She hadn’t really believed the man, but Amala found herself out a back door of the palace, through a thick green belt of semi-wild plants and knee-high grass, following a path worn by feet, rather than paved.
The Khan walked with deliberation this morning. She had seen him move faster, but he seemed in no hurry, so she fell in quietly beside him, trailed as they always were by Gan Ve and a cast of rotating assistants, all maintaining a discreet distance. She wondered if they expected to be struck by lightning bolts from the Khan’s obvious rage, which slowly evaporated as he walked.
Certainly, she had expected hours of inane diplomatic maneuvering. She had prepared the darkest tea she could this morning, for the extra caffeine. And instead, she was apparently going to help Yuur feed ducks and hope she wouldn’t have to pee anytime soon.
The wonders of the diplomatic corps.
Yuur Ul paused, bringing the entire convoy to a ragged halt. He selected one of the men trailing and gestured him closer. Amala noticed that the man had a cloth bag, filled with something small and lumpy.
The Khan took it with a steady hand and then fixed a fierce gaze on the rest of the locals.
“You will await my pleasure here,” he pronounced in a voice of quiet command.
Amala held her breath as he turned to her and allowed the faintest grin for the briefest moment.
“Ambassador Bhattacharya, would you join me?” he asked in a lighter voice. Friendlier.
Amala nodded. The Khan turned his back on the rest and held out an elbow. She took it, aware that physical contact in public was generally frowned upon, except when Scholar Ve was guiding her.
She wondered what this man was up to, but he obviously wished to speak to her in private, and she had seen his displeasure at Director Xi’s behavior earlier. Perhaps she had scored more points than she had expected to today.
They walked.
The path meandered a bit before penetrating a stand of trees that then opened up into a broad clearing. A pond.
With ducks, as promised.
Fat, happy, waddling little honkers that spotted them and suddenly came running as fast as their stubby feet would carry them.
Amala went to withdraw her hand as he stopped, but he clamped his elbow against his body, holding her in place. Opening the bag, he pulled forth a handful of popcorn and tossed it into the happy melee that had suddenly surrounded them two meters deep in all directions. Handfuls went every which way, ducks chasing them hither and yon.
Finally, the bag was empty. The Khan had not spoken since dismissing his staff, so she waited patiently.
He turned and studied her face briefly.
“Today did not follow the rules of correct behavior,” he observed in a voice lighter than his words. Not quite sarcastic, but not very serious.
No response appeared to be called for, so Amala paused with an expectant look on her face.
He grinned.
“The Holding is a function of Scholars, madam,” he continued. “Fribourg, as I understand it, is a culture of aristocratic privilege, where birth plays a significant role in the path of one’s life.”
“You are generally correct,” she replied, when he paused. “There are avenues open for advancement, based on merit, but they can be tertiary. I was born farther away, in the nation known as Aquitaine, which subscribes to a more republican model. Still some level of classism, but the limits are frequently self-imposed, largely circumscribed by your dreams.”
“And thus a Warrior is capable of transforming herself into a Scholar?” he asked.
“Indeed, my Khan,” she replied. “Though I would have never expected it a year ago.”
He smiled, and began to move, drawing her along by the hand trapped against his body. A bench awaited, and she joined him seated atop the cool stone.
“In Buran, as you know The Holding, there are no families as you understand the concept,” he said. “Two people are selected to mate, based on criteria decided by the Eldest, or forbidden when they file a request. If a child is born, it becomes a ward of the state, to be raised en masse in crèche schools. There is no class, but each child is socialized properly, and then trained. As they age, their tendencies become known and they are forwarded into one of the broad schools, where they may go as far and as high as their talent and drive take them.”
Amala nodded, muffling her shock at such a culture and eager to learn more. None of the briefing documents had more than hinted at such things, but they had been prepared by naval officers expecting combat, not diplomats landing on the surface. Amala had never considered the scale of it, building an entire culture that way.
“I was selected as a Scholar early and trained as one,” the Khan mused, his eyes staring off into a distance greater than space. “Eventually, I was promoted to be a Minister of the Eighth Rank, and selected to serve the last of my active years as Khan of Trusski, before eventually retiring and returning home.”
He lapsed into silence, interrupted only by greedy waterfowl hoping that there were more treats, before they finally waddled back to the pond and began to chatter quietly amongst themselves.
At no point had his hold on her hand loosened enough for her to politely withdraw.
