Commander of Two Thousand Nith mul Gurthak sat his chair like a throne. He was one of the small but growing number of Gifted Mythalan officers who'd chosen a career as a line officer rather than to serve in one of the specialist slots most Gifted soldiers—Mythalan or otherwise—usually preferred. Jasak didn't know how strong mul Gurthak's Gift might be, although the fact that the two thousand chose to go by "mul Gurthak" rather than the "vos and mul Gurthak" which a shakira officer was entitled to claim could be an indication that it wasn't extraordinarily powerful.
That was only one of the things Jasak didn't know about mul Gurthak, for they'd never met before. The Mythalan officer had been away from Fort Talon on an inspection trip when Jasak had passed through on his way to Mahritha and Five Hundred Klian's command. He hadn't met Rithmar Skirvon or Uthik Dastiri before, either, although he'd noticed the two civilians down by the dragonfield. The chestnut-haired, green-eyed Skirvon was obviously of Andaran descent, although the last name sounded more Hilmarian. Dastiri, younger, darker, almond-eyed, much shorter, and slimmer, with an evident abundance of nervous energy, was obviously Ransaran.
"We just arrived last night, ourselves," Skirvon told Jasak as the hundred settled into the chair at which mul Gurthak had rather brusquely gestured. Neshok stood just inside the office door, a brooding, still angry presence, and Otwal Threbuch stood behind Jasak's shoulder with his hands clasped behind him in a stand-easy position. "We came in response to the hummer message Commander Five Hundred Klian sent out."
"Master Skirvon and Master Dastiri are field representatives of the Union Arbitration Commission," mul Gurthak put in. "We were fortunate they were in Ilmariya on another matter when Five Hundred Klian's hummer message arrived. They arrived by transport flight at about two o'clock this morning."
Jasak nodded with an undeniable edge of relief. The UAC reported directly to the Union Senate. It was a quasi-diplomatic organization charged with resolving inter-universal disputes between both local governing entities and private individuals. Skirvon and Dastiri might not be formally accredited as Union ambassadors to extra-universal civilizations, but they were certainly the closest anyone was going to be able to come to that, and at least they did have diplomatic training.
"I'm very glad to see you, gentlemen," he said. "And I've learned something else today which may be of interest to you. Lady Nargra-Kolmayr is the daughter of a Sharonian ambassador."
Skirvon and Dastiri twitched in visible surprise. They looked at one another, then back at Jasak.
"I heard there'd been some . . . disturbance down at the dragonfield," mul Gurthak said after a moment. "Something about the female prisoner." His eyes flickered briefly toward Neshok, and he grimaced in obvious distaste. "I understand she made quite a scene."
"I suppose someone might put it that way, Sir," Jasak said just a bit coolly, never even glancing at Neshok. "For myself, I believe that almost being attacked by a battle dragon and then treated with obvious contempt by her escort would probably constitute justification for losing her temper."
Mul Gurthak's lips tightened.
"I've read Five Hundred Klian's dispatch, and I know all about your decision to declare them shardonai, Hundred," he said frostily, and something ugly glowed in his eyes for just an instant. But then he drew a deep breath and shook his head slightly.
"That's part of your people's culture, not mine," he continued in a somewhat less chilly voice. "I don't say I agree with your decision, but I understand its implications. At the same time, however, both you and your shardonai need to understand that they are prisoners—prisoners of war—and the only intelligence resource we currently possess. If they continue to refuse to cooperate with us, it's going to place everyone in a very . . . difficult position."
"Refuse to cooperate, Sir?" Jasak arched one eyebrow. "I fail to understand how anyone could accuse them of refusing to cooperate. Obviously, as you've just observed, they're the prisoners of people who killed all of their companions, and they aren't going to voluntarily disgorge information which might help us kill more of their people. But they've been working as hard as anyone could possibly ask in their efforts to learn to communicate with us. In fact, Lady Nargra-Kolmayr has learned to speak fluent Andaran in less than two weeks, and she's been able to teach her husband how to speak it amazingly well. And—"
"Excuse me, Hundred, but did you say they're fluent in Andaran?" Skirvon interrupted.
