He closed his case with an oblique pitch to Morguil's well-known religious leanings. "It seems to me," he finished, "that the Lion is greatly favored by the All Soul. How else would he have been given such power, and so formidable a companion as the great boar."
Morguil chewed his lip thoughtfully.
Gaerimor left with hopes he'd see no more of Lord Naerrasil at the sessions, but Naerrasil continued to attend. It appeared, however, that Morguil had reprimanded him effectively. At any rate his lordship said little in open session, and when he did speak, he was stiffly courteous.
Over the next two weeks the congress worked diligently, and Macurdy saw the advantage in its small membership: there were fewer personalities and attitudes getting in the way. Especially, he told himself wryly, when I keep my own damn mouth under control.
In fact, both he and Morguil let Gaerimor run the sessions. Physically, Gaerimor looked like an affable but rather bland young ylf. But from his aura and knowledge, Macurdy guessed him at sixty years or more. Chairing the congress took a lot out of him. He became haggard, and Macurdy wondered if it was the onset of decline. His first task was to bring Morguil to the understanding that these annoying "others" around him had rescued his empire. And did not now owe him quick and easy recovery as well. Destruction was a reality of war, and recovery would require time, sacrifice, and continued privation, as well as much hard work.
After Morguil, Strongarm was Gaerimor's greatest headache. The dwarf knew what he wanted, was certain he knew what Finn Greatsword wanted, and was disinclined to compromise.
Eventually however, Gaerimor came up with a document that both Strongarm and Morguil accepted.
The keystone was disposition of the prisoners. For that, Gaerimor had adopted and adapted Macurdy's suggestions. The Eastern Empire would draw up a large rebuilding program, rough and quick. It would then estimate what labor was needed, and create the labor crews from prisoners, keeping in mind that they had to be fed and clothed to be effective. The surplus prisoners would be sent back to Hithmearc, on as few ships as could reasonably haul them. The ships would then return, if they were allowed to, to haul other prisoners when they'd completed their rebuilding tasks.
Certain other ships would augment the east ylvin merchant fleet. The rest would be dismantled, and the materials used for whatever domestic purposes were deemed appropriate by the Eastern Empire.
If the prisoner ships did not return, only then would prisoners become property of the empire. And they could not be sold, bartered, or otherwise exchanged. Except that they could buy their freedom if and when able, or receive it from the government.
The King in Silver Mountain would receive certain mining rights he'd long coveted, from the west ylver. Who in turn would receive favorable trading terms on several classes of goods from the Sisterhood, plus sixty percent of the backup cordage and canvas from the voitik armada, eighty barrels of tar, and one hundred of pitch.
That was just the beginning. Gaerimor had found something for everyone, in a maze of cross-arrangements that Macurdy didn't try to keep track of. Though Morguil's accountants seemed to, as did Strongarm. To Macurdy it was a monstrous version of some three-cornered personnel deals he'd heard about in baseball, on the radio back on Farside. Including versions of "players to be named later."
It seemed so complex, with some of the terms so ill-defined, or difficult to control, Macurdy couldn't imagine them being met. But it was an agreement, and as finally signed-organized into sections and subsections, with diagrams!-it looked useable. If the main features were more or less followed, it should work. He hoped.
Macurdy was responsible for the interests of the Rude Lands and the Sisterhood, and felt totally inadequate to the job. Fortunately, Gaerimor covered for him. The Rude Lands and Sisterhood received mainly trade agreements, but to Macurdy they seemed remarkably good trade agreements-well designed to fit their needs and potentials. And both empires honored the contracts Macurdy had made with Oz.
It was Morguil personally who'd brought up the one worrisome aspect of sending hithar home. It was a matter of the known versus the unknown. In Hithmearc, no one knew what had become of the armada and army, and if no one returned, they'd wonder why. After a while, they might assume that the hazards of the sea, Vismearc and war had claimed them. But returning the prisoners would expose the truth. And if the voitar in Hithmearc had survived the crash of Kurqosz's sorcery, they might decide to invade again.
It was Strongarm whose viewpoint prevailed. "Considering what happened this time," he said, "they'd be daft to try." The conferees were not entirely reassured, but they accepted it.
The matter of vengeance barely came up again. When it did, Macurdy had the odd experience of finding himself and Naerrasil on the same side. Morguil let the subject drop. Dealing with reparations had been trouble enough.
The Rude Lands soldiers were to be paid by their own rulers, of course. But the raiders who'd ridden the long cold extra days to serve at the congress were rewarded with two hithik horses each, and the right to take whatever they wished from hithik officers, short of the clothes they wore. When the prisoners realized what was happening, officers passed their valuables to enlisted men. But the raiders quickly caught on and pillaged them all, officers and soldiers. And did quite well.
Macurdy, for reasons of his own, arranged a favor with the east ylvin Lord Felstroin, who had especially appreciated Macurdy's scathing of Naerrasil, and said privately that if he ever wanted a favor done… Macurdy jumped on the offer like a weasel on a baby duck. Felstroin, who was in charge of prisoner assignments, was to watch for a bright young hithu of good character who showed decent skill with Yuultal, and send him to Aaerodh Manor.
That's where Macurdy would be, for he and Varia remarried in a private ceremony presided over by the Archbishop of Colroi. Lord Gaerimor and Sergeant Ceonigh Cyncaidh stood as witnesses. This time it was Macurdy who'd proposed. They were already married, of course, had been since February 1930. But Farside was in a different universe. They would live together at Aaerodh. Ceonigh Cyncaidh, his lordship's eldest son, was little more than halfway to thirty-five, his majority. Till then, her ladyship was the executor of the dukedom, the ducal regent so to speak.
And neither son was interested in agriculture. Macurdy, on the other hand, was a farmer born and raised, who wanted no more of war or the military. He would manage the ducal lands.
There was no formal banquet celebrating the peace agreement. There was no place to hold one, nor the makings for anything suitably festive. So late on the day of its signing, Macurdy went to Gaerimor's quarters to express his respect. He and Lady Cyncaidh, he said, planned to leave the next day.
"Well then," Gaerimor replied, "let the two of us celebrate." His lordship rummaged in a large wicker hamper of rumpled clothing, and came up with a wine bottle. "From Morguil, no less," he said grinning, "in appreciation of my efforts."
Efforts, Macurdy thought. Judging by Gaerimor's face, a strenuous effort. But however tired, the ylf seemed in excellent spirits. He pulled out a shirttail and wiped a couple of wine glasses with it before filling them. "The quality is excellent," he commented. "I just tried it."