Danai stared at Daoshen's pale, drawn face. His burning eyes showed anger, but very little discomfort. Yeah, she thought. It looks like you're in a lot of pain.
"With all that has happened, one thing has become clear to us—the time has come for you to be relieved of your field duties."
Permission to speak or not, there was no way Danai could let that pass. "You can't . . ."
Daoshen raised a single imperial hand to silence her and, much to Danai's inner frustration, it worked. "We understand your passion for the battlefield. It is one trait you possess that helps us believe you may yet be salvageable as a commander. It may be of comfort to you, then, to know that this is only temporary. The Third Battalion of Second McCarron's Armored Cavalry is still yours. Your command lance will remain intact—in fact, you will need them, as well as your entire first company, for your next task. That is why they were ordered to accompany you to Sian.
"in the glorious history of the Capellan Confederation, many gains have been achieved through military conquest—I am confident I need not detail them for you. However, force of arms is only one way in which we advance our aims. If you are ever to move fully into your role as a member of the Confederation's ruling family, you must conquer fields other than those of battle. You have accompanied me on diplomatic missions in the past, and the time has come for you to embark on one of your own. You will lead a diplomatic mission to the Oriente Protectorate. Your command lance will accompany you to provide counsel and support.
"While we were on Terra, we entered into an agreement with Captain-General Jessica Marik of the Protectorate. In exchange for certain military favors, Captain-General Marik agreed to invade the worlds of
Kyrkbacken and Menkalinan. She has failed to live up to her side of the bargain. You are to persuade her to do all she agreed to do.
"The diplomatic art is a delicate one, requiring a far lighter touch than a warrior may be used to," Daoshen went on, assuming a professorial tone. Danai almost laughed—the idea that Daoshen applied a light touch to anything was ludicrous.
Her amusement soon faded under the weight of Dao- shen's lecture on the art of diplomacy. It seemed to go on forever, and it contained many points of advice that Danai could never imagine Daoshen personally using. But then, he was God Incarnate and she was not, so she supposed different rules applied.
Thankfully, long hours of soldierly discipline allowed her to stand in place without showing discomfort. She thought she even managed to appear attentive, but she had no way of knowing for sure. Daoshen, lost in the wonder of his own wisdom, probably didn't notice anything about her.
Finally, the lecture seemed to be wrapping up.
"Remember that your command lance is present in an advisory capacity only, and your first company should do nothing more than act as a display," he said. "I realize that, with your warrior training and support, the temptation to resort to violence will be all too present. Do not give in to it, as that would be the gravest kind of failure."
If I resorted to violence as easily as you seem to think I do, Danai thought, I would've strangled you with one of your own carpet threads by now.
"We expect success. We will tolerate nothing less. You are dismissed."
Danai stood in her place, her mouth falling open. Knowing she was about to raise Daoshen's wrath, she spoke, the words tumbling out before Daoshen could silence her.
"You never gave me a chance to defend my actions on Aldebaran! If you had just left me on the planet, even without reinforcements, I would have found a way to reduce the Triarii to nothing! But you recalled me! How am I to blame for that?"
Daoshen's hurricane-level voice returned. "We did not ask for your defense because we are not interested in your justifications! The results speak for themselves, and your self-serving rationalizations mean nothing. You have your assignment, and your only concern is carrying it out, not engaging in vain attempts to save face!"
That was it. He was still Daoshen, he still had his odd power over her, but the accumulated slights and insults of the morning were too much to bear.
"Save face?" she exclaimed. "Coming from someone who has invented his own reality just so he never has to save face ..."
And that was as far as she got. She hadn't heard the door open and she hadn't heard the clank of the approaching guards (probably because she had been yelling), but there they were. She knew she had two choices—keep yelling and be dragged out, or walk out on her own and retain some degree of dignity. She was too much of a Liao to completely forfeit her stateliness, so she cut herself off, whirled around and left the throne room before any guard could touch her.
