Today the Grand Council Chamber reverberated with the anxious whispers of the citizens who filled the audience benches.
The heat was stifling. The windows were shuttered; the worst of the heat stayed outside, but the air was trapped. My father sat at the head of the long stone table trying to convey neutrality. The queen sat next to him, her hand holding his. At the king's shoulder was Chief Counselor Akram, looking grim but still involved in the discussion. A straight-backed figure stood at the window, old General Kael.
I stood off to the side, just a shadow in the rear archway.
"Carth offers a security force that will secure all our caravans, even those going near Spartova," the Chief Elder said, "and in exchange, we grant them preferential trade status, a marriage alliance, and a share of trade profits. It is a contract. Nothing more. We might consider their offer to be generous, in light of the current situation."
"It is not just protection for the caravans," General Kael's grave voice cut across the chamber. "It is not a few mercenary soldiers spread across the Red Sand Sea. They are sending a full legion of contracted soldiers. Ten thousand armed men, some to Heliqar."
"Contracted?" one of the merchants asked with a bit of a quaver.
"It is the Carthian word for chattel," Kael spat back. "Men who signed away the rest of their lives to the Land-Barons of Carth because their only other option was being hunted as trespassers on the land of their birth. They don't get paid; their families are collateral on the plantations. If we let them into our city, Chief Elder, they will never leave. Foot breadth by foot breadth, the city will become theirs."
"The legal framework is a trap too," said Uncle Akram, tapping an open codex on the table. "Section 4, subsection C, paragraph 8: 'Garrison forces shall have the right to internal adjudication of disputes.' If a Carthian soldier kills a merchant, he is tried back in Carth by a Land-Baron, not by our legal system. This contract is their foot in the door. One by one we will all become Carthian chattel."
"What's your alternative, Akram?" the Chief Elder snapped back, leaning towards them at the table. "The Empire has abandoned us. The Spartovans will starve us out. Would you rather become a Spartovan slave by next year or risk becoming Carthian chattel later?"
Murmurs of agreement rippled through the people observing from the benches. The sound of desperate people convincing themselves that becoming slaves was in their best interest.
"We are not selling the city," the same merchant spoke again with the same nervousness. "Just paying a debt that ensures that we survive."
I thought back to the Spindle-Servant. The Miller wept, but he kept his promise. They were terrified of the debt of Spartovan aggression, and they saw Carth as the stranger who would pay it.
I came out from the shadow of the archway to interrupt. "The Miller didn't save his mill or his family." I spoke loudly, and the murmurs ceased. My father's good eye widened slightly as he looked up at me.
All eyes were on me as I approached the table. "We all know the story, don't we, Chief Elder? The Miller owed a debt he couldn't pay. A stranger offered the help of an ancient machine but demanded a terrible price that the Miller didn't know up front. We are the Miller. Carth is the stranger."
I looked the Chief Elder in the eye and scanned the faces on the benches as I paused. "The Debt is Spartova. If we sign with Carth, we are paying the stranger to keep the debt at bay, but the debt remains. Eventually the stranger will come for the child. The children of Heliqar will be slaves."
"Prince Elyan," the Chief Elder said, "it's understandable that you would be hesitant. Going to wed Princess Nesa in Carth will be a big change for you. How could we ever ask for you to be able to see the situation clearly when any of us would be worried were we in your shoes?"
There were sounds of agreement from those on the benches. They saw my objectivity as compromised, and how could I blame them?
The Chief Elder continued with patronizing pity. "But metaphors will not fill the granaries. Spartova has a spear at our heart and we have no shield."
"We don't need a shield," I said. "What we need is leverage. Or something to bargain with."
"Leverage?" General Kael turned from the window to scowl at me. "You're looking for leverage with the Strategoi of Spartova? They don't want a treaty with us. They haven't made a treaty with anyone since Spartova was razed at the birth of the Empire. They demand submission, they don't ask for it. They want to carry off every man, woman, and child."
"They want what they do not have enough of," I replied. "You think they are invincible. You think they raid the caravans simply to acquire Helot slaves, nothing else. How do we know that? We have old documents. We have hearsay. We assume they are correct. But we do not know."
I took a deep breath and stepped back to give the back benches a better view. "I am proposing a mission of intelligence. The Miller got into trouble because he lacked knowledge. Let us not repeat his mistake. I propose a diplomatic mission to Spartova. Not to surrender. Not to bluff. To learn what they really want and negotiate."
"Negotiate?" The Chief Elder laughed bitterly. "What exactly do you propose we negotiate with? What do we have that they want? Nothing! Nothing but our very selves. I would rather face Carth tomorrow than Spartova today."
Applause. He was winning the debate without resorting to rationality.
"We don't know because we haven't found out," I said, my voice becoming higher pitched. "But we don't have nothing. We have competence. And we have history."
I walked closer to the table again. "We believe from our histories that Spartova built its empire on the myth of Xondor the Liberator. They value strength. They despise the weakness of the Golden Age, yet it had one thing they want. The Iron Men. Not because the Iron Men were the guarantors of peace and could bring peace back to the world. But because they hate servile labor. They want perfect, tireless servants that need no food and never rebel."
