The Sacred Band

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

The man had hairy nostrils. Sire Lethel could not help but imagine tweezing the hairs out one by one. Quite distracting. More so than the scaly plates on his forehead and cheeks. More so than the fact that the tip of his tongue was split, presumably in imitation of the hooded snake that was his clan’s totem. Lethel did not look away as the man spoke his rough, choppy Acacian. Lethel ridged his forehead and pursed his lips, appearing to respect this Dukish, the self-proclaimed headman of the Anet slaves of Avina.

The two men sat across from each other in the center of a marble courtyard, open to the clear sky. A wedge of advisers flanked the leagueman, with Ishtat soldiers among them. Archers lined the last row and fanned out to either side. The slaves were not the threat the Auldek had been, but it paid to come prepared for trouble. Behind Dukish stood a crowd of quota slaves. They were well dressed and looked healthy enough, but Lethel could not help but think of them as a motley horde. They were slaves, after all. Had been raised as servants, victims to whatever whims the Auldek-beasts themselves-could conceive. Their very bodies were testament to that. He did not know or want to know what their lives had been like. Dukish did not know this, of course, hence his long diatribe on just this subject.

As he sat pretending empathy, Sire Lethel’s mind journeyed elsewhere. There were a million more important things to consider than the woes of slaves. He had arrived in Ushen Brae only five days ago. He sailed in along with Sire Faleen, both of them with full blessing of the League Council, with authority between them to handle affairs in Ushen Brae on the league’s behalf. He had spent most of that time on the barrier isles, where he had fed ravenously on all the information he could gather about this place, about the details of the quota trade, about the Auldek tribes and, most crucially, about the Lothan Aklun.

The few nights he had stayed in the Lothan Aklun’s estates, those strange dwellings hung from cliffs and almost otherworldly, had left him dizzy, most pleasantly so. Most of the things he saw were indecipherable. But the small things that he could see function-tabletops that floated in midair, glass that darkened or lightened beneath the touch of his fingers, grooves in the hallways that, when stepped into, propelled one forward as if sliding slowly downhill, the soul vessels that surged over the water without any obvious power source, propelled by the will of whoever held its wheel-tantalizingly hinted at further possibilities. They certainly had other vessels. Sire Faleen had mentioned finding enormous transports capable of carrying thousands of troops, as well as numerous smaller vessels, some tiny enough that they held only a single person. What other wonders might be uncovered? Weapons? Other soul catchers? Had it been possible, he would have stayed out there or sailed to Lithram Len to see the ruins of the soul catcher for himself-as Faleen was doing at this very moment.

It was not within his purview to pursue such things yet. That went to Sire Faleen, he being of higher rank within the league. Lethel had volunteered to handle matters on the mainland. This mostly entailed sorting things out with the emancipated slaves. Later, he would explore inland, seeing what use could be made of the abandoned Auldek cities. There might be benefits from that as well, but Lethel hoped to find some way to take over Faleen’s duties. Perhaps he would fall off a boat, stumble after having inhaled a bit too much of the sweet red mist he so enjoyed. Uncharitable thought, yes, but Faleen had always been a windbag, politely incompetent in the manner that assured his political rise among the League Council. Lethel was sure he would find the real world more challenging.

Dukish droned on.

Lethel would have raised his eyebrows, except that the tweezed slashes that were his eyebrows had been shaped to mimic a fine-lined version of that expression already. It amazed him that foolish men so often took silence and a concerned expression as an invitation to blather. Small price to pay, for this Dukish had just made his life considerably easier. Just three days in Ushen Brae, Lethel had received word that Dukish wanted to meet and come to peaceful terms. He should not have been surprised, though. These people had been slaves. They were freed by the actions of others. Of course freedom would scare them. Of course they would seek a new master. The league would oblige. Not as holders of whips and chains, of course. They did not need such things to enslave.

Dukish offered Sire Neen’s ashes as a special gift. The unfortunate man’s parts had been gathered up and put through some cremation ritual, and this Dukish had come into possession of them. A strange offering, but Lethel accepted the urn with a rather specific idea of what he would do with its contents.

“I hear all and am saddened,” Lethel said, once he could bear sitting through no more. “These things you say are grave. They twist my heart. They fill me with shame. You must know that the league was an innocent accomplice in all this. For all these years, we served the will of the Akarans. We sailed the Gray Slopes at their bidding. And here in Ushen Brae we were mistreated ourselves by the Lothan Aklun, the haughty, arrogant, vicious Lothan Aklun. In our own way we have also been duped by both of them.”

Someone in the slave crowd grumbled and a few others responded. Lethel wished he could have the grumbler killed, but that would not do. He looked past Dukish and brought his entreaties to the entire party.

