Kushiel's Mercy - Jacqueline Carey [190]
“Those are nearly Montrève’s colors,” I commented. “A good omen.”
Sidonie gave me a brief smile. “Let’s hope.”
The council met at the same long table in the great hall, but this was an open meeting with the hall filled with onlookers, murmurs rising to the rafters. Serafin motioned for us to be seated facing the council, our backs to the throng.
“My lords, ladies, and gentlefolk,” he announced. “I am Serafin L’Envers y Aragon. In the abdication of Roderico de Aragon, the absence of ranking nobility and with the blessing of my father, I have assumed command here. Does anyone wish to gainsay this?”
No one did.
“Very good.” Serafin laid both hands on the table. “We are here to debate the merits of two grave issues. One is the possibility of assisting our kinswoman, the Dauphine Sidonie de la Courcel, in escaping Amíl-car and fleeing to Terre d’Ange. The other is the prospect of seeking an alliance with the Euskerri with her aid. I believe both issues possess the potential for desirable outcomes that outweigh the risks and costs. Here is my reasoning.”
Serafin made his case in strong, calm terms, better than I would have reckoned, explaining that unless the balance of power tipped, Amílcar would eventually be forced to surrender. That this was a long chance, but it was a chance. I’d called him intemperate, but he had some of his mother’s cool-headed competence in him. The crowd listened to him in silence.
After he spoke, one of the opposing members was given a chance to address the council and the crowd: Rafael de Barbara. He was an older Aragonian lord with a dignified bearing and a tutored rhetorical style. He spoke of Sidonie’s youth and lack of experience in terms that were at once disparaging and sympathetic, reminding everyone that with Terre d’Ange in disarray, its heir was in no position to negotiate with the Eus-kerri for safe passage over the border, let alone a major treaty.
“So send your own ambassador,” I muttered. Sidonie hushed me.
Rafael de Barbara held the floor for a long time, recounting the long history of animosity between the Euskerri and Aragonia, culminating in recent battles. He reminded them that when the most recent skirmishes had erupted, Terre d’Ange’s only concern was that it not spill over the border into Siovale. And he finished by urging them not to undertake a desperate measure that would destroy the very realm in the process of attempting to save it. At that, there was scattered applause.
When he had finished, Serafin’s father, Ramiro Zornín de Aragon spoke out in support of the plan, confirming his belief that other cities would seize the opportunity to rise up against Astegal. He wasn’t eloquent, but he was precise, with names and facts and figures at his disposal. I saw Lady Nicola smile with quiet pride.
After Ramiro, there was another opposing member, an undistinguished, mousy fellow who made many of the same points as Rafael, only with less skill. Still, I could hear murmurs of agreement in the crowd behind me. I wished I could turn in my seat and gauge their faces.
General Liberio, the grizzled veteran, followed him. He stood to speak. “What we are facing is a choice between a slow loss or a desperate victory,” he said bluntly. “In my opinion, this can be done. And we can use it to our advantage.” He pointed one thick finger at Sidonie. “What is the one thing we need to draw away some of Carthage’s forces? A bait Astegal cannot resist. His wife.”
I felt the blood drain from my face. I hadn’t considered that.
At my side, Sidonie met Liberio’s gaze without flinching.
She’d considered it.
The instant Liberio sat, the last opponent was on his feet, Jimeno de Ferrer, the youngest of the council. “Precisely,” he spat. “Astegal’s wife. Serafin, I know she is your kinswoman, but can you ask us to trust to this tale of madness and parlor tricks? If there’s an ounce of truth to it, it’s that