“And Kashfa holds it now; and Arkans says they’ll damn well keep it.”
“Right. Which is the same thing Jasra said. The interim ruler, however-Jaston was his name, military man-was actually willing to discuss its status with the Begmans, before his unfortunate fall from the balcony. I think he wanted to repair the treasury and was considering ceding the area in return for the settlement of some ancient war damage claims. Things were actually well along and headed in that direction.”
“And … ?” I said.
“In the papers I got from Random, Amber specifically recognizes Kashfa as including the area of Eregnor. Arkans had insisted that go into the treaty. Usually-from everything I’ve been able to find in the archives-Amber avoids getting involved in touchy situations like this between allies. Oberon seldom went looking for trouble. But Random seems to be in a hurry, and he let this guy drive a hard bargain.”
“He’s overreacting,” I said, “not that I blame him. He remembers Brand too well.”
Bill nodded.
“I’m just the hired help,” he said. “I don’t want to have an opinion.”
“Well, anything else I should know about Arkans?”
“Oh, there are lots of other things the Begmans don’t like about him, but that’s the big one-right when they thought they were making some headway on an issue that’s been a national pastime for generations. They’ve even gone to war over the matter in the past. Don’t doubt that that’s why they came rushing to town. Govern yourself accordingly.”
He raised his goblet and took a drink.
A little later Vialle said something to Llewella, rose to her feet, and announced that she had to see to something, that she’d be right back. Llewella started to get up also but Vialle put a hand on her shoulder, whispered something, and departed.
“Wonder what that could be?” Bill said.
“Don’t know,” I answered.
He smiled.
“Shall we speculate?”
“My mind’s on cruise control,” I told him.
Nayda gave me a long stare. I met it and shrugged.
Another little while, and plates were cleared and more were coming.
Whatever it was looked good. Before I could find out for certain, though, a member of the general house staff entered and approached.
“Lord Merlin,” she said, “the queen would like to see you.”
I was on my feet immediately. “Where is she?”
“I’ll take you to her.”
I excused myself from my companions, borrowing the line that I’d be right back, wondering if it were true. I followed her out and around the corner to a small sitting room, where she left me with Vialle, who was seated in an uncomfortable-looking high-backed chair of dark wood and leather, held together with cast iron studs. If she’d wanted muscle, she’d have sent for Gerard. If she’d wanted a mind full of history and political connivance, Llewella would be here. So I was guessing it involved magic, since I was the authority in residence.
But I was wrong.
“I’d like to speak to you,” she said, “concerning a small state of war in which we seem about to become engaged.