The other lands

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

The breakneck speed at which the league clipper careened into Acacia's main harbor would have been reckless even in the light of day. At night, it was madness. But league pilots were nothing if not adept at all things nautical, and the officer at the helm of the Rayfin carved a wild course through the anchored vessels, passed the trading floats. He hooked the vessel around the inner watchtower and dropped sails only when momentum alone was more than enough to place it skimming along a fortunately unoccupied section of league-owned pier. He shouted for the messenger to disembark before they had even halted. The man did not need the encouragement. He leaped from a height and ran with all the haste he had been ordered to show.

A scant ten minutes later, Sire Dagon sat bleary eyed, wearing a robe loosely wrapped about his gaunt frame. Mist so clouded his head that his servants had to carry him-against his muted protests-and prop him up in his chair. Even sitting there, with the bay windows thrown open to a chill breeze and lamps on high, he as yet floated on the chorus of angelic voices he conducted during his mist dreams. His head swirled with song, his body light as a silken puppet and able to dance in midair, only now being tugged back down to earth. Blinking, he asked the messenger what could possibly merit the interruption at such a delicate hour.

"I came in haste," the man said.

"So I gather," Sire Dagon said, cocking his head back in a manner that for some reason helped him see middle-distance objects more clearly. The man spoke with clipped Ishtat Inspectorate tones, a fact that registered a spike in the leagueman's attention. Ishtats were so highly trained that rarely were they charged with tasks as menial as delivering a message. "What I don't yet know is why, but I trust you are about to tell me. Who sent you?"

"The League Council."

"Why did they not send a messenger bird from Thrain?"

"The news I carry was deemed too grave to be put in care of a pigeon."

"In care of a pigeon?" Sire Dagon found that amusing. Images of officer pigeons with military bearing, cooing orders to a small legion of birds, dancing up from the ground with the aid of the music yet pulsing in his veins…

"Sire, you need to listen."

Quite impertinently, the messenger shouted for Sire Dagon's servants. He demanded they bring a sobering concoction to match the leagueman's mist distillation. He needed him back completely, and immediately, he said. He must have said a few other very convincing things as well, because before Dagon could stop it his manservant stuffed an invigorating pill up one of his nostrils. Not pleasant but effective. Within a minute he was more awake than he wished, the burning itch in his nose and at the back of his throat making sure of it.

"Forgive me, Sire," the messenger said, bowing to him now that his orders had been heeded. "I was commanded that I waste not a minute in delivering my message. But you have to be able to hear it and understand it, too. This message is from the Council, without dissent. I wear on my neck this collar, secured with a truth knot that confirms my words are truth."

The man stepped forward, bent, and opened his shirt collar so that Dagon could study the thin rope tied about his neck. Sire Dagon yanked at it, pulling it close. To an untrained eye the knot that closed the circle looked like the confusion a child might create, but in its loops and bunches was an intricacy that was very practiced, indeed. And there could be no mistaking its authenticity. The messenger had been sent by the League Council.

Sire Dagon motioned for the man to step away. Regaining his dignity, he said, "I am listening."

And so he sat hearing about the horror that had emerged from Sire Neen's mistakes. In the space of few moments everything changed. All their hopes, their plans, all of it would have to wait. Instead, he would have to compose lies faster than ever before. He would have to win the queen's trust, for they would need her armies in the war that was coming.

A few hours later Sire Dagon traversed the terraces and stairways that would lead him to the queen, a messenger himself now. She would not be easy to gain an audience with. Sire Dagon knew the things she had recently occupied herself with. Apparently, she had managed to capture Barad the Lesser. What a stir this had caused among the nobles! All the work of some agent of hers, one Delivegu, a lucky man, and now one officially acknowledged at court. Word of the capture had spread among the common folk, so that whatever benefit there was in it was not immediately obvious. Indeed, a rumor spread that she had mutilated Barad. Cut out his eyes and shoved stones in their places. Still others said she cursed him through sorcery. It was the sort of mad talk that might have sparked the man's rebellion into life, but Corinn had finally ordered the distribution of a new wine. In so doing, she belatedly fulfilled the league's wishes, but that was so often the case. She had also politely but firmly sent King Grae back to his homeland. The leaguemen were not entirely sure what to make of that, but there was something of interest beneath the surface of it surely. With all this happening, Corinn had every right to consider herself tied up in a web of complications. How very simple such things would seem to her by the end of this day!

