“Kuberski’s still alive?” Darius couldn’t help but ask, as the old minister had been on the verge of retirement for at least twenty years with one foot in the grave for the past ten at least. Or perhaps, more accurately put, Kuberski seemed to be sitting next to it with his legs dangling over the edges.
“The man is a demon, I will swear to it,” Baros responded, gesturing for Darius to take a chair, growing more animated with every word, “but apparently one with good intentions as he refuses to retire and leave me shorthanded. Bless him.”
Darius took the chair, glad when Baros did the same, both of them showing fatigue in the way they let the chairs completely support their weight. Darius’s mouth twisted into a not-smile. “While I’m glad he’s still here; you can hardly blame me for ‘leaving’ as you put it.”
A grimace passed over Baros’s face. “I suppose we should talk about that first.”
“If you want me to actually trust you enough to command your forces, yes, we should,” Darius responded mildly. He felt anything but mild, however, that tone had served him well when dealing with politicians.
“Don’t use that tone on me,” Baros complained. “I hate that tone, you’re like a shady merchant selling snake oil every time you use it.”
Darius quirked a brow at him, pointedly, and waited.
“I meant every word of what I said that night,” Baros swore, words delivered with considerable heat. “I still mean them. Half the court knew of the oath you took, the disaster my father invited in because he didn’t keep oath with you, and I still feel like it was justified. I just also feel like it would have been better if you hadn’t killed him.”
“The man threw me a banquet after I pulled him out of that dungeon cell and the whole court celebrated with him.” Darius’s hand clenched with renewed anger, over thin air, as he forced it to remain clear of his sword. “In the heat of the moment, coming right out of that nightmare, that’s when people are still the angriest, the most ready to punish the one responsible. No one stepped up to do that.”
Baros held up both hands in a staying motion. “Like I said, I don’t blame you. I only wish you’d handled it differently because by doing that, it forced you to leave. Darius, do you have any idea what a madhouse this place was after you left? I had some people calling publicly for your blood, others swearing you were justified and that we shouldn’t force you out, and still others that wouldn’t take a public stance but were busy undermining everyone while they were focused on you.”
“Sounds like court politics on an average day,” Darius observed.
Wincing, Baros admitted, “By about double the factor. Half the generals refused to heed my call to arms, swearing you were justified, and I almost had to publicly execute a few just to establish order. There were moments I felt like strangling you. I still have moments where I’d cheerfully strangle you.”
Hearing the words for what they were, a complaint, Darius smiled.
“Don’t grin like a jackanapes,” Baros grumbled sourly, mouth almost pouting. “I’m still mad at you, a little. I know that I told you to run, to live, and I don’t begrudge you the new life you made, but did you really have to go serve Queen Tresea? The knife was already in up to the hilt. There was no need to twist.”
From Baros’s perspective, this likely did seem like Darius poured salt into an open wound. “It’s not what you’re imagining. Tresea’s guards caught me as I tried to get through Dakan Pass. They hauled me to her. Tresea was so desperate for help that she offered me full citizenship and a place in her military if I served her.”
“Not many would dare to offer you that,” Baros acknowledged slowly, eyes narrowing suspiciously. “Is that really all she promised you? Not the estate you have, or the wife?”
Just what kind of rumors are flying about, anyway? “At the beginning? Just that. I gave her the same oath that I gave your father.”
Baros jumped and swore, startled like a deer. “You didn’t! Did you really? Did she accept it before knowing the full story?”
“I told her the full story first. Then offered the oath.”
A low whistle passed the king’s lips as he sank back into the chair. “She’s got guts, I give her that. Did you really agree to serve her just for a position and citizenship rights?”
“Baros,” Darius responded sternly, “have you ever known me to be a materialistic man?”
That stopped him. Baros stared at him long and hard for several moments before blowing out a breath. “No. It’s one of the reasons I trust you. Forgive me, I’ve heard the most fanciful rumors. Most of them circulating around your wife. She’s rumored to be astonishingly beautiful.”
Darius grinned, unbearably smug. “She is.”
