“So, you are formally claiming this entire site as an Ancestors’ Graveyard?” asked Bosk.
“Not exactly. We are petitioning that no excavations or removals take place until it has been established precisely where the interments lie, so that no defilement of our ancestors occurs. Once that petition has been granted we will make a decision as to the extent of our occupation claims.”
“The RSCA does not feel this to be necessary. We have scholars who specialize in removing artifacts carefully and with great respect. If and when those scholars encounter any remains or ritual artifacts used in the interment process, we will notify a representative of the titans so that they may take possession after cataloguing has been completed.”
“Your idea of ‘great respect’ and ours differ significantly,” said Tartag, with some visible agitation, “You would notify us only after our ancestors had been defiled, at which point the damage is done and irreversible. This we cannot accept.”
Bosk stood and seemed about to pound the table with his hand. Tol decided this had gone far enough and was about to intervene when a swirling, shimmering manifestation appeared directly in front of him. It resolved into an odd-looking smooth-skinned biped with longish fur all over its head. Tol rolled his eyes. The others stared in frank amazement.
“Greetings, Plåk,” said Tol,“What brings you to the middle of an important negotiation? Did you want to try another earthquake spell to liven things up?”
“Nice to see you, too, Tol. Bite me. I just dropped by to tell you that I’ve poked around in that huge hole and I think the answers to your questions are all down there.”
“So, you think we should mount an expedition?”
“If you want to get all fancy-schmancy. I’d just go poke around.”
“Yes, well, you aren’t subject to being pummeled, asphyxiated, or lost, so ‘poking around’ is a bit more practical for you.”
“As you like. Gotta split.” He sparkled into oblivion. Tol turned back to the table as though nothing had happened.
“Thank you both for your input, gentles. As you may know, the Crown of Tragacanth has sent me here to negotiate a fair and equitable settlement…”
“Which cannot ignore the enormous cultural value of this site!” Belbomit shouted, having completely forgotten about Plåk in his agitation.
Tol put on his best edict enforcement scowl and glared at the RSCA representative until he sat down again meekly. When he was once again firmly in charge, Tol continued.
“Now, as I said, I am here to negotiate a settlement that is satisfactory to both sides. I won’t be ignoring anyone or anything germane to the issues.” Tol reviewed what he had just said and marveled at how unexpectedly lucid it was.
“I propose to begin by forming an exploratory party whose purpose it is to establish whether there are titan remains to be discovered and, if so, where precisely they are located.”
“Wait,” said Koxo, “You’re taking the advice whatever that thing was?” Tol glared at him and continued. “This party shall consist of myself, a representative of the RSCA, a representative of the titans, and a representative of the Royal Engineering Corps as they have jurisdiction here until such time as the further disposition of the site has been determined.”
“And who is to make that determination?” demanded Belbomit.
“These lands belong to the King of Tragacanth; I am His personal representative here. As a Knight of the Crimson and a member of the Tragacanthan Royal Family, I will decide that matter, subject of course to review and confirmation by His Majesty and CoME. Is that clear to everyone?”
Tol seemed to have grown almost to titan size during his speech. Everyone, even the titans, nodded their mute assent.
“Good. Now, if I can get representatives from all concerned parties to meet with me here in ten minutes, we will plan the exploratory expedition. Mr. Nilred, may we requisition supplies from you for the expedition? I have an open Treasury writ for that purpose.”
“Certainly, Sir Tol-u-ol. I will bring a manifest of the available gear for your selections.”
An hour later Tol, Nilred, Episk Grato (for RSCA), and Tartag stood at the edge of the crevasse that led into the underground city, carrying full packs and hung with ropes, hooks, lanterns, and other assorted tools of exploration. They synchronized timepieces and comm units with those remaining at the surface. “Keep one of these comms tuned to arcane and one to conventional,” instructed Tol, indicating two commercial comm base stations, “That way we can use either encryption channel without having to pre-arrange it.”
“All right gentles, we’re ready to get started. I would like for Mr. Nilred to take the lead, as he is primarily concerned with our safety in respect to the structural integrity of the caves and associated formations. Please follow any instructions he may give in that regard. If we get separated, the smaller party stays in place while the larger searches. Do not wander off on your own or take any side trips without reporting your intentions to me first. The authentication slash covert trouble code word is Tropsalla. That means if you need help but can’t say that out loud or want to verify that who you’re talking to is really one of us, use that word or ask us for it.”
“Why would we need precautions such as these?” asked Episk.
“Hopefully we won’t,” Tol replied, “But when heading into an unknown tactical situation it’s best to be prepared for any reasonable eventuality. Gear up!”
With Tol and Koxo in the lead, the explorers stepped down into the crevasse.
Chapter the Fourth
in which Boogla uncovers an ongoing crime and the King travels to an unusual woods
“Good morning, Your Majesty,” Boogla said in a sleepy voice, rubbing her eyes, “Did you sleep well?”
Aspet ran his fingers down her arm. “I always sleep well after... that. How about you?”
“Like a baby. I had no idea how fulfilling married life was going to be.”
Aspet laughed. “Nor did I. I’m looking forward to fulfilling you for a long time to come.”