Just outside the queen's quarters, Sire Dagon stood with his arms outstretched as a Marah searched him for hidden daggers. He tried to keep his gaze forward, his face wrinkled with annoyed tolerance. The last thing he wanted to do was look at any of the Numrek, two of whom stood watching. But his eyes had wills of their own. They flicked over long enough to confirm-damn it-that the guards on either side of the door were looking at him. Was there anything to be read in their craggy features? He was not sure. Stupid! Control yourself, he thought. Without showing it, he breathed deep and slow, steadying himself. Leaguemen controlled their emotions, not the other way around. Before he was waved through, he even resorted to the silent counting regime he had been taught as a boy, arithmetic exercises that he conducted in the back of his mind and that helped render his face expressionless.

"All right," the Marah said, "you may enter. Forgive the formality, sire." He stood to the side and motioned toward the corridor.

Sire Dagon gave him a look meant to indicate that he knew very well where he was going. It is what he would have done in normal circumstances. Again, though, his eyes chose to disobey him. Tremulous, they slid to the side as he passed and, yes, the Numrek to his left was watching him! No mistaking it. The beast had been observing him with more than casual interest.

Once in the corridor, the leagueman quickened his step, trying to walk quietly and listen for any indication that the Numrek was following. He had to pass another two Numrek milling about the anteroom, but he managed it without mishap. Once in the front office proper, he swept in on Rhrenna, tripping on the edge of the carpet and banging his leg against a divan.

The secretary frowned at him. "Sire Dagon…"

He did not slacken his strides. Reaching out with one hand, he clamped his claw around the woman's elbow, wrenching her into motion. She called out in protest, but he shushed her savagely. "Be silent! Your life depends on this!"

The piper sitting in the corner near the queen's actual door did not pay enough attention to look perplexed. He just glanced at the two rushing forward and lifted his flute to announce their presence. He had sounded but a few notes before Sire Dagon opened the queen's door. He swirled in and shoved it closed again a moment later, releasing Rhrenna as he did. It was all an unaccustomed amount of physical activity for the man, enough to leave him panting.

Corinn had been on her balcony. She stepped back into the dimmer light inside, studying the two with an unreadable but certainly not welcoming expression.

"Your Majesty!" Dagon bowed quickly, sucking a few breaths as he did so. "I am here to tell you everything. Everything, without the slightest deception. First, though, have you a secret room? A safe room?"

"What-"

Moving toward her, he said, "You do, of course! I know you do. A room that you can enter from these chambers, that only you have the key to and that you can lock. Where is it?"

"Sire Dagon, I-"

"No!" he said. "Not now. In a safe place. Get us there. Then we talk. Please, Corinn. Your very life is in danger. Please!"

The queen crossed her arms. "I'm in my chambers, with my guards but a shout away. From whom am I in danger? I see only one madman at the moment."

"Oh, you stubborn thing! Fine."

As she watched-now visibly shocked by his outbursts-Sire Dagon brushed past her. He inspected one corner of the room quickly, looking high and low. He measured a few steps to the side, and then grasped the tapestry he found there along its bottom edge. With a flourish, he flung it to the side, sending the needlework depiction of a sunset behind the Senival mountains rippling toward the floor tiles. And there it was! As he knew it would be. Nothing more than two depressions at waist height in the stone, each about the size of the heel of a child's hand. He pressed his against both and pushed. For a moment the wall was as immobile as it looked. He cursed. He heard one of the women whisper something. He cursed again. And then remembered. He pressed harder on the right hand than the left. Of course. A door-sized portion of the wall gave way, suddenly smooth and light before his hands.

"There," he said, turning, panting. "Now you know that we know of this. Would I betray that information without cause? Please, come in with me. I'll tell you everything once we are inside."