"Lady Nargra-Kolmayr is, certainly," Jasak confirmed. "Frankly, the speed at which she's mastered it is astonishing."
"And has she reciprocated?" mul Gurthak asked, his brows furrowed in an expression that practically shouted mistrust.
"Taught us Sharonian, you mean, Sir?" Jasak asked. Mul Gurthak nodded, and Jasak gave a tiny shrug.
"Like us, Sharona has many languages, Sir. Between themselves, they normally speak one called Shurkhali. That's Lady Nargra-Kolmayr's native language, but not her husband's. Just as Magister Kelbryan has concentrated on teaching them a single one of our languages—Andaran—we've been learning one they call Ternathian. According to Lady Nargra-Kolmayr, it's the language of Sharona's most powerful nation."
"You say you've been learning it?" Skirvon pressed.
"Not nearly so quickly as they've been learning Andaran," Jasak assured him with a wry smile. "But Magister Kelbryan has been working with them using the translation spellware programmed into her PC. Every time she taught them a word in Andaran, they gave her the equivalent word in Ternathian. Magister Kelbryan's spellware stores the words both in written phonetic form and in audio, and it's been analyzing and deriving the Ternathian rules of grammar, as well. For all intents and purposes, it's produced a primer for Ternathian, and it's capable of running audio translation, as well. I'm sure there are still holes in what we've got, and I'm equally sure that it wouldn't give one of our people anywhere near the fluency Lady Nargra-Kolmayr has attained in Andaran, but it's a very substantial beginning."
He reached into the breast of his uniform tunic and extracted a sheaf of neatly printed pages.
"Magister Kelbryan generated this from her PC last night," he said, and handed the pages to Dastiri, the nearer of the two diplomats.
"Incredible," Dastiri muttered, flipping through the pages. He shook his head and handed it to Skirvon, who was senior to him in the UAC.
"Very impressive," Skirvon agreed. "Could you arrange for Magister Kelbryan to download a copy of this to our PCs? And of her translation spellware. The UAC would find it of incalculable value."
"And I'll want a copy, as well, Hundred," mul Gurthak said.
That was fine with Jasak. As the senior military officer at this end of the transit chain, mul Gurthak was definitely in a need-to-know position. Indeed, the more Ternathian-fluent officers they could produce, the better. There was going to be additional contact with the other side, no matter what happened, and having some means of communication besides shooting at one another struck Jasak as a very good idea, indeed.
"I'm sure Magister Kelbryan will be happy to download copies for both you and Master Skirvon and Master Dastiri, Sir," he said. "And if you'd be so kind, Master Skirvon, you could download a copy for Five Hundred Klian's use when you reach Fort Rycharn, as well."
"That's an excellent idea," Skirvon said. "We'll be sure to do that."
He looked back down at the hard copy for a moment, then tucked it away in his briefcase and extracted his own PC. He activated it and tapped the menu with the stylus to switch it to audio recording mode, then leaned back in his chair.
"We're scheduled to depart for Fort Rycharn tomorrow," he said. "Obviously, I'm not going to have time to acquire a great deal of fluency before we arrive there, although this 'primer' of yours will be an enormous help. But if we're not going to be able to indulge in complex discussions with them at first, it's vital that we have as much background knowledge as we can get. So what can you tell us about these people we've encountered, Sir Jasak?"
"Quite a bit, actually, Master Skirvon. That's one reason why I said it would be difficult to legitimately accuse Lady Nargra-Kolmayr and her husband of refusing to cooperate. They've been extremely reticent about military matters—and, frankly, I believe they truly are civilians and probably not all that conversant with the details of their military, in the first place—but they've been very forthcoming about their home universe and its political and social structure."
"Indeed?" Skirvon's eyebrows rose.