She grinned. “Don’t get me excited or you won’t get any work done this morning, my king.”
“I guess I better watch myself, then. The Solemadrina trade delegation talks start today.”
“You’ve got a Minister for International Commerce. He can handle them just fine.”
“Yes, I know, but the formalities have to be observed, and that includes the monarch formally opening the meetings. Goameel would never forgive me if I deviated on a point of protocol.”
“He is a bit of stuffed shirt, isn’t he?”
“I can’t really blame him. Some of the trade delegations he deals with are downright rigid about that sort of thing. He needs to be that way in turn to keep face. If he’s seen as weak or out of favor they will tear him apart in negotiations and that hurts the entire country. If I can keep the price of woven baskets, dray wheels, and trolda sprouts down just by showing up wearing the crown, I think I owe that to the Tragacanthan economy.”
“Oh, very well. Duty calls, and all that. There will be tonight.”
“Indeed there will. I have the string quartet scheduled for eight to nine, on the terrace.”
“Oooh,” she squealed, “That’s so romantic. I think I love you.”
“Glad to hear it. Keeps the rumors down, you know?”
Goameel Jigha was a distinguished career bureaucrat who accepted the Minister for International Commerce position when the previous MIC retired upon Aspet’s ascension. He was not a goblin of particularly strong wit or good humor, but he was solid, competent, and a tough negotiator who knew the vagaries of Tragacanthan industry and its economy inside and out. He had given Aspet no reason to doubt his suitability for the cabinet position.
Aspet opened the meetings in his own style; he was quickly becoming known on the world stage for his razor-sharp wit and ability to herd even difficult parties down the negotiating trail, making it look much easier than it actually was. In many ways he wa
s born to be king, a fact not lost on CoME.
After the formalities were concluded, he retired to the Royal Chambers for some paperwork while the trade negotiations got underway for real. The trade treaty between Tragacanth and Solemadrina had been in place for centa, but by statute had to be renegotiated and renewed every deca. This would mark the fourth time Jigha had been involved, although the first as Minister. His role was to offer concessions, negotiate new and existing contracts— in short accomplish everything except actually signing the treaty renewal. Only the Sovereign could enter into or renew international treaties. Jigha had at his fingertips every conceivable metric regarding commerce, industry, and production in Tragacanth, as well as a staff to manage it all. He always went into negotiations of this sort exquisitely well-prepared.
The meetings were set to happen over a period of three days. The first day went quite well, and a fair amount of progress was made. So much, in fact, that Jigha reported to His Majesty that the treaty signing might need to be moved up to the morning, rather than evening, of the third day. That would involve a little Royal schedule juggling, but Aspet said it could be achieved if necessary.
The morning of the second day brought dawn showers quickly giving way to sunshine. The delegates gathered after breakfast in the conference room and were pouring glasses of water for themselves and going over notes before the formal continuation of the meetings when Jigha suddenly put his water glass down and slumped over. At first no one really paid any attention, but when the time to start the meeting came and went without any response, or indeed movement at all, from the Minister one of his aides tapped him on the shoulder. Jigha slowly raised his head and everyone gasped. He was bleeding from the corner of his mouth and unable to talk.
The Minister was rushed to the Royal Infirmary and His Majesty notified via comm.
“Looks like Goameel has taken suddenly ill. Suspiciously ill. Think you can handle negotiating a trade treaty?” Aspet said to Boogla over breakfast.
“I... don’t know. With enough background material, I suppose.”
“Great. All the material you’ll need will be in the conference room. Goameel always takes a veritable library with him to these things. I’ll go introduce you and ask them to postpone the meeting for an hour to so you can read some papers and talk to his aides. Let’s go before the Solemadrinans get restless and decide to raise their prices.”
Everyone on both sides of the negotiating table was skeptical of the Magineer Liaison’s ability to navigate the intricacies of a trade agreement on so little notice, but as usual Boogla surprised them all. She took virtually every bargaining chip Goameel had brought along and employed them to their fullest extent—even one over which no one had expected to achieve an agreement. By the last break of the day, she had gotten every single concession Tragacanth had sought and two more in addition. There was one session left, the purpose of which was to summarize and confirm the agreements made so that the formal treaty could be drawn up overnight to be signed in the morning by both sides.
Boogla sat at the conference table going through a stack of ledgers, looking for data on a particular military-related materiel acquisition program when she noticed some odd entries. She studied them for a while, correlating the debits against actual equipment requisitions and discovered that there was a considerable discrepancy for several pieces of valuable equipment, both technological and arcane. It appeared as though someone was purchasing more technology than the acquisition vouchers stipulated.
Boogla called in her Edict Enforcement Liaison and showed her the anomalies. She made copies of the relevant documents and departed. Then she brought the evidence over to the head trade delegate from Solemadrina, Deputy Minister of Trade Relations Wabeno Utna. As she went over the discrepancies with him, a minor member of his delegation who had been seated nearby quietly left the table and the room. Boogla watched her go.
