Page 93 of Requiem of Silence

He snorted. “Alariq left a great many notes. King Jaqros has been through them, however, to my knowledge he never found anything detailing his brother’s plans for Raun. That kind of thing Alariq kept in his head.”

Jasminda sat up straighter and pushed the glass away. She was outmatched against Pia, everyone could see that. “What do you think we should do, Minister?” She turned toward him.

Calladeen stared forward, unseeing. “We need to understand the game she’s playing. What does she want? What does she need?”

“Her ego stroked,” Jasminda said, and Calladeen actually laughed. This shocked her into silence. It appeared to shock him as well.

“I sense that her relationship with her daughter is… tense,” he said, after recovering. “I wonder if that played some part in her decision to visit in person.”

Jasminda sighed. “I’d wondered that as well. She must have known that Ani was planning on leaving—she and her crew have been here for weeks and that can’t be good for business. I know they’ve been antsy. And given the lack of progress on where the wedding should be held…” She shook her head.

Ani and Roshon should be back in Elsira by tomorrow evening. Perhaps her daughter’s presence and finally meeting her future son-in-law would soften the woman, but Jasminda doubted it.

Jasminda’s attention was also split by the impending vote on separation. Nadette’s latest report on the work of the secret public relations campaign they were waging was disappointing. Theirprogress was achingly slow. The Dominionist/Reaper rhetoric had caught fire as if it had been doused with gasoline, but their more logical and humanitarian arguments were still slower in spreading.

Jasminda trusted Nadette, but she still wanted to be involved in how the messages were being shaped. Perhaps the tone they were using was not impassioned enough. The uncertainty was maddening.

She hoped at least that Papa and Varten were having a smooth time of it up north with the refugees. Someone should be. She made a mental note to call her father and check in.

In the meeting room, Calladeen drummed long fingers on the table. “I sense that King Pia is stalling these talks for some reason. She’s notoriously difficult, but her tactic of changing the subject, especially when we come close to finding common ground… Something else may be going on. Perhaps this afternoon’s meeting will shed some light.”

Pia had requested their next session that day be down on the docks, so she could inspect Elsira’s trading center in person. Jasminda had been so frustrated, she’d agreed immediately. Being outside and out of the stuffy room would at least make things more tenable.

“Maybe you’re right,” she said, truly hoping he was.

But her tiny spark of optimism was doused several hours later as she and Pia walked along the cobblestones of the port side by side. They were followed by Royal Guardsmen, Elsiran Councillors and staff, along with the Raunian entourage—Jasminda could never tell who among them were bureaucrats and diplomats and who were guards, or maybe all were both? Raunian men tended to be large, their women small, but she wouldn’t make the mistake of underestimating any of them.

The docks were sparsely populated an hour from sunset, withthe bulk of the work down here beginning at sunrise. A few sailors saw to the maintenance needs of their vessels. A handful of ships were loading or unloading goods, but traffic was light.

A colony of seagulls had spread themselves out over several empty piers, chattering to one another and defecating on the splintering wood. Pia noted the birds with distaste, making Jasminda wondered how they dealt with the pests in Raun.

They walked on in a silence that soon became discouraging. There truly wasn’t much to see here, which underscored the grievous state of Elsira’s economy.

“What is it you really want?” Jasminda finally asked. “I know this all started with an insult by Alariq, but he is dead. I’m sorry he can’t issue an apology from the grave, but we don’t yet know how to do that in Elsira.”

Pia’s lips turned down. “His insult was the catalyst that started me looking in on the trade practices here, and I did not like what I saw. We don’t generally involve ourselves in the internal affairs of other states, but the situation in Elsira is quite remarkable. Your policies have been exclusionary for so long. You want the goods from other countries but share so little. Many of the workers in your docks are barred from citizenship. They’re prevented from holding the basic rights that all humans should share.”

Jasminda blinked at the passion in her voice. “I-I agree. Many Elsiran policies are archaic and need to change. As I’m sure you can see, they are a detriment to me personally, as well. I have felt the force of Elsiran intolerance my whole life.

“But my husband and I are making changes, trying to steer this ship. However, it’s enormous. And there’s so much to do. It would be infinitely easier if jobs weren’t drying up, if food stores weren’t nearly empty. These piers should be packed.” She waved an arm, indicating all the empty space around them. “The factthat they’re not, and all of the effects that ripple out from that, are crippling us.”

Pia’s expression remained dour as she observed what little activity there was on the docks. She looked up at Jasminda, eyes narrowed against the glare of the setting sun, her skin bronze in its full glow. “This action was not undertaken lightly, I assure you,” she said. “And it is not just me who has concerns. For years, I have heard from international trading partners who take issue with Elsiran policy, but were making too much money to risk speaking up. I am not afraid of risk.”

Jasminda swallowed at the harshness of her tone.

“You and your husband are both young, untested leaders. We need a good-faith example of change in this land in order to trust you.”

Inwardly, Jasminda groaned. Pia held up a hand to stop her when she began to speak. “I like what I’m hearing about this curfew. That shows real backbone.” A hint of a smile broke through the coldness of her gaze.

“I’m paying for that in the press,” Jasminda muttered. Though by now, she was used to being savaged by the news media.

The other woman smiled viciously. “Yes, it cannot be helped. You must learn to read between the lines in the newspapers. It will make your spine stronger.”

Jasminda considered what this meant, unsure how to respond, when a horrible clanging noise rang out and the sky, painted in the oranges, pinks, and purples of the setting sun, darkened ominously. Clouds formed out of nowhere, a black, billowing, stormy shroud churning overhead.

Around them, people began to shout. Jasminda gathered Earthsong to her as the sky tore apart. A plume of black smoke detached itself from the swirling mass in the sky and shot like a projectiletoward the ground. Then another and another did the same, falling out of sight, somewhere in the city. Jasminda’s heart seized at the number of spirits pouring from the portal—this one so much larger and more furious-looking than the one in the Council Room. That had been exactly a week ago—it seemed that the True Father had used that time effectively.

A spirit dropped down and entered a dockworker one hundred paces from Jasminda. The burly dark-haired man shook and twisted and then transformed. His body morphed, changing size and color until he was a taller, thinner, younger man with wispy blond hair and a hooklike nose.

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