"We've learned a great deal about how Sharona is organized," Jasak said. "Most of the details are recorded in Magister Kelbryan's PC, along with the notes on the Ternathian language. I think you'll be astonished at how ancient their civilizations are, and although they don't have the sort of world government we do in the Union, most of their nations appear to share an amazing degree of common values and beliefs. According to Lady Nargra-Kolmayr, the Ternathian Empire, their oldest state, is over five thousand years old. At one time, it ruled more than two thirds of the then-known world, and it apparently left its cultural imprint behind when it gradually disengaged from its high-water mark."
Skirvon nodded, although Jasak had the distinct impression the diplomat didn't really believe him. Or, rather, that Skirvon suspected Shaylar had deliberately exaggerated the antiquity and strength of her home civilization.
"You'll be able to review her comments for yourself, Master Skirvon," Jasak said. "Personally, I believe what she's told us is substantially accurate, but I'm sure you'll form your own opinion."
"I'll review them very carefully, Sir Jasak," Skirvon promised. "In the meantime, however, there's a more immediate point I'd like to address. Five Hundred Klian's reports state that these people's technology is very different from our own."
"That probably ranks with the most severe understatements I've ever heard, Master Skirvon," Jasak replied with a twisted smile. "We've brought the captured equipment with us, and with your permission, Sir," he glanced at mul Gurthak, "I'd like to leave a representative selection of it—especially of their weapons—here with you. I'm sure the Commandery will want us to transport most of it back to New Arcana where it can be thoroughly examined, but as close as you are to the point of contact, I'd like you to be able to form some idea of its capabilities for yourself."
"An excellent idea, Hundred," mul Gurthak said with the first unqualified approval Jasak had sensed from him.
"But in answer to the point you've raised, Master Skirvon," Jasak turned his attention back to the diplomat, "they have a great many devices and tools we don't begin to understand yet. They're remarkably good engineers and artisans, and their metallurgy and textiles are every bit as good as our own, but they don't appear to have any equivalent of our arcane technology."
"So I understood from Five Hundred Klian's report," Skirvon said, yet he was frowning heavily. "I find that very difficult to accept, however. Obviously, I haven't spent as much time in these people's company as you have, Sir Jasak. But they certainly appear to be just as human as we are, so presumably they ought to have the same basic genetic heritage. The same Gifts."
"I can't debate that point with you," Jasak said. "At this point, we know too little about them for me to be comfortable making any sweeping assumptions, even if I had the medical or technical background to make that sort of judgment in the first place. But I can tell you that any magic-based technology clearly astonishes them. Anything, no matter how simple. Magister Halathyn conjured a simple light-rose, something any four-year-old with a decent Gift could do, so that he could give Lady Nargra-Kolmayr a flower. When it blossomed from his fingertips, it shook them both to the core. Both of them reacted exactly the same way, spontaneously: with astonishment so deep it bordered on terror."
"Terror?" Skirvon's frown deepened. "Great gods, why? What's to be afraid of? It's just magic!"
"Because Sharonians don't use magic. In fact, they have nothing at all even resembling magic, let alone our technology. They didn't even believe it was possible until they were shown ordinary tools that use it."
"That's ridiculous," Dastiri muttered. Then he seemed to realize he'd spoken aloud and waved one hand. "I'm sorry, Sir Jasak, but it just sounds too . . . bizarre for words."
"Oh, I certainly agree with you there," Jasak said feelingly. "Nonetheless, it's true. Magister Kelbryan and I have discussed it with them at considerable length, and they're very emphatic. The Sharonian civilization isn't built around the laws of magic at all."
Skirvon was sitting bolt upright in his chair now, staring at him. So was mul Gurthak, but there was something besides simple astonishment in the two thousand's eyes.
"But—" the senior diplomat sputtered. "But how in the gods' names does anyone build a civilization without it?"
He glanced around mul Gurthak's office, an austere frontier room which nevertheless boasted more than a dozen magic-powered appliances, from his own PC to the lighting to the insect-repelling spell to the quietly turning blades of the ceiling fan, all in plain view, and doubtless many others in storage in the various cabinets.
