Kettricken waited a time, as if offering him a chance to find his tongue, but the man only spread his hands open, wide and helpless. “I’m a trader and a sailor, ma’am. Most gracious Queen.” He appended the honorific as if he had suddenly recalled it. “I speak out of our need, and yet I do not explain myself well.”
“What do you ask, Trader Jorban?” Queen Kettricken’s question was simple yet gracious.
Hope gleamed suddenly in the man’s eyes, as if her directness reassured him. “We know that the folk of your Shoaks Duchy hold a hard border with Chalced. You contain them, and your vigilance demands much of their attention.” He turned suddenly, to sweep a wide bow to the nobles in the back of the chamber. “For this, we thank you.”
The Duke acknowledged his thanks with a grave nod. Trader Jorban turned back to the Queen. “But we must ask more than this. We ask your warships and warriors to pressure Chalced from your side. To harry and sink the ships that interfere in our trade with you. We would . . . put an end to the generations of strife Chalced has forced on all of us.” He drew a sudden breath. “We would subjugate that land completely, and put an end to this ancient strife. If they will not abide as our neighbor, then let them accept our rule instead.”
Serilla the Jamaillian suddenly interrupted. “Trader Jorban, you go too far! Fair and Gracious Queen Kettricken, we come but to make suggestions, not to propose a conquest.”
Jorban set his jaw and dove in as soon as Serilla fell silent. “I do not make a suggestion. I come to bargain with potential allies. I seek for an end to Chalced’s endless war against us. I will speak plainly what is in many Traders’ hearts.” His blue eyes glinted as he met Kettricken’s gaze. He spoke honestly, with passion. “Let us subjugate the Chalcedean States completely, dividing their territory between us. All would gain. Bingtown would have arable land, and an end to Chalcedean harassment. The Duke of Shoaks could expand his holdings, and have, not an enemy at his back, but an ally and trading partner. Trade to the south would open wide for the Six Duchies.”
“Subjugate Chalced completely?” I could tell from Kettricken’s voice that she had never even considered it, that such a conquering ran counter to all her Mountain ways. But in the back of the room, the Duke of Shoaks was grinning broadly. This was a war he would relish, a meal of vengeance long in the simmering for him. He overstepped himself, perhaps, when he lifted a fist and suggested, “Let us include the Duke of Farrow in this partitioning. And perhaps your lord father, King Eyod of the Mountains, would like a share of this, my queen. He too shares a boundary with Chalced, and from all accounts has never been too fond of them.”
“Peace, Shoaks,” she rebuked him, but it was a gentler shushing than I would have expected. Perhaps there was history there I did not know. Just how bitterly did the Mountain Kingdom dispute its own border with Chalced? Did Kettricken bring an older rancor to this conflict than I knew? Yet there was reserve as she replied to the Bingtown delegation. “You offer us a share of your war, as if it were trade goods we should covet. We do not. We have had a war, and even now we seek to make those former enemies our friends. Your war does not tempt us. You offer us Chalced’s lands, if we defeat them. That is a distant and uncertain victory. Holding that territory might be more of a burden than an advantage. A conquered people are seldom content to accept foreign rule. You offer us free trade to the south, if we achieve that victory. Yet Bingtown has ever courted open trade with us; I do not see that as a new gain. Again, I ask you. Why should we even consider this?”
I watched the Bingtown envoys exchange glances, and smiled small to myself. So. A proposal to divide Chalced’s territory was not the limit of their offer. But whatever it was that they held back, they would not part with it unless forced to it. I felt no sympathy. They should not have provoked Chade’s curiosity as to how deep their purse might be. Trader Jorban made a small gesture with his hand, palm up, as if inviting someone else to succeed where he had failed in his bargaining.
Then, as if by accord, the Bingtown merchants stepped aside, parting to let the shrouded man stand directly before the Queen. Some unspoken agreement had been reached amongst them.
I swiftly revised my opinion of the hooded man. He was no servant. Perhaps none of them were, not even the woman with the slave tattoos. As the veiled man stepped suddenly forward, I winced, expecting some sort of attack, but all he did was to throw back his hood. His lace veil, attached to it, was swept away with it. I gasped at what was revealed, but others, Chade amongst them, were less subtle.