Draining his cup with a single swig, Ḫaḫḫuru slammed it back down on the table and leaned forward. "It is good to see that the Empire has remembered its friends," the king began, "but I cannot so easily agree to enter the war."

"What war?" Tēmānu lifted his brow. "Have we ever called upon you to aid against the Zalancthians?"

"Don't play dumb," Ḫaḫḫuru grunted as he refilled his goblet. "Everyone knows that the durgū of Biranāti are champing at the bit. For the past decade, they've been rebuilding their forces and seeking out allies while the Empire turned a blind eye. Kruvas̆, they nearly succeeded in forging an alliance with us, and we've been the empire's allies since your ancestors first fled the ruins of the Mwyranni."

Tēmānu sipped his wine, buying himself time to gather his thoughts. The war that was not a war was indeed the primary reason Eligon had sent him. "I was under the impression that few agreed with the former queen's sentiments."

"Few did, but not none," the Strythani king agreed. "And there were many who would have stood by her despite disagreeing with her decision to ally with the durgū. Naqmah was the rightful heir, the only daughter of a well-loved king. We were fortunate to escape without collapsing into a civil war, but concessions have had to be made."

Lifting his cup, the king gestured toward the door. "Right now, the son of one of my most loyal allies is being married off to the daughter of a lesser house to soothe the wounded pride of Naqmah's loyalists."

"Ah, I had thought I had sensed a certain…tension," Tēmānu admitted, nursing his drink.

"Tension?" Ḫaḫḫuru snorted, running a hand through his locks with a sigh. "I fear it was a mistake," he admitted. "The marriage was supposed to buy House Barbaru's loyalty, but my friend's son has proven…unkind to the lass already. If we cannot get Akītu in line, the marriage may end up worsening the division. But you see what I have to deal with," he added heavily.

There was no point in playing coy, Tēmānu decided; the king had proven considerably more insightful than he'd been led to believe, so he decided to take a risk. "Tell me, Lord Ḫaḫḫuru, how firm is your hold on the throne?"

The man blinked in surprise, then reared back his head, roaring with laughter. "Ah," he clapped his hand against his leg, "Eligon sent a bold one. Not many would dare ask such a question to my face."

Tēmānu tilted his head to the left, in a conciliatory gesture of respect, but did not lower his gaze. "Forgive me if I've misjudged you, my lord, but you strike me as a man of action, not one to bandy words."

"Aye." Calming down, Ḫaḫḫuru shifted in his chair, swishing the wine around his goblet. "As I already told you, ambassador, I cannot guarantee that we can join the war against the durgū."

"Can-"

Tēmānu fell silent as the king lifted his finger, shushing him. "The kingdom is fragmented right now. As Naqmah's cousin, I had the best claim to the throne after her death, but discontent remains. This nonsense about the return of the Ilrabû is only exacerbating it."

Tēmānu turned the goblet in his hands thoughtfully. "If the Empire helped you solidify your reign, would you join us then?"

The king did not immediately respond, though his eyes drifted back to the mysterious gift the Emperor had sent him. "Unlike my cousin, I respect our ancient ties and have no love for the bloody dwarves. But I cannot be seen relying on aid from the Empire; if the clans perceive me as Eligon's puppet, they will never accept me."

"I am not telling you 'no,' you understand. The durgū have always been slow to act, so it may be a few years before they strike. If my position is secure by then, I will answer the Empire's call to action, but I cannot promise that now."

While it wasn't the answer Tēmānu had hoped for, it was one the Emperor had warned him to expect. "I will relay your words to Lord Eligon. But if you change your mind, if there's something we can do to help, you have only to ask."

"Bah," Ḫaḫḫuru waved him off. "The best thing you can do for your Emperor is endear yourself to the Clans, not help me. Many have been insulted by the Empire's neglect of our ties since the fall of House Nūrilī; suck up to them, show them you respect our ways, and you may get your aid even without my interference."

"Any clans I should start with?" The king seemed almost hesitant to respond, but when his eyes turned back to the box Eligon had sent, he grunted. "I suppose he's earned that much. House Ḫulmiṭṭu and Saḫāpu had close ties with the former emperors; I do not know how they will receive an ambassador from House Gonya, but if you can bring them to your side, their voice holds much sway in our councils. Aside from that," he stroked his beard thoughtfully, "it would probably be wise to garner favor with some of Naqmah's loyalists."

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"But wasn't she planning to turn on the empire?" Tēmānu objected.

"Aye, but as I said, many who followed her did so out of loyalty to her father; there weren't many in the clans who agreed with her…other views. Amongst her houses, I'd recommend House Sinuntu and Asātu. Barbaru might be worth courting too," he added almost as an afterthought.

"Barbaru?" Tēmānu's eyes sharpened. "As in the young lady being wed?"

Ḫaḫḫuru nodded and waved his hand in dismissal. "You're free to stay for the feast, ambassador. At least someone should enjoy the festivities."

"As you wish, my lord." Tēmānu downed the last dregs of his cup before rising from the chair and, offering his respects, headed toward the door. His hand was on the handle when the king spoke again.