The queen glanced at Rhrenna. Sire Dagon knew some message passed between them, but he was too fatigued to riddle it out. Not that he needed to. By the Giver, he had just revealed a secret hundreds of years old, one that by itself changed everything about the trust between the Akarans and the league. He hoped it worked. Of course, if it did not, the queen would likely be dead within the hour.

Without speaking a word or looking him in the face, Corinn moved past him, through the opening. Rhrenna followed, her blue eyes hard on his. Dagon slipped in behind them. He made sure the wall fit snugly back into place, and then he stepped away from it. From this side, the roughhewn stone, which appeared to be lit from above by an opening to the sky, betrayed no sign of the door. Only at his feet, where a fan of thick dust had been swept aside, was there a sign to confirm he had just passed through the wall. How strange to finally be here. He had known of this place since his early days in his office, but never knew that he would see it himself.

He turned to face the two women. Before he was fully around, Rhrenna had slammed her shoulder into his thin chest, pushing him back against the wall. He felt the prick of a tiny, undoubtedly razor-sharp, blade at his neck. The Meinish woman pressed it skillfully, with enough of the flat of the blade that he could feel the pulse of his artery beneath it, and with enough of the edge that he felt his skin on the verge of bursting open around it. Her small face was close to his chin, her teeth bared as if she would bite him as well as cut him. He had expected this, too, but it was savage enough an action to take his breath away again.

"Explain yourself now, Dagon," Corinn said. She stood only a step away, for the chamber was small, more like a fissure in a cave than a man-made room. Lit from above, she was frightening, all highlight or shadow. He had no problem believing her capable of sorcery. She said, "Rhrenna never liked you. She'd slit your throat and bathe in the shower of blood that would bring. Considering that you have shoved us into a secret room-a room that you should know nothing about-I'll happily pardon her and curse the leagueman who challenges me."

A few more breaths. This was so awkward, but to get through it he must get through it. The best way to do that was to hit her so directly she was stunned to silence, and then he would regain some control. "Queen Corinn"-he gasped-"first, you must know that Sire Neen and much of the envoy were killed. Ah-" He flinched at a change in the pressure of the knife. He grasped the dolphin pendant hanging from his chest, the symbol of the league, and caressed it between his fingers. "The mission is a failure. We were betrayed in the most foul way. There are traitors within the walls of the palace at this very moment. Please, have the woman draw back her knife."

Corinn did not do so. "My brother?"

"I know not," Sire Dagon admitted.

"Is he alive?"

"I don't know. Perhaps he was captured. He was under our full protection, of course, but was, as I said, betrayed. We think-"

"By whom?"

"The Lothan Aklun. The Auldek. Both. We arrived to find them at war. They both sought to make us pawns. Tricked us. There was a massacre. And, Your Majesty, most important right now: the Numrek have betrayed us."

Corinn stood still. For a long time she looked like some beautiful, bloodless witch, the type of being who might haunt and excite adolescent nightmares. For a few moments, Sire Dagon felt he might have failed. There was too much to say, too much to explain, too many lies to navigate, even as he created more. For a moment, the idea of Rhrenna slicing his life from him did not seem so bad. At least it would end the complications.

"What do you mean the Numrek betrayed us?"

"They-Oh, it's hard to explain with a dagger at my throat."

Corinn shrugged. "Do it anyway."

So he did. As best he could, flinching often, feeling the trickles of blood that oozed out of small nicks made by the knife. He could smell Rhrenna's breath-not unpleasant-and hear the moist coagulation of his blood on her fingers when she flexed them. He told of how the Ambergris arrived to find the Lothan Aklun and Auldek in open war with each other. The Aklun were suffering, nearly defeated; Sire Neen tried to arrange a peace, but he failed. The Auldek met with him under the guise of parley, he said, but Calrach chose the moment to switch sides. The Auldek were their cousins, similar in many ways. Together, they slaughtered the entire delegation party. Only a few from the landing party got back to the Ambergris. The vessel stayed a time in Aklun waters, trying to assess the situation. By the time they sailed for home, they believed two things: the Lothan Aklun were all but conquered, and the Numrek were trying to get the Auldek to attack the Known World via the same route they had used.

