4.23 A Diplomatic Solution

At first, Bernt avoided practicing any spellwork for fear of antagonizing his guards. Eventually, though, the sheer boredom of incarceration wore him down. He began casting small spells – a light in the evening, a quick gust of wind to air out the room. Then, he used a stoneshaping spell to turn a floor tile into a cup. There were still a few herbs in his bag, and he could conjure water at will. It didn’t make very good tea, but it was better than nothing.

Then, he’d cast a fire dart into the wall, leaving a glassy scorch mark on the stone. He’d received a warning for that, so he knew they were watching. Contacting Jori wasn’t an option, then. They might not recognize exactly what he was doing, but they knew enough to be suspicious of anything that looked like a ritual. If they could work out that he was talking to an actual demon… well, he wasn’t sure what would happen, but he knew he didn’t want to find out.

By the third day, the sense of isolation began to get to him. He wondered if the temples had somehow managed to keep word from getting out – though he couldn’t imagine how. He’d been arrested at a huge event full of people who probably hated each other. Word would have reached Norhold almost as quickly as messengers could run, and that was only if nobody else was sending messages via scryer like he’d been doing, which they certainly were.

Still, how long could it take for Besermark to respond? Shouldn’t he have gotten a visitor by now? Surely they would do something. Was he overestimating himself?

It took four days before that stupid door opened for anything other than food or a fresh chamber pot. His report to Jesra, written days earlier, lay crumpled up in a corner, forgotten – it would be far too late, now.

The door squeaked on its hinges as it revealed an unfamiliar temple guard who was glaring in at him as he inspected the room. Behind him stood Torvald, who scowled at the guard as though he’d just said something offensive.

“Finally,” the paladin grunted, his voice uncharacteristically gruff. “Now get out of my way. This has gone on way too long already.”

“Torvald?” Bernt said stupidly, surprised at the sudden intrusion. “What’s going on?”

Torvald’s sour expression cracked and Bernt could hear a note of relief in his voice. “Bernt! Come on, let’s get out of here. I’ll explain on the way.”

Cautiously, Bernt followed his friend out of the building. It felt larger than it had before, and he couldn’t shake the fear that someone would try to stop them at any moment. They wouldn’t – the guard had been the one to let him out – but it felt strange to just walk out after all this. He wanted to ask what had happened, why no one had come to see him, and how Torvald of all people had managed to get him out. But he kept his mouth shut for now. It didn’t feel safe to talk here, where the Madzhuris might hear.

When they finally made it out into the open air, Bernt was surprised to see that the square in front of the Hall of Witnesses was completely deserted. Had the conclave already broken their session for the day?

“Where is everybody?”

Torvald shrugged. “Down in Norhold, mostly. Everything is on hold because of the state of emergency in Besermark. A lot of people are panicking. They didn’t think it would go this far.”

Bernt swallowed at that. “What happened – are the Duergar attacking again? Where?”

The paladin shook his head and slowed, shooting a look over at Bernt. “No… it’s about your arrest. Sort of, anyway. Things got a little out of control. Duke Renhild sent out a call to arms. He claims that Madzhur violated their most recent peace agreement and forced Norhold and therefore Besermark into a de facto state of war.”

Bernt felt a chill run down his spine at that. He’d signed a contract with the duke. If he was gearing up for war, that meant Bernt would be called in to serve. “Because of me? How? What’s going on?”

“With the treaty thing? It said neither country would molest camp followers, military support personnel and civilian contractors. Uncle Olias says they’ve been fighting off and on for decades, but they’re usually very careful to keep things from getting out of control. Nobody wanted to draw larger forces into their border squabbles. This was part of that. You’re a civilian contractor, right? That’s what they said, and that you counted as medical support.”

“He threatened to start a war over me?” Bernt blurted, stunned. That was crazy. Besermark was already fighting one war against the Duergar, and Madzhur was huge.

