“You may continue.”
Still off balance, Taudde hesitated. He said at last, “The destruction of Lonne might serve Kalches, but at what cost? But for my country’s sake, I might have supported Ankennes in what he tried to do, except he was too powerful. I believe there was no limit to his desire to force the world into accordance with his theories. And once he had destroyed Lonne… What then? Would he ever have felt himself finished? Or would he have chosen another project, equally misguided and equally destructive?” Taudde concluded carefully, “I struck at him then because there was at that moment so much power loose to grasp, and thus the opportunity existed. Above all, I did not want to face Ankennes later in my own country.”
This time the silence stretched out. The king continued to regard Taudde steadily, his expression still unreadable. Yet Taudde thought he might have recognized truth when he heard it. Not all kings could. But, then, Geriodde Nerenne ken Seriantes was not an ordinary king. Taudde rather thought that behind the stillness of the room, he could hear the heartbeat of the dragon. He could not tell what the king was thinking.
“Thus your actions were ultimately on your own behalf, and on behalf of your own country,” the king observed at last.
“All my reasons were important to me,” Taudde said steadily. “Why should anything but the result be important to you?”
There was another pause. “I have several remaining questions to ask you, Kalchesene,” the king said eventually. “I will have truthful answers to each. Then I shall decide what to do with you.”
Taudde opened his hands to show that he would yield to the king’s will. He had no idea what questions the king had in mind, or whether he himself would in turn be willing and able to answer them honestly. He wondered, rather desperately, whether any plea of his could prevent the re-imposition of the muting spell. He knew now, to his shame, that he would plead, rather than suffer the silencing of the world around him.
“Do you now wish harm to my son?”
Taudde almost exclaimed in relief. He was able to answer at once, with perfect truth, “I do not!” Then, when the king merely lifted an eyebrow and waited, he went on more slowly, choosing his words with care, “Do you think my apology was not in earnest? I assure you otherwise, eminence. I wish your son no harm.”
The king gave a little nod. He asked softly, “And do you wish me harm? Do you wish Lirionne harm?”
These were more difficult questions. Taudde was not even certain of the answers himself. “I could wish Lirionne had different borders,” he answered at last. “I could wish the treaty you imposed on Kalches had had different terms. But I think… I think I can honestly answer that I do not wish your people ill. You… when I was a boy, I dreamed that someday I would meet you on the field of battle and leave you broken in the mud.”
“A natural dream for a boy,” acknowledged the king. “And now?”
“Now, eminence, I think I have come to prefer that the borders between our countries be redrawn by some more peaceable means.”
The king inclined his head. “I am satisfied with the borders as they are. But peace is my own preference.”
Taudde found that he believed him. Fifteen years ago, the Dragon of Lirionne had been ruthless in his victory. Taudde, in his boyhood, had perceived only the ruthlessness. His grandfather had tried to explain to him the tactical uses of brutality, but Taudde had not been able to understand him. But he saw now that it was that same ruthlessness of will that had presided over the grim horror of the executions of Geriodde Nerenne ken Seriantes’s older sons and, more recently, sent the King of Lirionne into the shadowy paths of death to find this younger son. And had then allowed him to force his way out again. Geriodde Seriantes ruled according to his grim view of necessity, and spared himself no more than his enemies. But Taudde thought he truly did not want the war to resume.
Taudde said slowly, “That being so… I think I could bear to give up ill will against you, eminence.”
The king leaned back in his chair, regarding Taudde with no expression Taudde could read. “Could you, indeed.”
Pressed, Taudde said, “How can I know until I see what you will do, eminence? I have hated you all my life, but now I see that this was a boy’s hatred. I think I could give it up… I wish to give it up… but I don’t know yet whether you intend to open your hand, or rather lock me again into silence and… and despair.” He stopped, shaken by his own words. He hadn’t intended to say so much.
“And if I should open my hand? Would you wish to leave Lonne? Have you finished… listening to the sea?”