Rolling his eyes, Baros let that one pass. “The Sovran wronged you, Darius. I can acknowledge that. I’ve no right to begrudge you for finding happiness in another country. I just wish Tresea didn’t have her hooks so firmly set in you, as I’d rather like the chance to win you back.”
Shaking his head firmly, Darius kept his voice gentle. “I can’t return here. If I do so, I am forsworn.”
“I of all people understand the weight of your word,” Baros assured him resignedly. “I won’t ask it of you.”
That Baros wouldn’t fight him on returning to the Sovran pleased Darius in several ways. It showed maturity and growth on Baros’s part.
Letting the topic drop, Baros reached for a flask on the desk, silently lifting a cup to ask if Darius wanted one, getting a nod in response, and pouring for them both. “I take it though that since you’re here, you’ll help?”
“With one condition,” he said, leaning forward to accept the cup.
Taking in his expression, Baros’s mouth twisted into a wry smile. “I’m not going to like this, am I?”
“No, but it’s for your—and the Sovran’s—good.”
“Oh, I’m really not going to like this.” Lowering the cup he’d begun to raise, Baros set it down and sat up straight. “Alright. What is it?”
Darius had rehearsed various speeches on the way here, but now that he had entered the right moment, he found them all trite and useless. Better to just come out with it all at once.
“You give any country that is part of the Sovran the option to leave, without tariff or conditions, if they request the right to do so.”
Baros spluttered, so taken aback that he couldn’t manage words, never mind sentences. Before he could start an argument, Darius rolled right over him.
“You can’t keep the Sovran intact, Baros, there’s too much internal strife. Even some of the countries that you claim aren’t yours. You can’t even manage to put a token force inside Baiji right now. You have to let go, retain the countries that are willing to stay, the ones that are integrally tied into the Sovran. You’ll lose it all otherwise.”
Snapping his mouth shut, Baros stared at him, troubled and defensive. “You just want Arape free of the Sovran.”
“And Baiji,” Darius added, careful to not get his back up or make it sound like he wanted an argument. He absolutely did not want an argument. He wanted the opposite of an argument, although he didn’t have the naivety to think he’d get full cooperation. Men in power liked to stay in power, and even if Baros had more sense than most power-hungry rulers, it didn’t mean he’d be swayed by a few pretty words from Darius. “Baros. Which countries are you secure with?”
Baros had been his student and friend long enough to know when he was being led down a path, but he mulishly responded anyway. “Ilam, Mosul, Madani, Wesolowski, Halden, Tatvan, Landersi.”
“Arape, Baiji, Kenelm, Risdon, Devolia,” Darius listed off confidently. “You haven’t been able to put even more than a garrison of troops in any of them.”
Looking perilously close to swearing at him, Baros admitted darkly, “Not for the past year. Since you decimated my troops.”
“You should have learned from the first wave and left Niotan alone,” Darius countered, unable to keep a sharp sm
irk off his face, because truly, Baros should have known better. Darius’s reputation had been forged on beating impossible odds.
Baros stared at him like he’d come face-to-face with a stranger in the most unexpected of circumstances. “Is that why you did it? To teach me a lesson?”
Shaking his head, Darius corrected gently, “I took up the stance that I did in order to save you, Baros.”
Head jerking back, Baros protested, “How does attacking my troops save me?!”
“Because it stopped you.” Darius felt that ill-fitting mantle of mentor settle over his shoulders a bit more comfortably. “Let’s play a game of what-if, shall we?”
“No, Darius, we don’t have time for that game of yours—”
“Just play along, Baros, you’ll get the answer you need at the end. As you always do. Now, what if I hadn’t been given Niotan to lead? What if you had conquered it? What would have been next?”
“Re-doubling my efforts with Serrati, turning our attention onto Hamms, and then finally doing something about those thrice-cursed barbarians,” Baros rattled off with a wave of his hand, as if he had done so a hundred, a thousand times.
