Param had been trying not to think of vomit, since, as with yawning, the very thought made it more likely she would do it. But she understood his point, and stopped allowing herself to imagine these as living men. She cast her eyes toward them, but did not allow the sights to register. She was not here to learn about all the positions a broken body can collapse into when death comes by sudden violence. She was here to be seen caring about the fallen. So she fixed the proper expression of sympathy and barely-contained grief on her face, and allowed herself to be led where there were the most spectators to see how the Queen-in-the-Tent loved her soldiers.

And when a particularly pungent spot made her gorge rise, she allowed herself to burst into tears so she could be led away from the malodorous spot. Thus she prevented herself from throwing up and disgracing herself. Vomiting was not sympathy. Nausea and nobility were not compatible. But weeping went well with both sympathy and nobility, especially because she was a woman. She noticed that Umbo matched her step for step, but did not weep. She didn’t know if this was because he had seen worse, or smelled worse, or cared less, or was simply stronger than she was. Probably all of those were true.

This is why she was on the battlefield when the emissary arrived from Mother’s army. Param did not recognize the man, but that did not surprise her. In Flacommo’s house she had seen only sycophants, and mostly those who were in favor with the People’s Revolutionary Council. None of those would be in General Haddamander’s army.

“Hagia Sessaminiak sees no reason for this war to continue,” said the emissary. “She is ready to recognize her daughter, Param Sessamin, as Queen-in-the-Tent-of-Light, and her husband as Umbo Sissamik.”

The names were right: “Sissamik” as the male consort of a reigning queen; “Sessaminiak” as a former queen, now rightfully deposed. Deposed, not abdicating voluntarily; that would have been Sessaminissa, and it was a decision that could be rescinded. Mother was saying that she was prepared to recognize that she had been thrown down, and could not rise again.

“I am sure that Mother has terms and conditions to propose,” said Param to the emissary.

She noticed that none of her own people showed the slightest sign that they were worried she would say the wrong thing or agree to too many concessions—or, even worse, needlessly prolong the war out of some point of pride.

“Hagia Sessaminiak wishes to meet with her daughter and her son face to face to make the formal surrender,” she said. “Whether her consort, Haddamander Citizen, should be with her is a point on which she will gladly bend to your will.”