The other lands a-2 Read online

  Sire Neen went on deck only briefly as they entered the Range. He had the pleasure of seeing the expression of awe on Dariel's face as he looked at the seething immensity of giants rolling toward them, rank after rank for as far as the eye could see. He retreated belowdecks just after, closing his eyes even as he felt his way toward his cabin, keeping the image of the prince's tremulous cheeks and loose lips in his mind.

  Yes, that was a pleasure, Neen thought, still chewing that same mouthful of meat, the dinner conversation revolving around him. He heard it, took in most of what was being said at some level, but the focus of his mist-enhanced mind moved elsewhere freely. Today was a pleasure as well. How close, Prince, how close you came to being tipped into the mouths of devils. If only you knew…

  They had come out of the Range the day before. The sea had returned to its normal swells. Though the waves remained high by most standards, many gathered on deck to marvel at the relative calm of the ocean compared to what they had passed through. The Ambergris once more plowed its course in serene control. Sire Neen had stood for a time amusing himself with Rialus Neptos. The adviser was ghostly pale, his cheeks sunken and his voice raw-the result, no doubt, of days of gut-churning seasickness. Neen made a point of speaking about food, with which Neptos still seemed to have a troubled relationship. It was a small amusement, tormenting Neptos, passing the time.

  The leagueman had expected the creatures to appear that day, but the moment of their arrival was so sudden it snatched his breath away. He had been standing beside Rialus when the lookouts shouted from the crow's nests. The character of the ocean all around them changed in an instant. As far as the eye could see in any direction the water churned and undulated and writhed. Hundreds of large creatures broke the surface, swimming at speed through the waves like dolphins. But these were not dolphins.

  "Are they…" Dariel's voice came from behind them, wavering and thin. The prince reached the railing and grasped it.

  Sire Neen glanced over at him. "Yes," he said, answering the incomplete question. "Sea wolves. Not truly a fitting name. They're not like wolves at all. They are like nothing really, except themselves."

  When he looked back, the creatures were all around the ship. They rose from the depths, quickly taking shape behind the liquid glass of the green water. Their heads were great knotted bulbs of waxy-looking pink flesh, barnacled and gashed and grimed by sea slime. It was hard to gauge their size from the deck. Even from that height it was clear they were larger than any whales seen in the waters around the Known World or even out at the Vumu Archipelago. But they were not whales. They swam with the combined action of flippers that lined their long bodies and an inhaling and exhaling propulsion of water. They swelled and deflated, rose and fell, so close together that it was hard to tell where each individual began and ended.

  "Look at them," Dariel said. "I can see why they're feared."

  "The Giver never created these!" Rialus said. "They're monsters!"

  "Perhaps not," Sire Neen said. "He never did have much imagination. Anyway, there they are, no matter how they came to be." He motioned toward them with his thin wrist, dismissive and casual. "Watch what they do now."

  The sea wolves drew in tighter around the brig, so churning the water that it seemed the Ambergris plowed through a sea of the creatures. They jockeyed for position along the massive wall of the hull. They caressed it, bumped it, tried to slide up out of the water as if they would climb it. They slapped at it with tentacled arms that peeled away from their bodies and moved with fluid strength. They clearly wished to gain some purchase on the hull. But they could not do so. They slid off the slick white coating. Some propelled themselves out of the water, slammed the hull with the weight of their bodies. These just dropped back into the froth, frustrated.

  One creature, marked from the rest by an enormous barnacled protrusion on its head, squirmed in the water just beneath them, keeping pace. It rolled to the side and for a moment seemed to study them with one enormous yellow eye. The pupil contracted, perhaps from the light of the bright sky, but even to Sire Neen it seemed the beast was focusing his attention on him, picking him out from the many gaping faces looking over the rail. The leagueman had the sudden urge to grab the prince and toss him overboard, right toward that eye and waiting mouth. It was a fantasy urge, for he had no physical strength to match Dariel's, but it came to him so strongly he tasted metal on his tongue. But the moment passed. The creature rolled away and vanished.

