The Brothers' War

by Jeff Grubb

  “Then why negotiate at all,” Tawnos asked.

  Urza sighed deeply and said, “Sometimes even foes should get together to talk. Nothing may come of this talk, but if the sides can discuss without incident, that gives hope for the next meeting.”

  Tawnos thought there was more than that. The meeting for which the Chief Artificer was planning so carefully was not Fallaji and Yotian, he realized, nor queen and qadir. The meeting was between himself and his younger brother.

  * * *

  —

  The messages started arriving soon after the Fallaji reached the borders of the Sword Marches, arriving at regular intervals, as Urza had ordered. The Fallaji contingent was smaller than that which they had presented at Korlinda, as the qadir had promised. The dragon engine was present, but it was being used to pull a great metal wain, almost as big as itself, with huge, gearlike wheels. While hitched to the wain, the engine moved slowly, keeping pace with the rest of the troops.

  The Yotian council argued about the presence of the wain. The seneschal suggested it might be a gift. The Newest Captain thought it might contain additional troops. Urza told Tawnos it was a display of power, a reminder that Mishra had not been merely resting since Korlinda. In the end Kayla chose not to make an issue of the unexpected addition to the Fallaji party. Urza ordered one of the flights, grounded at the border, to return to normal operations, and a second to parallel the Fallaji party, remaining to the east and out of sight.

  On the fifth day of the Fallaji journey southward, five days before the arrival of the party in Kroog, there were new rumors of a massing of Fallaji troops on the far northern border of the Sword Marches. The seneschal thought that, if true, it might be one of the more traditional raids, perhaps by individuals who wanted to see the negotiations crumble. The captain argued that, regardless of purpose, any Fallaji incursions would be disastrous at this time and the ornithopters were needed to scout in the desert.

  Urza at first refused, only to be overruled by Kayla. Reluctantly, the Chief Artificer allowed three flights (including the one shadowing the dragon engine) to be reassigned to the far north. Urza did not explain to Tawnos the factors that convinced him to change his mind, but several of the household staff heard a serious row in the royal quarters. Tawnos knew that Urza spent the next few nights working late at the orniary. The Chief Artificer claimed to be working on improvements to the avenger-style automatons, but thereafter he attended the council only when specifically summoned by his wife.

  On the tenth day the Fallaji arrived before the walls of Kroog. The battlements had been hung with colorful banners, as if festive bunting would conceal the strength and purpose of the stonework beneath. The walls were bedecked with most of the populace of Kroog as well, as were the windows of every building that commanded a view of the visitors. The merchants had made a killing selling telescopes, an Argivian fancy consisting of two polished lenses set along the length of a metal tube. Indeed, Kroog seemed a city of observers as the Fallaji party neared. Her Majesty, the Prince Consort, Tawnos, the seneschal, and the Newest Captain waited with other bureaucrats at the north gatehouse for the Fallaji to present themselves.

  There were fewer Fallaji than there had been at Korlinda, and the sunlight sparkled off the polished brass of their wide helmets and heavy shoulder ornaments. But few counted the number of men, for the dragon engine captured everyone’s attention.

  Tawnos, standing with the others at the gatehouse, was amazed by the beast. It was as if a living thing had been transformed into a machine. It was a dragon whose muscles had been replaced with cables, its hide with plates of metal, its eyes with great gems. It moved like a living thing as well, with little flinches and muscle tics, swinging its head slowly from one side to another, apparently curious about its surroundings.

  Urza had told Tawnos of the engine and had said that Mishra found it beneath the desert. But this was no Thran creation, Tawnos thought, and it was as far removed from the Chief Artificer’s avengers as a living bird differed from the ornithopters. Tawnos was impressed, and that was with a prior warning from Urza. He could only imagine what the rest of the populace were thinking.

  The dragon engine was in harness, like a caravan ox, and pulled the huge wagon almost as large as itself. The wain, though, held no sense of wonder as did the mechanical beast harnessed to it. The wagon looked like a metallic four-story inn that had been suddenly given wheels and turned loose on the world. Its sharp angles and exposed rivets marked it as originally being of Thran design. Numerous portals and battlements bristled along its flanks, set with catapults and small ballista. The weapons were unloaded for the moment and wrapped beneath tarps that no more concealed their purpose than the banners did the walls of Kroog.

