David Durham - The other lands

"Who will take up this responsibility?"

The response was immediate, uncharacteristically swift. "I will." Again, that voice from the second row.

"Sire Lethel?" Faleen asked. "These are affairs of the real world, you understand? Among the peasants. There is risk-"

"And there is joy in taking risk," Lethel said. "My cousin enjoyed risk. I do as well."

"Will you err as your cousin did?"

"No," Lethel said. "I will not. I believe he should be forgotten, but I would not have my family forgotten. I will succeed where he did not. I swear it. If I cannot, I will arrange to have my own head set rolling."

"Do any object?" Faleen asked.

For a time a murmur of discussion swept around the rings, but it was not true objection. Few would want the task, Dagon knew. Why should they? Few of these men are like me, Dagon thought, or like Neen. Perhaps this Lethel is a person of promise. He let these thoughts slip away almost as quickly as he formed them.

Still, it alarmed him when El spoke his name. "Dagon, you must return swiftly."

Reminded of it, fatigue wrung his body anew. He had arrived just an hour before the meeting. Now, likely, they would turn him back toward Acacia in the morn. He felt a hard elbow of annoyance press his ribs, but he breathed through it and asked, "Have we any particular message for the queen?"

Grau cleared his throat harshly, as if he had something caught in it that he wished to expel. His voice calmed when he spoke. "Use whatever words you like. Just make her know the league understands that the changing situation means we must all adapt. Let her know the league has only ever wished to facilitate trade that was in the best interests of the empire. This is no time to trade in quota. Tell her she has our full support and no malice whatsoever."

"You mean lie on every count?"

"Of course," Faleen said. "What other way is there to do business?"

"None that I have yet found to be better than our own methods," Dagon said. Despite his fatigue, he felt rather better now than he had when he began. He should have known that would be the case. The future always looked brighter when joined with the hazy wisdom of this peers.

Grau must have picked up his thoughts. He said, "On some things we change with the situations of the world. But in other ways we stay true to the fundamentals that have always served us. Yes?" The answering affirmation filled the chamber with echoing, raucous enthusiasm-muted, of course, by the mist, but thunderous by Council terms.

Once it quieted down, the chief elder added, infusing his words with the certainty they all craved, "The League of Vessels will ride out this storm as ever we have. This is what has always made us great. It's why we will prosper now, just as we prospered during Hanish Mein's short rule, and as we thrived all the years since Tinhadin's foolish actions. Who but our ancestors would have had the vision to partner with the Lothan Aklun, sorcerer fugitives from Tinhadin's wrath, blood relatives to that madman? Who but we would grab the opportunity to help them punish the Known World year after year? We grew to hate them, but it was a beneficial partnership. Who but we could so long keep it secret that the trade that fueled the world was a product of old hatreds between kinsmen?"

Grau chuckled. "Before long, the seas will calm. The sun will burn away the clouds. And we will yet be masters of the world. Masters of whom is yet to be seen, trading what it is yet to be determined, but it hardly matters. We have many options. So, what we have is a change of everything and a change of nothing at all. On all counts we will profit. And don't forget, brothers, our people are yet searching for this soul catcher we have heard so much about. When they find it-and other Lothan Aklun relics-I'm inclined to believe our losses will be no worse than pinpricks on a rhino's hide. Don't you agree?"

They did.

He is designed for war. How else to describe it? Look at him! Just look at him…

So Rialus thought as he scurried to stay just behind the headman of the Lvin, the chieftain of the entire Auldek nation, and-as of today-the commander of an invading army: Devoth. His strides each doubled Rialus's. His shoulders punched forward and back as he walked, squared and higher on his frame than those of normal men, as if he wore sculpted armor draped over them. But the sculpting was nothing more than his natural contours; the bulk measured only in the striated cords of his own muscles. He went bare armed, shoulder joints rounded knobs, bulging at the biceps. His back-wrapped in tight-fitting leather-started wide and tapered toward his waist, where it met his buttocks and the swinging tree trunks he called legs.

Rialus kept his eyes above this part of the Auldek's anatomy, feeling the same unease he experienced around thoroughbred animals. Any creatures designed for violence and latent with sexual strength troubled him. He doubted there was even one individual in the Known World to match Devoth's physical stature. Certainly no Acacian ever had and likely no Mein either; no Halaly or Candovian; not even a freak, straw-haired Aushenian from the Gradthic Range was likely to reach the Lvin's height of eight savagely proportioned feet.

The benefits of four hundred and some years spent doing nothing but training for war, Rialus mused. That and teaching hummingbirds to sip sweet water from your mouth; raising pet lions; running endurance races over twenty-, thirty-, and fifty-mile courses; practicing archery; singing epic poems, and painting with a brush and ink. Yes, Rialus had continued to learn more about the Auldek with each passing day. None of the newfound knowledge, however, made anything about them make better sense to him. None of it balanced the knowledge that the entire nation was ravenous for war, rushing toward it with a breathless anticipation that seemed almost childlike. Though he had a considerable part in the planning stages of the coming invasion, this day had reared up before him suddenly. Things, it seemed, were moving as fast as the Auldek's massive strides.

Thus, Devoth, Rialus, and their small party went out from the Lvin area of Avina at a brisk pace. They walked atop an elevated network that took them from rooftop to rooftop through a district Rialus had not yet visited. Dropping to street level, they strode for a time down a thoroughfare that swarmed with onlookers, slaves mostly, but all caught up in the excitement of the moment. They yelled encouragement and clapped. Some banged cymbals together. The youngest tossed folded bits of paper shaped like birds and insects, yet another Auldek pastime. The light crafts looped in the air above them. Were they happy to know the Auldek were departing? It did not seem so. The enthusiasm seemed sincere enough, and the tears in the eyes of some held both joy and sadness. Rialus would never understand slaves.

Slick with sweat before long, Rialus welcomed the coolness as they dropped into an underground passageway. The Auldek to either side of Devoth talked as they moved, but Rialus did not follow what they were saying. It was enough just to keep up.

And then they emerged into the sun again. Devoth led them across a rectangle of pink marble. He began the ascent of a wide staircase. Above it, nothing but the sky, bright blue, streaked by high clouds and promising a fine day. Only as he reached the halfway point did he slow his pace. He inhaled a breath, head back slightly. Rialus did the same and he imagined he smelled the scent and essence of many, many souls.

Devoth paused. He did not turn fully around, but he twisted his head enough for Rialus to see his sharp profile. His long hair tumbled over his shoulders in auburn waves. "Are you ready to be stunned, Rialus Leagueman? I think this will be a sight you have never seen the like of before."