Page 81 of Given to the Black King

“They assumed you understood what this mission might require.”

“No. They hoped I would understand after it was too late to refuse.”

Callas unfolds the draft. A proposed signature line waits at the bottom with my name written beneath it in another man’s hand.

“You have already drafted it.”

“It is only a draft of an instrument of offer.”

“My offer?”

“The delegation’s.”

I laugh once.

Callas flinches.

“You still do not understand him,” I say.

“I understand that he has given you terms no other kingdom has received.”

“And you think you can purchase the reason.”

“I think Serath needs peace.”

“So do I. That is why you will withdraw this.”

“Iona—”

“If you put that paper in front of Torgan, he will refuse it.”

Callas looks startled. “You cannot know that.”

“I know it better than you know me.”

He folds the instrument again. “The council gave me discretion.”

“And I am giving you professional advice. Use it.”

He leaves without promising. The rough draft remains on my desk as if the paper itself can keep arguing.

An hour later, Perr knocks.

He holds three sheets covered in corrections and blotted ink.

“I am sorry,” he says before I can speak. “I have copied it badly.”

“I see that.”

“The minister told me to prepare the formal engrossment.” He rubs ink from his thumb and makes it worse. “I wrote your title incorrectly twice. Then the king’s. Then I put the witness line in the wrong place.”

“An unfortunate morning.”

“I may continue having unfortunate mornings.”

His voice shakes. The attempt at humor does not hide it.

I take the pages.