  Kayla had ordered the ornithopters displayed outside the walls, one flight to either side of the north gate. They were on the ground, their crews standing ready next to them. They were intended both as reassurance and as warning, much as a sheathed sword laid upon a table might remind one’s opponent that while there was no intention of treachery, the negotiators were prepared to fight. The pilots, in blue and white tabards, waited patiently by their machines. The Fallaji formed a line opposite them, a respectful distance away.

  The dragon engine and its burden drew up before the gates and came at last to rest. As it did so, Tawnos noted something Urza had not mentioned. A dull throbbing came from the beast as fluids gurgled through hidden tubes and hydraulic joints shifted in place. The humming was akin to a heartbeat, and Tawnos could feel it more than he could hear it.

  The machines came to rest, and after a short interval, a door opened in the side of the great wain. A staircase was lowered, and down the stairs came two figures. Neither was the qadir. Instead Mishra led the way, followed by his assistant. Tawnos had not met either, yet from the way Mishra carried himself, Tawnos knew he must be Urza’s brother.

  The younger brother was shorter, heavier, and dark-haired, with a tightly trimmed beard. But there was something in his walk, and in the face beneath that beard, that marked him as kin to the Chief Artificer of Kroog, Prince Consort of Yotia. Mishra was bedecked in the flowing robes of a desert prince, his head bare, and his face beaming with a great smile. He blinked in the afternoon sun and waved to the crowds on the battlement. There were catcalls among the responding cheers, but the younger brother seemed not to notice.

  Yet much as the wain was diminished by the dragon engine that served it, so too was Mishra dimmed by his companion. She was a slender woman with hair the color of bloodstained rubies, dressed in dark clothes, a flowing cape billowing behind her. She carried a simple, unadorned staff of black wood and seemingly did not recognize the crowd’s shouts, for she kept her gaze forward. From Urza’s description, Tawnos knew this must be Ashnod.

  No qadir emerged from the metallic wain, and in the gatehouse the Yotian leaders held a quick conference. If the qadir was not present, noted the seneschal, then the queen should not appear either for the initial welcoming. A group similar in protocol should respond to the Fallaji’s initial delegation. More might be taken as a sign of weakness, less as an insult.

  That meant Urza and Tawnos would greet the new arrivals. The Chief Artificer nodded, his face stiffening slightly as he saw his brother on the field. Tawnos thought the artificer would rather speak with his brother privately, but this was not to be. The queen would remain at the gatehouse as the artificer and his apprentice met the Fallaji representatives.

  Urza was stiff and formal as they crossed the open space between the city and the Fallaji. Tawnos kept an appropriate two paces behind and to the right, marshaling his own features to a calm demeanor.

  Urza stopped before Mishra and Ashnod and without preamble raised his empty hands slightly, as if he were a priest giving benediction. “Welcome to Kroog, Brother,” he said.

  Mishra flung both arms outward, and for a moment, Tawnos thought the younger brother was going to rush his elder and hug him. Instead, Mishra bowed deeply. Tawnos note
d that Ashnod gave a short bob of the head as well.

  “We are honored by your invitation,” said Mishra, rising again. The smile on his face could be earnest, thought Tawnos, or it could be the pasted-on smile of a Fallaji trader.

  “We are honored by your presence,” said Urza, though his words sounded to Tawnos’s ears dry and bloodless. “Is your qadir with you?”

  “Alas!” said Mishra, bowing again deeply, “I fear that his Most Wise and Earnest Presence could not accompany us on our mission of peace and mercy. Our empire is wide now, and there are other matters that require his attention.”

  Urza was silent for a moment, and Tawnos could see the muscles tighten along his jawline. “We should have been told if your leader was…otherwise occupied,” he said at last.

