Hell Hath No Fury by David Weber, Linda Evans Read Free Book Online

part of him wished Two Thousand Harshu had decided he could wait just a little longer.
    Which is pretty stupid of you, Rithmar, when you've been pushing him just as hard as you dared from the beginning.
    "Master Skirvon," Simrath said, "I'm at something of a loss to understand Arcana's motives in sending you to this conference table."
    "I beg your pardon, My Lord?"
    "Officially, you're here because 'talking is better than shooting,' I believe you said," Simrath observed.
    "While I can't disagree with that particular statement, ultimately, the shooting is going to resume unless we manage to resolve the issues between us here, at this table. So it strikes me as rather foolish for the two of us to sit here, day after day, exchanging empty pleasantries, when it's quite obvious you're under instructions not to agree to anything."
    Despite himself, Skirvon blinked. He was ill-accustomed to that degree of … frankness from an opponent in any negotiation. After all, two-thirds of the art of diplomacy consisted of wearing down the other side by saying as little as possible in the maximum possible number of words. The last thing any professional diplomat truly wanted was some sort of "major breakthrough" whose potential outcome lay outside the objectives covered by his instructions.
    More to the point, however, Simrath had observed the rules of the game up to this stage and taken no official notice of Skirvon's delaying tactics. So why had he chosen today, of all days, to stop playing along?
    "In addition," the viscount continued calmly, "I must tell you that the distressing number of … unpleasant scenes between members of your party and my own do not strike me as being completely, um, spontaneous, let's say. So I have to ask myself why, if you're so eager to negotiate with us, you're simultaneously offering absolutely nothing new, while either encouraging-or, at the very least, tolerating-extraordinarily disruptive behavior on the part of your uniformed subordinates. Would you, perhaps, care to enlighten my ignorance on these matters?"
    Skirvon felt a most unpleasant sinking sensation in the vicinity of his midsection.
    Stop that! he told himself sternly. Even if they've finally started waking up, it's too late to do them much good.
    At least, he damned well hoped it was.
    "Viscount Simrath," he said in his firmest voice, "I must protest your apparent charge that the
    'unpleasant scenes' to which you refer were somehow deliberately contrived by myself or any other member of my negotiating party. What motive could we possibly have for such behavior?"
    "That is an interesting question, isn't it?" Simrath smiled thinly. It was a smile which never touched his gray eyes-eyes, Skirvon realized, that were remarkably cold and clear. He'd never realized just how icy they could be, and it suddenly struck the Arcanan that Simrath was not only extraordinarily tall, like most of the Ternathians he'd already seen, but oddly fit for a diplomat. In fact, he looked in that moment like a very tough customer, indeed, and remarkably little like someone who spent his days carrying around nothing heavier-or more deadly-than a briefcase.
    "What, precisely, do you wish to imply, My Lord?" Skirvon asked with the air of a man grasping a dilemma firmly by the horns.
    "I wish to imply, sir," Simrath said coolly, "that it's never actually been your intention to negotiate any sort of permanent settlement or mutually acceptable terms. For reasons of your own, you've seen fit to initiate these negotiations and to keep Sharona talking. To this point, I've been willing to play your game, to see precisely what it was you truly had in mind. However, neither my patience, nor Emperor Zindel's tolerance, is inexhaustible. So, either the two of us will make significant progress over the next twenty-four hours, or else Sharona will withdraw from the talks. We'll see," if his smile had been thin before, it was a razor this time, "how you prefer shooting once again, rather