“And then you would have had sixteen countries to rule, two of which would have fought you every single day, as you can’t claim that you really expected to keep Serrati and the barbarians under your reign. Not for more than a few days at a time. Rebellions would be a constant drain of energy and manpower for both of those countries. Now, Baros—be honest with yourself if not me—did you have the manpower and leadership you needed to hold onto sixteen countries?”
Baros’s face went red, at least a little angry, mostly defensive, mouth open with a ready retort. Under Darius’s steady, knowing regard, he deflated slowly, shoulders slumping.
“If Niotan had fallen, you would have kept going, continuing the conquests that your father started,” Darius stated with quiet finality. “You would have continued, at great cost, because you didn’t and still don’t have the manpower or the resources to govern all of those countries—certainly not Serrati and Roran. You would have destroyed the Sovran as a whole trying because the rebellion would have come from all sides and your troops would have been so scattered in all of those different countries there wouldn’t have been a prayer of pulling them together fast enough to form a defense.”
Baros’s head turned, looking at the giant tapestry map hanging on the wall, his spine ramrod straight. “You defended Niotan to stop me from going down that path.”
“Well, I tried words first. You didn’t listen.”
Barking out a laugh, Baros grimaced something that might charitably have been called a smile. “I can’t refute that. You warned me many times. And now that you’ve warned me, and stopped me with force, you’ve come to bargain with me? To force me into letting go?”
“Only of some, Baros. Only if they themselves wish it. This terrible limbo that you hold now will shatter. It’s already shattering, slowly, and if you don’t let go and try to maintain good relationships with them, you yourself will be conquered and nothing left of the Sovran will remain.”
For a moment Baros studied him with inscrutable eyes, his expression giving away nothing. “Does Tresea know you’re here?”
“Of course. With her blessing. She doesn’t want to lose the trade agreements she has with the Sovran.” Darius didn’t need to add that last part, not yet, but he wanted to give Baros some sense of stability. He would make better decisions that way.
“And was it her idea of freeing some of the countries?” Baros asked the question as if he already knew the answer.
“No,” Darius denied with a faint smile on his face, “that was my wife’s.” When Baros goggled at him, he chuckled. “You were right before, Amalah is an incredible woman.”
“I didn’t expect anything else,” Baros managed a little hoarsely. “She’d have to be in order to catch your attention. My father despaired, you know, of ever finding you a wife. He was afraid that if he didn’t get you married to someone soon, you’d make a hopeless match somewhere and end up retiring early.”
Darius snorted, remembering some of the ham-fisted efforts of that foolish, dead king. “If he hadn’t been so high-handed about the matter, he would have stood a better chance of success. But that’s neither here nor there. I have to tell you, if you accept my terms, it’s not just me that you’ll get for the bargain.”
The king’s attention became razor sharp. “What else? Have you brought Niotanian troops with you?”
“No, unfortunately, I couldn’t spare any. But the Baiji are sending 8,000 cavalry to our aid.”
For the second time tonight, Baros was stunned nearly into speechlessness. He gaped like a beached fish for more than a few minutes before choking out, “What? B-but…you said…why?”
“Just because they do not want to be under your rule doesn’t mean they can’t be allies,” Darius chided gently. “And they owe me a favor.”
“That must be quite the favor,” Baros breathed faintly. He collapsed backward, like all strings had been cut. “8,000, you said? Are they here?”
“Coming. They were forming up as I was leaving. They’ll meet me here in a few days.” Darius began to feel the late night hour intensely and sank further into his own chair. The journey hadn’t been easy, breaking in even more challenging, and he truly wanted a bed and nine hours of sleep. Minimum. “Baros, I would not have come if I didn’t have a plan to win. Well, multiple plans, as I have only a vague idea of where your troops stand. I need better information to work off of.”
Baros stared at him like a specter, jaw working without producing any sound, hands gripping the arms of his chair in a white knuckled grip. “You lunatic. You really intend to save us.”
“Of course. You think I’d have left my lovely wife and precious daughter on a fool’s errand?”
