The Other Lands (19 page)

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.”

Close lipped, Grae asked, “Do you so doubt me?”

“No. If we did, you would not be here. Many have vouched for you. Hunt has watched Aushenia for years. He believes you are different from most in your class. We question you now only because you must understand our objective. It is not to wipe away corruption and replace it with new corruption.”

“So what sort of system do you foresee? When the Akarans are gone, who will rule?”

“The people themselves.”

“The people themselves?” Grae checked other faces, apparently wondering if any found that as amusing as he did. “I trust you have a more detailed plan than that.”

Barad knew that was a reasonable supposition. He had been asked it many times before, and he had meditated on it quite often. He always returned to the same central conviction: what happened after the rising was not his concern. The people would have to face that themselves, together, in many different ways in all the many nations. He would be one among them, but he had no desire to impose his rule on them or to dictate what they should do with their freedom. His charge—given to him by the Giver and through Aliver’s voice—was to break the shackles, to clear minds, to instill a belief in a better future. That was as far as it went. He knew there was danger in thinking thusly, for some men, like this king here, would surely grasp for the reins of power themselves, but this was as it had to be.

He answered as he always did. “The people will do what they will with their freedom. They have earned that right many times over.”

“And if someone else tries to take Corinn’s throne as his own?”

“The people will make this change happen. They are tired, tired of trading one despot for another. I pity the man—or woman—who tries to reenslave them.”

Grae thought about this for a while. He fingered the stem of the chalice. “I was born a prince of Aushenia. It fell to me to become my people’s king. I would just as soon it had not and that I still had my brother and father. But this crown is my fate. It is not my fate, though, to wear any other crown. I do not covet Corinn’s empire. I want only Aushenia. My rule of it is a matter between me and my people. Will the Kindred acknowledge that?”

Barad shrugged. “As I said, I will not dictate how people should live. Yes, that can be between you and the people of Aushenia.” Nobody said anything, but several nodded curtly. “What of your brother? Might he not wish to be a king?”

“A king of Aushenia, perhaps,” Grae said, “but only if I venture to the marshes to hunt with Kralith—”

Lady Shenk interrupted him. “Quit the Aushenian poetry and speak plain. You mean to say only if you die, right?”

“Only then,” Grae said curtly. “I swear to you that my brother and I are of one mind on this. How about this, then? I’ll pledge you my people’s support. Aushenia will join this rising, and when it’s accomplished we will demand only our freedom to live as we will, to our benefit.”

“I do not acknowledge your right to pledge other people’s support,” Barad said. “I am already well known to your people. Many are already friends of the Kindred.” He let this sit a moment, but not long enough for Grae to respond. “I will, however, welcome your personal support, and I will welcome you using your influence in whatever ways help the people’s cause. Do any disagree?”

Nobody did.

“Good,” Barad said. “Then there is only one other thing I must ask you. You should know that there is a reason I want you with us. Although the Kindred will not win by war alone, war is to be a part of what’s to come. We have some warriors in our ranks, but we need a leader for them. You could be that leader. You have been trained for such things. When Corinn tries to squash us with her Marah, her army, her Numrek, will you lead our military?”

Grae grinned, youthful and arrogant and comfortable in himself again. He asked the room, “The queen would never dream that her fate would be sealed in the back room of a grimy pub in Denben, would she?” To Barad he said, “I would like nothing more than to lead our warriors. All my soldiers will say the same.”

“We have an agreement on that, then. I may want even more of you, though. Let’s start by traveling together—perhaps with your younger brother as well, if you truly believe he will join our cause. I will show you both some of the world as I see it. Perhaps you will find the view different from the one seen atop a throne.”

“You are an odd man, Barad the Lesser. They tell me you were a strong man in your youth. Perhaps you still are. When all this is over, you and I should compete together. Will you run the Killintich race against me?”

“I do not think that’s a race I could win, but if you wish … Drink now, King, and be one of us.”

Barad watched as the young man lifted the chalice and tilted it back. The boy was brash. Perhaps he would be a danger. Or perhaps he would die like his half brother. Barad then let his eyes wander around the rest of the company. He liked what he saw. He did not claim to predict the particulars of the future. But he did know at his very core that a great change was coming. Soon. Soon they would rise. It was, he believed, all coming together. Her highness would be dumbfounded when it hit her.

D
ariel had been warned that the isles of the Barrier Ridge—the home of the Lothan Aklun—made a horizon-long barricade of stone, but his imaginings had not prepared him for the actual sight of them. From a distance, and with the changing light of the rising sun slanting from behind the
Ambergris
, the island chain looked like mountains dusted with a cover of snow that clung to the few flat surfaces. He watched them from near the ship’s bow. As he stared the peaks grew in height in a manner that seemed unnatural, more motion to it than should be, more, too, than just the lessening of distance. On one hand they were a strange solidity viewed by eyes used to the motion of the ocean waves. Yet for all the gray-stone hardness of them Dariel could not shake the feeling that the entire landmass was moving. It seemed to be ever slicing southward, like the spine of a surfacing whale.