"I'm sorry, Sir Jasak, but Uthik is right. It sounds . . . impossible. They'd live under appallingly crude conditions. People in a place like that would be little better than barbarians!"
"With all due respect, Master Skirvon, I wouldn't use that term within their earshot," Jasak said mildly, and heard a smothered sound from behind him. Mul Gurthak looked past him and raised an eyebrow.
"You had something you wished to add, Hundred Neshok?" he asked in a deceptively mild voice.
"I was just going to say, Sir, that no one should say it around that girl, for sure. The little bitch has quite a temper."
"That's quite enough, Neshok!" The mildness had vanished from mul Gurthak's voice, and his face was hard. "You insulted the lady and her people, and you threatened her, and the fact that she's fluent in your own language only made it worse. Whatever else we may think about her and her people, it's difficult to condemn her for becoming angry in the face of such boorishness and discourtesy. Consider yourself fortunate that only she has reprimanded you so far."
"Yes, Sir." Neshok's voice sounded strangled, and Jasak could almost feel the heat radiating from his flushed face.
"Don't repeat that mistake, Hundred."
"No, Sir."
No one, Jasak mused, enjoyed eating crow. Neshok appeared to hate it more virulently than most . . . which was just fine with Sir Jasak Olderhan.
Silence lingered for several seconds. Then Jasak cleared his throat, looked back at Skirvon, and continued.
"I was saying that I wouldn't assume their civilization is either crude or simple just because their technology isn't magic-based. We manufacture mechanical things ourselves, but there's a huge difference between an arbalest that fires a steel bolt and one of their weapons. Jathmar field-stripped one of their shoulder weapons—a 'rifle' he calls it—for me at Fort Wyvern. Frankly, it's a complex nightmare of tiny, precisely machined parts. They serve interlocking functions, designed to load and fire the projectile, but even the projectile has multiple parts. The most fascinating part, to be honest, is the granular gray powder inside what he calls the 'cartridge.' It's the powder that performs the 'chemical'—that's another one of his words we're still trying to figure out—operations which actually fire the projectile. As nearly as I can picture it in my own mind right now, they basically set off something very like one of our infantry-dragon fireballs inside the cartridge, and that expands with enormous speed and drives the 'bullet' down the hollow barrel of the 'rifle' and through its target."
"An arbalest sounds far more practical and reliable," Skirvon observed with another frown.
"They're reliable enough, Sir." Jasak almost blinked in surprise as Otwal Threbuch inserted himself into the conversation. "And practical, too, begging your pardon. Have you ever seen an arbalest quarrel punch clean through a man three hundred yards away? Have you ever seen an arbalest mow down thirty men in three seconds? A whole line of men, forty feet across? They went down like one man—like they'd run into an invisible wire.
"Only it wasn't a wire. The things hitting them were blowing holes straight through them—big holes. Big enough to put your thumb through in front and your fist through in back. And that doesn't even begin to describe what their artillery can do. They fired it through the portal and dropped it behind Hundred Thalmayr's fieldworks." The big noncom shook his head grimly. "Believe me, Sir, an arbalest may be less complicated, but it's definitely not more practical or reliable."
Both diplomats were ashen, and mul Gurthak looked more than a little shaken himself. Another brief silence fell, until Skirvon shook himself again.
"I'm not a military or a technical man myself, Sir Jasak," he admitted. "I still find the entire concept of a civilization without any magic at all extremely difficult to accept, but for now, I don't think we have any choice but to accept that your description—yours and the chief sword's—is accurate.
"Still, if I'm not particularly well versed in technological matters, I do have a bit of experience in diplomatic affairs. You say they don't have a world government. In that case, how do they manage their portal exploration?"
"There's some sort of central authority, an organization that operates their portal forts and apparently runs the actual portals. It sounds like the equivalent of our UTTTA, and it has some sort of authority over their survey crews, but it's also some kind of private entity, I think. I'm not very clear on it yet. It sounds to me as if it's some sort of government-approved or supervised private company. But whoever sponsors it, their 'Portal Authority' decides who's permitted to work on their survey crews. Lady Nargra-Kolmayr says she's the first woman ever approved to join a team; she anticipates being the last, as well."
