“Let’s have a look at that stomach, and I’ll tell ya.”
“I’m fine.”
Cooper folded his arms. “There’s over five hundred ships anchored off Rowan. This whole island’s crawling with visitors—braymas, witches, Workshop, you name it. Treaty or not, there’s plenty that’d like to see you dead.”
Max said nothing.
“Alex Muñoz didn’t have poison on him when he was put in the Hollows,” continued Cooper. He waved pleasantly to Hazel, who looked like she might come to Max’s rescue. “Someone slipped it to him so he could take his life before he was questioned. You think that was a coincidence?”
“No,” said Max. “But if the Atropos are here, you think a few bodyguards are going to make a difference? I’d just get them killed. Anyway, I’m sharper when someone isn’t watching my back.”
Cooper frowned. “Without security, you’re practically inviting an attack.”
“That’s a risk I’m willing to take,” said Max with a polite firmness suggesting he was done discussing the matter. “Any thing else?”
“Yeah, actually. The Red Branch needs a new member. Since Scathach can’t designate her replacement, it’s my duty to name one. There’s plenty of candidates, but I wanted your opinion first. Anyone leap out at you? Can’t guarantee I’ll pick them, but they’ll get first look.”
Max considered a moment before answering. “Lady Nico.”
“But she’s Raszna,” said Cooper pointedly.
Max only shrugged. “So what? She’s well qualified, and the Raszna are our closest allies. It’d send a strong message if we asked one of them to join. And I think Scathach would approve. She had a lot of respect for Lady Nico.”
“I’ll think about it,” said Cooper, swatting a mosquito. “No promises, but it’s an interesting idea.”
“There you are!” cried a shrill voice behind them.
The two turned to see Hannah, a plump white goose, waddling swiftly across the grass followed by a dozen downy goslings. They gathered around, pecking everything in sight while their mother caught her breath.
“I heard you were here,” said Hannah, fixing Max with her beady black eyes. “Listen, it’s a busy day, so I’ll cut right to the chase. I want your endorsement.”
Max glanced at Cooper, who looked as confused as he was. “Endorse what?”
“My candidacy,” she said pointedly. “I’m running for Great Matriarch.”
“What?”
“That’s right,” she said, buffeting Honk, who was now pecking his siblings. “We all loved YaYa, but she’s not here anymore and we need a new Great Matriarch. I’m throwing my hat in the ring.”
“I … didn’t know it was an elected office,” said Max hesitantly. “I thought it was more of an honorary title.”
With a sniff, Hannah examined her wingtips. “Things change, Max. I miss YaYa, but I’m a practical goose and this place needs another Great Matriarch. Who’s going to preside over matchings? Who’s going to spank lazy stewards who blow off their duties? The satyrs are this close to starting trouble with the fauns. How do I know? Because I know everything that goes on around this place, that’s why.”
“Do you have any other qualifications?” Cooper deadpanned.
She thrust out her chest. “I’m a single parent raising twelve goslings that never grow up. That’s as matriarchal as it gets!” Turning back to Max, the goose’s voice became pure honey. “So, what do you say, dear? Can I tell people I’ve got your vote?”
Max offered a firm yes.
The moment he did, Hannah turned toward the selkies and cupped a wing to her beak. “Did ya hear that, girls?” she hollered. “He endorsed me! So get off the fence, already!”
Frigga and Helga submerged.
Max left the Sanctuary soon after, returning to the Manse with Cooper, who insisted on accompanying him all the way to the Observatory. Bidding the Agent farewell, Max went inside to find that Tweedy’s stubbornness had overcome his shock at encountering Chester. The pinlegs had been stuffed back in his glass case, antennae undulating, while Max’s and David’s possessions had been organized and placed by moving crates. The hare had even gone so far as to lay out what Max was to wear for the treaty signing.
