Again, Istvan had got more answer than he'd bargained for. Turul liked to talk, and didn't look to have had anyone to listen to him for a while. Istvan asked another question: "Would that have been better or worse than what you have now?"
"Blaze, how do I know?" the old dragonkeeper said. "It would have been different, that's all I can tell you." The net of wrinkles around his eyes shifted as they narrowed. "No, it's not all I can tell you. The other thing I can tell you is, there's lots and lots of dragon dung out there, and it won't go away by itself Put on your leathers and get to it."
"Oh, aye," Istvan said. "I was just waiting for you to finish up here."
That was close enough to true to keep Turul from calling him on it. With d stifled sigh, he went to work.
Hajaj stood in front of the royal palace in Bishah, watching a parade of Unkerlanter captives shambling past. The Unkerlanters still wore their rock-gray tunics. They looked astonished that the Zuwayzin had captured them instead of the other way round. Being herded by naked
Zuwayzi soldiers seemed as demoralizing to them as being jeered by naked Zuwayzi civilians.
Following the captives came Zuwayzi soldiers marching in neat ranks.
The civilians cheered them, a great roar of noise in which Hajaj delightedly joined. It picked him up and swept him along, as if it were the surf coming up the beach at Cape Hadh Faris, the northernmost spit of land in all Derlavai.
A woman turned to him and said, "They're pretty ugly, these Unkerlanters. Do they wear clothes because they're so ugly: to make sure no one can see?"
"No," the Zuwayzi foreign minister answered. "They wear clothes because it gets very cold in their kingdom." He knew the Unkerlanters and other folk of Derlavai had more reasons for wearing clothes than the weather, but, despite his study and his experience, those reasons made no sense to him, and surely would not to his countrywoman, either.
As things turned out, he might as well have not bothered speaking.
The woman followed her own caravan of thought down its ley line.
"And they're not just ugly, either. They're pretty puny fighters, too"
Everyone was so afraid of them when this war started. I think we can beat them, that's what I think."
Plainly, she did not know to whom she was speaking. Hajaj said only, "May the event prove you right, milady." He was glad - he was delighted – the Zuwayzin had won their first engagement against King Swemmel's forces. Unfortunately for him, he knew too much to have an easy time thinking one such victory would translate into a victorious war. Only few times in his life had he wished to be more ignorant than he was. This was another of those rare occasions.
Another swarm of captives tramped glumly past the palace. [..Pe..] cursed them in Zuwayzi. The older men and women in the crowd, those who'd been to school while Zuwayza remained a province of Unkerlant cursed the captured soldiers in rock-gray tunics in their own language.
The old folks had had Unkerlanter rammed down their throats in the classroom, and plainly enjoyed using what they'd been made to learn.
More Zuwayzi troops followed, these mounted on camels. From the reports that had come into Bishah, the camel riders had played a major part in the victory over Unkerlant. Even in the somewhat cooler south.
Zuwayza was a desert country. Camels could cross terrain that defeated horses and unicorns and behemoths. Appearing on the Unkerlanters' flank at the critical moment, the riders had thrown them first into co fusion and then into panic.
Someone tapped Hajaj on the shoulder. He turned and saw it was one of King Shazli's servants. Bowing, the man said, "May it please [..y le se nt, ge. the the on one..] our Excellency, his Majesty would see you in his private reception chamber directly the parade is ended."
Hajaj returned the bow. "His Majesty's wish is my pleasure," he replied, courteously if not altogether accurately. "I shall attend him at the time named." The servant nodded and hurried away.
As soon as the last captured egg-tosser had trundled past the palace, Hajaj ducked inside and made his way through the relatively cool dimness to the chamber where he so often consulted with his sovereign.
Shazli awaited him there. So, inevitably, did cakes and tea and wine.
Hajaj enjoyed the rituals and rhythms of his native land; to him, Unkerlanters and Algarvians always moved with unseemly haste. There were times, though, when haste was necessary even if unseemly.
Shazli felt the same way. The king broke off the polite small talk over refreshments as soon as he decently could. "How now, Hajaj?" he said.
"We have given King Swemmel a smart box on the ear. Whatever the Unkerlanters aim to extract from us, we have shown them they win have to pay dearly. We have shown the rest of the world the same thing. May we now hope the rest of the world has noticed?"