For the first time, Baros looked at him not like a drowning man adrift in the middle of the ocean, but with true hope. “I forget, sometimes, exactly who you are. How you became our favorite general. You have a knack for turning impossible odds into your favor. When I sent that letter to you, I didn’t think even you could do it here, not when the situation is so deplorable.” Clenching his eyes shut, he sucked in a sharp breath before releasing it in a torrent of words. “In truth, I have no bartering power with you. We’re nearly overrun. In two months, maybe three, they’ll be in the capital and there’s nothing I can do to stop them.”
That did not sound good at all. Still, Darius had rooted the barbarians out of Ruralcabra’s streets once, he could surely prevent the city being overtaken. Two months didn’t give him much time, but hopefully it gave him enough. “We’ll sort out formal agreements tomorrow. Right now, I want your word, Baros. Give me your word and I’ll save you.”
He barked that laugh again, the sound grating, as if he fought to stay sane and hysterical laughter gave him some outlet to that end. “If anyone else said those words to me, I would think him mad. Or compelled by greed.”
Darius didn’t say anything, just waited. If Baros hadn’t believed him capable, the king never would have called him to begin with. This delay merely gave Baros time to think through the ramifications. In the end, there wasn’t any other choice, and they both knew that.
Head bowed in defeat, Baros gave a jerky nod. “Fine. Fine, you win. I agree. Whatever country wants free of the Sovran after this, I’ll release them with understanding that they must retain trade agreements with me. Also, if they separate me from another country, they must allow my troops to move through their territory in order to reach lands I do hold.”
“Fair enough. I cannot speak for each country, but I think they will agree.” No one wanted to fight a rebellion; that would be a far more costly route. “Call for a palace runner, we need to fetch my staff.”
Baros gave him an odd look. “Your staff?”
“What, you didn’t think I’d come without an able body of men to help me? Tresea couldn’t give me troops, but my staff insisted
on coming up to help me.”
Eyes suspiciously bright, Baros murmured, “Your loyalty was ever my strength.” He went immediately to the long pull hanging near the door and gave it a firm tug. “Once they arrive, we can start?”
“We can start now. Tell me, King Baros, where do our troops stand?”
Darius didn’t bother to hide his amusement when his staff entered the king’s personal study with the same caution a man would use entering a den of vipers. Roshan’s eyes stayed wide in a mix of incredulity and nervousness. Everyone else likely felt the same but they had better control over their expressions. The palace runner that had escorted them unobtrusively slid in a dark corner and stayed, hoping to get an earful before someone remembered him and kicked him out. Darius charitably ignored the boy. In his shoes, Darius would do the same.
“Good, you’re here. Baros, this is Commanders Kaveh, Navid, and Ramin, my bodyguards Bohme and Tolk, and my student, Roshan.”
Never one to stand on prestige and ceremony, Baros greeted them all with a smile. “Gentlemen, thank you for coming,” he said with transparent sincerity. “Words cannot express how much I appreciate it.”
Kaveh, the smoothest orator of the bunch, took a half step forward. “We are pleased to come, King Baros, and hopefully we can prevent a disaster. What can you tell us?”
Baros gestured them closer to his desk, where he had a map laid out with pins, indicating troop placement and movement. “The barbarians have changed up their game play this time. Normally one or two clans will band together before coming through the mountain pass, perhaps three, and their tactics are wild and unpredictable. This time, we believe there are more clans, although it’s hard to get a firm count. Their banners aren’t up like usual and they keep splitting off into smaller raiding parties.”
Having already been caught up to speed, Darius picked up, “They’ve approached on three sides, one straight through Madani, the other coming through Landersi, with a smaller force heading through northern Arape. They’re not in one body, however; they seem to have splintered off to attack various towns. That’s part of the problem. General Behnam has a defensive line in Madani, along the main highway, but his enemy is scattered all over three countries. He only has 7,000 infantry with him and we’re positive that he’s outnumbered, although by how much is an educated guess at this point. He can’t move, not without leaving Ruralcalba vulnerable, but they’re not interested in coming directly at him, either.”
Sovran at War (Kingslayer Book 2) Page 8