"State secretary, could you please, get this mutt out of here?" Shavash demanded. "He is not even a Federation official!"
Bemish silently turned away and left the hall without waiting to be shown to the door.
Behind the wall, in the foyer, General Ackles, the Fourth Space Army's commander, sat surrounded by all the military HQ small fries and silently studied the carved ceiling.
The ceiling was decorated with hanging grape bunches.
"That's a fancy room," the general said. "What does the writing above the door say?"
"It's the name of the room," Bemish answered. "It's the Hall of Seven Grape Bunches. It's quite a historic place. Here Emperor Attakh ordered the head to be hacked off to his most faithful military commander."
"Why?" the general inquired.
"The people claim that it happened because of an imps' wedding. These local demons needed a place for a wedding and they bribed a palace official. The demons had fun in the hall all night and no correct decisions can be made here since. That's why the commander was executed."
The general gave a long turbid look to the company director and then asked him,
"Have they arranged the meeting?"
"No. Shavash is afraid of coming to the capital."
"Do you understand what he wants?"
"Hell knows what he wants," Bemish said exasperatedly. "He can't really want any territorial concessions, can he, general? And if he wants the Earthmen to get off Weia, he doesn't even have to ask us about it. I think that after what's happened, we will run away from this planet faster than a mouse runs away from a fox."
"If they can't agree on where to hold the negotiations, it will all fall through," the general noted.
Here, somebody carefully touched Bemish on the shoulder. The latter turned around — the minister of the police, Mr. Akhotoi stood behind him.
"They would like to talk to you," Akhotoi said, "Could you, please, follow me?"
Akhotoi walked Bemish down hotel corridors, where frightened brass gods squinted their eyes from the daylight lamps, and down garden paths covered with yellow sand. Akhotoi walked Bemish to a small pavilion with a roof that resembled swallow's wings and opened the doors in front of him.
A slim man with a white, almost transparent face and flying eyebrows sat inside the pavilion. Even though the man wore European dress, Bemish recognized the Emperor almost immediately and he was jolted a bit. It was quite surprising that during the last three days of the crisis when everybody — Kissur, zealots, governmental officials and even Earthmen — had the Emperor's name on their tongue tips the entire time, nobody, as far as Bemish remembered, heard anything from the Emperor himself. And nobody discussed anything with him. Or was that really the case? Did Kissur call the Emperor?
Another man stood next to the Emperor — an Empire's ex-first minister Nan also known as David Steighton.
"Bow immediately," the police minister hissed from behind.
Bemish hurriedly created something between a bow and a one knee stand and as he was rising, he saw a sarcastic smile on Nan's face.
"Good day, Mr. Bemish," Emperor Varnazd's voice was quiet as usual and it somewhat resembled a child's cry. "I am glad to see you hale. Tell me, what," here the Emperor stumbled "does my vice minister of finance, Shavash, want from the Federation?"
"Is he still a vice minister? Hasn't he been declared a criminal?"
The Emperor looked sulky. That's right. Shavash had so many friends now that even the Emperor would not even dare to withdraw his appointment. Damn it, the man was blackmailing the whole Galaxy and his state was too timid even to kick him in the butt! That was no good. It looked like an authorized Empire official would be making demands of the Earthmen.
"It would be very hard for me to declare Kissur a criminal," the Emperor whispered. "What do they want?"
"I don't know. They will announce it only when they meet the delegation."
"Nan is saying the same," the Emperor spoke, turning his face towards the figure standing soundlessly next to a carved column. "But he landed in Assalah."
That was news for Bemish. He knew that the ex-first minister was flying to Weia but to land in the spaceport taken over by the terrorists…
"When will the talks start?"
"It's unknown. Our delegation is not going to go to Assalah and Shavash is scared to death of going to the capital of the county where he is an authorized official."
The sarcasm in Bemish's voice was too evident and the Emperor looked petulant.
"The talks can take place in my palace," sovereign Varnazd said. "I swear that both sides will be safe here. I don't think that our troops or Earth's security services would dare to smear our traditions and start any violence in my palace. I also don't think that Mr. Shavash would dare refuse coming into his sovereign's palace when the sovereign guarrantees his safety."
The sovereign lowered his head showing that the meeting came to an end. Bemish bowed to take a leave when suddenly the Emperor said quietly,
"What about Kissur? How is he? He looked so pale on the screen…"
"Kissur feels like a fish in the river," Bemish assured him, "unlike the three thousand men he killed yesterday."
And he left.
Of course, Shavash didn't dare to ignore the guarantees given by the sovereign. Really, if an Empire's vice minister, defending the sovereign's interests, refused to come to the palace, in the least, it would look like he handed an official resignation notice.
A helicopter with Shavash accompanied by a dozen of his bodyguards landed at the sovereign's palace at six in the morning. Palace guards with expressionless faces walked the incomers to the Rainbow Pavilion where the Federation delegates had gathered.
The meeting took place on the first floor, in the Hall of White Clouds. The Earthmen sat around the table and silently studied their notebooks involuntarily glancing at the beautiful jars of pure silver decorated with dancing swans and peacocks. The palace servants brought these jars in, filled with special palace wine aged on nut leaves mixed with pine needles.
The state secretary Khodsky was probably very thirsty — he would constantly wet his lips in a wine glass, sniff at the smell that felt wrong at a diplomatic meeting and put the glass back down.
Bemish suddenly realized that conducting the negotiations in palace territory handed certain advantages to Shavash. Everything here was filled with traditions and Empire; the proficient palace servants put wondrous wine jars on the table but they didn't even think about bringing mineral water in plastic bottles. The people sitting here were quite well off and one of them had almost had to resign a year ago having spent too much money refurnishing a new Federation Defense building. However, the deeply alien luxury of this hall, scaly pictures on the walls and silver beams that were round like the sun could not but influence the delegates, albeit on a subconscious level. Shavash, on the other hand, had visited this hall for dozens of times. He was in his element.
At 6:15 they heard steps and Shavash walked into the meeting hall. He wore a European suit and he was impeccably shaved but something foreign entered the hall with him. Bemish sniffed and realized what happened — instead of eau-de-cologne Shavash used an expensive local perfume. Bemish unwillingly thought that it would throw the delegates off a bit. At the same time, when Shavash started giving interviews to journalists, he would look like a true Galaxy man — you could not film a perfume.
After some hesitation, state secretary Khodsky silently rose to meet Shavash. The latter bowed to him and took a place across the table from Khodsky. Bemish noticed Khodsky's nose twitching alertly taking the unfamiliar smell in.
"We," the state secretary said, "fulfilled your requirements and arrived at Weia. Now, we would like to listen to your conditions."
"We would like," Shavash answered, "you to accept the Empire of Great Light into the Federation of Nineteen."
Bemish thought that he had missed something.
"We will withdraw from the confrontation and release the remaining hostages," Shavash repeated, "if Weia joins the Federation of Nineteen as a federation state."
Several seconds passed by in stunned silence.
"To achieve this," the Fourth Space Army commander acidly noted, "you didn't have to declare a war on the Federation of Nineteen."