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,