Removing his shirt, Max sat on the edge of his bed and carefully peeled off his bandage. It was damp with sweat and blood, while the blackened area had grown since this morning. When he prodded it, the impression from his finger remained, as if everything beneath was rotten. Exhaling, he reached for the balm and began cleaning and bandaging it anew. The process was unpleasant and tedious, but he would not have to do it for much longer. Once he’d finished, Max eased back against his pillow to watch the Observatory’s twinkling constellations. It was far more soothing than the balm.
The Red Winter Treaty was to be signed at sunset in the gardens of Túr an Ghrian. Max started getting ready well in advance, aware that Tweedy would combust if he looked anything less than perfect. It was, as he had been informed many times, a historic occasion. Everything would be saved and documented for posterity. David had even promised to shower.
When Max emerged from Room 318, he was dressed in a corselet of silver mail, the simple black tunic of the Red Branch, a white cloak, and black boots and breeches. Tweedy had pressed and polished everything that could be pressed or polished. Max carried the gae bolga as a spear, not a sword, for this was how his enemies had seen him on the battlefield. Given that some would be in attendance, David had thought a reminder would be useful.
Agents from the Bloodstone Circle were waiting outside to accompany him. As they walked through the Manse, Max reflected on how hard David had worked to bring so many disparate parties together. The signing itself would largely be a formality, a ritual to sanctify terms and provisions already agreed upon. Most of the negotiating had taken place in the weeks and months leading up to this evening. With two notable exceptions, Max did not expect any drama.
By the time Max and his escort arrived, many people had already congregated in the fragrant gardens surrounding Túr an Ghrian. This gathering was not nearly so large as the celebrations that would take place later to commemorate the treaty’s signing. Only a few hundred people would attend this meeting—the signatories themselves, key dignitaries, and the various entourages. Most were glancing uneasily at the dragon.
Ember was twined about the tower’s base with smoke trickling from his nostrils. They had not seen Ember for several weeks following his encounter with N’aagha. When he reappeared at Rowan, he was shockingly knocked about, with one eye gone and great gouges in his sides. But Ember’s powers of recovery were remarkable. Looking at him now, one would be hard-pressed to find the merest scratch. Even the dragon’s eye had regenerated. N’aagha’s fate and whereabouts remained a mystery.
A large round table was center stage, its chairs reserved for those who would sign for their respective factions. Seated around it were the main players: David Menlo; the Archon Fenwulf from the Raszna; Queen Lilith of the allied braymas; Dame Mako of the witch clans; and Dr. Kim, who had led the Workshop revolt. Others were seated, too—envoys from regions that had remained neutral, a rakshasa speaking for lesser braymas in the former Americas. In all, twelve figures sat around the table with the purpose of dividing up the world and agreeing to some basic principles to keep the peace.
Max took his place, standing behind David’s right shoulder while Mina stood behind his left. The symbolism was clear: Rowan’s political leadership flanked by embodiments of its armed might and magical heritage. The other signatories had their own people beside them. Lady Nico and the towering war chief Vechna stood by Fenwulf. A pair of elegant kitsune stood behind Queen Lilith. Situated on either side of Dame Mako were a very young acolyte and the ancient Umadahm. One of Dr. Kim’s attendants was a pleasant surprise—Max had not seen Jason Barrett for almost five years.
Of course, many other Rowan people were in attendance—Miss Awolowo, Nigel Bristow, most of the Red Branch and Bloodstone Ci
rcle, all the Promethean Scholars, and a slew of senior faculty. While the Agents were positioned here and there to provide security, the others sat in chairs waiting patiently for the proceedings to begin.
The Director’s opening remarks were courteous, brief, and delivered with a composure that almost brought a smile to Max’s face. David’s audience could have no inkling how nervous he had been in the weeks leading up to this moment. Max had heard many versions of this address and even more fits of cursing as David strived to hit the right notes.