The diplomats exchanged thoughtful glances. Then they looked back at Jasak.
"So it would probably be this 'Portal Authority' we'd be speaking to, not the representatives of an actual government?" Skirvon mused aloud.
"I'd guess so." Jasak nodded. "But let me emphasize that it would be only a guess on my part. One thing we haven't been able to discover is how extensively the Sharonians have explored. My distinct impression from several things they've let drop is that they were operating on the leading edge of a very extensive frontier when we encountered one another. If that's so, then I'd think it would be difficult for them to get diplomats to the front much more quickly than we could. And that completely ignores the fact that if they don't have a world government, the first thing they'd have to do is decide which government should be talking to us."
"A very well taken observation, Sir Jasak." Skirvon nodded vigorously, then cocked his head to one side.
"I know I'm jumping around a bit," he said, semi-apologetically, "but it's just occurred to me that if they don't have anything like magic, then presumably they don't have anything like our hummers, which should give us a substantial advantage in response time."
"I wouldn't count on that if I were you, Master Skirvon," Jasak said, a bit grimly. "No, they don't have hummers. But that's because they don't need them."
"Why not?" mul Gurthak asked sharply, and Jasak grimaced.
"We only discovered after we left Fort Rycharn that while these people don't have Gifts, they do have what they call Talents," he said heavily.
His own reluctance to mention the matter surprised him. It also made him realize just how protective he truly felt where Shaylar and Jathmar were concerned. Yet he was an officer of the Union of Arcana. It was his duty to pass the information along, and so he told them everything Shaylar and Jathmar had told him about their own Talents and how those Talents had served the survey crews and Sharona in general.
"Obviously," he concluded, several minutes later, "the military applications of this . . . living technology are enormous. And, frankly, the civilian applications must be equally staggering."
His audience looked stunned. Then mul Gurthak leaned forward over his desk, his body language and expression angry.
"When," he asked icily, "did you discover this little bit of information?"
"About one day out from Fort Wyvern, Sir," Jasak said coolly. "Since we were coming through by dragon ourselves as soon as possible, I decided not to send it by hummer. I thought you'd probably prefer to hear about it in person, and with as little chance for it to leak as possible."
"I see." The two thousand sat back in his chair again, toying with a stylus, and the anger slowly ebbed out of his expression. But he still didn't look precisely satisfied, and he frowned at Jasak. "What prompted them to make such a revelation? They have to know how seriously that knowledge will compromise their side in any conflict."
"I'm not certain they are aware of all the implications," Jasak said reluctantly. "As I say, they're civilians, not soldiers. As to why they admitted it, partly it was because they didn't have much choice. I confronted them over something that had shaken Magister Kelbryan pretty badly, which pressured them into making a partial explanation. They volunteered the rest, though."
"But why?" Skirvon sounded as baffled—and skeptical—as mul Gurthak.
"I think it's because they're trying desperately to find some grounds for mutual understanding, Master Skirvon," Jasak said slowly. "They're fully aware of how different we are from one another—in fact, they're probably far more aware of it than we are, since they're the ones trapped inside our culture. I think they believe that the more we know about them—the more completely we understand that they aren't monsters, just different—the greater the chance for establishing some sort of trust between us. And I also think they have a point. When you get right down to it, the implications of these Talents of theirs aren't a lot different from the implications of our own Gifts. Just as we've done with our Gifts, they seem to have concentrated their Talents through specific family lines, and everything we've been able to learn from Shaylar so far suggests their Talents are probably much less useful for what Magister Kelbryan calls 'macro effects' than magic is. That's probably why they rely so heavily on complex mechanical devices.