“It’s the current that does that.”

Dariel pulled his eyes away from the scene long enough to acknowledge Sire Neen, who had just joined him at the railing, Rialus at his shoulder.

“The current flows strongly to the north this time of year. The waves rushing along the coastline make it seem as if the land is moving. But I assure you it’s not. It’s just a trick of the eye. The angerwall we’ll have to cross is very real, however, and a result of the same phenomenon.” Sire Neen smiled, showing his rounded teeth. “I imagine that your eyes have not yet seen the islands for what they actually are. Look again more closely. We’re near enough now.”

Dariel looked back at the coastline. The rocks rose into a vertical blockade, and for most of the ridge’s dark expanse there was no sign of habitation. He almost asked why it seemed empty of life. But before he did, he realized that the light areas he had thought snow were actually buildings. He’d had the scale all wrong. The peaks were higher, and the dustings of snow were actually structures several stories tall. Built all along the highest points and thrown loosely about the high cliffs was a spidery lacework, a combination of nature and architectural design.

“Oh.” He saw something else. What he had taken to be one solid landmass was in fact many islands. That was why it was so hard to see the scale. Some of the peaks were far beyond the nearer ones. Each was a jagged point thrust directly up from the water. They were not approaching a continent with mountains. They were approaching thousands of separate peaks, massive islands that hid the greater part of their bulk in the black depths.

“Yes, ‘Oh,’ is right,” Sire Neen said.

It was not long before Dariel observed the next surprise. The current rushing to the north got more and more powerful as they drew nearer land. It ripped along the coastline as fast as a river in flood. A ship tossed against the rocks would certainly be smashed to splinters. That was frightening enough, but as they approached a wide gap behind the first of the barrier islands through which they obviously intended to sail, he saw what must be the angerwall Sire Neen had referred to.

Clearing the point of land, the ocean current’s interaction was suddenly that of rushing water against the comparatively slack water. Marking the dividing line between the two was a seething wall of water several stories high. The current moved past, while the channel water swirled and roiled, bucking up in great heaving swells, unevenly timed, as if angry creatures were trying to breech but could not break the skin of the water.

“Ah …,” Rialus said but got no further vocalizing his thoughts than that.

“‘Oh’ and Ah.’” Sire Neen chuckled. “You make a fine duo.”

The
Ambergris
approached at speed, angling across the current and toward the channel. The wind was with them, and they plowed through the rising and falling waves with incredible force, almost as if they wished to crash directly into the island itself. Dariel had done some daring things in his career as a brigand, but now they were traveling at open-ocean speed, careening either into a wall of rock or over a wall of water—he wasn’t sure which. The lookout called something, as did the captain, and then a bell began to toll. Sire Neen said something, but Dariel did not hear what it was.

He was still staring when a crewman grasped him by the shoulder and pulled him hurriedly toward the center of the deck. He joined Sire Neen, Rialus, and others at the benches that encircled the base of one of the masts. The crewman shoved him down without ceremony and, with a few deft motions, secured a rope around his waist. Tied to the mast, Dariel looked around to see that the others were likewise secured. Many crewmen still dashed about the ship, but when the tolling of the bell increased in rapidity they all scrambled for something to hold.

The bell stopped. For a few moments the only sounds were the wind and the rush of water. And then the bow of the massive ship punched over the current wall and crashed down into the slack water. The prow dove and the stern tilted up into the air, and then the entire ship began to pitch and roll at the same time. The force of it pulled Dariel in one direction and then the next, smacking his head hard on the wooden mast behind him. If he had not been tied down he would certainly have been tossed into the air. Indeed, some of the crewmen were. Dariel saw sailors dangling sideways in the air, holding on to lines for dear life. The hull of the ship groaned and quivered. There was a tearing sound deep in the vessel, and Dariel feared the entire ship would be torn to pieces. And then he feared it would stay whole but conclude this mad maneuver upside down.

The ship corkscrewed to starboard in a manner that shoved Dariel’s guts up against his diaphragm, pushing the air from his lungs. The roiling wraith of the agitated water surged up over the railing. The sailors there went completely under water and stayed submerged for some time. The ship balanced on its side, the tips of the masts sunk deep into the water, sails billowing with the current. It seemed an impossibly long moment—a breath held and held and held—before the
Ambergris
finally made up its mind and began the slow roll back upright.

The sailors who had been submerged gasped as they hit the air. Dariel felt just as empty of air as they, just as hungry for breath. A different noise rose from the ship’s bowels: shouts of rage from the chained Numrek. He had not seen them the entire voyage, but they made themselves heard now. Dariel had to shade his brow to get his bearings. They were, he concluded, in the lee of the island. Actually, they were even moving forward, away from the current and into the maze of mountain islands before them. He did not try to hide the astonishment on his face.