Instead, Devoth came out of the convulsions and moved with the same incredible speed he had shown earlier. Devoth closed the distance to the Ishtat soldiers, swung his mighty sword as if it had no weight to it at all, and cut down the three guards in front of Sire Neen. He dropped to the floor, avoiding the first volley of arrows sent at him; then he spun upward, sweeping his sword diagonally. The blade sliced through Sire Neen's head, starting above the lower jaw and angling up. When the steel cut free, the leagueman's half face twirled in the air above his crumpling body.
Dariel stood as the chamber erupted into chaos. The Ishtat rushed forward. The shadowed masses of Auldek poured into the lighted square, swords drawn. The prince had no idea what to do. His hands were bound. Rialus was no longer beside him. In front of him, the Ishtat and the Auldek fell on one another in a wild confusion of blood and gore.
A hand gripped his shoulder and yanked him around. He thought that it must be an Ishtat soldier or Rialus or a leagueman. It was none of these. He spun to see a person with a thin whitish-blue face and a long nose, a woman whose hair sprang from her head like the plumage of some bird. The next instant, someone wrapped an arm around his torso, lifted him off the ground, and began running. It was not the bird person who carried him, however, but rather a gray, muscled bulk of a being.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The Kindred were to meet again at a village west of Danos. Before they did, however, Barad arrived on the Cape of Fallon with King Grae and his brother, Ganet. The trio traveled inland and together explored the region for several days. The area's loamy soil produced bountiful crops of sweet potatoes, carrots, onions, and massive turnips the size of a man's head. Unlike the plantations of northern Talay or the state-run croplands of the Mainland, the region was too rocky to be sectioned off in a grid pattern. The land was irregular, broken by hills and stands of recalcitrant short pines, and not suited to mass labor forces. Instead, small family farmsteads patchworked the area, as they had for centuries. And, as had been the case for centuries, these farmers were forced to pay such a large portion of their crops into the empire's coffers that they little more than subsisted from their labor and their land's bounty.
That was what Barad had wanted the Aushenians to see for themselves. Was it not a crime, he asked as they toured the area on borrowed mules, that these farmers worked their hands into calloused claws? They woke before the sun each morning and labored as long as the orb traversed the sky and sometimes into the night. They were at the mercy of the vagaries of the weather, required to deliver their produce on good and bad years both.
Was it reasonable that after all that labor-over all the years these farming families had worked this land and helped feed the world-that these people's children were rail thin, that their elders died without the care physicians offered the wealthy of Alecia and Manil-not to mention Aos, with its school for training in the healing arts? These farmers shipped away great wagons of foodstuffs, but not one of them grew fat on it. Not one of them acquired any of the luxuries enjoyed by the merchants of Alyth or Bocoum.
Disguised in laborers' rags, the three men pitchforked a wagonload of turnips into a massive storage facility guarded by Acacian soldiers. They added to the mountain of vegetables already collected there. Sitting in the back of the wagon as they jolted away, Barad explained that those stores were for the empire. Such was the way it always had been; such was the way the queen wished it to continue. They walked among the rows of kale and greens, of sugar hearts and blood beets. They saw children thin as waifs, met young men strong about the shoulders, older men slowed with the weight of work, and even older ones stooped by a lifetime of carrying such burdens. As their group rode past the corner of one field, a small girl looked up at them from a muddy trench. Just what she was engaged in was unclear, but it was not play. She was coated in muck, her legs sunk up to the ankles in the stuff, a bucket in one hand and a hooked tool in the other. Barad thought to pause and question her, but changed his mind just before he spoke. She set large, lovely brown eyes on him, framed by a cascade of unkempt curls. She was a small beauty, and he deemed her message one best delivered through her eyes. How would the years treat her? Her eyes asked this silently, so he did not need to speak out loud. He kept the group moving.
None of these sights were unusual to farmhands, but it was not the world most royals ever looked upon. Both Grae and his younger brother took in the scenes with their blue eyes. The younger was nearly a twin of his brother. A little slimmer of build perhaps, but the real difference between them was in his acceptance of deference to his elder. Clearly, the time the two of them spent secluded in the far north of their country-as their older brother and father both died in battle-had made them close. As Grae had said at the last meeting of the Kindred, his brother did seem to share his view of the world.
Throughout it all, Barad studied the young king's face, trying to see the mind behind his words, beneath that handsome visage. He had done this many times in the past few weeks-when he led the Aushenian down into an abandoned Kidnaban mine and asked him to imagine the labor required to dig such a massive wound, as they skirted the wasteland of pig farms along the Tabith Way, even when they toured the slums of Alecia. On first hearing of the latter, the king had asked, "There are slums in Alecia?"
"Aye," Barad had said. "You don't see them from the palaces and government buildings, but they're there, outside what most would think of as the walls of the place. Some of those walls are not a partition that separates inside and out. Some are just barriers between the rich and the poor of the city. You'll never hear the Alecians speak of it. It's like they have one gangrenous hand, but they keep it hidden in a fancy glove, soaked in perfume. You'll see." And the king had seen. Barad made certain of it.
The old slave of the mines knew that one could never be sure when judging another person, but by the end of their weeks of traveling together, he believed Grae had a just heart. The king had never once flinched after seeing what Barad directed him to. He had offered no excuses for the empire, and he had even spoken to several peasants as if they were actual people, something Corinn had never done in her years of rule. There might be true nobility in his blood, something deeper and more full of purpose than the brash young man yet recognized. Barad saw it, though, and it pleased him. The Aushenian would make a fine ally. Used correctly, he could be a tool unlike any he had yet engaged. Ganet seemed just as useful, although in a different way.
On the scheduled meeting day, all the Kindred councillors who could be there gathered in a barn behind a farmhouse on the outskirts of a village. Surrounded by plowed fields, the air around the building was heavy with earth scent. Inside was equally loamy, but stuffy and mildewy as well. Light falling down through spaces in the beams crosshatched the shadows and partially illumed the dark stalls, some of which contained farm animals.
Barad joked that the cattle would overhear them, but in truth he liked the space well enough. The group sat around a wooden table. It was set with a display of fresh vegetables arranged in a colorful pattern, with a pot of stew-mostly tubers-and potato bread. The farmer who owned the place was friendly to their cause. He and his sons carried on with their work outside, and with that cover of normalcy to shield them Barad invited the travelers to eat and talk as friends before getting to business. It wasn't until the conversation eased into a natural lull that he changed the tone.