They all get together to try to convince him with whatever they think they've learned, and he always listens and nods and doesn't make anyone angry and doesn't take sides. I think that the Board of Speakers really just wants the excuse to drink the First Lord's best wine and to try to one-up their opponents and rivals in front of him."
Max grimaced. "Crows. I'm glad I'm not the First Lord. This stuff would drive me insane in about a day and a half." He shook his head. "What do I do if someone tries to pin me down for an answer?"
"Evade," Tavi suggested, enjoying the heartlessly vague answer.
"What if they start talking about some kind of theory I have no clue about?"
"Just do what you do when the Maestros ask you a question during lecture and you don't know the answer." Max blinked. "Belch?"
Tavi sighed. "No. No, Max. Divert the attention. Stall for time. Only try not to use any kind of bodily function to accomplish it."
Max sighed. "Diplomacy is more complicated than I thought it would be."
It's just a dinner party," Tavi said. "You'll do fine."
"I always do," Max said, but his voice lacked some of its usual arrogance.
"How is he?" Tavi said.
"He hasn't moved," Max replied. "Hasn't woken up. But Killian says his heartbeat is stronger."
"That's good," Tavi said. He chewed at his lip. "What happens if..."
"If he doesn't wake up," Max said grimly.
"Yeah."
Max inhaled slowly. "Legions fight for the crown. A lot of people die."
Tavi shook his head. "But there is law and precedent for the death of a lord without an heir. The Council of Lords and the Senate would put forward candidates and determine the most fit to take the lordship. Wouldn't they?"
"Officially, sure. But whatever they decided, it wouldn't stick. The High Lords who want the throne might play nice for a little while, but sooner or later one of them would lose the political game and take it to a military venue."
"Civil war."
"Yeah," Max said. He grimaced. "And while we waited for it all, the southern cities would just love to cut the Shield cities loose. And without that support..." Max shook his head. "I served two tours on the Shieldwall. We hold it against the Icemen, but we aren't as invincible as everyone down in the rest of the Realm seems to believe. I've seen more than one near breach of the Shieldwall with my own eyes. Without Crown support, it would fall within three years. Four, at the most."
They walked in silence through the tunnels for a few moments. Tavi tended to forget that Max's knowledge of the military disposition of the various High Lords and their Legions was a match for his own knowledge of Aleran society, politics, and history, or for Gaelle's knowledge of the trade crafts and the movement of money, or for Ehren's knowledge of calculations and statistics. Each of them had their strengths, in accordance with their inclinations. It was one reason why they had been chosen to train for the Cursors.
"Max," Tavi said quietly, "you can do this. I'll be there. I'll help if you get into trouble."
His friend inhaled deeply and looked down at him. His mouth quirked in a half smile. "It's just that a lot depends on this act, Tavi. If I get this wrong, a lot of people could die." He sighed. "I almost wish I'd been paying attention in class."
Tavi arched one eyebrow.
Max winked. "I said almost."
All in all, things could have gone worse.
"Gaius" received the Board of Speakers in his own private reception chambers-which were as large as one of the Academy's lecture halls. Between the Board of Speakers, their wives, assistants, and their wives, there were fifty or sixty people in attendance, plus a dozen members of the Royal Guard. Max played his role well, circulating among the guests and chatting pleasantly while Tavi watched and listened from an unobtrusive seat in a curtained alcove. Max faltered once, when one particularly intent young Speaker brought up some obscure technical point of furycrafting, but Tavi promptly interceded, hurrying to pass the false First Lord a folded piece of paper with a scribbled missive. Max opened the paper, looked at it, then smoothly excused himself from the conversation to draw Tavi aside and issue apparent instructions.
"Thanks," Max said. "What the hell does inverted proportional propensity mean, anyway?"
"No idea, really," Tavi said, nodding as though in acknowledgment to a command.
"At least now I don't feel quite so stupid. How am