“Yeah,” Torvald confirmed bluntly. “He said if they didn’t prove their claims about you being a traitor or release you before noon yesterday, he was going to bottle up the Peaks and prevent all Madzhuri legitimators from leaving. If they waited another week after that, he was going to march his army over the border and start burning cities. The Temple of Noruk tried to argue about it, but the others turned on them yesterday when the duke actually followed through with the roadblocks. It helped that the Norukites failed to bring out anything like proof. From what I heard, they haven’t dropped their accusations, though.”

Bernt looked around warily, but they were practically alone except for a few acolytes wandering through the square on various errands. “They’re not going to try to stop us?”

“They don’t want to set a bad precedent for the Invigilation. One temple acting directly against the wishes of the others… nobody wants to see where that goes. They’re still not going to let you stay here, though. We’re heading down to Norhold.”

Shaking his head, Bernt followed Torvald down past the entrance to the Peaks and onto the long stair, keeping his mouth shut while his friend continued to explain. Olias had apparently marched Torvald straight to the duke, who responded immediately, declaring a state of emergency and detaining every Madzhuri legitimator in the city “for their safety”. Bernt’s breakthrough in spiritual healing was suddenly famous, being discussed openly by laypeople in the street as though they’d all suddenly become wizards and military experts. Everyone had an opinion on what it would mean for Besermark’s military, and to what lengths other countries might go to suppress such an advancement.

“What about the… other rumors?” Bernt asked carefully.

“About you being some kind of secret cultist working to betray humanity to the Duergar and their demon overlords?” Torvald asked, raising an eyebrow. “I heard something about that, too, but it’s not too bad. Everybody knows which side the duke is on, and nobody wants to sound like they’re backing the enemy, so I think you’re fine for now. I wouldn’t go visiting Madzhur any time soon, though – there’s no telling what they’re saying about you over there. You’re famous now.”

Behind the scenes, diplomats had been sent to work the situation directly. Torvald didn’t know the details, but the results were clear enough. Officially, Bernt was to be released and returned to Beseri territory immediately. In exchange, the Beseri blockade would be lifted and Madzhuri citizens would be allowed to pass freely between the Peaks and their border. 

It sounded like a simple agreement for four days of negotiations, but Bernt guessed that there was a lot more to it than had been announced to the public. He hadn’t been a party to many diplomatic deals, but if the last two weeks of interacting with foreign dignitaries had taught him anything, it was that international negotiations relied more on unofficial agreements and sweeteners than they did on what was eventually put on paper.

He would have to ask Minister Jesra about it – maybe she’d been involved. He wasn’t sure if she’d known about his background or his work with the military. It wasn’t a secret, but he hadn’t told her about it himself – he hadn’t been sure how to bring it up without sounding like he was begging for her respect. But she certainly would know now. 

Who knew, maybe she’d take him more seriously. 

“How are the other representatives doing up at the temple?” Bernt asked when Torvald finished. The threats made by the Temple of Noruk – and by Madzhur – had been mainly against Besermark, but he’d still insinuated that Ruzinia’s priests were either incompetent or complicit in the crimes that they’d accused Bernt of. How had they reacted? Was he hiking down to Norhold because the Temple of Noruk had declared him unwelcome, or because the Temple of Ruzinia didn’t want to be associated with him anymore?

Torvald shrugged. “They’re fine. Doreen talks about the whole thing as if it were all just squabbling children. Margo said she thinks this entire conclave is a waste of time – she wants to take Ranna to Illuria to train her and get some distance from her cult. Song offered to break you out, and he sounded like he thought he could do it.” He shook his head slowly. “I don’t know what it is about him, but he scares me sometimes.” 

That was something Bernt would have liked to see, as much as it was a terrible idea. It was a shame that he wouldn’t be able to learn more from Song, but it wasn’t as though he’d managed to get much information about sorcery out of him since the conclave had started, regardless. Maybe he would come down to the city before he left after the conclave. Or, maybe Bernt could visit Miria someday – it could be a research expedition. Duke Renhild would surely see the value in that, right? If they were going to take Uriah to the Kallrixian water confluence anyway, it would only be a few day’s voyage away, maybe a week.

