Dariel glanced at Rialus, who seemed just as perplexed by the conversation as he was. What were they talking about? Why were they talking about this? Why now? "I don't know," Dariel eventually said. Thinking that sounded feeble, he attempted a tone of greater certainty. "I had not thought about it before. I have tried to put my memory of that day aside. It's not the work I do now."
Sire Neen seemed disappointed. He lifted his chin and studied the prince a moment. "Did you never think to grasp the throne yourself?" he asked. "Acacia's generations have few notable queens. In a time of such turmoil you might readily have stepped into power as your brother's heir. To some it seems odd that you did not. Why defer to gentle Corinn-just a woman, after all?"
"Why would I consider that?" The indignation in Dariel's voice appeared instant and true. It choked his words for a moment and then pushed them out with breath of quick anger. "No, I won't have this conversation with you! What I did at the platforms I did in war against an agent of my family's enemy. Any guilt for it is mine to measure. That's all I'll say. Don't forget yourself and ask about it again."
"No, I don't forget myself," the leagueman said. He reached out and affectionately squeezed Dariel's shoulder. He paused like that, so strangely familiar, and pursed his lips in thought. "All right, Your Highness. No more probing questions. Forgive me if I trod awkwardly." He released Dariel and turned as if to move away. He stopped and turned back, touching a finger to his nose as if a thought had just occurred to him. "One other thing. We won't be stopping in the barrier isles today. There's no reason to. The Lothan Aklun are all dead. Every one of them. You recall how Hanish Mein used a contagion to ravage your people? We've done something similar here. They weren't really so hard to kill. Your Tinhadin had said they were like serpents with a thousand heads. Or something like that. As usual with you Akarans, that was an exaggeration." He chuckled. "So there's no reason to stop. No one to talk to, you see. They're dead and swimming into their rest. So we'll sail on, if you don't mind, and soon we'll dine with the Auldek, our new friends. It's they who matter to us anyway. Like I said, surprises abound, don't they?"
Dariel did not find the words to stop the leagueman as he walked casually away, flanked, the prince saw, by bodyguards who were suddenly more attentive than they had been before. He was too stunned to call out, to move, to demand an explanation. Sire Neen's words jostled in his head. But he had heard him. He had understood him.
Rialus, who had turned to the railing as if he might vomit, stammered something. Dariel didn't make out one word of it, but somehow he knew what he was saying. He just knew. He pulled his gaze away from Sire Neen's back and looked down at the sea. Yes, just as he thought. There were human bodies in the water after all. In fact, there were many floating bodies. Swimming into their rest. The prince felt the presence of soldiers approaching him from behind. He realized then that he had not seen his Marah guards for some time. Many of them had been belowdecks before the angerwall, and those who had been with him were no longer with him. He knew, without turning, that the group gathering behind him was not made up of his soldiers, but he did not rush to look at them. Instead, he kept eyes on the graveyard that was the sea. There were so many bodies in the waves, all of them adrift on the same tide the Ambergris rode, all of them being pulled toward the Other Lands.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
A young league apprentice, Noval, sat waiting for Sire Neen among the plush chairs reserved for leaguemen in their council chambers. Several other officials and naval officers stood or sat nearby. With the exception of a few of Neen's assistants, all of them had newly arrived from the sailless clipper.
"It all went as planned?" Sire Neen asked as he stepped into the room.
"You saw the bodies," Noval said. He motioned toward a porthole with a lazy finger. "Up and down the archipelago it's the same thing."
Noval had not yet joined the higher ranks of the league and earned the title sire, but after this he likely would. Noval grinned, leaning back against his chair's cushions as if he might fall blissfully asleep. You'll need to learn to hide emotion like that, Sire Neen thought. He did not really begrudge him his happiness, though. In truth, he could barely contain his own enthusiasm.
"Every Lothan Aklun is a corpse now," said a captain, presumably the one who had piloted the clipper. "A feast for the crabs and sea worms."
Noval nodded and concluded, "Yes, it all went as planned. You, Uncle, are a genius."
Sire Neen pressed his lips together. As much as he wanted a share of the young man's satisfaction, he could not accept it all without a measure of doubt. "Nothing ever goes entirely as planned," he said. "Tell me it all and I'll judge."
Noval proceeded to describe what had transpired on the barrier isles over the last few days. Listening to the report, Sire Neen had to inhale deep breaths. His heart raced as if he were joyously running. Perhaps in the years to come it would be this feeling he relived during mist trances. Certainly, triumph was a sweeter pleasure than anything else he had yet experienced. The Lothan Aklun food for sea worms? Absolutely amazing. Could he truly believe it?
The Lothan Aklun had seemed invulnerable, proud, greedy. They were aloof in a manner most marked by their… well, by their simple denial of aloofness. He had met their agents on several occasions. Each time they dressed in loose wraps of white cloth that hung on their leanly muscled frames, always bare of foot. They were slight men and women, healthy looking and tanned. Sire Neen had always felt a knot in his abdomen when meeting them. His head tingled in a manner that made him want to flee. Why, it was hard to say.
They smiled and nodded and conducted their business with courteous efficiency. They never invited leaguemen beyond the docks at which they traded their goods, but nothing in their outward appearance indicated threat. They did not even seem to have guards watching over them. This fact alone made Neen's skin crawl as if with a thousand spiders. Who other than people so secure in their power-with unseen weapons ready to unleash-would act as if they gave no thought to it? That the Lothan Aklun had such an effect on him while outwardly feigning harmlessness had planted in him the first seed of personal animus toward them. This seed had found ready watering in the years since.
And now they were dead. Not so invulnerable after all, it seemed. Now everything that had been theirs belonged to the league. Sire Neen did not know exactly what that meant, but he longed to find out.
"You saw the clipper?" Noval asked. "The captain here has made a quick study of it. He can't explain it in the slightest, but I believe he's rather taken with the vessel. You should see him at the helm."
The captain did not deny it. "There is power in that ship like I've never felt before. It's inside the vessel itself, Sire. Truly amazing."
Inside the vessel itself, Sire Neen repeated to himself. So it's true. They had long known that the Lothan Aklun stole the life force from chosen quota children with a soul-catching device and then transferred the force into other bodies. But they had heard only rumors that the Lothan also managed to harness the life force to power inanimate objects like their ships. Now they had proof. And if this rumor was true, perhaps the others were as well, but these things could be explored in time. They had other business to see to.