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Rohyr summoned them to the Citadel two days later. By then, Xeren had been wrung dry of every dastardly plot he’d dreamed up or participated in. It had been a most tedious business, Dylen told his brother afterward. The prince had alternated between babbling entreaties for leniency and foulmouthed threats of retaliation if he was not returned to Teraz forthwith.
It seemed even before Anri Hamara drew his last breath, Xeren had already embarked on his scheme to carve a sovereign duchy out of northern Tenerith. Though he’d stepped down as regent, his influence over several Council members, the Chief Counsellor in particular, and some military officers remained strong enough for him to carry out his plans to instigate war with Ylandre.
Furthermore, his denial to the contrary, he had considered deposing his son and declaring himself prince regnant of Teraz. But the only way he could successfully usurp the Terazian throne was if he gained complete control of the army and the country’s principal barons. An impossible goal given the deep-seated loyalty of most Terazians to the Hamaras. Xeren did not have the patience to carry out a protracted campaign to win the people’s loyalty for himself, so he’d discarded the idea.
However, he had not stinted in helping further his brother Jubal’s attempts to foment rebellion in Tenerith, confessed to being aware of the murderous deeds of his nephew Malkon in Asmara, and harbored no qualms about sacrificing Terazians on the altar of the Ferrendas’ ambitions.
Gilmael, Dylen and Yovan were called to the meeting as well. They apprised Jareth and Yandro of all they’d gleaned, which served to fill in the gaps in what the two already knew.
When they were done, Rohyr informed them that he’d sent an official missive to Kilion Hamara in which he’d briefly recounted everything they’d learned from Xeren’s interrogation. He also used the former regent’s capture to compel Kilion to agree to negotiate for peace. He then declared his intention to treat with the prince through mind-speech as a means of preempting any attempts at dissimulation or obfuscation through flowery speech and the like.
“I want you with me, Jath,” he said. “You know Kilion well enough to tell when and if he’s resorting to pretense or falsehoods.”
Yandro quelled his impatience. Much as he was fascinated by the concept of long distance mind-speech, watching its employment was not particularly interesting. If one was not in the link, one would hear nothing and see little beyond the faint shimmer that enveloped a Deir thusly engaged. He would have to wait until after Rohyr’s communication with Kilion to know what had come of it.
He suddenly realized Rohyr was looking at him. Yandro straightened in his seat in anticipation of a royal command.
“You deserve to be present at this confrontation, Yan.”
Yandro gaped at the Ardan. He’d often wonder what it was like to enter the otherworldly realm of a mind’s making. To be presented with the opportunity to experience it was something he’d never thought possible, let alone expected. Trembling a little in anticipation, he glanced at Jareth.
“He’s right, you deserve this,” Jareth agreed. He smiled at the discernable quiver that ran through Yandro’s slight frame. “There’s naught to fear. Just relax and open your mind to us.”
Yandro nodded. “My thanks, Your Majesty,” he murmured to Rohyr.
Following their example, he closed his eyes and lowered his shields. A heartbeat later, he sensed something in his mind. A tug for want of a better word. It grew stronger and suddenly he felt unmoored from his surroundings. It was as if he were floating and no longer bound to his body. And then he was suddenly on his feet, but so light on them he wondered if he was standing on solid ground or not.
“Are you well, Yan?” he heard Jareth ask.
He opened his eyes and caught his breath. They were in a sizable windowless chamber of indeterminate shape. He could discern no texture or patterns in the flooring, and the walls and ceiling receded into shadow. The only light if one could call it that was a bluish luminescence which did not so much emit from any source as permeate the very air of the chamber. It was a most eerie effect, and Yandro could not deny it was unnerving.
Glancing to his right, he saw that he stood abreast with Rohyr and Jareth. He met Jareth’s concerned gaze.
“I am well, Dyhar, if a bit... ill at ease,” he replied.
Rohyr smiled at him reassuringly. “That’s the usual reaction the first time anyone experiences this.” He turned to face frontward, his eyes narrowing. “And now we talk.”
Yandro realized only then that they were not alone. Dark figures loomed in the shadows before them, their forms barely illuminated by the blue light. Three of them stepped forward now.
He recognized Kilion Hamara flanked by one of his counsellors and the commander of the Royal Guard. He wondered where the Chief Counsellor was and then remembered Rohyr had informed Kilion beforehand that the advisor had colluded in the plot to instigate war with Ylandre. He’d likely been removed from his position as soon as he’d been exposed. What had become of him Yandro decided he did not want to know.
The other figures remained in the background. They were so amorphous one could not distinguish any details at all. Remembering the Hamaras’ diminished strength in the mind gifts, Yandro guessed the shadows were Deira from whom Kilion was drawing energy to sustain his end of this psychic connection.
“Hamara,” Rohyr greeted the Terazian prince with a nod.
Kilion dipped his head in return. “Wherefore this summons?” he curtly asked.