Having done so, he moved briskly into the key provisions and agreements. The largest and most controversial involved Queen Lilith and those braymas who had joined Rowan in the war against Prusias. In exchange for her support, Rowan and the other factions granted the Queen additional lands. As a result, she would control much more territory than her realm of Zenuvia, but considerably less than that which comprised the Four Kingdoms. In addition, David handed over the hated Seal of Solomon as a pledge of good faith between Rowan and Lilith’s people. For her part, Lilith pledged that demons would remain within these lands and not make war upon their neighbors unless their boundaries were violated.
Of course, there were many other provisions to this agreement—endless clauses detailing rights and responsibilities, the settling of disputes, and so on—but Max knew it was the main point that ruffled so many feathers at Rowan. The “Puritans” (as David called them) were offended by the very idea of an accord with “evil spirits,” while the “Jingoists” (another David label) questioned whether these allies had made significant contributions. In their minds, Rowan had won the war all by itself and Lilith’s rewards were far too great for her minor role.
David laughed off most of these criticisms, privately sharing with Max that Lilith had convinced dozens of braymas to abandon Prusias or remain neutral in exchange for her promise to share her expanded territory. David believed strongly that a mutually beneficial agreement with daemona was the only way to achieve a lasting peace. As Lilith was highly rational and not nearly so bloodthirsty as her counterparts, David viewed her as a valuable partner.
The treaty’s next sections were far less controversial. Rowan’s Director and the Raszna’s Archon formalized their ongoing alliance and partnership. The witches and Rowan officially made peace and promised future cooperation. In exchange for various pledges made to the Faeregine (whose person and word were regarded as sacred), the independent braymas were granted lands in places where they could thrive but were unlikely to come into conflict with human beings. These lands were typically located at extreme elevations and latitudes.
David addressed the Workshop last since their situation was unique. Their cooperation with Prusias had played a key role in the devastation he wrought around the world. They supplied him with hideous engines of war, and many of their researches and technologies violated laws of nature. While many at the Workshop claimed they’d been forced to comply with Prusias’s demands, David believed the Workshop’s activities had posed a significant threat well before the war.
“Astaroth and I disagreed about many things,” said David, addressing Dr. Kim, “but not everything. I believe certain technologies create problems that far exceed their benefits and that things designed with good intentions can be used to horrific effect. For the Workshop to exist going forward, it must agree to the conditions I’ve stipulated. They are not negotiable.”
Copies of David’s stipulations were provided to all the signatories. With the exception of Dr. Kim, everyone nodded their approval. The engineer looked like he might be sick.
“B-but this is almost everything we do,” he stammered before reading a portion of the list aloud. “Artificial intelligence, cloning, genetic engineering, synthetic compounds, automated weaponry, nanotechnologies …” He looked in appeal to David. “Director, I realize the previous leadership acted irresponsibly, but—”
“You agree to these stipulations or we will destroy everything in the Workshop.”
“What about our people?” asked a stunned Dr. Kim. “You’re threatening genocide.”
David shook his head. “Nothing of the sort. Your people would be relocated and given new memories. They’ll have a chance to start over.”
“Why must this be negotiated?” asked Lilith. “You have the Book. Do what you wish.”
David looked around the table. “The Book of Thoth is no longer accessible,” he said simply. “Once I dispelled Astaroth’s winter, I used the Book’s power to put it beyond reach … forever. It will continue to function, but it can never again be found.”
This astonished almost everyone present, including some of the Rowan attendees. Max and Mina already knew, of course; David had done it before they left Ymir.
“I don’t understand,” said a man representing the human settlement of Piter’s Folly. “You could have fixed things. You could have made the world like it was before Astaroth!”
“No,” said David firmly. “I could not. That’s the great danger of the Book. No one can foresee the consequences of using it—not even Astaroth. The world is changed. Our task now is to move forward. The only question at present is whether the Workshop will be moving with us.”
Dr. Kim fidgeted with his pen. “I’m not sure I can sign this on my own authority.”
“That’s precisely what we’re here to do,” said David. “If you’re not empowered to speak for the Workshop, there’s little point in having you at this table.”
“I am empowered,” said Dr. Kim defensively. “I just … well, this isn’t fair.”