"One last thing, ambassador. If you hear anything about this…Ilrabû, I want you to tell me," Ḫaḫḫuru commanded.

Tēmānu was glad he was facing away from the king at that moment, as he pondered the king's order. Ḫaḫḫuru had not been what he'd expected; he might be a brute of a man, a warrior above all else, but he was obviously more adept at understanding his court than Tēmānu had been led to believe.

On the other hand, he remembered the Elder's warning not to tell the king about his chance encounter with the strange priest quite clearly. It wasn't hard to believe that a king could be…intemperate about a threat to his throne and yet-

Tēmānu could have kicked himself for not seeing it sooner. It's a kruvas̆-cursed test. "Do I need to tell you, my lord, if you already know?" he asked calmly.

For the second time that night, the king barked with laughter. "So you sniffed that out? I see Lord Eligon sent a clever cur to my council."

He stiffened at the implied insult in the words but held his tongue. "Do you wish me to tell the story?"

When Ḫaḫḫuru had ceased laughing, he shook his head. "Nay, I've heard dozens of accounts by now. Whoever this 'priest' is, he tells the same story every time, claiming the Ilrabû has returned and undermining my rule. I don't know who's pulling his strings, but it's a clever plot, I'll grant."

"Why not just arrest him?" Tēmānu questioned.

"He's a puppet. Better to follow the strings back to his masters than to cut him loose. Speak to him again, if you will - it does not matter," the king said dismissively.

He nodded in understanding, but as Tēmānu left the king's study, he wondered if Ḫaḫḫuru was making a mistake. The man he'd encountered at the temple was no mere lackey. He had an uncanny presence, an unmistakable air of danger. Tēmānu would stake his other arm that the 'priest' was at least a powerful mage, if not something more. It seems the king, clever though he is, has a blind spot.

As he mounted the stairs leading back to the Great Hall, Tēmānu determined to visit the temple again - and this time to make sure no one was watching. The Empire needed the Strythani's help, but it didn't matter if it was Ḫaḫḫuru or the Ilrabû who provided it. If there was any truth to the god's return, the Empire could hardly afford to make a new enemy - and if it was a fraud, as Ḫaḫḫuru believed, then ridding him of the threat would put him in the Empire's debt. Either way, they won.

The feast was still in full swing as he reentered the hall. It had been a long, tiresome day, and Tēmānu had little desire to stick around, but his eye caught on the empty chair of the bride. The groom, well into his cups by now, didn't even seem to notice his bride's absence or the angry glares from her family as he groped a tallow-haired maiden sitting on his lap. So much for buying harmony, Tēmānu scoffed.

His eyes searched the bustling hall for the bride, but she was not there. Her handmaiden, however, stood outside a door at the back of the Great Hall. He hesitated only a moment before heading in her direction. It was an opportunity, he told himself, to find an in with House Barbaru, one of the clans on the list the king had given him, but Tēmānu was self-aware enough to know that was not entirely his motivation - the bride's ethereal beauty still ringing in his mind.

"Go away." The maiden guarding the door didn't bother hiding her sneer as she sawed his withered arm, but Tēmānu took it in stride; he was used to it.

Inclining his head to the left, he introduced himself. "I'm Lord Tēmānu, the new ambassador from the Empire. I had hoped to give my regards to the lady before I leave."

The maid scowled and, unmoved by his introduction, waved him off. "She's not receiving visitors right now. Go speak to the bloody groom if you must."

He kept the annoyance off his face, bowing gallantly as he turned away, but he paused as the door squeaked behind him.

"Let him in."

"But Damqa-"

"My groom clearly doesn't care what people think, so why should I? Let him in," the woman replied more firmly.

His chest tightened as he met her eyes. She was every bit as beautiful as he remembered, even if her lustrous eyes were rimmed with red and her cheeks stained with hastily wiped tears. "My lady," he started to say, but she interrupted him.

"You're the one that came late," she accused, without any heat, as she ushered him into the room she'd holed up in, a small sitting area clearly designed for maqta.

"In truth, my arrival at your wedding was a happy accident," Tēmānu replied smoothly. "When the king summoned me, they failed to mention your wedding."

"Would that everyone could forget," she said bitterly. "But after tonight…I'll be like you."

"Like me?" Tēmānu blinked.

She stared at his withered arm with a touch of pity, and he shifted uncomfortably, hiding beneath his cloak. He tried not to care what others thought of him, but the last thing he wanted from her was pity.

"A social cripple," she replied bluntly. "The rumors were already churning. How House Barbaru reached too high with this marriage. That House Akkû would never agree to it unless their hand was forced. That I had seduced him and forced him to wed," she spat.

"The fact that it was our good king who arranged this marriage doesn't seem to matter, nor the fact that I'd never even met the brute till this marriage was forced on me. And after tonight, my reputation will be in tatters. Who won't believe the rumors after he openly cavorted with his whore at our wedding," her knuckles whitened as she dug her nails into the chair. "Akītu has crippled my position from the start, but a wolf is so easily cowed. So tell me, ambassador, what do you want from me?"

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