Triumph of the Darksword - Margaret Weis [104]
Menju smiled, understanding Vanya’s plan instantly.
The Bishop turned over his fat hand, reluctantly showing all his cards. “Be that as it may, Joram caused himself to be proclaimed Emperor of Merilon. He and a vainglorious man—one Garald, Prince of the city-state of Sharakan—are going to pursue this terrible war.”
The magician and the Major exchanged glances at this—the cold and wary glances of reluctant allies, but allies nonetheless.
“I know that we are technically enemies, Bishop Vanya,” the Sorcerer said hesitantly, “but in the name of peace if you could tell us what you know about their plans, perhaps we could find some way of forestalling them, of keeping more lives from being lost….”
Bishop Vanya frowned, his hand closed into a fist. “I am no traitor, sir—”
“They’re attacking you tomorrow night,” interposed Simkin languidly. Casting aside the sofa cushion, he blew his nose on the orange silk. “Joram and Garald plan on wiping you out. Obliterating you from the face of this world. Not even a trace of your bodies will be left behind,” he continued cheerfully, tossing the orange silk away into the air.
“It was Joram’s idea. When your world doesn’t hear the tiniest little peep from you, they will, hopefully, presume the worst has happened. The shell crushed, the chick dead; the cuckoo will think twice about laying eggs in this nest again. By which time, of course, we will have the henhouse repaired, the magical Border firmly intact once more. Lovely, isn’t it?”
“Traitor! Why have you told them!” Bishop Vanya cried with a great show of anger, slamming his good hand down on his desk.
“It’s only fair,” Simkin returned, glancing at the Bishop in astonishment. “After all,” he continued, raising a foot in the air and causing the toe of the shoe to uncurl, “I told Joram all their plans—the reinforcements coming…. Just as I was instructed….”
“Reinforcements? Simkin instructed! What is the meaning of this?” Vanya demanded “You said you came here in peace! Now I find that you are apparently adding to your military might Not only that”—he waved a fat hand at Simkin—“but you are using this young man as a spy? Perhaps that is why you are here now! I will call for the Duuk-tsarith.”
The Sorcerer’s composure slipped the tiniest bit. The Bishop did not miss the swift, intense flare of anger in Menju’s eyes, or the look he cast at Simkin. If this Sorcerer were Duuk-tsarith, Simkin would be a smudge of grease upon the sofa. So, Vanya thought smugly, Menju doesn’t know the Fool that well, after all.
“Please do nothing in haste, Holiness,” Menju said in mollifying tones. “Surely you can understand that we have to act to protect ourselves? The additional troops we called for are to be used only if we are attacked again by your people.”
Major Boris’s boot scraped against the floor Vanya, darting a swift glance at him, saw the man shift nervously in his seat.
“As for spies, we stumbled upon this fellow spying on our headquarters and—”
Simkin, with a smile, caused the toe of his shoes to curl back up. “What can I say?” he responded modestly “I was bored.”
“—and finding that he took a sensible view of this situation,” the Sorcerer continued, somewhat irritated at the interruption, “we sent him back to Joram, hoping, I confess, to frighten him into suing for peace.”
Menju paused, then leaned forward, laying his hand upon Vanya’s desk. When he spoke, his voice was low and earnest. “Let us be candid with each other, Holiness. Joram is the cause of this dreadful war. A dark and passionate nature such as his, combined with a keen intelligence, must make him a criminal, an outcast in any society.” The Sorcerer’s handsome face grew shadowed. “I understand he committed murder on this world. He has done that and worse in ours.”
Bishop Vanya was appearing carefully dubious.
“Joram was gone for ten years from Thimhallan? Why do you think he bothered to return? Because of his great love for it?” The Sorcerer scoffed at the idea. “You and I both know better than that! Often Joram has bragged to me how he escaped the punishment