Rowan’s Director fixed him with a withering stare. “I’m not remotely interested in what you think is fair. My interest is laying a foundation for peace, not indulging your hobbies.”
“But advancements—” pleaded Dr. Kim.
“Are not advancements if they can destroy the planet,” said David sharply. “I can’t put it more plainly than that. If the Workshop refuses to content itself with a smaller playground, it won’t have a playground at all.”
“Hear, hear!” said Dame Mako.
Rubbing his temples, the scientist stared miserably at the agreement.
“We have other business to attend to,” said David impatiently.
Max thought Dr. Kim might whimper as he signed the papers with a golden pen that would be stored in a museum with the treaties and everything else associated with this day. Once Dr. Kim had signed, David thanked him and authorized Dr. Barrett to oversee compliance before moving to the final item on the agenda. As they reached it, Max heard an undertone of anxious whispers. Even the signatories looked nervous.
David turned to William Cooper. “Bring him here, please.”
Cooper and five other members of the Red Branch entered Túr an Ghrian. They returned several minutes later with a shackled but delighted Prusias.
“My, my,” he chuckled to the imp on his shoulder. “It looks like we’ve crashed a party, Mr. Bonn. Look at that big round table with all these fine folk about it. Nice touch, Director. Very Arthurian.”
David ignored the demon’s cheek. “Just over there,” he said, directing the Agents to position the demon by some flowers. Prusias leaned over to sniff them.
“Never liked hydrangeas,” he remarked. “They’re the bourgeoisie of flowers.”
“Let’s get this over with,” David sighed. “Prusias, the only reason you are here, the only reason you can see this beautiful sunset and smell that grasping, middle-class hydrangea is because we made a deal several months ago. Do you remember?”
“I most certainly do,” said the demon, grinning.
“In exchange for some useful information, we agreed to grant you your freedom—with certain conditions. Please share what those were.”
“With pleasure,” said Prusias. “In exchange for that information, I’m to be granted my freedom and lands of my own.”
David held up a finger. “Provided?”
The demon looked bored. “Provided I don’t leave them, make war, or interfere with
anyone who has Rowan’s leave to cross my lands. Did you hear that, Lilith? Even you can slink across if the Faeregine says so.”
The Queen of Zenuvia looked coolly at her former rival.
“Very good,” said David, handing Cooper a ribbon-tied scroll and several documents for the demon’s inspection. “Here are your lands. Thousands of square miles, which is more than you deserve.”
Prusias ripped off the ribbon, his eyes devouring the deed’s particulars. “Where are they?” asked greedily.
“A map is in the documents,” said David.
Rifling through the pages, the demon found the coordinates, gazed at the map, and glared at the Director. “These are at the bottom of the bloody ocean!”
“I never said your lands wouldn’t be covered by water,” said David. “You can rule those deeps, Prusias. You can even bring your braymas, provided they take the same pledge you have—any ship bearing Rowan’s seal is free to pass without harm or interference.”
Prusias looked like he might explode. “I reject this!” he snarled. “I reject this, you smug little twit! I do not accept!”
“Those are the terms,” said David calmly. “Mina offered them to you, and you agreed to them. Are you reneging on a pledge you made to the Faeregine? I can’t speak to those consequences, but I can assure you that refusing this deal means you will spend eternity in a cell that I will design personally. You will never escape, and no one will ever find you.”
Max had never met a finer poker player than David Menlo. He suspected Prusias hadn’t either, for the demon was now studying David’s impassive face. And it was clear he was beginning to realize how badly he’d underestimated Rowan’s new Director in the Hollows. Not only had David fooled him into thinking he’d been the winner in their negotiations, but he also did not look like the sort who issued idle threats. He might even enjoy making good on them.
Prusias blinked. “No,” he muttered. “No, I’m not refusing the deal. You think I’m finished? I’m going to build something down there—something far grander than Blys. There will come a day when my kingdom is the greatest on Earth!”
The Red Winter Page 63