When they finally reached the foot of the endless stairs, Bernt found the landscape transformed. Where only two temple guards had stood, a complement of paladins, temple guards and priests of Noruk stood behind a low barricade that hadn’t been there just days before. They shot dirty looks at both him and Torvald as they parted to let them through a narrow gap in the center.

Thirty steps or so on stood a seamless wall of stone, though this one was quite a bit taller, with a tower on one end. 

“Here we are.” The paladin stopped and pointed. “That’s the official Beseri border. I have to go back up – the conclave is going to resume tomorrow morning.”

Bernt blinked at him. “What? You hiked all the way down here just to bring me to the border?”

“Well, I’m going to watch you walk over there, too.” He looked around at the temple guards and the paladins around him and spat on the ground with contempt. “I have to be here as a witness, to make sure these assholes don’t try anything funny.”

A few of them had the good grace to look offended, but most just glared right back at him. Noruk wasn’t a god of diplomacy, honesty or good manners. He was the god of war. With a chill, Bernt realized that for all that they were clerics, they probably could lie to keep him detained or to kill him, provided that they considered him an enemy. Torvald had come down here to protect him.

He might have been able to fight one or even a few of them, depending on how fire-resistant they were, but that would have only made things worse. For all he knew they were counting on it. An altercation would have cemented his reputation as a troublemaker and a heretic, regardless how it happened. It had been a trap.

“Thanks,” he said, offering his friend a slightly shaky smile. “I guess I’ll be waiting for you when you get out of there, then.” 

Torvald, who’d been looking surprisingly comfortable despite being surrounded by enemies, winced. 

“Ah… right. About that. You’ve been replaced as my legitimator. It was part of the agreement, so they could legally force you out of the Sacral Peaks. Uncle Olias has been ordered to take your place.”

Bernt blinked and opened his mouth to respond, but Torvald went on, “He’s not any happier about it than you are, I can tell you that. But you should get going – they’re expecting you. You can talk to him yourself. I’ll see you soon. Go!”

Hesitating for only another second, Bernt turned and made his way toward the Beseri line. Relief warred with indignation in his chest. He’d been fired? He hadn’t even done anything wrong! 

On the other hand, that meant none of this mess here was his problem anymore. It was, in a sense, a gift delivered with a slap in the face. But Minister Jesra would be disappointed to lose her source, and Archmage Iriala would see it as a loss.

He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to feel, but there wasn’t time to think about it now. Uniformed soldiers looked down at him from the brand new, seamless stone wall in front of him, including a few faces that Bernt recognized.

“Did you think you could skip out before getting the job done?” Siina, the pyromancer that he’d healed during his demonstration two weeks ago, grinned down at him good naturedly, her bluish white sorcerous investiture glowing on her neck. “We’ve still got seventeen burnouts here in the garrison, and there are quite a few retirees who’ll be on their way since the state of emergency was called. You gave them a scare, disappearing like that.”

“Sorry,” Bernt called back, returning her grin as a portion of the wall melted inward in front of them to create an opening, “I was indisposed. I’ll get right on it, alright?”

At least he’d have time to focus his efforts now, and a well-paying job to do. Any additional burnouts the duke managed to scrounge up only meant more gold for him. He’d probably need that, if he wanted to make his sorcery project a success. He needed to talk to Uriah and the other adventurers. Maybe he could hire them to help. What did adventurers cost, anyway?

The wall was massive, at least five strides thick. As they passed through, the opening continued to widen until it was large enough to admit a horse, and then an entire carriage. Archmage Dalbrand waited on the other side, wearing a Beseri uniform with a brown and gold armband and an unfamiliar insignia on his shoulder. He was casting from horseback with an impatient look on his face as soldiers began to file down from the wall, forming neat ranks below.

“Finally,” he snapped. “I thought I was going to waste the whole day here waiting for you. Come on!”

At a wave from the archmage, someone barked an order and the front ranks of the still-forming column began to move. Less than a minute later, they left the fortification behind, abandoned.