  "There are so many of them," Dariel said. His tone had changed, gone boyish, filled with curiosity. "What do they eat?"

  "Your Majesty, how should I know? They don't eat us; that's the important thing."

  Rialus's voice wavered as he asked, "We are not in danger, then?"

  Sire Neen patted him on the back, nudging him with just enough force to press his torso against the railing. "So long as you don't fall in, Rialus, you're in no danger whatsoever. On occasion an unwary sailor has been snatched from the deck of a clipper, but we're well above their reach here on the Ambergris. In the early years, of course, we lost many ships of all sizes. These creatures seem to hate us or hunger for us. Which is perhaps the same thing. They tore ships apart and devoured whole crews. For a time we tried to shoot our way through with ballista mounted around the deck railing. We still lost most of our ships. But that was before we mastered the skin, and this was long ago. We are quite safe now."

  "This 'skin,'" Dariel said, "what makes it work? Is it just a paint of sorts?"

  "A paint?" Sire Neen showed his disdain for the simplicity of that concept. "Paint is like a condiment to sea wolves. They eat it with the ship, to improve its flavor. Our skin is no paint, but-forgive me-that is all I can say about it."

  "I must know what this skin is," Dariel said. "I'm sure we could put it to use, even in the Inner Sea!"

  "There are no sea wolves in the Inner Sea, Your Highness, a fact that you should be glad of. As to skin itself, that's a trade secret. The league must humbly hold that information close. We are only merchants, Prince Dariel, allow us our secrets."

  Sire Neen opened his eyes again, realizing that his name had been called, pulling him back from his reverie.

  Dariel watched him from across the table, a look of amused curiosity on his face.

  "I'm sorry," Sire Neen said, "what was it you asked?"

  Dariel said, "I asked if there were any other surprises in store for me, Sire."

  The leagueman held back the impulse to run his tongue over the rounded nubs of his teeth. He held the prince's gaze with a smiling visage while several others offered wry remarks. Would it surprise you, he thought, to know that I wake every morning imagining your downfall? Would it surprise you to know that I'm not going to make amends with the Lothan Aklun? Instead, I will destroy them. Would it surprise you to know that you are to be offered up as a gesture of good faith to a people who will eat your soul? As a slave, a toy, a plaything for monsters? Would it surprise you to know that once the Aklun are gone, there will be no greater power in the world than the league? Would it surprise you if I said, right now, "Prepare your knees for bending, Prince. Prepare your knees"?

  Eventually, the others quieted and it fell to Sire Neen to answer. He said, "Oh, certainly. If there is one thing I can promise you with certainty, Your Highness, it is that surprises await you."

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Barad was picky about the company he kept. He liked honest folk, unselfish and moral and capable of empathy-mothers and fathers who loved, brothers and sisters who cared for each other. He wanted to know that he was listened to when he spoke, and he wanted to believe the words that were spoken to him. He liked people who had known some hardship but who still had the capacity to envision a better future for themselves and others. For all these reasons he tended to avoid royalty. For that matter, he had little use for the upper class in general. In striving for the greater good for many, however, one sometimes had to deal with questionable elements.

  That was why
Barad had agreed to allow the young Aushenian king, Grae, to attend the first meeting of the Kindred. In his early twenties, Grae was the son of Guldan, a half brother to Igguldan born of the king's second wife. He had been young enough to be spared fighting in the war that took his father and older brothers. He and his younger brother, Ganet, had lived it out in the remote north of Aushenia. He had grown to maturity during Hanish's rule, when Numrek roamed his lands at will, inflicting all sorts of degradations. That must have hurt his heartsore pride.

  He had been a fierce leader during the turmoil of Hanish's overthrow. After securing his own lands, he had even marched through the Gradthic Gap and laid siege to Mein Tahalian. He would have won it, too, if Corinn had not sent Mena with Numrek troops to yank him back. Corinn was content to let him keep his throne for the sake of stability, but she would not allow anyone to redraw national boundaries without her consent. They pushed him back to Aushenia, with permission to rule within his borders as he saw fit-as long as that was in line with the various things the empire required of him.

