all of the People. The 'People' are those you might refer to as quota. We are the slaves you sent here. Many of us are still in bondage. Some of us fight it.' She pressed her hand to her chest. 'We are those who fight it. The Free People. You may think that this side of the world is just a place where you discard unwanted children. We don't think so. Not anymore. Ushen Brae is the world. It's here we make the future.'
'Wait.' Dariel tried to gesture with his hands, but as they were bound, he used his shoulders instead, shrugging apologetically. 'Just wait a moment. I will stop interrupting. I will, really. I just mean for you to know that I am not your enemy. I'm an Akaran, yes, and… you are quota. I know that is a terrible crime of my family, but it's nothing that I started. If anything, I hoped I might stop it. That's why I came-to help.' Lest this sound too meek, he raised his chin as he concluded. 'You do me wrong by chaining me.'
When he stopped, Mor continued as if he had not spoken. 'You are a prisoner, Dariel Akaran, of the very children your family sent to slavery. We've grown up. We don't stay children forever. In the coming days, we will decide what to do with you. Some believe you are here to save us. Some know better. But the elders of the Free People are patient and just. You will be tested. Perhaps-though it's not likely-we will find some value in you. But if you can be no use to us, you will feed the earth, and none here will weep. That's all I have to tell you right now.'
With that, Mor jumped up from her seat, sending it crashing over behind her. She turned and was halfway out of the room before Dariel spoke.
'Wait!' he said.
Mor froze.
'I'll listen to it all,' Dariel continued. 'Test me also, if that is my fate. Kill me after that, if you wish, but let me die knowing. You won't understand me, but I know-in more ways than you even consider-that I have walked the world half blind. That was the way of my people, but it doesn't have to continue. My brother, if he had lived and had met you-would have asked for the same. But he isn't here. I am. So, in his place, tell me everything. Please.'
'Your ignorance would take a lifetime to erase.'
'I am not the only ignorant one in this room.'
Mor snapped her head around. 'You resort to insults?'
'Following your example,' Dariel quipped. 'You were a child when you left-'
'When I was taken, not left.'
Dariel conceded the point with a curt nod. 'When you were taken. That's true of you. That's true of every human living in Ushen Brae. You know nothing of the Known World, nothing more than a child would.'
'Generations of People have grown old here, lived, and died.'
'Yes, but the People never know more about the Known World than what children of seven or eight can tell them. You may get old and grow wise in your way, yes, but you know little about Acacia.'
Mor kicked the stool that was in her way, sending it twirling inches from Dariel's head. It clattered to the floor.
Dariel fought to contain his frustration. 'We should be speaking to each other, not attacking each other. I want to know about life here. I want to know what's been done in the Akaran name. I inherited it, too-just as you did. It's the fact that we don't know each other that has allowed this crime to go on.'
'How pathetic you are to claim to want to help us now. Now that you're nothing-'
'Mor, I have lived years knowing that there was something foul at the heart of my family's empire. I knew some of it but not all of it. Tell me all of it. Show me. And I will tell you everything I can about the world you came from.'
'I know you will,' Mor said, threat laced in the words. This time, she turned and left the room before Dariel found the words, or the heart, to stop her.
In the days that followed, his testing began. It was not so much a matter of any one challenge to meet. It was like no other tests he had ever taken. It was a matter of opening himself as completely as possible and giving, giving, giving. The elders, according to Mor, wanted to take him up on his offer to educate them about the Known World. They wanted to know everything they could about the land that had sold them into slavery.
At first he spoke hesitantly, unsure whether or not he was betraying his people. But this was what he himself had asked for. Half of it, at least. Sometimes Mor questioned him, a thing Dariel found both exhilarating and unnerving, but she had other duties that took her away for days at a time. More consistently, Skylene directed the course of his days. She seemed to have more freedom with her time than the others. Most could only steal a few hours every few days away from the chores their masters had for them.
History, religion, mythology, the old tales, geography, nations and races and leaders, bloodlines and feuds and allegiances, the Forms and Hanish Mein and the Santoth and Aliver: they wanted to know it all. Skylene forced him to arrange these various subjects as best he could. Before long, several scribes spent the hours with him, each writing on multiple scrolls, each focused on a different topic. He would jump from one to other as things occurred to him or as Skylene prompted him.
Tunnel visited him regularly also. He did not interrogate him, although Dariel believed he was supposed to. The big man pulled up a chair and sat close to him, near enough that Dariel could smell the fragrant oil that had been worked into his leather skirt and the long laces of his sandals. He would joke with Dariel, smile and laugh at the slightest provocation. Skylene was fair enough with him, but Tunnel was alone among the People in treating Dariel like a friend returned from a long voyage. They were simply catching up, it seemed.
Dariel would never have imagined that his existence would come to be what it now was. It was peculiar because some part of him felt strangely at ease with it except during those moments of panic and realization. Some part of him had been waiting for this, wanting it. He now hungered for where it might lead.
'Skylene,' Dariel asked, as another session of questioning was about to begin, 'do you know of any way I could send a message to my country?'
The woman stared at him, her thin lips pursed, wary of the idea. She had just entered the chamber in which he sat waiting, alone. Her appearance was as striking as ever, but her pale blue hue and avian highlights no longer seemed bizarre. To Dariel's eyes, they were now part of her. Strange that he could grow used to her so quickly. She asked, 'What kind of message?'
'Just something that tells my people that I'm alive. I don't know what the league might tell them. It could cause all sorts of problems if they think me dead. I don't know what it might lead to. If my sister thinks me dead-or discovers that I'm captive here-she may send an army to avenge me or to war with the Auldek.'
'I don't think that's likely,' Skylene said.
Dariel studied her. 'Why?'
Skylene thought a moment, and then exhaled and shook her head, sadly. 'It doesn't matter, Dariel. Whatever will happen, will happen. We cannot change it. Not yet, at least. It's not possible to send any message. We never managed it in twenty-two generations. What makes you think we could do it now?'
'The league then. They may still be along the coast. Can we get-'
'A message to them?' Skylene interjected. 'Don't be foolish. The only message your sister will receive will be of their making. Really, Dariel, we have no power where they are concerned. Anyway, Mor would never allow contact with them. They are our enemies, remember? For that matter, you haven't forgotten that they were offering you up to Devoth, have you?'
No, Dariel certainly had not forgotten that. In fact, he had dreamed of that chaotic afternoon more than once. 'I had power over the league once, you know.'
There was a knock at the door. A moment later the two scribes entered: one with a splash of shivith spots across one side of her face, the other with a crest of black hair jutting from the back of his head.
Skylene motioned for the two new arrivals to take their seats and ready their writing equipment. 'I doubt that,' she responded.
'I was at war with them once. Killed many.'
'That may be, but that doesn't mean they were in your power. You blew up their platforms, I know; you detailed that already. That may have hurt them. Perhaps it made them hate you enough to give you to Devoth, but you can't really believe you had them on their knees. Let me tell you this about the league: they made it clear to each of us that you Akarans are just pawns to them. Once they have us quota aboard their ships and are sailing west, they don't hide the fact that they are the Known World's real power. And the Lothan Aklun, before they were eliminated, likewise dismissed you. You were their customers, but stupid ones, ignorant, addicted, easily fooled and
