Where is the line between losing everything
And giving it all to say that you've tried?
-- Aviators, Apocalypse State of Mind

History books made wars sound so dramatic. According to them every single day brought a new battle, a new victory, a new defeat. Either they were stretching the truth or this was just a singularly uneventful war. As far as Kilan knew there had been only one battle since this fiasco started. Well, only one physical battle with the two armies directly attacking each other. Instead there were many battles of words between diplomats, politicians, and royals on both sides. Every time either side came up with a possible peace treaty the other side found something objectionable in it and tore the entire thing to shreds -- literally in at least one case.

Usually the objects were perfectly legitimate. No one wanted to accept a peace treaty that would force them to bear the blame for the war itself. Especially not when its actual causes remained murky and had more to do with commoners picking fights than governments outright looking for an excuse to go to war.

And then there were the other objections. The ones that made Kilan wonder if he was the only adult in the palace and in charge of a group of spoilt teenagers.

One politician became convinced that a misplaced comma in a message from the Malishese diplomat indicated a nefarious plot. Perhaps he might have been onto something if the sentence in question hadn't been a list of the Iqui's titles. Kilan couldn't see why "Lord, of Tarag" meant anything more sinister than "Lord of Tarag". If a simple grammar mistake was a sign of duplicity then the politician himself -- who was not noted for his ability to write well -- must be the most deceitful person in the government.

It would have been funny if it wasn't so depressing to think this was the intelligence level of the people who helped run the empire.

Now he was faced with yet another draft of yet another peace treaty. This one had actually been approved by the High Council, for reasons he couldn't fathom. Already he could see at least eight different lines that would need to be rephrased or removed before there was even the slightest chance Malish would accept them.

Though he didn't exactly have much peace to think about the best way to change them. Not when Linyie was still happily exploring his office. Every few minutes he had to shout, "Don't touch that!" or "Stay away from there!"

Trying to hold her had been an exercise in futility. She had an amazing skill for wriggling out of his reach. He wasn't sure if it was part of her newfound supernatural abilities or if it was just something all toddlers did to scare their parents.

When Linyie first appeared Kilan had considered summoning her nursemaid. He had dismissed the idea at the time. Surely it couldn't be that hard to look after a three-year-old for an hour or two.

How wrong he was.

Giving her a pencil and a stack of blank pages to doodle on had kept her occupied for at most twenty minutes. After that she pulled all the cushions off the chairs and built herself a house in the middle of the floor. It was harmless and it kept her out of mischief, so Kilan said nothing and let her play. But soon enough she lost interest in that too. Now she was crawling around the room. Judging by the "meow" noises she made at random intervals, she was pretending to be a cat. It would have be cute if there weren't so many things around for her to bump into, fall over, or otherwise hurt herself on.

"Linyie! Sit still!"

She completely ignored him. Now she started hopping around and saying "ribbit" after each hop. If she was safely in her nursery Kilan would have thought it adorable. But here? It was terrifying.

Linyie let out an indignant squeak when he picked her up. "Daaaad," she wailed. "Put me down! Wanna play!"

"You can play in your own room. It's not safe for you here."

She stayed still until Kilan tried to open the door. Quick as lightning she wriggled out of his arms and dived into the house made of cushions. It promptly collapsed on top of her.

Oh no, Kilan thought. "Linyie, if you don't come out you won't get any dessert."

She poked her head out from under the ruins of the house long enough to stick her tongue out at him. He barely resisted the urge to facepalm. Of all the times and places for her to disobey him...

"Linyie. Get out of there. Now."

No reply. The pile of cushions was so still that for one awful moment he thought she'd travelled somewhere else. He rushed over and pushed them out of the way. Linyie sprang out with a squeal and grabbed at his hair. Kilan would never admit how loudly he yelped.

"Caught you!" she giggled.

Does she think we're playing hide and seek?

Kilan picked her up again. He winced when she didn't let go of his hair. "It's time you had another nap."

"Nooooo! Don't wanna!"

This time he grabbed her before she managed to escape yet again. Naturally Death chose this moment to appear. First she stared at the pile of cushions on the floor. Then she looked at the sulky toddler Kilan was holding as tightly as he dared. She raised an eyebrow.

"Not one word," Kilan said before she could speak. "Can you take Linyie back to her room, please? She's driving me mad."

Death's other eyebrow shot up to join the first. "Why isn't her nursemaid here to take her?"

Kilan explained Linyie's curious and inexplicable appearance as shortly as he could. The toddler was struggling more and more energetically to escape his hold. He trembled to think what mischief she could cause if he let her go.

Rarely had he ever seen Death look so alarmed. "Another reality warper? They're a dime a dozen nowadays."

Few words could strike more horror into a parent's heart. "You mean Linyie can--"

He paused, looked down at his daughter, and decided it was best not to say anything when she could overhear. Toddlers had an amazing ability to understand things they logically shouldn't be able to -- and worse, to do the things they understood. He'd learnt his lesson after the time he said Linyie couldn't open a door on her own. Later he found that she had learnt how to, specifically to prove him wrong.