  If Grae was thankful for having lived to call himself king, it did not show on his face or in his demeanor. His haughty blue eyes had an edge of disdain in them. Barad imagined many women would find him quite attractive. He was strong jawed; his forehead was high and the hair above it strangely disheveled, windblown but in a manner that Barad suspected was in fashion. It troubled Barad that anyone with a title was aware of his objectives, but many people he trusted had vouched for the king's passionate desire to see the Akarans overthrown. And so he now sat opposite the prophet at a large, low table in the back room of a pub in the port town of Denben in northern Talay.

  The resistance representatives hailed from all the provinces except Vumu, which was too distant to be a major force. They made for a strange company. Only Grae wore the finery of aristocracy. Otherwise, the men and women dressed as what they were: a merchant from Bocoum, a tribal councilman from Palik, a blacksmith from Elos, a dockworker from Nesreh, a tavern mistress from Senival, an architect from Alecia, a huntsman from Scatevith, and more. Their complexions and features varied with their races, making them a collage of much of the Known World's diversity. Barad himself looked as he always did, more like an aging laborer in coarse clothes than a dissident intent on overthrowing a powerful empire.

  None of them, other than Grae, commanded an army, but all of them had been true to the secret objectives they shared. They had protected the coded language through which they corresponded, often sending communications on the lips of travelers who had no idea they were messengers. For most of them, it had been a long road to get here, to sit in nervous expectation, finally meeting face-to-face as one group united in a purpose that stretched across borders, mountains, forests, and seas.

  "It is a blessed thing," Barad began in his deep voice, "that we finally can meet this way. It doesn't matter that this room smells of beer and sweat. It doesn't matter that this is a poor man's pub and that soon they'll be singing bawdy songs in the rooms beside this one. None of that matters. Look around you. The faces that you see are faces of the Kindred. We have always been so, but this meeting marks the day we sit together as one family and drink of the same cup. Let us do so twice: now, to begin our partnership and at the end of this meeting, to confirm it."

  Motioning with his large hands, he indicated that he meant this literally. On the otherwise bare table before him sat a large silver chalice. It was a simple vessel, not particularly ornate, wide mouthed and tarnished by age. A dark, rich wine stained the metal as Barad lifted it, held it for the others to see, and then drank. He passed it to the woman beside him. She was drawfed by his height, but she took the cup reverently, drank from it, then passed it on. The chalice moved around in silence until it reached the far side of the table.

  "Forgive me, King Grae, but before you drink let us hear from you. Of all the company, you are the newest to join. Confirm, please, that you are truly one of us," Barad added, smiling to lighten the request. "You see, you could turn us in most readily, whisper it right into Corinn's lovely ear if you wished. Tell us why you would never do that." Barad hid behind his smile the fact that this was unlikely. The Kindred had placed agents in Killintich some years ago. Some of them were quite close to the king, close enough to slit his throat while he slept should it seem like he was going to betray them. But, still, much better that such a thing not be necessary.

  It was clear that the monarch, young as he was, was not used to being evaluated. He held the chalice for a moment, rolling the stem in his fingers as if he were considering drinking the whole thing down first, speaking later. He set it down, though, and met the waiting faces. "You'll have me prove my loyalty to you? That's easy, because my loyalty to you is twinned with my loyalty to Aushenia. All that I will ever do will be for my nation's good. And my nation has suffered too long. Have you forgotten this? We suffered throughout our generations of independence, when the Akarans did everything they could to break our resolve, to impoverish us. And yet it was Aushenia that first suffered from the Meinish and Numrek onslaught. We suffered the brunt of their attack. We! The Aushenian people. We were the first wall they smashed against. My brother Igguldan died at Aushenguk Fell while the princes and councillors of Acacia fluttered about like upset chickens. We died first-and this was just weeks after offering our soul to Acacia in partnership."