"Nonsense!" the Chief Elder muttered. "Those are just legends, hot air, and wishful thinking. Even if they were real, our archives are an insignificant fraction of what Thensapolis possesses. Why would Spartova ever listen to us?"
"Why would the Scholars speak to them? Would they ever send spies to Thensapolis? No! They are warriors, not scholars. We have something that Thensapolis doesn't: we have surveyors. We know the Red Sand Sea better than anyone. We know geology. We have maps that show where Erewhon is said to lie and the skills to navigate the wastes. I will offer them our services. The full resources of Heliqar's knowledge and capabilities in exchange for a treaty. Or if we find they need something else, we will trade that."
"Pure fantasy!" Kael interjected.
The Chief Elder waved his hand to dismiss me. "We cannot risk our survival gambling on diplomacy with the madmen of Spartova. The Carthian offer is something we can depend on. They never break a contract. Their offer is here, and it is real. I would bet my life on it."
"Real? Yes, but it's a noose!" I screamed at him, slamming my fist on the table. I was sweating, and my face burned. "Look at their terms! We would have to pay as much to them as we do to the Empire itself. They aren't just taking our sovereignty; they are taking our revenue. In two years, every merchant will be in debt to a Carthian Land-Baron. And then what? They will own us, and your children will work the Carthian plantations!"
I turned to the audience on the benches. "Is that what you want? To become tenant farmers? To send your children to Carth? To know that you have sold your grandchildren into the Carthian Legions because you didn't want to know more before agreeing to the stranger's deal?"
The chatter had changed. They weren't agreeing to the Chief Elder's arguments anymore. They were terrified. They knew the Carthians as well as anyone since they traded with them.
"The Prince has a point." A master smith stood up. "The tariffs are too high... we would be insolvent within two years, just as he said. We would be trading starvation for bankruptcy."
"And slavery," Kael growled, conceding the point.
The Chief Elder's eyes scanned the room. He had lost them. "Even if we... put a pause on the contract with Carth, this idea is madness. Who would go? It is a suicide mission to go to Spartova to negotiate with them."
"I will go," I said with more boldness than I felt. "I will personally lead the mission. I know what we know. I understand our economy and the knowledge we have in the archives. There is no one better equipped than me."
My mother's face had turned pale. She shook her head and whispered "No" to my father.
"You cannot," the Chief Elder said, seeing a way to kill my proposal. "If you leave on this expedition, you invalidate the contract. The contract is contingent on your marriage to Princess Nesa. The deal would be dead."
"The Chief Elder is right." Uncle Akram spoke softly and looked at me. "If we were to lose you to Spartova, the royal line of Heliqar would end. It is unacceptable."
For a moment, fear flickered in my chest. Even Akram was wavering... was I making the mistake of my life? No, the logic was valid. I pressed on.
"Not so, Uncle Akram. Your own son, Hakeem, would be next in line. And what if I were to stay? What if I marry the daughter of the Slave King? Heliqar would become a Barony of Carth and everyone in it would be a slave."
I looked intently at my parents. "You raised me to be a Prince of Heliqar. Not a Prince of Carth."
My mother looked alternately at my father and then at Akram. Her hands trembled. She was trapped between her love for her son and her duty to her city. She knew I was right, and it was tearing her apart. "Don't let him do this," she whispered to my father as tears welled in her eyes. "It's suicide. Please, don't let him do this, Nadim."
My father looked me in the eyes. The weight of the crown had never weighed so much on him. They saw the logic. He saw that this was the only hope for Heliqar. But he saw the risk to his son just as fully as my mother did. He had always wanted to spare me the suffering he had endured as a child. But I was no longer a child. "Prince Elyan offers hope," he said, his voice cracking. "It is a tenuous hope. A terrible risk. But no one can argue that he is trying to escape from the wedding to Nesa because he is a coward. We have discussed our other options at length and exhausted them. His mission is the only possibility that we may remain free."
He turned his eye to the Chief Elder. "If the Council rejects this, we sign our contract to Carthian bondage."
The Chief Elder looked at Queen Aliya. She was firm. He looked to the citizens on the benches, then at Kael. He saw no support.
"One mission," the Chief Elder decided, his voice hollow. "A diplomatic envoy. You have half a season. If you have not secured a treaty with Spartova by then... we will sign with Carth. Whether you return or not. We will have no choice left."
"I understand," I said.
The Chief Elder stood, as did the other Elders of the Council. "The Council authorizes your mission to Spartova. This session is concluded."
My father looked at the Chief Elder. I could tell he hated this outcome. He turned back towards me. In his eye I saw his pride warring with his terror. "Go," he said softly. "Go before I change my mind."
My mother couldn't look at me. Akram put his hand on her shoulder with a look of resigned defeat. It was like they had already lost me.
I bowed at everyone as they left. I was going to Spartova. No lies. No bluffs. No proposal. Just waltzing into the predator's lair armed only with my mind and the reputation of Heliqar. My hands shook. My breath came shallow. The moment the doors closed behind them, my legs nearly gave out. Courage in public is one thing. Courage alone is another.