Soul of the Fire

After Bertrand Chanboor was named Sovereign, they would be free of worry, but until then, nothing was certain or safe.

Dalton bowed his head in acknowledgment. "You see the situation well, Lady Chanboor."

Bertrand let out a little grunt. "I take it you have a suggestion."

"I do," Dalton said, lowering his voice to little more than a whisper. It was impolite to be seen whispering, but it was unavoidable; he needed to act, and whispers would not be heard. "I think it would be best if we upset the balance of things. What I have in mind will not only pull the weed from the wheat, but it will discourage other weeds from springing up."

Keeping an eye to the Sovereign's table, Dalton explained his proposal. Lady Chanboor straightened with a sly smile; Dalton's advice pleased her disposition. Without emotion, Bertrand, as he watched Claudine picking at her food, agreed.

Stein dragged his knife blade across the table, making a show of slicing through the fine white linen overcloth.

"Why don't I just slit their throats."

The Minister glanced about, checking to see if he could tell if anyone had overheard Stein's offer. Hildemara's face flushed with anger. Teresa's went white to hear such talk, especially from a man who wore a cape of human scalps.

Stein had been warned before. If overheard and reported, such words could open the floodgates of investigation, which would undoubtedly bring the Mother Confessor herself down on them. She would not rest until she discovered the truth of it, and if that happened, she very well might be inclined to use her magic to remove the Minister from office. For good.

With a deadly look, Dalton delivered a silent threat to Stein. Stein grinned out through yellow teeth. "Just a friendly joke."

"I don't care how large the Imperial Order's force is," the Minister growled for the ears of any who might have heard Stein. "Unless they are invited through-which is yet to be decided-they will all perish before the Dominie Dirtch. The emperor knows the truth of it, or he wouldn't ask us to consider the generous offers of peace he has made. I am sure he would be displeased to know how one of his men insults our culture and the laws by which we live.

"You are here as a delegate from Emperor Jagang to explain to our people the emperor's position and liberal offers-no more. If need be, we can get another to do such explaining."

Stein smirked at all the agitation directed his way. "I was joking, of course. Such empty talk is the custom among my people. Where I come from, such words are common and harmless. I assure you all, it was only meant for the sake of amusement."

"I hope you intend to exercise better judgment when you speak to our people," the Minister said. "This is a serious matter you have come to discuss. The Directors would not appreciate hearing such offensive humor."

Stein let out a coarse laugh. "Master Campbell did explain your culture's intolerance for such crude banter, but my unpolished nature caused me to forget his wise words. Please excuse my poor choice of a joke. No harm was intended."

"Well and good, then." Bertrand leaned back, his wary gaze sweeping over the guests. "All Anderith people take a dim view of brutality, and are not used to such talk, much less such action."

Stein bowed his head. "I have yet to learn the exemplary customs of your great culture. I look forward to being given the opportunity to learn your better ways."

With those precisely disarming words, Dalton raised his estimate of the man. Stein's unkempt hair was misleading; what was under it was not nearly so disordered.

If Lady Chanboor caught the mordant satire in Stem's repartee, she did not show it as her face relaxed back to its usual sweet-and-sour set. "We understand, and admire your sincere effort to learn what must be… strange customs to you." Her fingertips slid Stein's goblet toward him. "Please, have some of our fine Nareef Valley wine. We are all very fond of it."

If Lady Chanboor failed to grasp the subtle sarcasm in Stein's words, Teresa did not. Unlike Hildemara, Teresa had skirmished much of her adult life among the cut-and-thrust front lines of female social structure, where words were wielded as weapons meant to draw blood. The higher the level of engagement, the more refined the edge. There, you had to be adept to know you had been cut and were bleeding, or the wound was all that much greater for others seeing it and you missing it.

Hildemara didn't need the blade of wit; raw power alone shielded her. Anderith generals rarely swung swords.

As she watched with practical fascination, Teresa took a sip when Stein swept up his goblet for a long swig.

"It is good. In fact, I would declare it to be the best I've ever tasted."

"We are pleased to hear such a widely traveled man's opinion," the Minister said.

Stein thunked his goblet down on the table. "I've had my fill of food. When do I get to speak my piece?"

The Minister lifted an eyebrow. "When the guests have finished."