as if he had walked into a dream. He needed a moment to make sense of what he saw. The proportions of long, flagged floor, high walls, narrow windows arched at both top and bottom, sawtoothed vaulting overhead, were wrong by every Terran canon and nonetheless had a Tightness of their own. The mask helmets on suits of armor grinned like demons. The patterns of faded tapestries and rustling battle banners held no human symbology. For this was Old Wilwidh, before the machine came to impose universal sameness. It was the wellspring of Merseia. You had to see a place like this if you would understand, in your bones, that Merseians would never be kin to you.
I wish my ancestors were around. Approaching the dais beside a silent Hauksberg, his boots resounding hollow, bitter incense in his nostrils, Abrams conjured up Dayan in his head. I too have a place in the cosmos. Let me not forget.
Black-robed beneath a dragon carved in black wood, the Hand of the Vach Ynvory waited. The men bowed to him. He lifted a short spear and crashed it down in salute. Brusquely, he said: “This is an evil thing that has happened.”
“What news, sir?” Hauksberg asked. His eyes were sunken and a tic moved one corner of his mouth.
“At latest report, a destroyer had locked detectors on Flandry’s hyperwake. It can catch him, but time will be required, and meanwhile both craft have gone beyond detection range.”
“The Protector is assured anew of my profoundest regrets. I am preferring charges against this malefactor. Should he be caught alive, he may be treated as a common pirate.”
Yah, Abrams thought. Dragged under a hypnoprobe and wrung dry. Well, he doesn’t have any vital military secrets, and testimony about me can’t get me in any deeper than I am. But please, let him be killed outright.
“My lord,” he said, “to you and the Hand I formally protest. Dominic Flandry holds an Imperial commission. At a minimum the law entitles him to a court-martial. Nor can his diplomatic immunity be removed by fiat.”
“He was not accredited by his Majesty’s government, but myself,” Hauksberg snapped. “The same applies to you, Abrams.”
“Be still,” Brechdan ordered him. Hauksberg gaped unbelieving at the massive green countenance. Brechdan’s look was on Abrams. “Commander,” the Merseian said, “when you were seized last night, you insisted that you had information I must personally hear. Having been told of this, I acceded. Do you wish to talk with me alone?”
Hang on, here we go. I boasted to Dom once, they wouldn’t take me in any condition to blab, and they’d pay for whatever they got. Nu, here I am, whole-skinned and disarmed. If I’m to justify my brag, these poor wits will have to keep me out of the interrogation cell. “I thank the Hand,” Abrams said, “but the matter concerns Lord Hauksberg also.”
“Speak freely. Today is no time for circumlocutions.”
Abrams’ heart thudded but he held his words steady. “Point of law, Hand. By the Covenant of Alfzar, Merseia confirmed her acceptance of the rules of war and diplomacy which evolved on Terra. They evolved, and you took them over, for the excellent reason that they work. Now if you wish to declare us personae non gratae and deport us, his Majesty’s government will have no grounds for complaint. But taking any other action against any one of us, no matter what the source of our accreditation, is grounds for breaking off relations, if not for war.”
“Diplomatic personnel have no right to engage in espionage,” Brechdan said.
“No, Hand. Neither is the government to which they are sent supposed to spy on them. And in fact, Dwyr the Hook was planted on me as a spy. Scarcely a friendly act, Hand, the more so when urgent negotiations are under way. It happened his sympathies were with Terra—”