  “We understand your disappointment,” replied Mishra quickly. “Be assured that it is shared by our most puissant and powerful master. I will not lie to you, Brother. After his last experience with your people, he wishes to be cautious. He has entrusted to me the power to negotiate fully on his behalf. However, if we are unwelcome because of his absence, we apologize and will humbly retreat the way we came.” He bowed a third time.

  Tawnos realized the younger brother was not making his exaggerated movements for Urza but rather for the large number of Yotians lining the walls. Even if the Chief Artificer had wanted to, he could not now send the Fallaji representatives away.

  Tawnos held his face in a mask of solemn indifference, as he had back when as a lad he listened to his uncles speak. He kept his eyes forward, looking past Mishra into the middle distance.

  After a few moments, he realized he was looking at Ashnod over her master’s left shoulder. She too had the impassive look on her face of a child who is expected to behave herself while the parents talk.

  Tawnos blinked, realizing the red-haired woman might think he was staring at her, and moved his gaze a few feet to the left toward one of the wheels of the great metal wain.

  As he did so, Ashnod caught his eye and winked. It was a flutter, accompanied by the ghost of a smile. Tawnos started, his eyes darting back to the scarlet-haired woman. But by that time her face was an impassive, diplomatic mask.

  All this occurred in the time it took for Urza to respond. “You are welcome as the representative of your people,” he said. “Let me present you to the queen. If you will follow me?”

  A brief bow here, and Mishra added softly, “And let me say you are looking well, Brother. I would have been heartbroken if you had perished at Korlinda.”

  “It is…” began Urza, and paused. The world seemed to turn around them for a moment; then he continued, “It is good to know you are safe as well. About Korlinda—”

  Mishra held up a hand. “We can speak of the matter at length. Let me say that I have given it much thought over the past year. We will talk. But for the moment, we should not keep your queen waiting.”

  Urza’s face tightened for a moment, then relaxed, and he nodded. “Of course.” With that he spun on his heel and walked back toward the gate. Mishra followed, accompanied by the woman. Tawnos brought up the rear.

  The red-haired woman hesitated as she passed the apprentice. She turned slightly, and said, “You must be Tawnos.” She held out her hand.

  Automatically, Tawnos took her fingers and bowed slightly over them. “I’m sorry. Yes, I’m Tawnos, apprentice to Urza. You are Mishra’s chief apprentice, Ashnod?”

  Ashnod withdrew her hand, and again a small smile played over her face. “Chief and only,” she said. “It’s typical of those two that they wouldn’t bother to introduce us. Brilliant, Mishra is, but he sometimes has the social graces of an atog. It must run in the family, eh?”

  Tawnos tried to form a response, but by the time he had thought of something relatively innocuous, she had turned back and was following the two brothers toward the gate. Tawnos shook his head slightly and brought up the rear, arriving at the gate as Urza was presenting Kayla, rolling off her various titles like a schoolmaster reading the roll.

  “…Flower of the Mardun, Warlord’s Daughter, Queen of the Yotians, and Warlady of Kroog, my wife, Kayla bin-Kroog,” concluded Urza. “Mishra, the chosen representative of the Fallaji. The qadir was unable to attend and begs our forgiveness.” Tawnos noted that Urza was looking at the seneschal as he said it, and that the nervous man flinched at the implied accusation. Kayla offered her hand to the younger brother.

  “Urza spoke to me of your beauty,” said Mishra, bowing deeply over her hand. “But I had forgotten his capacity for understatement. For him a majestic tree is only so many board-feet of lumber, and a desert vista only so many miles to cross. So, too, I see that he has seriously unvalued your charm.”

  A small smile played across Kayla’s face. Tawnos thought the queen was amused, though she had long since become immune to fulsome praise. “Urza had spoken of his brother,” she said, “but I must admit that I was unprepared for one so eloquent.”

  “I have few regrets in life,” said Mishra, still grasping the queen’s hand lightly, “and one of them is that I never had a sister. With you as my brother’s wife, that is now remedied.” With that he loosened her hand, and she gently withdrew it.