* * *
She wasn't being fair to Erde. She knew it. But as soon as she saw her, as soon as Danai walked into the room full of cushions and pastel colors and bright sunlight and a plate of warm scones, she collapsed. She could not put sentences together; instead she just gasped out single words, heaving them out between spasms in her stomach, hoping somehow Erde would understand.
Erde walked to her. She did not take Danai in a full embrace—Danai was too hunched over, her body too given to twitches and jerks, for a hug to work. But she took Danai's hand and held it. Eventually the warmth of her touch got to Danai, and the words started coming out more smoothly.
She talked for a long while, some of it a recap of the message she had sent after New Hessen, some of it a summary of her frustration with her brother, some of it curses directed at the universe. Her aunt sat, took Danai's head on her lap as if she were a child, stroked her brow and listened.
Finally the stream of words started to dry up. Danai sat up, dried her eyes and tried to take back some of the dignity she was supposed to hold.
"I have a holovid," she said. "Something Daoshen gave me to watch just before I land on Oriente. I suppose it'll provide more information about what I'm supposed to be doing there, but I think I have most of it figured out. I thought I was going to Aldebaran to reclaim an important world of the old Duchy of Liao, but it wasn't about Aldebaran at all. It was about New Canton. I was supposed to provide one part of a pinch on New Canton, while Jessica Marik provided the other. But the Oriente forces didn't do what Daoshen expected, so the other half of the pincer never arrived, and for some reason I get the blame for that.
"I was used. He played on my patriotism and used me."
"You are a Capellan subject, my dear," Erde said. "In the chancellor's eyes, you are a vehicle that he can use as he pleases for the furtherance of Capellan glory. And since the chancellor and the Confederation are, effectively, one and the same, he can justify using any of his people for his own ends. It's the way it is and always has been."
"Between Daoshen blaming me for everything, Bell making fun of me for everything, Anderton acting pompous about everything and Caleb . . . well, and Caleb, I've had it. I could do completely without men for a good long while."
"Men are what they are," Erde said, and her words were so similar to what Bell had said on the DropShip that Danai felt a momentary surge of irritation. "They are too fiery, too prone to violence to be trusted with governance—why so many nations believe otherwise is a question that has always haunted we Canopians—but they still have their uses. Individually and collectively they have tremendous strengths and should never be casually dismissed. All the same"—and she smiled a gentle smile that did Danai a world of good—"I can certainly understand why one might need to spend some time outside their company for a while."
Danai smiled back and nibbled a scone. If she could arrange it, she'd stay right in this room until it was time to depart for Oriente.
"You've had a particularly bad run of it," Erde said. "But I have confidence you'll be able to handle most of the problems you listed. Daoshen's identity is well established and unlikely to change. He is frustrating you now, but you know how to adapt to him. This Major Anderton—well, if you have a chance to encounter him again, I suspect he'll suffer for any irritation he caused you."
Danai almost licked h
er lips at the prospect.
"And I imagine Jacyn Bell will come into line. Actually, it sounds like he already is in line—he likes the sound of his own voice, but you say he's never disobeyed an order and has carried out most of his assignments with skill. I suspect he's just hit you wrong at a bad time. In better circumstances, I'm sure his jabbering would be a minor matter.
"And that brings us to the one thing that truly concerns me."
At the mere mention of it—actually, Erde had only hinted at it—Danai felt a throb in the piece of ice that had sat in her chest ever since that day last September. She had poured out everything in her holovid to Erde immediately after the . . . event (she still did not like to call it what it was), and she didn't feel capable of returning to it again.
"I'm fine," Danai said, lying for all she was worth. "I was just frustrated when I came here, but I'm fine."
"You're not," Erde said. "And you shouldn't be. Not yet. I wish I could make it better in an instant, but of course I can't. There's only one thing of possible use I can talk about, and that's forgiveness."