“I hear that this is a surprising revelation to you,” he said. “But ask yourselves, how could we know what became of you? As far as we knew, we delivered orphaned children into the hands of a nation that welcomed them. We were but the middlemen. Search your mind. Look back. Was it a man like me-a true leagueman-that took you from your homes? No, the-What did you call them? The Red Shirts! They did that on Akaran orders. Did any leagueman set foot on Ushen Brae in your memory? Did we stand in that chamber as some of you were robbed of your very souls? No. Consider everything from this perspective and you will hear the truth of it ringing in your ears. I am certain.”

Dukish turned his head to one side and drew back his long hair to reveal mangled tissue where his ear should have been. “A leagueman did this to me, for no reason other than that it amused him.”

Ah, Lethel thought, likely that’s Sire Fen’s work. He was rumored to take pleasure from such things in his day, before Dariel Akaran slit his belly. Too bad. Lethel had always rather liked the old codger.

“If that is true, you have my deepest apologies. Even within the league there are… reprobates. We do our best to weed them out.” Changing tack, he said, “Let us look to the future. The game board that is the world has been overturned. Now that it’s righted, what came before is gone. What you see are new players, new rules, new possibilities. The league is willing to deal with you as equals. Look, I’m here before you, speaking to you as an equal. You and your people are the new masters of Ushen Brae. Likewise, the league will, in the future, not be pawns for the Akarans. We have broken with them because of what we learned here. If we trade with them again, it will be on your behalf. I do say ‘if,’ though, for as you know the Auldek will destroy them. I very much hope they succeed.”

Grumbles again. Lethel realized he was speaking too quickly. “What I mean is that I hope they succeed in reaching the Known World. I hope they do battle with the Akarans. Friends, what better punishment for them than that they spill their own blood in a massive slaughter?”

This did not get quite the enthusiastic response he had expected.

“Where are they?” a gray-faced woman behind Dukish asked.

“Where are who?”

“The Auldek.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Far, far away.” Lethel indicated vaguely with his fingers.

“Are you not tracking their progress?”

What we’re doing or not is hardly your concern, Lethel thought, but he said, “The Ishtat had birds following them for a time. Quite easy to, really, as they’re an entire nation on the move. A fortnight back an early storm blew the birds off course. And so began winter in earnest. It happens that way in the north.”

“You’ve lost them? Your man before said the league was tracking them. Said you rule the seas. See everything. Now you say you’ve lost them already.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” Lethel ran a finger over the jagged line of one of his eyebrows. He felt the first twinge of a headache coming on. He got them all too regularly. He thought it a result of some mistake with his head binding when he was a child. “We know where they are-in a hell of ice and snow. No need to journey there with them. The Auldek are Queen Corinn’s concern, anyway. They are a problem for the Akarans, not for you or me.”

Dukish stood abruptly and turned into the group behind him. A tad erratic, Lethel thought. They spoke in a fast murmur, Auldek by the sound of it. Lethel crossed his legs and bobbed his foot up and down. Noticing a spot of dirt on the red satin of his boots, he pursed his lips. A punishment was in order for his body servant. He might have had nothing to do with the stain, but still, how else would he wash the filth from his memory but to make someone pay for it?

When Dukish resumed his seat, he said they were ready to talk about a treaty.

Lethel tented his fingers sagely. “I am here to extend a hand of friendship to”-he almost said you slaves, but recalled the name he had been instructed to use with them-“the Anet people, and to all the People of Ushen Brae. But I must know something before we can proceed any further. As I’m sure you know, somebody destroyed a facility on Lithram Len. I cannot say what foolishness drove them, but I can say that our displeasure over this is beyond measure. That’s no way to begin a new partnership. Were you responsible?”

By Dukish’s emphatic response it was clear that he was not. “Who was?”

“I know not.”

Dukish glanced around behind him, seeking confirmation of his ignorance from his peers. They gave it.

“Have you heard anything about survivors from the group that Sire Neen brought to meet the Auldek? Any Acacians?”

“One leagueman,” Dukish said. “That’s all.”

“That’s not possible. We accounted for all our leaguemen. Do you mean a soldier?”

Dukish laughed. “Not this one. He was no soldier. This one was a weakling. Devoth imprisoned him. Took him away.”

“And there were no others?”

“No.”

Lethel eased the tension of this line of questioning out of his fingers. It was silly, really, but he could not help thinking of Dariel Akaran. If the prince had some how survived and managed to get up to his old tricks… Unlikely, though. Highly unlikely. “One, you will find the criminal and deliver him-or them-to me,” Lethel said. “That you must do. And, two, there can be no more destruction of Lothan Aklun artifacts. They are all henceforth league possessions. Any act against them is an act against us.”

“That thing was evil,” a voice from Dukish’s entourage said.