Deputy Utna agreed that the numbers had been falsified for whatever reason and corrected them on the requisition tickets. Boogla watched him closely with her social engineer’s expert eye. He was telling the truth: he did not know the origin of the attempted theft, for that is what it amounted to. She made a mental note to audit past years’ ledgers looking for similar falsifications.
The treaty was signed the next morning and the Solemadrinans took ship back to their homeland. Boogla noticed that the delegate who had slipped out of the conference room was not among the passengers debarking. “She has family here and will be staying a few extra days to visit with them,” Deputy Utna explained. Boogla didn’t believe a word of it, but she smiled congenially and wished them a safe journey nevertheless.
That night she was up late examining ledgers and uncovering a systematic theft of dozens of pieces of sophisticated military and civilian equipment over the past four years. She asked the head of His Majesty’s Secret Service to come in: not as Magineer Liaison, but Royal Consort. She used that title and position only when absolutely necessary; in this case it was.
Principal Special Agent Hobert Akkina was a goblin of breeding and sophistication who also possessed some of the finest detective and martial arts skills in the kingdom. She showed him the evidence she had amassed and then a list of trade delegate names. The only one that appeared every time thefts were documented was Esfina Frem. Akkina looked concerned.
“Your Highness, Ms. Frem is a known underworld operative with strong probable ties to organized crime. I was not aware she remained behind when the ship sailed. This is worrisome; I know of no family of hers here. I will speak to the RPC about doubling your guard for a while.”
“Doubling my guard? Why, do you think she’ll be targeting me?”
“Quite possible. From what I read you not only uncovered her theft operation, you instituted a new contract that will make it more difficult for her organization to participate in the black market. She may well find you an unacceptable threat to operations. Be vigilant.
” When Boogla finally came to bed Aspet was already asleep. He was leaving for the Kopyrewt Forest early in the morning to oversee the dedication of Tragacanth’s first protected natural preserve. The RPC would fill him in on what was going on during the carriage trip, most probably. She kissed him tenderly on the forehead and crawled under the covers next to him.
She was barely awake when got up, dressed, and kissed her goodbye.
Twenty kilometers to the west, in a small inn on the outskirts of Goblinopolis, a deal was being made between a female goblin and scrawny hobgoblin dressed in military fatigues.
“It is agreed, then,” the goblin said, “Ten thousand up front and another ten when the job is completed.”
“Provided you do indeed have the currency up front, it is agreed.”
The goblin swung a heavy case up onto the table and snapped it open. “Count it yourself,” she commanded. The hob did.
“Everything appears in order. The contract will be carried out within forty-four hours.”
“The remainder of the money will be dead-dropped at the location we discussed previously within an hour of confirmation that the contract was fulfilled. Don’t get caught; the penalty for high treason in Tragacanth is particularly nasty and unpleasant.”
“If I get caught there will be no complications.” He smiled and showed her a dark purple capsule hidden securely in a cheek pouch. “Nivril bean powder: highly purified. Kills within fifteen seconds.”
“Be certain you have no physical evidence on you that could lead them back to us.”
“I am a professional, madam. It shall be so.”
“I have engaged the services of a well-respected organization to deal with the supply chain problem. Yes, the arrangements have all been made. Within forty-four hours. I will be waiting in Cladimil for the shipment to be released. Yes. The stockholders needn’t worry; the merchandise will be delivered on time or at worst a little late. Yes, that contingency has been covered. No, no further delays are anticipated. Goodbye.”
The Royal rail carriage
took Aspet as far as Port Zog, where he had to make a decision: he could stay on the rails around to Lumbos and take the Northeast Coastal Highway up to Kopyrewt, or get off here and follow a series of smaller roads to the forest directly. He consulted with the RPC director to get his views on the relative safety of the two routes. The Lumbos route was significantly further in distance, but the roads were better and Aspet could be whisked away by fast ship if some emergency arose. The direct route was shorter, but the roads were less reliable and the country along the way largely uninhabited. Too many good ambush spots; Coastal Highway it was.
Kopyrewt is a vast, mostly pristine temperate rain forest that averages over 200 cm of precipitation a year. Until fairly recently it was virtually untouched, but the ever-increasing demand for wood products to satisfy a growing population began to nibble away at the edges. While sustainable forestry practices were now widespread in the industry, environmental groups had been lobbying energetically for some form of protection for the unique rain forest biome. Aspet had taken an interest in the forest and its hundreds, if not thousands, of unique species and decided that one of his legacies would be a Tragacanthan National Preserve system.
He was here in the heart of the forest, therefore, to declare the formation of Kopyrewt Natural Preserve, to be overseen by the Tragacanthan Natural Resources Administration, also being created today by Royal Proclamation. As this was an historic day for the nation, the number of dignitaries and members of the press in attendance was greater than usual. That meant that the RPC had to bring more agents than customary, as well. The ceremony took place an hour before mid-day on a dais carved from the trunk of a skytoucher tree downed by one of the vicious cyclones that occasionally brush along the northeast edge of the forest. Before Aspet could get on with the declarations and proclamations, however, a small band of dwarves in ritual costumes asked if they may speak with His Majesty.
Gathering of the Titans: The Tol Chronicles Book 2 Page 4