The icy throb grew into a stab. Pain and fury filled Danai's head. "Forgiveness? I wouldn't forgive the Davion swine, ever! How could you ask . . ."
But Erde stopped her with her soft smile and gentle voice. "Not him, Danai. As far as I'm concerned you may hate him until the end of days. I certainly will. But you need to forgive yourself."
"For what? What did I do?"
"Nothing. You did nothing wrong. But you need to believe that's true."
"I do," Danai said. "Of course I do."
Her aunt kept looking at her with kind eyes, and Danai felt ashamed for lying to her. "Okay. I don't. Yet. But I'll keep trying."
"Blaming yourself is all too easy," Erde said. "When you lose on the battlefield, you look back at the mistakes you made, and you learn to fight better. This was not a battle, this was not a fair fight. This was cruelty, savagery that went beyond all the rules you live by. You did not lose because you were not enough of a warrior. You suffered because you did not know how savage your companion was. You had no way to know, and it's something you can't assume. If you look at every person you meet as a potential rapist—" Danai's face must have betrayed her when Erde said that word, and her aunt's eyes grew sorrowful. "It's a horrible word, I know, but it should be horrible. You cannot assume everyone you meet is capable of such things. If you do, the universe quickly becomes cold and lonely. It is no way to live. And if you want proof of that, look to your brother. He has removed himself from a universe that he mistrusts, and so he is the cold, remote person who made you so angry today.
"You could not have known. You could not have anticipated. And therefore you cannot be blamed."
With that, Danai's composure fell away, and she let herself be a child in her aunt's care until it was time to leave.
17
Jasmine Jump Point
Capellan Confederation
18 February 3136
Danai had made a definite effort to fight isolation in the four weeks of her journey so far. She resisted the temptation to lock herself in her quarters again (which was even more alluring here in the roomier confines of a JumpShip). and she had let herself be seen out and about. When Clara or Sandra invited her out for a meal, or a workout, or evening drinks, she accepted. Her heart might not always have been in it, but she went out, and often she even had a good time.
She didn't know how she would have responded if Bell had asked her to a meal or some such activity, but to this point she hadn't needed to come up with a response. Bell smiled when he saw her and looked as insolent as ever, but didn't ask her to do anything with him. Which, she thought, was quite understandable. At least his nose was starting to heal—it didn't even look that crooked.
It had been like a four-week vacation, really. She had no battle or tournament to plan for, and she had a long journey on a JumpShip without Daoshen or Ilsa or anyone who might try to impose family duties on her. If she could have ordered the JumpShip captain to take an extra week recharging, she would have. But she couldn't, and the next jump would take them into the Oriente Protectorate. That meant vacation was over. Time to figure out what she and her crew would do once their mission started in earnest.
They gathered in the most formal of the JumpShip's three restaurants. The diplomatic life had its advantages, Danai thought each time she ordered a meal in a place that was not a military mess hall. Danai had requested a secluded table, tucked in a corner far from the kitchen, where they could talk in peace.
Sandra and Clara showed up in their dress uniforms (minus the dao swords and helmets), while Bell showed up in the same stained brown-and-green field uniform that, as far as Danai could tell, he wore every day. She thought maybe she should pay more attention to the location of specific stains—that might be the way to tell one of Bell's uniforms from the others.
She couldn't help but notice the difference in their bearings as they approached her table. Sandra, in her immaculate uniform, walked as if auditioning for the role of Ideal Capellan Warrior Number One in a propaganda video from the Department of Unity. She seemed to think that Warrior House Hiritsu, the House of her forebear Aris Sung, had eyes and ears everywhere, and they would always be watching to make sure her bearing and demeanor were proper. She moved accordingly, spine stiff, head straight, nose slightly raised.
Clara, on the other hand, moved into almost any room as if waiting for someone to challenge her to a fight. Her eyes took in the whole area as quickly as they could, moving back and forth, up and down, looking for any hint of a threat, and generally seeming somewhat disappointed when none materialized.
