Not that anyone was liable to see Lehrer in a vulnerable light. Lehrer occupied that elegant armchair as if it were his chancellor’s seat, legs neatly crossed at the knees and the hand that didn’t hold his whiskey glass settled easy on the armrest—which was carved in the likeness of a growling lion. Lehrer’s long fingers draped right over the chiseled lines of the lion’s bared teeth.
Lehrer’s smile was a knife being unsheathed. “Let’s discuss the terms of Texan surrender.”
Méndez and Pulver exchanged looks, the latter’s mouth fixed in a straight line.
“This isn’t a surrender,” Méndez said. “It’s a cessation of hostilities in both nations’ mutual interest.”
“Call it whatever you like,” said Lehrer, expression unchanged. He set his whiskey glass aside, reaching for his jacket pocket. “Do you mind if I smoke?”
No one denied him.
Lehrer lit the cigarette with a snap of pyromancy and took a long drag, exhaling toward the fireplace. “This feels familiar,” he commented.
“The last Caro-Texan war was before my time,” Méndez said. “2074.”
“Ah, right. I forget how young you all are. Well, let me give you a little history lesson: I’ve sat in this room with four presidents just like you, and the discussion was remarkably similar. I could practically script it.” Lehrer swirled his whiskey round in its glass. “You’ll demur and make empty threats, citing your antiwitching technology. I’ll remind you of the losses you sustained in recent battles and how much more violent things will become if we take Houston. You will recall that I’ve never failed to deliver my promises where biological warfare is concerned. Ultimately we’ll come to an accord that reestablishes our tradition of hating each other from a silent distance—until next time, anyway.”
Méndez lifted a brow. “You forgot one thing. We have a vaccine now. If weaponized, it would decimate your witching population. You’d be virtually defenseless.”
“Even counting only baseline soldiers, we have the largest standing army in the world,” Lehrer said idly and finally sipped that bourbon again. “I wouldn’t call thatdefenseless. Besides—you’re a long way from weaponizing that vaccine. It’s still only absorbed intravenously. Do you really think your science will move faster than me? Than the virus itself?”
Noam used to imagine what it would have been like to sit in the room with Calix Lehrer during the peace talks from any war in the past hundred years. But now that he was here, he realized it was somehow not at all and yetexactlyas he’d imagined it. Somehow he’d thought Lehrer would be less explicit about what he could do to Texas if they failed to surrender. And yet ... it was working.
And why shouldn’t it? This was exactly why the rest of the continent failed to get Carolinia to reduce their witching population back in 2019. Because of Lehrer. Because they knew what Lehrer was capable of.
A thrill rolled through the pit of Noam’s stomach, warm and alive. Whatever else he might think about Lehrer, he was stillthis.
“If we agree to a cease-fire,” Méndez said eventually, “you will need to remove your soldiers from Texan territory. We won’t make the same mistakes Atlantia did.” He glanced toward Noam at that; Noam kept his expression impassive.
“Of course. And you will cease all research into the weaponization of the vaccine.”
This time, it was Pulver who interjected. “I’m surprised, Chancellor,” he said. “I would have thought you’d be very interested in our vaccine-development research. Surely you are eager to prevent more outbreaks in Carolinia. Not to mention the challenges of sanitizing your newly acquired Atlantian territory.”
“I fail to see how the weaponization of this vaccine plays into any of that.”
“Don’t you?” Pulver said. “If aerosolized, the vaccine could be dispersed across the entirety of Carolinia and Atlantia together. You’d eradicate magic within Carolinian borders. Surely you want that.”
But Lehrer didn’t. All of them knew that. And from the dissatisfied set of Lehrer’s mouth, Lehrer was well aware.
“We have our own vaccine-development program,” Lehrer said. “But unlike you, we are more interested in finding a way to eradicate magic’s mortality rate—not eradicate magic itself. So I’m afraid our goals are not quite as aligned as you might think.”
“And how many innocent people will you let die while you waste time on this fool’s errand?” the secretary of homeland security snapped—and clearly saw her mistake a moment later reflected in Lehrer’s pale gaze, which had gone cool.
“No fool’s armies surround Houston,” Lehrer said softly.
“I’m sure the secretary meant no offense,” Méndez cut in. “My apologies, Chancellor. Our goal here is to work toward a constructive solution—not to get mired in insults on both sides.”
Lehrer’s answering smile was brittle. “Perhaps this discussion would be better held tomorrow, during the official meeting.” He rose from his chair, downing the rest of his bourbon in one swallow and using telekinesis to float the glass down to its coaster. His cigarette had already vanished, presumably decomposed into its component atoms and scattered like dust.
The rest of them stood as well, ripples in the wake of Lehrer’s decision.
“Mr. President,” Lehrer said, shaking Méndez’s hand. “I look forward to continued diplomacy.”
Méndez escorted them to the front door, trailed by a pair of blank-faced aides carrying their winter coats. And Noam sensed the metal a second before he saw it, the syringe clutched in the grasp of one of those aides. That metal: an inch from Lehrer’s neck as the aide helped Lehrer into his coat.
A low laugh escaped Lehrer’s throat, and the needle ripped itself out of the aide’s grip, flying neatly into Lehrer’s instead.
“Nice try,” Lehrer said, examining the syringe with an appraising gaze.