Death held out her arms. "Here, I'll bring her back."

Kilan handed her over with a feeling of profound relief. Linyie gazed curiously up at Death.

"Why is your hair so white?" she asked, to the bafflement of both the adults. Death's hair was still as black as it normally was.

After staring at her blankly for a minute Death acted as if Linyie hadn't spoken. "I came to tell you we found Riyome, but now we've lost her again. She's somewhere in Nirne."

Kilan stared at her. "You lost her again?"

Once more she pretended she hadn't heard. "And I stopped by to see how your assassins are getting along. Most of them are currently in engaged in a boat chase. The other two have just taken Zafadin hostage. You should send a peace treaty as quickly as possible; I expect Jalakanavu will sign it now."

~~~~

Boat races were a fairly popular pastime in Carann. All you needed was two or more boats, a few moderately skilled sailors, a relatively safe stretch of river, and an agreed-upon finish line. An agreed-upon starting line was expected but not universal. A crowd of spectators was optional and -- depending on how sober they were -- occasionally more of a distraction than a help. The chance of falling in and drowning was slim unless assassins got involved. Nimetath was no stranger to boat races. She'd had to deal with a surprising number of murders committed during them over the years.

This was her first time as a participant in one. She had to say she did not enjoy the experience. Few people would, when they had enemies chasing them in boats of their own and the penalty for losing the race was torture or death.

Nimetath craned her neck to look back at their pursuers. Their boats flickered in and out of sight as they passed lights on the riverbank. Slowly but surely they were falling behind.

At first this puzzled her. They should know this river better than us. Why are they so slow?

It took several minutes for the reason to dawn on her. The assassins' boats were smaller and lighter than the boats used by the royal guard. By their definition the guards only existed to protect the royal family. They weren't coast guards, a police force, or a typical army division. What boats they had were large, heavy ones meant to form an imposing escort for royal excursions on the river. Certainly they weren't meant for boat races.

She turned back to scan the river ahead of them. "We have to hide somewhere. If we get close enough to the banks they might not see us."

In the boat alongside her Qiyuan stood up and pointed to something ahead. "There's a jetty. We can hide among the boats there."

Nimetath looked back at the guards again. They were almost out of sight behind a bend in the river. "All right. We'll have to be quick so they don't see us."

~~~~

Kiroshnoy had frequently played Knights and Knaves with her siblings and cousins. It was a very easy game to play. Some players were the knights, some were the knaves, and the aim of the game was for the knights to take as many knaves prisoner as possible. Many times she'd held a stick or a wooden sword to someone's back as she marched them into the "dungeon" -- usually a corner of the room with upside-down chairs to represent cell doors.

It was easiest if she thought of this as just another game of Knights and Knaves. Not a kidnapping. Certainly not a hostage-taking. She and Hailanyu were the knights, Zafadin was the knave, and they were taking him to the dungeon. Or to see the empress, in this case. The knife she held to his neck was just a wooden sword.

"Where is the empress's seal?" Hailanyu asked.

Zafadin's voice was so cold it could have frozen a river. "In her office."

"How far away is her office?"

"Down this hall."

If anyone had come upon the three of them the situation would have rapidly gotten out of hand. But the alarm bells had been a blessing in disguise for them. All of the servants and guards were down on the ground floor. Everyone was busy hunting the grounds. No one thought of searching the palace itself.

All the same, Kiroshnoy and Hailanyu both breathed a sigh of relief when they were safely in the empress's office with the door closed.

In Nirne and Carann a proclamation was officially accepted as soon as the queen or emperor put their royal seal on it. Kiroshnoy and Hailanyu could only hope Malish had the same rule. Neither of them dared to ask Zafadin. They didn't trust him not to deliberately mislead them.

Hailanyu stared at the pile of papers on the desk. "Where's the latest peace treaty?"

Zafadin shrugged. "Find it yourself."

Only now did another problem become all too apparent. For some unknown reason all three were able to understand each other despite speaking three different languages. None of them questioned this, Hailanyu and Kiroshnoy because they didn't want to jinx it and Zafadin because he probably didn't realise it. Alas, whatever gave them the ability to understand spoken foreign languages didn't allow them to read written ones.

A single glance at the papers written in Malishese, and both Hailanyu and Kiroshnoy felt their hearts sink.

"You look first and I'll keep an eye on him," Kiroshnoy suggested half-heartedly.

Hailanyu gave the documents a cursory glance. That was enough to make him grimace. "I don't understand a word of this."

Kiroshnoy kept the knife at Zafadin's neck even as she tried to get a better look at the desk. "Maybe you should look for something written in Carannish. I mean, you'll be able to tell if it's a peace treaty, and if you stamp it with the seal that'll count as accepting it."

She didn't fully believe her own words. She believed them even less when she saw Zafadin's mocking smile.

"You are the most incompetent spies I've ever met," he said with a cold laugh.

Neither of them dignified that with an answer. What could they say anyway? They both knew it was true.

For several minutes Hailanyu rifled through the papers. "I can't find anything--"

The door opened.