"Oh, aye, your Majesty, the rest of the world has noticed," Hajaj replied. "I have received messages of congratulations from the ministers of several kingdoms. And each of those messages ends with the warning that it is but a personal note, and not meant to imply any change of policy on the part of the minister's sovereign."
"What must we do?" Shazli asked bitterly. "If we march on Cottbus and sack the place, win that get us the aid we need?"
Hajaj's voice was dry: "If we march on Cottbus and sack the place, the Unkerlanters will be the ones needing aid. But I do not expect that to happen. I did not expect such good news as we have already had."
"You are a professional diplomat, and so a professional pessimist," Shazli said. Hajaj inclined his head, acknowledging the truth in that. His sovereign went on, "Our officers tell me the Unkerlanters attack with less force than they expected. Maybe they were trying to catch us by surprise.
Wherever the truth lies there, they failed, and have paid dearly for failing."
"Swemmel has a way of striking before he is fully ready," Hajaj replied. "It cost him in the war against his twin brother, it made him start the pointless war against Gyongyos, and now it hurts him again "Only against Forthweg did striking soon serve him well," Shazli said.
"Algarve did most of the hard work against Forthweg," Hajaj said.
"All Swemmel did there was jump on the carcass and tear off some me
This is, of course, also what he seeks to do against us."
"He has paid blood," Shazli said, sounding fierce as any warrior prin in Zuwayza's brigand-filled history. "He has paid blood, but has no to show for it."
"Not yet," Hajaj said. "As you say, we have blooded one Unkerlant army. Swemmel will send others after it. We cannot gather so many in together, try as we will."
"You do not believe we can win?" The king of Zuwayza look wounded.
"Win?" Hajaj shook his graying head. "Not if the Unkerlanters persist. If any of your officers should tell you otherwise, tell him in return that he has smoked too much hashish. My hope, your Majesty, is that can hurt the Unkerlanters enough to keep more of what is ours than the demand, and not to let them gobble us down, as they did before. Even that, I judge, will not be easy, for has not King Swemmel shouted he [..ai.] to rule in Bishah?"
"The generals do indeed speak of victory," Shazli said.
Hajaj bowed in his seat. "You are the king. You are the ruler. You are the one to decide whom to believe. If my record over the years caused you to lose faith in me, you have but to say the word. At my [..a..] I shall be glad to lay down the burdens of my office and retire to home, my wives, my children, and my grandchildren. My fate is in your hands, as is the kingdom's."
No matter what he said, he did not want to retire. But he did not want King Shazli carried away by dreams of glory, either. Threatening to resi was the best way Hajaj knew to gain his attention. If the ploy failed then it failed, that was all. Shazli was a young man. Dreams of glory root in him more readily than in his foreign minister. To Hajaj's way thinking, that was why the kingdom had a foreign rminister. Shazli might think otherwise.
"Stay by my side," Shazli said, and Hajaj inclined his head in obedience - and to keep from showing the relief he felt. The king went on, shall hope my generals are right, and shall bid them fight as fiercely a cleverly as they can. If the time comes when they can fight no more shah rely on you to make the best ternis with Unkerlant you may. Does that suit you?"
"Your Majesty, it does," Hajaj said. "And I, for my part, shall hope the officers are right and I wrong. I am not so rash as to reckon myself infallible. If the Unkerlanters make enough mistakes, we may indeed emerge victorious."
"May it be so," King Shazli said, and gently clapped his hands in the Zuwayzi gesture of dismissal. Hajaj rose, bowed, and left the palace.
When he was sure no one could see him, he let out a long sigh. The king still had confidence in him. Without that, he was nothing - or nothing more than the retired diplomat he had said he might want to become. He shook his head. Whom else could King Shazli find to do such a good job of lying for the kingdom?
One of the privileges the foreign minister enjoyed was a carried at his beck and call. Hajaj availed himself of that privilege now. "Be so good as to take me home," he told the driver, who doffed his broad-brimmed hat in token of obedience.
Hajaj's home lay on the side of a hill, to catch the cooling breezes.
Bishah had few cooling breezes to catch, but they did blow in spring and fall. Like many houses in the capital, his was built of golden sandstone. Its wings rambled over a good stretch of the hillside, with gardens among them. Most of the plants were native to Zuwayza, and not extravagant of Water.