  There were other introductions: Ashnod, Tawnos, the seneschal and the Captain of the Guard, and arrangements were made for the Fallaji to bivouac around their dragon engine. But the part that Tawnos remembered later, after it was all said and done, was the stony stare with which Urza favored his younger brother as Mishra flattered Kayla, and Mishra’s toothy white smile as he regarded his brother’s wife.

  * * *

  —

  Sounds of the fight carried all the way down the hall. Tawnos had passed a gaggle of chambermaids speeding away from the royal quarters. Then he heard the arguing voices reverberate like steel balls against the surrounding walls. Closer still, the air itself gained weight and potency. He felt as if he were back on the seacoast watching a squall wade ashore, pushing the air in front of it. Undeterred, he pressed forward.

  The door to the quarters was shut, but that did little to blunt the noises from within. This close, Tawnos could make out words, and he paused a moment before knocking.

  “The answer is no!” shouted Urza.

  “Its a good trade!” rejoined Kayla just as loudly. “They will leave the Sword Marches alone!”

  “It’s not yours to trade away!” thundered Urza. Tawnos had never heard the Chief Artificer that loud before, even when he was bawling out the most incompetent of apprentices.

  Tawnos hesitated at the door. Would it be better to interrupt and make them aware that their fight was resounding through the palace, or to wait for a lull in the shouting?

  Tawnos knocked. There was a testy growl of, “What?” from the other side, coupled with a more feminine, disciplined, “Enter.”

  Tawnos entered the room cautiously and said, “The Fallaji delegation is waiting for the tour of the orniary, Chief Artificer.”

  Urza shot his apprentice a look as frosty as the Ronom Glacier. Yes, thought Tawnos, this was a particularly bad time to interrupt. Across the room, Kayla was standing, hands folded in front of her. In the privy council, that usually meant that a particular subject was closed.

  “If you want me to conduct the tour…” added Tawnos, but Urza already had his hand up.

  “I’ll be there,” said the Chief Artificer, as Tawnos knew he would. The idea of his brother padding through his research area without Urza being present was unthinkable.

  To his wife, Urza snapped, “This discussion is not over, my wife.”

  Kayla nodded curtly. “You are correct, my husband.”

  Urza gave a sharp half-bow, and left the room. Kayla said, “Tawnos, remain a moment.”

  Tawnos looked at the Chief Artificer. Urza scowled, then gave Tawnos a nod. “Come along when you can,” he said, and then he was gone, his formal cape billowing behind him.

  Tawnos turned back to the queen. “Your Majesty,” he said, then added, �
�Ma’am.”

  “You heard our ‘discussion’ out in the hall?” she said.

  Tawnos took a deep breath. “I think they heard your ‘discussion’ in the domes of Tomakul.”

  Kayla smiled and slumped into one of her chairs, a heavy, thronelike monster with ornately carved arms.

  “I did not hear much of it,” continued Tawnos quickly. “The stonework carries the intensity but not the nature of your words.” Kayla laced her hands, templed her fingers, and touched them to her lips. “Would you say the talks have gone well these past few days?”

  “Very well,” replied Tawnos. And indeed, they had verged on phenomenal, considering the abortive talks in Korlinda. Gifts had been presented. Toasts had been exchanged. Platitudes had been spoken, and effusive compliments had been offered. Private meetings between Kayla and Mishra had led to discussions among the Fallaji and in the privy council. The good feelings between the two sides had culminated in Urza’s offer to show his brother his orniary. In return Mishra had offered to let Urza and his assistant look at the dragon engine and great wain. Things were going very well indeed.

  “And Ambassador Mishra?” asked Kayla. “Your opinion of him?”

  Tawnos hesitated, unsure of what Kayla wanted to know. “He is…” The apprentice searched for words. “He is like his brother, only different. More effusive. More willing to talk.”

  “But no less guarded,” said Kayla.

  Tawnos thought for a moment. Yes, despite all the talk and praise and compliments, Mishra remained even more closed than his brother. He seemed earnest, but was his earnestness the truth or only a mask?

  Tawnos realized he would never think of Urza in that fashion. “I rarely know what Urza is thinking, but that is because he is quiet. I don’t know what Mishra is thinking, because he is talking.”