 peace begins with a smile.
- mother teresa
Tsi’s lips tightened slightly as Arthur more or less acknowledged the truth of the lie he had told a moment before. Whether or not he would have responded or simply moved on, the king would never know, because at that moment the deity’s pendant began to glow again. Tsi barely had time to reach for it before a burst of light heralded the arrival on the desktop of a neatly folded piece of paper, stamped on the front with a stylised sun logo. Tsi apologised automatically for the second time, picked it up and opened it with a frown. The lines on his forehead deepened somewhat as he read the single Spanish sentence inscribed there.
“ ‘Please advise on aforementioned Moroccan crisis’,” he read aloud to Arthur, and glanced across at him with a puzzled expression. “Have you heard anything about this? I don’t know of any Moroccan crisis, and it’s not like Mallos to ask for advice on anyth – ”
He was interrupted when his pendant glowed again, and the process was repeated. As Tsi read the new note, his expression cleared and was quickly followed by a combination of exasperation and amusement.
“ ‘Previous note from Sperantia, please ignore’,” he read. “ ‘Also, say hi to Arthur’.”
He shot Arthur a long-suffering look which did not quite match the smile tugging at the corners of his lips. The originals used the pendant system to track each other’s whereabouts, although it took some effort to do so from a long distance; Mallos must have tuned in to Tsi’s pendant to make sure he wasn’t in one of the trance-rooms in the Pantheon and found him at the castle instead. The interruption, though wasteful and pointless, did at least have the effect of lightening the mood a little. As the conversation turned back to the question of Lorraine and a guardian deity, Tsi considered the topic with his usual thoughtfulness instead of his recent irritation.
“Zed is the Acting High Judge and is too busy with his cases,” Tsi shook his head. “I would not recommend Xephyr or Rhaegar for this kind of work. Mallos cannot become Shaman’s protector while he’s on trial, so if Lorraine is out of the question that only leaves Charlton, Khasekhemwy or Allianah. Of those, Charlton is probably the easiest to get along with, and Allianah the most difficult, but…” he hesitated slightly. “I’m not convinced that Charlton or Khasekhemwy would be particularly appropriate for this job. Neither are very… responsive, to emergencies. Allianah is the Guardian of the council and has a lot of experience, but she has a… challenging personality and a rather strong disregard for male sovereigns.” He shrugged, as if to say ‘take your pick’. “If you intend to pursue Allianah, who is the second strongest candidate after Lorraine, I would advise you appoint a strong-willed female ambassador to deal with her. Otherwise she can – and will – ignore everything you say, which is hardly conducive to a good working relationship.”
At the king’s final two answers, Tsi felt, at last, as if the meeting had been worthwhile. “The term ‘master race’ was first employed thousands of years ago, when experiments under the broad title ‘project seba’ tried to reproduce the DNA of an original fairy,” he explained, folding the paper containing Mallos’ note absently into halves and halves again. “Thank you. There’s just one more thing, before I leave…” A paper pile about eight or nine inches in height appeared in Tsi’s arms, and his shoulders sagged under the weight. He dumped the pile onto Arthur’s desk and started flicking through it, reading aloud. “Requests from the United Church of Fairykind and the cult of Manekht to have places of worship built in Shaman, respectively… this is a letter from one of the high Auran priests wanting to know if there’s a shrine to Aura in Shaman… here we have requests from the high priests of Mallos’ and Aura’s cults, asking you to assist the trial in any way you can… this looks like a threat from the high priests of Gwythr… ah, my favourite section.” He wrapped his fingers around a thick chunk of papers. “These are all from different members of the various divine courts and other elite fairies on Earth, requesting introductions or inviting you to dinner parties. A Lady P. Wyndenwale specifically points out four times in her letter that she’s a widow. The rest of these…” he flicked through them briefly, “all look like petitions and appeals from members of the public.” He cast Arthur an amused look. “If you want me to put out the word that you are unavailable, and that all diplomacy should be done through the council, I can do that.”
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