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.
C HAPTER
Sitting beside Devoth was the most unnerving experience Rialus had ever lived through. The Auldek had all the brutal physicality of their Numrek cousins. If anything, they had distilled it to its essence and then stirred into it a strange gentility that was all the more incongruous. Something like ferocious anger seethed beneath Devoth's tanned features, but above it lay a veneer of boredom. Rialus could not decide whether Devoth was passionate about life or completely fatigued by it. That was confusing, but even more unsettling was that the Auldek oozed more aristocratic confidence than any Acacian noble Rialus had ever seen-and he had seen many.
Devoth leaned back in his seat, one arm propped at an angle, his knees splayed wide. It was a posture of complete relaxation that also managed to convey that he could spring to his feet at any moment and stride across the world lopping off heads. Devoth now wore a shirt, a thin, somewhat dandyish white cotton garment with crimson satin buttons that matched his trousers. A gold band ringed his thick neck. The tips of his long fingernails had been glazed silver, and his eyes-if Rialus was not mistaken-were lined with black makeup. If Rialus had seen a Numrek so dressed in Acacia he would have laughed at the absurdity of it; here, the effect was almost dashing.
"Rialus Leagueman," Devoth asked, "how do you enjoy being our guest?"
They were sitting with a few others in a private box, beneath an awning of a silken fabric that sheltered them from the strength of the sun. Above and below them stretched a stadium to rival Acacia's Carmelia. The terraced benches surrounding it rose at a steep angle to a dizzying height. Rialus knew that the field was actually dug into the earth; the appearance of height was actually one of depth. But, situated as he was at the midpoint of its height, the view below and the expanse above made him queasy.
"You've no complaints, I hope," Devoth prodded. "Rialus Leagueman?"
Rialus Leagueman! What an annoyance! He had tried several times to make the Auldek understand that he was not part of the league. He hated them, as a matter of fact. They had brought him here as a prisoner! He spat on leaguemen and had nothing in common with them! So he had said, but it never sank in. One guard had even squeezed Rialus's skull and murmured something about the egg shape of it, and then laughed at Rialus's sputtering refutation that there was anything leaguelike about the shape of his head.
Curses and exclamations bounced around in a fury in Rialus's mind, but he had to bite back his complaints and reply, "You've been most… kind."
Devoth seemed pleased to hear it. He looked at the other high-ranking Auldek seated nearby, making sure they took note of Rialus's response. They were all of his clan, except Calrach; his son, Allek; and his half brother, Mulat. The fact that they were allowed to sit with Devoth's people was a considerable honor. Allek, in particular, drew stares and whispers wherever he went. If Rialus had not known the reason for their astonishment he would have thought the boy a long-lost prince. He was more than that: he was a miracle to a people who had not seen a child of their race in hundreds of years. Calrach, always more canny than Rialus expected, had known what he was doing when he brought him along.