  "I know this is true," Barad said. "You were wronged."

  "We were wronged!" Grae echoed, his voice higher and louder than the large man's. "Once we were beaten, Hanish Mein gave us over to those beasts. And yet Queen Corinn expects us to forget the past. She'll have us take what scraps she throws our way, even as she stands with her dogs at either hand. The insult of it is more than I can bear. So I will not bear it."

  "We are on the same side, then," Barad said. "The suppression of the many by the few insults us all."

  Grae drew himself upright and inhaled through his nose before he spoke. He put emphasis on one word, thereby stressing the particularity of his agreement with the statement. "The suppression of the many by the few does insult us all. The Akarans are the suppressors of this world. Aushenia will never forget that. I, as their king, will make sure of that."

  The representative from Aos, a man named Hunt, said, "King, your conviction on this is clear, but I hear Dariel is spoken of fondly by your people. Has he not committed himself to benevolent projects in your kingdom? Rebuilding much of what was-"

  "The prince's work is nothing to me. I let him drop his sweat on the ground of Aushenia, but I do not love him for it."

  "But the people, do they not-"

  "My people are not so easily appeased. Remember that we went twenty-two generations outside the Acacian Empire. None of my people has forgotten that. None of them wants things to remain as they are."

  Elaz, the warehouse manager who had greeted Barad in Nesreh, asked, "What do they want, then?"

  "They want what all of us here want; the end of Acacian rule, the return to the power of independent nations. The world was shaped better before Edifus went mad for power. In Aushenia we have long memories. Children are even taught to read using Queen Elena's Decree. We know in our bones that all the people of the Known World have the right to govern themselves. Let us return to what he destroyed with his Wars of Distribution."

  Lady Shenk, a tavern mistress from Senival, asked, "Do you think that the world was paradise then? It was not. It was a mess! The world was a patchwork of feuding tribes led by petty chieftains. Dogs fighting for scraps, they were. Is that what you want to have again?"

  "Of course not," Grae snapped. He seemed taken aback by being spoken to thusly by a commoner. He had asked to be here, though, and controlled the temper that flushed his face crimson. "But much has changed since then. We would return to the best of the past and strengthen it with the best of the present. Each nation will have its own king and queen, who will decide what is best for their people, not an outsider sitting in her palace in Acacia deciding for everyone.
This is what we all want, right?"

  Silence. The others looked about. For a moment they heard the commotion of the pub through the walls-chatter, a tune sung by a melancholy voice. Their eyes came to rest on Barad, who eventually answered, "You are the only one here who wears a crown. Too much talk of kings and queens does not go down well with this wine. Remember, King Grae, that no monarch can win against Corinn now. No nation can overthrow the Akarans by force. The Mein did it, yes, but the Mein have been vanquished. And the Mein nurtured their plans for years and years before they acted. You surely have not the patience to wait overlong. No, Corinn has a firmer grip on the Known World than her family has had for years. She feeds the nobles of each nation rubies, even as she digs diamonds from their land. She keeps a court made up not just of the best from all the nations but of the most beloved sons and daughters of all the world's kings. Your own sister is among her ladies. Isn't that so? She holds them hostage, the first victims to suffer in the event of any attack. If there is no such attack, all is well. The court is pleasure. The nobles collect their rubies. The kings and queens, Grae, are the only ones in the Known World who aren't suffering like the rest.

  "That is why the rising will not be one of massed armies standing behind banners. Instead, it will be a unity of action among the common people. They will rise. They will all put down their tools and demand that the world be remade. That is what the rising will be based on. There will be blood, yes. There will be turmoil. We will be tested. But we will win because we are right, our cause is just, and the world cannot remain blind to it forever. We do not even hate the Akarans. It is Aliver who spoke to me and put this mission inside me. It is possible, when the change has happened, that Corinn will be a part of the new order, if she accepts it. All this may be hard for a king to imagine."