Talis snapped his fingers. “And another thing.”
“In the whole history of human discourse, Lord Talis, no good announcement has ever started with ‘and another thing.’?”
He grinned at that, but pushed past it. “Elián. This treaty between us—your big brain for his little life? It can’t be public. Your countries have declared war, and when wars are declared, my Children die. It’s got to be that simple.”
I understood that. In this one thing, perhaps, my understanding was even better than his. But I did not nod. I waited, letting my silence pull more from him.
“If he leaves here alive,” said Talis, “he’s got to vanish. Change his name and disappear. My Riders catch a rumor of him and I’ll reel him right back in. He may yet regret that you bought his life.”
If he leaves here alive. “If?”
Talis tilted his head and corrected his grammatical mood. “When.”
“I—” I stopped.
I watched Talis watch me work it through. The AI was as near to all-powerful as any earthly thing could be. No one could hold him to anything. Therefore, he could offer me no assurances, give no hostages to this treaty. I would have to trust him. Or not.
Did I?
He did not tell me, like a villain in a vid, that I had no choice. I simply knew that I had no choice.
“I’ll tell him,” I said.
“Up you get, then. It’s almost time.”
I pushed myself up from the tilt table, feeling both too loose and too stiff, and altogether strange.
Talis led me out into the broadening light.
On the lawn, at dawn, they gathered—the parties of war. The Abbot, leaning on a stick. Armenteros, making her starched dress uniform look rumpled. Buckle, solemn. Tolliver Burr, hanging back like a kicked dog. Elián, holding himself apart from the other Cumberlanders. Da-Xia, who hadn’t been invited but who put herself at the center of the world by sheer force of will.
Brother Delta was there too. The old machine had his head bent to the Abbot’s, conferring quietly. I was surprised to see him there, until he turned and glanced up the slope and I saw he was wearing my mother’s face.
I paused.
Talis reached over and laced his fingers through mine.
We picked our way down the rocky slope, past the goat pens, hand in hand.
The Precepture hall bulked grey behind us. Overhead were high cirrus clouds blazing yellow and orange in the cobalt sky.
We reached the others. Talis let me go. For a moment we all stood staring at one another.
Then Talis clapped his hands together, with a sound like a rifle shot cracking the cool still air. “Right. Here’s the deal. Cumberland, here”—he put both index fingers to his lips, then drew a circle in the air, ending up pointing at Armenteros—“has invaded my Precepture. I, in turn, have destroyed their capital. Now, I’m nothing if I’m not magnanimous, so I’m going to call that even. On the following terms: First, the Cumberlanders are leaving. Now. I want your people lifting off by noon, General. And every stick of your equipment. Leave anything behind—an eavesdrop bug, a weapon for young Elián, so much as a cigarette butt in my potato patch—and I will encase it in a lead shell and drop it back on your heads at escape velocity. Is that clear?”
Armenteros said nothing.
“Done?” prompted the AI.
“Done,” said Armenteros.
“Second, I’m keeping you, Wilma.” He bumped his folded fingers under her chin, as if she were a cat he was fond of. “To do with as I like.”
“But—” said Elián.
“Done,” said Armenteros.
“You can’t—” said Elián.
“Third,” said Talis, speaking over him, “I want Burr.”
“What!” said Burr, turning white.
“Relax.” Talis clapped the torturer on the shoulder. “If I’m to make an example of Wilma, here, I could use a cameraman.”
Burr breathed out. “Oh.”
“And after that— If you’ll remember, you did put your hands on my hostages. Haven’t decided what to do about that.” He shrugged wickedly. “What do you think? Sternly worded letter?”
“General!” said Burr, whirling toward her.
“Done,” said Armenteros into Burr’s desperate face.
I hoped dearly that Tolliver Burr would faint. He looked near to it.
“Aaaand, that’ll do me,” said Talis. “I’m a simple man.” Which was, on at least two counts, a flat-out lie.
“Excuse me, Lord Talis,” said my mother’s voice.
“Your Majesty?” Talis turned and bowed—not deeply, but formally, like a duke.
“Thank you.” My mother held Brother Delta’s fingers steepled. Her face was zoomed to fill the screen, but I could just see the heavy coils of her ashes-and-strawberries wig sweeping backward over the tips of her ears. “With respect, your terms seem to leave untouched the state of war that exists between Cumberland and the Pan Polars.”