"But however frightening or threatening this capability of theirs may seem—for that matter, however dangerous it may yet actually prove to be—one fact remains. Sharona has also produced two individuals from very different Sharonian nations who share similar traits which are important to our understanding of them. They're honorable, courageous, and—under the circumstances—surprisingly honest and forthcoming."
One again, the diplomats exchanged glances. Jasak wasn't at all sure he cared for their expressions.
"Most helpful, indeed, Sir Jasak," Skirvon said after a moment.
"There's another point I'd like to make, as well, if I may," Jasak said. "We know Sharona has many countries, and we also know Lady Nargra-Kolmayr and her husband don't come from the same one. You only have to look at them to see that they're obviously from different genetic stocks. Yet their ideas, their values—what they believe at the deepest core level—are remarkably similar. And when you stop to think about it, how many Arcanans actually choose to marry outside their birth cultures? Not very many, yet we've been a united world, under one government, for two centuries."
The mention of cross-cultural marriages tightened mul Gurthak's lips in visible disapproval. Despite that, it was the two thousand who first grasped the point Jasak was trying to make.
"What you're trying to say is that even though they may not have a world government, their culture—their civilization—may be much closer to monolithic than we'd assume?"
"Exactly, Sir," Jasak said with a nod.
"One wonders," Dastiri said thoughtfully, "how common this marriage pattern of theirs truly is?"
"That's certainly something to be curious about," Skirvon agreed. "It's possible that it's not actually very common at all, but I'm inclined to trust Sir Jasak's instincts on this matter. He doesn't have any formal training in diplomacy, I know, but as the heir to Garth Showma, he probably has a better sense of political and cultural nuances than most people. Certainly a better one than most officers of his seniority," the diplomat very carefully did not glance in Neshok's direction, "and he's spent a great deal of time with his prisoners. Excuse me, with his shardonai." The diplomat smiled apologetically at Jasak, then looked back at Dastiri. "If he believes we're dealing with a cultural monolith, regardless of their political organization, I'm inclined to trust that judgment."
Neshok's nostrils flared, and mul Gurthak's eyes went a shade frostier, but only for a moment. Then the two thousand drew a slow, deliberate breath.
"A well-taken point," he said. "It appears we're fortunate to have your insight into these matters, Hundred Olderhan."
He studied Jasak with opaque eyes for several seconds, then shrugged.
"Given the role the late Shevan Garlath played in the disaster at Fallen Timbers," he finally said, "I'm forced to revise my first, overly hasty assessment of your judgment as a field officer. Five Hundred Klian's evaluation of Fifty Garlath's fitness as an officer makes it clear you were saddled with a . . . difficult situation, even before you made contact with these Sharonians."
He produced a wintry smile.
"One is always tempted to blame messengers who bear unpalatable news, particularly when military and political disasters are involved. But Chief Sword Threbuch's report on the second encounter with these people makes it clear—to me, at least—that you did a brilliant job of containment."
Jasak bristled silently at the use of the word "containment." It was accurate enough—he'd certainly "contained" the Sharonians, at least physically—but something about the word, or perhaps the way it had been delivered, set him on edge. That surprised him, but he didn't have time to ponder it now, for mul Gurthak was still speaking.
"I may never forgive Hadrign Thalmayr," the two thousand said in a bitter tone, "for promptly throwing away all you'd accomplished and losing the men you'd managed to bring safely back. Not to mention losing control of the portal."
He shook his head, leaned far back in his chair, and steepled his fingers across his chest.
"I realize your primary concern will be sending reports ahead as you make the return trip to New Arcana. The Commandery has to know everything you learn as soon as possible. The time lag is immense, as it is. Even at the speed hummers fly, this is a long transit chain."
"Yes, Sir. I know that only too well." The initial message that there'd been a contact with another civilization was still winging its way—literally—back to New Arcana. "No one even knows the Union has new neighbors, Sir. Let alone that battles have already been fought. No one in the Union, that is."
His eyes met mul Gurthak's, and the two thousand nodded, his expression grim. Skirvon and Dastiri's ears seemed to prick up, as if they realized something they didn't understand had just been said, and mul Gurthak favored them with a hard, thin smile.
