The Other Lands (47 page)

“He was an enemy commander,” Skylene offered. “You just did what—”

“Aliver would never have done that. Honor is honor. It’s not just honor when it suits you. He had agreed to terms, and so had I.”

“I’m not sure I understand. Surely, Aliver did not think that the war would be decided between just two men? No matter what, it would have gone on, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Then your actions changed nothing, except that you killed one of your enemy’s leaders.”

Dariel almost laughed. Sadly, he had told himself the same thing many times. Others had said it, too. There was truth in it, but there was also truth in the fact that both he and Aliver believed that people—especially those who led others—should be true to their word. Who knows? Maybe Maeander felt the same. Maybe he would have lived by the outcome of that duel. Dariel would never know because
he
had betrayed his honor. The irony of it was thick enough to swim in.

It was not just the irony that made him laugh. It was what Skylene had said about the truth having many heads but only one body. “Let’s not debate this. We’ll end up headless if we do.”

The woman ridged her brow for a moment, perplexed, but then registered understanding. “You learn fast, Dariel.”

“Not everyone would agree, but I try. And as soon as you start telling me things about Ushen Brae, I will be all ears. Is it time for that yet?”

Skylene thought for a moment. “That’s up to Mór.”

W
hen Rhrenna first brought her the missive, Corinn waved her away. Delivegu had been useful. He would be again, perhaps. And he had a carnal sensuality that parts of her—despite the fact that her intentionally cold façade showed no sign of it—had responded to. But that was before Grae had stepped in and so completely replaced the other man. Grae, with his square-jawed nobility and all the legitimately pleasing possibilities his nuptial overtures offered, a gentleman of noble birth who had proven himself of her class each day of his stay in the palace. Since, Delivegu had seemed even more like an anxious puppy. She had stopped reading his notes. For several weeks now Rhrenna had been discarding them without troubling the queen. If he did not desist, Corinn had decided, his yapping would have to be silenced more forcefully.

Rhrenna needed only to see the queen’s expression to know her thoughts. In answer, she said, “Yes, I know. But you should read it just the same. I won’t be the one who didn’t deliver this to you.”

Tiny threads of annoyance flared out from the corners of Corinn’s eyes, one of the few places the passing years had begun to stake a claim. She took the note, snapped it open. She remarked at how brief it was, which was unusual for the Candovian.

Your Majesty, I have captured your foe. I have Barad the Lesser and will deliver him to you shortly. Your loyal servant, D
.

She let the note drop from her fingers, blowing air through her teeth. How bold-faced of him! She found no reason to believe such a claim. What was he playing at? Last she had heard, Delivegu had been sulking about the lower town’s brothels, digging for secrets and doing whatever else pleasured him. Barad the Lesser, on the other hand, had eluded the empire for years, leaving scarcely any leads, a sort of phantom whom she might have doubted altogether if word of him had not been so consistent.

“Delivegu is a fool,” Corinn said.

Rhrenna pressed her thin lips together, stern for a just a second, before laughing. “We both know that’s not true, Your Majesty. He’s many things, but a fool is not first among them.”

“You credit this, then?”

“Doesn’t matter if I do. I’m patient enough to wait until tomorrow morning.” She held another folded letter, much the same as the first. “He sent me another, you see. A private message.” She displayed both sides of it, as if thinking something through. She was not actually doing so, which was clear from the humor in her eyes. Shrugging, she tossed the note onto the queen’s table. “But what’s mine is yours, of course. Read it, if it pleases you.”

She’s gone as giddy as Mena with her lizard bird, Corinn thought. As giddy as me with my suitor …

She glanced down, but didn’t reach for the letter. Was she growing lax? It had only been a few weeks since Mena and Grae both dropped into her court, but she already suspected she had missed things she would not have before. She had failed to note down a few slights, decided to ignore a suspicion or two so that they did not interfere with her mood. Was that foolish? Or was it time to take some joy in life again?

Joy, she thought, might not be the weakness I’ve believed it to be.

Being with Grae warmed her, and that made her inclined to gentle rule. She found herself flirting with him without the controlled guise that had become part of almost every interaction. That lowering of her guard had loosened the bands of tension that had so long clamped her skull. That was not a bad thing, was it? Grae had taken her hand once as they were sitting on a bench in the high courtyard of the monument to Edifus’s first defensive towers. She did not think he knew that his brother Igguldan had once fallen to his knees in awe of the ancients in this spot. Nor did she mention it, for Grae was less and less his brother’s shadow, more his own man every day. It was good that she saw him that way, for he was a fine king of his people and might yet be a fit monarch for the Known World.

Once, two days before, she had even set free a small work of sorcery in the gardens: insects of a sort not seen before. Antlike beings with large, diaphanous wings, they seemed to want nothing more than to flit above the onlookers’ delighted heads. They seemed almost to sing, as if the flapping of their sparkling wings made music with the air. She was aware that she did this as much to impress Grae as to delight Aaden and his friends, but for once she allowed herself the indulgence. She looked forward to doing so again. Let the people fear her sorcery; let them love it as well.

She had even refused to meet with Sire Nathos, who had come to the island with Paddel, the vintner. Both of them clamored to begin distribution of the new Prios vintage, the mist-infused wine that would glaze the eyes of the populace once more. It was not that she had truly decided against employing it, but she did wonder if it was possible to rule without it. She was loved—or could be. As many tales were spun about her powers and gifts as had been spun about Mena’s warrior prowess. Talay was bursting into life again. So much seemed right. But Paddel and Nathos certainly believed in the dangers posed by this Barad. He was the main reason cited to explain the need for the new drug.