“But the war intrudes upon us,” the man continued. “My proper duty may very well be to take you prisoner and forward you to the agents of the Eldest, either at Samara, or all the way to the capital at Winterhome. I do not see how anything useful could come of such an action, because the Warriors have lost sight of their purpose. Director Xi sees herself as a conqueror whose glory will be found in battle, subjugating the worlds of your Imperium, rather than simply absorbing them as The Holding’s greater superior culture expresses itself.”
He finally turned to face her, his eyes coming back from wherever it was he had been in his mind.
“Scholar Bhattacharya. Amala,” he began in a sad voice that found its footing. “I will need to revoke your credentials as an Ambassador.”
She started to speak, but her overrode her.
“It is for your own safety that I must do this thing,” he said. “If I cast you out at a time when Steadfast at Dawn is not present, then you may safely escape. I had hoped that your mission could continue, but I expect Xi to return with orders from the Khan of Samara, whose authority I must recognize. Were you still here, you would be doomed to a less pleasant place than I would send you.”
Amala took a breath to center her racing thoughts. This was nowhere in anyone’s playbook of how all of this was supposed to go down. Period.
Of course, Keller had no real idea of what was likely to happen when she left Amala here. They might have shot her on sight. Or imprisoned her, hauling her off to stand before the ancient demon in literal chains. And they might have welcomed her as a friendly visitor and introduced her to butterhorns and ducks.
“So that my mission is not ranked a failure with Admiral Keller, should you be prepared to send a diplomat with me?” Amala ventured. “That the Warriors may be seen as distinct from the work of Scholars.”
What the hell. After all, what was the worst thing he could say? Yes?
The Khan’s face grew closed. Not distant, and not cold, but it turned somehow into a metallic casting of the man, rather than flesh. Even the eyes stopped moving.
“Your Admiral Keller must know what resources she is facing on this front,” he replied.
“Else she would not have provoked this confrontation?” Amala completed his thought.
“So you are a spy?” he probed.
“We are all spies, my Khan,” she said. “Keller wishes to know these people, that war on Fribourg. What would make them stop, or engage in trade, rather than conflict? She brought Fribourg to peace with Aquitaine by understanding their nature. She did not conquer them, nor they her. Instead, we have become allies. War is not a necessity here, except that Buran advances into any opening and then furiously defends their trespass. Two generations ago, M’Hanii was the border, although Buran had crossed it even then. You advance inexorably, and then wonder why your new neighbors grow fearful at your approach.”
Some small part of her mind noted that her hand was still not free, leaving her to turn enough to address the man, close enough that one might kiss the other without much effort.
She did not think he had brought her here with seduction in mind…
“We know only of Fribourg that they are barbarians from beyond the fringe of civilization,” the Khan said abruptly. “But that is the thinking of the Warriors, who have dedicated themselves to defending The Holding. I wonder if the Scholars have lost sight of themselves as well.”
Amala shrugged, as much as she could.
“Your Admiral Keller,” he said abruptly. “Is she as honorable as you say?”
“I have found her to be one of the most terrible Warriors I have ever known,” Amala admitted. “Even greater than the man who was my commander prior to volunteering for this assignment. But she also held the entire Fribourg Empire together at the moment when it could have collapsed from Buran’s meddling. And they had been her greatest foe the day before. She will treat your Scholar with all the honor you have done me, even if she must defy the Emperor himself in order to do so.”
He fell silent. She did the same. The ducks yammered happily.
“We will address this issue again,” he finally said, his voice growing heavy and sharp. “But you will not speak of it with anyone, save to prepare your people to be able to move suddenly. Secrecy will be of the essence.”
“As you command, my Khan,” Amala said.
He rose, drawing her to her feet, and finally let go the grip on her hand. He turned and offered her a bow.
“This will be a problem for Scholars to solve, Amala,” he commanded. “The Warriors have their place, but I believe that in this matter, they lead us astray.”
She nodded silently, unsure of where the man was leading her.
She watched him gaze out over the duck pond, with apparent longing, before his face grew less solemn and he smiled at her.
“Come,” he said. “I am sure my Scholars are beside themselves with worry, and are probably close to gossiping. We should return to their world.”
Amala fell into stride with him, nerves afire.
All of this suddenly felt like a combat drop. She had been in a planetary invasion, it was true, but a small one.
This felt like the real thing.