"You gentlemen weren't listening to the hundred," he said. "What was it he said? They don't need hummers, I believe."
Skirvon stared at him, then blanched visibly.
"Gods! They already know, don't they? They've probably known for weeks!"
"Lady Nargra-Kolmayr's effectively confirmed that," Jasak agreed unhappily. "I don't know exactly how long it took their message to get home, but given the structure she described, with official Voices stationed permanently at every single portal they've discovered, and at relays in between, as necessary, their home world may have known within hours. I'd bet that someone in their Portal Authority knew by the time we airlifted out the wounded. And something she said this afternoon confirms that her family thinks she's dead. She used the present tense, and I don't think it was a slip of the tongue. She knows that whatever message she was sending out when she was knocked unconscious at Fallen Timbers has already reached her home world."
Both diplomats had turned a sickly shade of yellow-green.
"This is a first-class disaster," Skirvon groaned. "They've had time to move in whole divisions of troops!"
"It's not quite that bad," mul Gurthak disagreed. They looked at him incredulously, and he shrugged. "I've been operating on the assumption that word might have gotten back to their high command ever since I received Five Hundred Klian's initial dispatches. The force which attacked Hundred Thalmayr was undeniably stronger than anyone anticipated, however it scarcely represented the kind of troop strength I'd have expected from a major base. And we know these people don't have dragons, or, apparently, anything else that flies. Neither, according to the chief sword," he nodded at Threbuch, "do they have enhanced cavalry mounts like our own. So what we're probably facing is a situation in which their high command can receive reports and dispatch new orders much more rapidly than we can, but our forces can move much more rapidly than theirs can."
Jasak nodded. He'd already reached the same conclusion himself, and it should have been reassuring to know that the senior officer in the area agreed with his own assessment. And it was . . . mostly. Still, there was something about mul Gurthak's eyes. . . .
"Hundred Olderhan," the commander of two thousand continued, turning his attention back to Jasak and smiling much more warmly than before, "I want to thank you for a first-class briefing. I'm very impressed by the amount of information you've been able to obtain from the prisoners. I suppose it's another case of that old cliché about catching more flies with sugar than with salt," he added, giving Neshok a speaking glance.
"I also concur that it's critical that we get our diplomatic presence as far forward as we can, as quickly as we can. And that you continue to New Arcana with all dispatch. Indeed, I'm coming to the conclusion, based on what you've said here, that we could scarcely have acquired a more valuable source of intelligence if we'd been allowed to choose who to capture ourselves."
One again, something bristled deep inside Jasak. It was his protective instinct, he knew. His shardonai had become personally important to him, not just an honor obligation, and that might not be a good thing, from the perspective of the Union of Arcana. Mul Gurthak was undoubtedly correct about Shaylar and Jathmar's value, and Jasak ought to place the same priority on squeezing them for every bit of information, as long as they weren't mistreated in the process.
"I'm sure you're fatigued after so long on dragonback, Hundred," mul Gurthak went on after a moment. "Moreover, given the . . . unpleasant episode down by the dragonfield, I'm certain both your shardonai and Magister Kelbryan are rather anxious to discover just how well this debriefing went. With that in mind, I'll let you go find your own quarters and reassure them that no one at Fort Talon has any intention of changing their status or attempting to remove them from your custody."
"Thank you, Sir."
Jasak recognized his dismissal and stood, although leaving that office at that particular moment was the last thing he wanted to do. Unfortunately, whoever his father might be, Jasak was only a commander of one hundred. There was no way he could insist upon remaining for the additional discussion he knew was about to begin.
"Chief Sword, Javelin, you're also dismissed," the two thousand continued. "Hundred Neshok will see to it that you're quartered."
Threbuch and Iggy Shulthan braced briefly to attention, then turned and followed Jasak and Neshok out of the office.
The sound of the door closing behind them wasn't really a thunder-crack of doom . . . it only sounded that way to Jasak.