So he spoke. He did not tell the truth, save for the final point. As an alternative, though, his version of events was no less credible than the real one.

"You are telling me we're at war? At war with a race I've done nothing to? All because of a league gambit gone wrong? All because you couldn't tell an enemy from a friend?"

Sire Dagon seemed to have difficulty accepting the entirety of the statement, but he could not settle on which part to take issue with. He answered rather sheepishly, "Ah… yes. In part." And then, not so sheepishly, "We were not the only ones fooled. But that doesn't matter. Your Majesty, at the moment I pray that we have the leisure for you to berate our stupidity at length. Now is not the time, though. The Numrek have played us all for fools, and they yet stand outside your door. Your Majesty, they must be exterminated. Right now. Today. This very hour. The vessel the messenger arrived in is stuffed with Ishtat. They are armed and ready, and they will take the palace any moment now."

"What?" Corinn somehow made the word sound like a spell of damnation.

"It's all we can do. If the Numrek knew that their brethren have succeeded, they'd begin the slaughter. That's what they've been waiting for, a sign to commence."

"The Marah. They will-"

"Some will die in the confusion. But others we've tried to contact, to explain-"

"You take great liberties!" Rhrenna spoke through teeth that still seemed ready to bite.

"And why should I believe you? The Numrek have never once shown a sign of deceit."

"Oh, yes they have. Majesty, they've written their treachery in blood. In your brother's blood, I fear. You haven't seen it, but must you lay eyes on everything to believe it real? As for you, why would I come to you with this tragedy if it were not true? What fool would make up such misfortune?"

Corinn stared at him for a long moment. "If this is true, how would the Numrek learn what happened? They're not going to pilot a ship back themselves, are they?"

"I… I don't know," Sire Dagon sputtered.

"Would one of your people carry the message?"

"No, of course not. They've attacked us. We-"

Rhrenna interrupted. "You're the messenger."

"What?" Sire Dagon grimaced. "No, I'm here to warn you."

"You fool," Rhrenna continued. "If what you've said is true, look at what you've just done. You walked in here sweating, ashen-faced, nervous. You think the Numrek guards wouldn't notice that? Then you push us into a secret room! What more confirmation do they need that something grave has happened? And you're going to attack them? Only a handful of them are on the island. The rest will learn all they need to know because of your actions!"

Sire Dagon was speechless for a moment. He then said, "But we've brought Ishtat. They'll attack any moment. That's why we are safe in here." But even as he said this he felt his logic falling away beneath him. Of course his actions would confirm the betrayal in the Other Lands. The few Numrek on Acacia would die, but they would act as assassins in their last moments. Perhaps his appearance had given them a few extra minutes to kill chosen targets. The rest of the clan, safely on the Teh Coast, would dig in and wait. Who knew what preparations they had made already, what supplies and weapons had been stored?

Corinn, speaking to Rhrenna now, snapped, "How many Numrek are within the palace today?"

When the Meinish woman craned around to answer, Corinn flicked her fingers, indicating she could release him. She did, and Sire Dagon's fingers went immediately to his throat. He touched it gently, as if his fingers could somehow do more damage than the blade had. He realized Rhrenna was answering the queen, but he caught only the end of it.

"… and there is a handful with Aaden and Mena at the Carmelia Stadium."

The queen let out a gasp of air, as if she had just been punched in the chest. She did it again, forming it into a word this time. "Aaden!"

She stepped for the hidden door, but Sire Dagon dove to block it from her.

"Out of my way!" Corinn hissed this so fiercely that Sire Dagon, despite knowing it was the worst possible action, half stepped to the side. He could not help it, for it suddenly seemed she had the power to crush him in an instant if he did not obey.

Her shoulder brushed him and he watched her from the back as she sought out the contours that would open the door. She had just leaned to push against it when one of the Numrek, Codeth, called for the queen from the other side of the door. The feigned calm of his voice was short-lived. A rush of new voices beat it down, with the clang of steel on steel and the commotion of furniture being overturned.

Nearer, Sire Dagon heard the queen whisper her son's name, barely more than an exhaled breath.