“Meet him, then,” Corinn told Rhrenna, still without picking up the note. “See for yourself. If what Delivegu says is true, I’ll receive him before meeting his prisoner myself. If he’s lying, arrange for his death.”

T
he next morning dawned as usual during the Acacian summer: warm but breezy, the sun alone in a blue-white sky, the sea turquoise nearby and a rich blue in the depths. It was almost ridiculous how unrelentingly perfect the weather was on the island. Sitting beside Aaden, Corinn felt a pang of nostalgia for Calfa Ven. They would have to go there again soon, up into the high, damp air, where the nights were chill and mornings mist shrouded and the air always haunted by some animal call, whether it be a wolver-bear’s roar, a loon’s piping, or a stag’s trumpeting. Perhaps she would invite Grae along with them. Surely he would love it. She almost asked Aaden if he would like that also, but she was with him for a reason. Best that it be attended to first.

The mother and son sat on stools placed for them to look down through slanting panes of tinted glass. Below them an empty room, one chair at its center. Skylights lit the room brightly, while the viewing area was shaded from the sun by an awning. They could look down without being observed. So placed, they awaited the prisoner’s arrival.

“If this man is who my agent claims he is,” Corinn said, “he is one of my greatest enemies.”

“I know about him,” Aaden said, swiping the gold-touched hair back from his forehead. “But how can he be a threat? He doesn’t even have an army. My tutor said he goes about riling up the common folk, but that none of them have yet done
anything
, for all his talk. They’re tradesmen and blacksmiths and farmers.”

“You think tradesmen and blacksmiths and farmers are no threat to me? Singly they aren’t, of course, but Barad makes the many into one. That’s dangerous. We rule because the people allow us to rule. They believe we have power, but their belief is the delusion that grants it to us. Don’t ever forget that. Nothing you can do with your sword, or with your army, is nearly as important as what you must do with your mind, with your words—”

There was motion in the chamber below them. Four Marah guards entered the room, each with their hands crossed and holding the hilt of both short and long swords, ready to draw. They squared off around the empty chair, facing it. A moment later a giant of a man entered. Hands secured behind his back, he had to dip his head beneath the door frame. He paused just inside the room and stood for a moment taking measure of the space. His clothes hung ragged about him, soiled. One sleeve had torn at the shoulder. After looking around the room for a moment, he raised his head and glanced straight up at the glass through which the mother and son watched.

Corinn spoke a bit hurriedly and perhaps to reassure herself as much as Aaden. “He cannot see us.”

The boy said, “He looks like a peasant. A big one, but still a peasant.”

Another guard blocked the doorway behind the prisoner. He shoved him forward with a free hand, the other on the hilt of his short sword. The guard directed him to sit in the chair, and then walked around before him and said something the watchers could not hear.

“So, if we assume that this man is a danger to us, what do we do with him?”

Aaden sat silently thinking for a long time. Corinn thought for the millionth time how much she loved this boy. How was it possible to love so completely and to remember it again and again every day?

“Doesn’t that depend on how he is a danger? What he is threatening to do and how?” Aaden finally said.

“Yes, those are things to consider. He is a danger because he has a gift for oratory. He is one of the people; and when he speaks to them, he makes them believe that all their grievances are caused by us. They’re not, of course. We expect much from our subjects. In return we give them the stability of a prosperous nation. Commoners rarely understand that, and they forget it when a man like this comes into their midst. So his danger is that he blends together a host of grievances and directs it at one target—the Akaran line. At you, Aaden. What is he threatening to do? Destroy us. He believes his peasants could do better at governing the world than we. Or he believes that he will be empowered by our downfall. I’m not sure which. Either way, he would see me deposed. Likely killed after some mockery of a trial. So what do we do with him?”

“We stop him from talking?”

“Perhaps, but that would not undo the things he has said and the emotions he has stirred. What is better than silencing him?”

“If he must talk … we should have him say what we want him to, instead of what we don’t.”

A smile slowly bloomed on Corinn’s face. The answer did not surprise her—she had thought of it herself already—but it did please her. She reached out and mussed his hair and said, “Clever boy.”

Aaden accepted the praise with a shrug.

“You may go now,” Corinn said. “I’ll tell you later what this criminal had to say for himself.”

But Aaden had more on his mind. “Grae said he would go riding with me tomorrow, all the way out to Haven’s Rock. He claims he has a fishing line long enough to reach the water from the top. There’s no way that’s possible. He must be joking! I can go, can’t I?”

“You like Grae, don’t you?” Corinn asked, trying to make the question sound light and casual. “You’ve spent even more time with him than I have.”

“He fenced with me. Not like the others but steel to steel. I could’ve gotten
cut.”
The prospect of this seemed to delight the boy.

“Is that so?” Corinn raised an eyebrow. This was not actually news to her. Very little that Aaden did went unreported to her. For that matter, very little that Grae did during the last few weeks escaped her either. She knew what Aaden did not mention about this sparring: that the blades they used were light, with no edge at all. Grae could certainly have hurt him nonetheless, but ten pairs of Marah eyes had been pinned to him the entire time, ready to repay any injury with a quick death. Corinn asked, “Don’t you think that’s dangerous?”

“No. Not really. He said I was quicker than him. Quicker than he ever was, he said.” Almost as an afterthought, he added, “He wouldn’t hurt me, anyway. He likes me.”

“Of course he wouldn’t,” Corinn said. “And of course he does.”

Aaden’s delay in leaving meant that he was still in the hallway when Rhrenna led Delivegu into the viewing area. After the formalities of greeting the queen were seen to, the Candovian said, “Your son looks more like Hanish Mein every day.” He motioned toward the corridor to explain the comment’s origins.