“Impoliteness will not serve you, Your Highness,” Jareth softly pointed out.
The commander opened his mouth to retort, but Kilion raised a hand to forestall him. He leveled his gaze on Rohyr, then bowed his head a little lower than before. “I beg your pardon, Rohyr Essendri,” he said, managing to keep his dignity even as he apologized. “The past few days have been trying.”
“At your father’s instigation,” Rohyr remarked. “I trust you realize the implications of his actions.”
Kilion pursed his lips and then nodded once. “Is he well?”
“He’s comfortable enough.”
The prince huffed a wry chuckle. “A torment to him no doubt. My father isn’t used to less than luxurious accommodations.”
“Perhaps he’ll learn to adapt while in our custody,” Rohyr evenly replied. “He hardly deserves more tenderness considering his mistreatment of Ambassador Leyhar.”
“That was uncalled for,” Kilion agreed. “I’d planned to check his condition myself. And had Ambassador Hadrana not rescued him first, I would have found some way to secure his release.”
Yandro saw Rohyr glance at Jareth, which was returned with a slight dip of the latter’s head. It meant Jareth believed Kilion was telling the truth.
“I imagine Xeren would have prevented you from doing so,” Rohyr said. “But I thank you nonetheless for your intentions at least.”
At that point, Kilion’s counsellor said something to him, the Deir’s face stark with restrained displeasure. Kilion treated him to a glare but nodded in acknowledgement afterward. He turned to Rohyr once again, his expression now stony.
“I am reminded that this is no time for pleasantries and to get to the point of this meeting,” he said. “As I asked earlier, wherefore this summons?”
“What else but your means to retrieve your father and prevent war from breaking out between our countries,” Rohyr smoothly said. “You do understand I now have reason and every right to break your borders and take what I desire by force.”
Kilion’s jaw hardened but he stiffly said, “That goes without saying.”
“But I would rather not resort to violence when there are other alternatives,” Rohyr said. “You and I could play at war all we want, but it is our people who will pay the price for our games. I don’t believe you indifferent to your subjects’ plight.”
“I am not,” Kilion affirmed. “I prefer to earn their allegiance rather than force it. The first takes time but is more certain, whereas the second...” He shook his head. “That wasn’t my sire’s way.”
“And you are more alike to him than to your father.”
Rohyr glanced to his right, his eyes focused on a spot just level with their eyes. Yandro stared as what looked like a rolled-up scroll appeared before them, about three-Deira wide in breadth. It unfurled, twice as long as it was wide, and he saw it was a map of the Ylandrin-Terazian marches.
As they watched, the border changed, the line delineating it moving northward by several leagues into Teraz. Fortresses, towns, and villages briefly appeared in miniature as the line passed over their locations. At last the line stopped moving. Yandro realized the map of Teraz and Ylandre had been redrawn with Ylandre expanding even more at Teraz’s expense. The extended border would act as a further buffer between the two nations.
“You will cede the marked territories to us,” Rohyr said, his voice devoid of emotion save for a hardness that indicated he would not countenance being gainsaid. “That is the price you will pay to keep Ylandre’s forces from overrunning Teraz.”
His gaze fell on the commander, who was staring in fury at him. “If I wage war on you, Teraz will cease to exist as a nation,” he said, his tone now openly threatening. “I can conquer and annex your land with more ease and certainty than you could ever hope to defend yours. Whatever delusions your father nursed with regards to carving a realm for himself out of Tenerith, I assure you they aren’t founded on anything close to reality.”
“This is-this is outrageous!” the commander blurted, his voice shaking. “Your Highness, he’s bluffing! There’s no army in the North Continent that can conquer another country as easily as he claims.”
“With the sole exception of Ylandre,” Jareth now cut in. “Either your intelligence folk have not been diligent enough to discover the strength of our armed forces, or no one of note has been paying attention to them.”
“Or they’ve been refusing to listen,” Yandro murmured.
“Indeed,” Rohyr said. “Your father harbored illusions of conquest. I venture to suggest he preferred not to hear news that rendered his plans futile.” He looked at the commander. “And even if he wasn’t in denial about his prospects, he kept much from his own son, your prince and ruler. Do you still trust that he would have shared full knowledge with you once he saw he could not sway you from your allegiance to Kilion?”
The officer stared dumbly at him, obviously disconcerted. The counsellor on the other hand asked, “And how do you propose to enforce the new border, Your Majesty? There are no garrisons in the region you marked off.”
“I shall build them,” Rohyr replied. “And you’ll do well to let my people work unharmed lest you wish to give me yet another reason to invade Teraz.”
“You give us no choice,” the commander bitterly said.
“As we were given none,” Jareth rejoined.
“That was not Prince Kilion’s doing!” the Deir growled.
“But, unfortunately, it is he who must pay the price for Xeren’s folly.” Jareth shrugged. “And I doubt Xeren will have much say at court after this fiasco. If he has any value now in Teraz, it’s because he is father to its ruling prince.”
