Carlos wrapped his mind around the harsh guttural tones of the familiar language.
That is a significant concentration of power, Carlos replied, much like Africa.
Stunned, the Aussie nodded as his will fractured and then regrouped. You would consider new realignments?
Mark Twain wrote that "Satan made Sydney"... he quoted an unknown traveler; I believe perhaps one of us who actually knew, si?
You are very progressive, Mr. Chairman. As I'm sure you know, your youth was not fully appreciated in the descent by the other masters, but they have overlooked your shrewd forward thinking.
De nada. Carlos stood, feeling McGuire's will begin to bend then twist out of his hold. A sudden concentration of power is what made Fallon Nuit. We cannot have that in the empire again. Transylvania concerns me, as does Africa. But we will not discuss China - too powerful and too old to take by storm. Carlos moved to the window again, his hands behind his back as he studied the moon.
McGuire nodded. True. But Transylvania, especially the Russian provinces and the old Czech Republic, concerns us all, the Aussie said, his gaze level at Carlos's back, but weakening. Thank you, for even considering my request, he added quickly, then summarily disengaged the negotiation in Dananu and pulled out of the negotiation-lock.
Carlos waited, allowing the man to collect himself. The exchange was no joke. It took serious focus just to seem unflustered by it. It hadn't helped that McGuire was a little high from Damali's scent. Carlos returned to his chair, sitting down, then leaned back casually and breathed out a slow, unseen exhale.
"Tomorrow evening," McGuire said brightly, appearing recovered, "once the other masters have arrived, we have something special planned."
Carlos made a tent with his hands before his lips, his elbows resting on the high arms of the chair and kept his eyes on the man behind the desk. He didn't like surprises. "Talk to me," he said, and then smiled.
"We've got this game here called the Masters Cup Hunt." The Aussie stood, smiled and looked out of the window. "In the heartland, the dirt is red - iron ore - nothing but rocks, sandstone flats, goes on for miles - it's the bloody core of the continent."
Intrigued but wary, Carlos stood and went to the window again to look out. "Extreme sports in the desert plains?"
"Tomorrow is a full moon, and the were-roos can only come up to feed then. Six-hundred-pound beasts. Can flip a Range Rover with their tails." The Aussie chuckled. "It's bloody beautiful huntin', mate. A man of your prowess would love this. The feed after the hunt is awesome... and the ladies love it."
The Aussie had definitely been compromised by the negotiation and the scent of Neteru. He'd dropped all formalities, and his thick Australian brogue almost slurred. Most excellent.
"Objective and wager?" Carlos took his time showing enthusiasm. Street sense told him this was a good place to get smoked and have it look like an accident. But he needed to know more, had to understand how they might possibly come at him. Relax, McGuire... take the bait.
McGuire laughed. "Every man has to put a piece of land, or a territory on the table. Somethin' sweet that he's willing to gamble, against somethin' he really wants to win... like a barmaid's blush."
"Rules of engagement?"
"A human driver, no intervention, unless crossing prayer lines is imminent."
The two men stared at each other for a moment.
"Lost a few championship drivers when their Jeeps or Range Rovers crashed. Human drivers can't see the lines, so the master riding shotgun has to help steer while using only conventional weapons - crossbow and silver-tipped arrows - to bring down the were. Those bloody bastards breed like vermin in the region. Incineration is ten points; tackle and chain it alive, or behead it before it burns, twenty." The Aussie wiped his nose with the back of his hand and shuddered from the increasing effect of Neteru in the castle. "All while moving between eighty to hundred miles per hour."
"Ugly sort, too," McGuire went on. "Huge fangs, drooling acid, thirteen-inch claws that they can't retract, strong as bloody hell. They use portals to go underground, then pop up outta nowhere to flip ya. But we gotta make the game interesting. You can't use your powers unless you're in mortal danger. Then, you can use flight to keep away from the lines, but you lose what you've put on the table. Winner takes all. You'll love it."
"What time do we play?"
The Aussie's grin widened. "From sunset till two A.M. The course runs from where there's a human sacred rock formation, Uluru - Ayers Rock, goes up for eleven hundred feet, glows red, changes color during the day the humans tell us, and is covered in twenty-thousand-year-old prayers that will fry your ass if you bump it. The whole course runs to the other marker, Kata Tjuta梩he Olgas, fifty-three kilometers west, to the sacred human stone markers, thirty-six gigantic rock domes that hide gorges and crevices. Fucking incredible, Mr. Chairman, if I do say so, myself."
"And while we're out, the ladies?"
"Oh, mate, it's way too taxing on a female. They watch from the choppers. Makes 'em - "
"I hear you," Carlos said, holding up a hand. This could allow him to get them all together, even before the concert. With a blood sport going on, it would be easier to detect alliegences, if any. And with adrenaline pumping through their systems, if one of them bit his man, Berkfield, he'd smell it for sure. Against his better judgment, Carlos found the allure of it thrilling, but what was more essential was the fact that it presented an opportunity to take out an opponent and make it seem like an accident. If he could do that, then the threat level on Damali's whack plan would be reduced. Carlos chuckled. "My problem will be trying to figure out what I'm willing to put on the table."
The Aussie smiled. "Sir, you have many assets that I'm sure would bait the foreign ambassadors... and I know you don't doubt your own abilities, do you?"
Carlos's deep laughter filled the room. "I never doubt my own abilities, hombre." He knew where his host was going, but wanted the man to tell him out of his own mouth. It was always best to ferret out for sure where an adversary was coming from.
"If you put your wife on the table, I'm sure no one would be offended, sir." McGuire took a deep swig from his skein, watching Carlos's reaction over the rim of his cup.
Carlos smiled. "I'm offended," he said after a pregnant pause that made the Aussie set down his cup with care, "that no one would ask me first for my council seat."