Wet Magic
had supposed, Under Folk in some unexpected though welcome transport of loyal enthusiasm, but ranks on ranks of the enemy, the hated Mer Folk, all splendid and menacing in the pomp and circumstance of glorious war.
"It is the enemy!" gasped the Queen.
"It is my people," said the Mer King. "It is a beautiful thing in you, dear Queen, that you agreed to peace, without terms, while you thought you were victorious, and not because the legions of the Mer Folk were thundering at your gates. May I speak for us?"
They signed assent. And the Mer King stepped forward full into view of the crowd in the street below.
"My people," he said in a voice loud, yet soft, and very, very beautiful. And at the words the Mer Folk below looked up and recognized their long-lost King, and a shout went up that you could have heard a mile away.
The King raised his hand for silence.
"My people," he said, "brave men of Merland—let there be peace, now and forever, between us and our brave foes. The King and Queen of this land agreed to make unconditional peace while they believed themselves to be victorious. If victory has for today been with us, let us at least be the equals of our foes in generosity as in valor."
Another shout rang out. And the King of the Under Folk stepped forward.
"My people," he said, and the Under Folk came quickly forward toward him at the sound of his voice. "There shall be peace. Let these who were your foes this morning be your guests tonight and your friends and brothers for evermore. If we have wronged them, we beg them to forgive us: if they have wronged us, we beg them to allow us to forgive them." ("Is that right?" he asked the Mer King in a hasty whisper, who whispered back, "Admirable!")
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