“Perhaps it was. Or perhaps it was a device that the Lothan Aklun turned to evil. Is a knife evil because it can kill a man? No, it can also do a thousand useful things. We of the league have scholars among us, physicians and men of learning. It may be that for every way the Lothan Aklun used their tools to make your lives misery we could use them for good. This is not negotiable. You will leave such artifacts to us. Indeed, you will alert us to any that we have yet to discover.”

“The Anet do not seek these Lothan Aklun things,” Dukish said. “We have no interest in them. I cannot speak for the other clans, but you have my faith on this. Now, let me have your faith. Your man, the one who spoke to us before you, said you could provide us with settlers, with women who are fertile and can breed. Is that so?”

That’s easily enough done, Lethel thought. We have whole breeding islands for just that purpose. “That is within our capacity.”

“Have I your faith, then?”

Lethel did not correct the man’s usage of the word. “In all things, sir. It will take some time, but it can be done. In addition to the barrier isles, we would need to base some operations here in Avina. If we are truly to-”

“He lies!”

The shout was loud, sharp enough to cause Sire Lethel to start. He craned around, looking for the source, for it was not among the two groups in the courtyard.

“Leagueman, he is lying!”

“Who speaks?” the gray-faced woman said. “Show yourself.”

The voice said, “Dukish does not speak for the Free People.”

“Who does, then?” Lethel asked.

“Promise me that your soldiers will not shoot us.”

“Give us no reason and we won’t.”

“I have your faith, then?”

Lethel rolled his eyes. “Certainly.”

A woman rose to standing on the bridge Lethel’s party had passed under to enter the courtyard. Several others to either side and a few more on roofs nearby also rose or stepped from behind the stones that had hidden them. They did not appear to be armed, except for knives that were as yet sheathed. Dukish barked something at the woman in Auldek, gesturing profanely as he did so. The woman gave it back. Other Anet added their voices, and for a moment it seemed the entire meeting would erupt into chaos.

The Ishtat reacted. They enveloped Lethel within a bristling wedge of bodies. They pressed so tight against him that as they pulled him back he was not sure if his feet touched the ground, or if they lifted him bodily. The bowmen readied their weapons-aiming both at the Anet and at the newcomers-and the captain shouted the clanspeople to stillness.

Lethel sighed. The difficulties of dealing with primitives. One never knew where the power resided. Always upstarts and bickering to contend with. Though in this case, he doubted it truly rested with this woman. Her face was pale blue, and she wore a headdress that sprang up from her hairline. Did she hope to pass that off as a crown? She was slim, though, limber looking, just Lethel’s type, actually, except for the… feathers. That’s what they were. Not a headdress exactly, but plumes of feathers instead of hair. These people!

The woman said, “We don’t come to fight you-just to tell you the truth before you err. Dukish does not speak for us, for those who were once quota and are now free citizens of a new nation.”

The Anet raged at this, and it took the Ishtat a moment to quiet them.

“Do you, then, speak for these people?”

Dukish tried to say something, but the Ishtat captain punched him in the jaw. It was a quick jab, just a warning, as was the way he drew his short sword from its scabbard for Dukish to see. A tense moment, but it went no further. Lethel repeated his question.

“For the moment I do,” the woman answered.

“And what’s your name, then?”

“Skylene.”

“Ah,” Lethel said, fully in control of his composure once more, “well, Skylene, this news surprises me. I found Dukish to be quite convincing. You can’t say that he does not control a considerable portion of the city. That he does not speak for many. I’ve seen the evidence of it with my own eyes. Don’t ask me to disbelieve them. Perhaps you should come down from there and talk with me here.”

“I will speak from here.”

“That’s hardly the way to hold council. Really, you-”

“Leagueman. I cannot hold council with you. I simply want you to know that Dukish does not speak for the People.”

“Who does, then?”

“Our Council of Elders. Yoen. Mor. There are many who speak faith. They are away, gathering the People in the Westlands to return here. They will come soon. The Anet have just grabbed for power in their absence. Careful, leagueman, some among the Kulish Kra and the Lvin scheme to do the same. Do not make any pacts with them. They will not be valid. The council speaks for all the People, not just for one clan or another. Dukish is a fool who would make chaos out of what could be peace. Don’t listen to him!”

Lethel wished he could express on his face the full measure of his displeasure at being given commands. He did not. He showed nothing but troubled interest. “Most disturbing to hear this. Come down and let’s-”

“Ushen Brae is for the People. You have no place here. Nor can you divide us. We are stronger together and we will hold.”

“Ah,” Lethel said. He made a face as if he had burped up an unpleasant taste. Holding up the palm of his hand, he asked for a moment to consider a response. On the one hand, a council of elders who speak for all the people, high ideals, a loathing for the league, grandiose notions of this as a free land. On the other hand, several fool clans who would fracture Ushen Brae into small powers squabbling among themselves, all wanting nothing more than to buy league wares. It was an easy decision to make.

Glancing at his Ishtat captain, Lethel said, “Shoot the bird.”