“But—”
“Enough,” Kilion interrupted. “The ambassador speaks the truth, uncomfortable though it is to hear it.” He stared his commander into silence before glancing at his advisor for assurance. Whereupon he said, “Better a diminished Teraz than a vanquished one. I prefer we remain on the map of the North Continent as a sovereign state and not be absorbed as Varadan was. I will not help Ylandre grow even greater than it is already.”
He drew himself up proudly. “I demand that you don’t send either Ambassador Hadrana or Leyhar’s son to finalize this treaty.”
“I assure you I’m not in the habit of humiliating my foes.” Rohyr allowed himself a small conciliatory smile. “Our countries may never be friendly. But that’s no reason to foster implacable enmity between your land and mine. The generations to come will thank us if we leave some leeway for civility, if not conciliation.”
Kilion gazed at the map once more. “That was my sire’s wish,” he admitted at length. “I’m glad he didn’t live to see this happen.”
“As am I,” Rohyr said. “Anri was a good and prudent ruler. He might have been a great one had he not been hampered by your father’s schemes.” He paused and then softly added, “I won’t demand the allegiance of the folk who now live in the ceded regions. If they wish to, they may leave and relocate within Teraz’s borders.”
Kilion considered the offer. “You are fair,” he stated.
“I try to be,” Rohyr answered.
There was little more to be said aside from the formalities of bidding farewell. Yandro gasped as he felt the tug in his mind once more. Perhaps his perceptions had changed having already gone through the experience once. Now the transition seemed quicker, and he’d hardly had time to think about it before he found himself blinking owlishly against the light in the Citadel conference chamber. After the diffuse, almost soporific luminescence of the ephemeral chamber, the lamplight seemed harsh and jarring. His eyes needed a few moments to adjust before he could see clearly once more. He looked at the others.
They had already started to discuss which ambassador to send to Teraz. Neither Rohyr nor Jareth showed signs of the disorientation Yandro had felt. He blew his breath out to steady himself, envious of their ability to adjust so quickly when he was still recovering from the experience. At length, Jareth offered a name, looking at him for affirmation of the Deir’s suitability.
“He is the best choice,” Yandro confirmed. “He’s a seasoned diplomat, and given his frequent postings to Khitaira and Lydan, he isn’t as well known in the North Continent as Lord Jareth or Master Riodan. He won’t strike at Kilion’s pride the way others who’ve been to the Terazian court might.”
“It’s decided then,” Rohyr said. “Jath, I want you to brief him personally on the details of the agreement. There should be no room for error anywhere. Make sure there are no loopholes that could hand those territories back to Teraz.”
“As you wish.” Jareth motioned to Yandro to accompany him. “Come, Yandro. The sooner we finish this, the sooner we can return to Myare.”
They took their leave of Rohyr and the others and strode out of the chamber.
As they made their way out of the Citadel, Yandro said, “I warrant Valin prays nightly for your return and his release from your charge.”
Jareth was surprised. “Why? This isn’t the first time I’ve done so.”
“But never with a particularly irksome Deir on staff to test his patience.”
“Oh that.” Jareth shook his head and smiled a little ruefully. “I owe him an apology, don’t I? No one of Valin’s worth should be subjected to so onerous a chore.”
“Well, better him than me,” Yandro retorted with a small grin. “I readily admit to possessing less forbearance than he.”
Jareth scoffed. “And there you go, uttering another falsehood. If anyone has borne so much with admirable patience, it’s you.”
Yandro glanced at him skeptically. “What did I bear that was so troublesome it merits that compliment?”
“Myself for a start?” Jareth shot back. “I didn’t make it easy for you, did I, with all my demands and ill-advised flirtations. Gawyn was merely the last straw.”
“I never thought you a burden!” Yandro said with a small gasp. When Jareth eyed him skeptically in turn, he admitted, “Well, you may have been overbearing a few times.” He hastened to add, “But always with good reason.”
Jareth huffed a brittle laugh. “So you deem seduction a good reason?”
Yandro stared at him wonderingly. He cautiously replied, “Given how determined I was to resist you, I wasn’t really surprised by your, uh...”
“Refusal to take ‘nay’ for an answer,” Jareth finished for him.
Again, Yandro could not help staring. “Whence this censure of yourself, Dyhar? I mean, I never took your overtures against you, so why do you?”
“Just something Tenryon and I discussed,” Jareth softly said. “And you are kind to absolve me so swiftly. I should have been more forthcoming with you from the start, my worries be damned.”
Yandro frowned in confusion. “What do you mean?”
Jareth shook his head. “We really need to talk. And we shall when we’re done here and returned to Myare.”
About to protest, Yandro reconsidered. They would want privacy and time for this and there could be neither for so long as they were in Rikara and expected to report to the Ardan at a moment’s notice.
“Very well, Dyhar,” he agreed.
They mounted their waiting steeds and rode to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs building in the central district.