Bell moved like—well, how did Bell move? Like water in a small creek. He was smooth, unhurried and didn't seem to care if he was taking the most direct route to his destination. He babbled easily on his way, uncaring if people around him approved of how he was moving or not. And he did it in a uniform that looked more like casual clothing than any uniform Danai had ever seen.
"Nice of you to dress up," Danai said as he sat down.
Bell shrugged. "I figure I'm going to have to look nice for the folks down on Oriente. Don't want to break out the dress uniform now and risk getting food stains on it."
"You've seen how he eats," Clara said to Danai. "Stains are a serious risk for him and anyone sitting next to him."
"Besides," Bell said, smirking at Sandra, "it takes an awful lot to make me come out in public with a cape on."
Sandra, her spine stiff and straight as always, opened her mouth, most likely to deliver a discourse on the symbolism of the dress uniform and the many reasons she was proud to wear it. Danai cut her off.
"I guess if the maitre d' let you in. then you're dressed up enough for me," she said. "Sit down, everyone."
They sat, pondered their menus silently as imitation candlelight flickered around them, ordered their meals and then Danai proceeded to business.
"As I told each of you, we're on a diplomatic mission, not a military one. But I've never led a diplomatic mission, and I don't think any of you have ever been on one—except maybe as security." She waited for any of the other three to contradict her. When they didn't, she continued speaking. "That means none of us has any experience on which to base our strategy. We're making this up as we go. But we all know military operations, and that's how our minds work. So I'm going to make this as much like a military operation as possible. Only without the violence."
"That's like having dinner, only without the food," Clara complained.
"I know. But the chancellor made it clear—if I resort to force on this mission, he'll consider it a worse failure than New Hessen or Aldebaran. My career, for the immediate future at least, will be headed right down the toilet. And, I hate to add, since you all are here to assist me, your futures wouldn't look too bright either."
"I'm healing a broken nose on a JumpShip many, many light-years away from home," Bell said. "My future's got nowhere to go but up."
Both Sandra and Clara looked away, embarrassed. They knew, of course, how Bell had gotten his broken nose, and to them his mention of it must have sounded like a reproach. But Danai was in a good enough mood to take it in stride.
"I could've kicked you in the groin instead," she said sweetly. "That would be worse."
She waited for Bell to take offense, but the man didn't seem capable of that particular emotion. He cocked his head to one side. "You make a good point," he said. "Has the chancellor been known to kick people in the balls as a punishment for failure?"
"You don't want to know all the things he's done to people's balls," Danai said.
"Hmmm," Bell said. "Okay. I guess I'm not at rock bottom yet. I'll try to be helpful from now on."
"That would be novel," she said, and watched Clara and Sandra raise their heads to rejoin the conversation now that the storm they'd feared would break turned out to be nothing more than a light breeze.
Their food arrived, steaming and succulent, and the meeting was briefly interrupted for each person to stuff a few bites into their mouths. After Danai chewed and swallowed her third bite of ha gaw, she continued with her plans.
"We're going to divide up, just like at Daipan. Sandra, I want you in charge of security. Anyplace we go, I want you to know where entrances and exits are. what kind of guards the Protectorate has there—things like that. I also want you to know where we can talk freely, where we can store sensitive items or files, and when we've got cameras watching us."
"Yes, Sao-shao,'''' Sandra said, brightening. Having a specific assignment in an area she felt confident about seemed to ease any concerns she had about being a diplomat instead of a warrior.
"Clara, you're going to have my back. I want you with me at any meeting I go to, or whenever anyone from the Protectorate comes to talk to me—with one exception that I'll tell you about later. I'll be doing most of the talking in these meetings, so I want you to do a lot of listening and observing. If you see or hear me doing something that sounds ill-advised or stupid, I want you to shut me up as quickly as you can. Don't worry about correcting me then and there—just get me out of the situation before I do too much damage."
Principles of Desolation Page 17