“The Zemeni economy must be suffering,” Zoya noted. “I imagine the price of jurda and sugar must be at an all-time high.”
At this, Schenck frowned. “No, not yet. The Zemeni have shown no signs of financial strain, and every attempt to raise the price of jurda has been met with resistance by our customers abroad. It’s simply a matter of time before they capitulate.”
“To pirates?”
Schenck fiddled with a button on his waistcoat. “Yes. Exactly. To pirates.”
“You continue to trade jurda with Fjerda and the Shu Han,” Zoya said. “Even though you know that jurda is being converted to parem and used to torture and enslave Grisha.”
“We know no such thing. Idle speculation, colorful tales. The Kerch have always maintained a policy of neutrality. We cannot allow ourselves to be drawn into the squabbles of other nations. We trade with all, fair coin for fair purchase. The deal is the deal.”
Zoya knew he was not just talking about the trade of jurda. He was making his country’s stance clear.
“You won’t come to Ravka’s aid.”
“I’m afraid that is impossible. But please know our thoughts are with you.”
Zoya slanted him a glance. To a certain extent, she knew that was true. The Kerch didn’t like war because it tended to disrupt shipping routes, and peaceful, prosperous countries made for better trade partners. But the Kerch could just as easily make their profits in weapons and ammunition, in the selling of steel and gunpowder, lead and aluminum.
“If Fjerda invades Ravka, are you sure the Shu will be able to keep them in check?” Zoya asked. The Shu had a massive land army, but no one knew the true extent of Fjerda’s military might. Kerch might be next on their list of acquisitions.
Schenck just smiled. “Perhaps the wolves will have a few less teeth after a prolonged fight with their neighbor.”
“So you’re hoping we’ll weaken Fjerda. You just aren’t willing to help us do it. There are ships from the Kerch navy anchored off the northern coast. We have a flyer. There’s time to send a message.”
“We could rally our ships. If the Kerch had sent me here to offer aid to Ravka, that’s precisely what we would do.”
“But they didn’t.”
“No.”
“They sent you to waste our time and keep me from where I belong.”
“While I appreciate the wine and your charming company, I’m afraid I see no point to this meeting. You have nothing to bargain with, Miss—”
“General.”
“General Nazyalensky,” he said, like an uncle indulging his most precocious niece. “We have everything we want.”
“Do you?”
Schenck’s brow creased. “What does that mean?”
This was Zoya’s last gamble, her last opportunity to salvage this parlay.
“Our king has a gift for making the impossible possible, for building extraordinary machines that can conquer new frontiers. He has assembled some of the greatest scientific minds among Grisha and otkazat’sya. Are you sure you want to be on the opposing side of that?”
“We choose no sides, Miss Nazyalensky. I thought I made that clear. And we do not bargain against the future. Ravka may have a gift for inventions we have not yet seen, but Fjerda has a gift for brutality the world well knows.”
Zoya watched him for a long moment. “You were willing to wed your daughter to Nikolai Lantsov. You know he is a good man.” Simple words, but Zoya was too aware of how rare they were.
“My dear,” said Schenck, finishing his glass of wine and pushing back from the table. “Perhaps the Shu have lower standards, but I sought to wed my daughter to a king, not a bastard.”
“Meaning what?” Zoya retorted, feeling her composure fray. Was this wart of a man brazen enough to question Nikolai’s parentage openly? If that was the case, they were worse off than even she had thought.
But all Schenck did was smile slyly. “Only whispers. Only rumors.”
“Be careful whispers don’t become talk. It’s a good way to lose a tongue.”
Schenck’s eyes widened. “Are you threatening a delegate of the Kerch government?”
“I only threaten gossipmongers and cowards.”
Schenck’s eyes bugged out even farther. Zoya wondered if they would bolt from his skull.
“I am due for a meeting,” he said, rising and striding toward the door. “And I believe you are due on the losing side of a battlefield.”