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“The league has no allegiance to anyone or anything, Cori
Cori
“I agreed to double the quota, thus doubling their profits. Recently, I’ve said that they could base themselves around the Outer Isles if they could rid the place of pirates. These were the things I discussed with Sire Dagon.”
“Hmm,” Cori
Hanish leaned forward slightly, not actually coming close to her, but in a way that indicated his answer was for her alone. “Very much,” he said. “What else do you want to know? Want to hear about the slaves we sell across the ocean? About how we distribute the mist we receive in return? About the way we sedate the masses so that they labor for us without complaint? I’ll tell you anything, Princess, if it pleases you to hear it. I will even pretend that it was all my doing, and that your father, dear Leodan, was not the world’s greatest slaver before I was even born.”
His voice had been languidly flirtatious up until the end, when it acquired an edge of chilliness. Cori
“You wish a hunt?” Hanish asked, catching Cori
“Will you shout for him to run or should I?”
“You wouldn’t,” Cori
“Why not? He’s no more than my slave. If he dies, it is my loss that matters.”
The muscles of Hanish’s forearm stood out, trembling with the effort, the knuckles of his fist white and hard around the bow. Such a cruel arm it was. Cruel, in the very sinews and tissues of it. “Don’t, Hanish,” Cori
“You say that, but in truth you want me to do it. You want to see him impaled and hear him call out. Don’t you?”
It took her a moment to answer. She did not know why she hesitated. She was not considering different answers. There was only one. But it was hard to push out. “No,” she finally said, “I don’t.”
“Boy,” Hanish shouted, “raise up your hand!”
The boy did not understand. Hanish lowered his bow and showed what he meant with his own hand. The boy mirrored the posture. Hanish told him to spread his fingers, and then to hold them apart, with spaces between them. “Good, now hold very still.” He lifted his bow to sight again.
“Just stop it!” Cori
He shot. The boy did not flinch, which was a good thing as the arrow passed between his middle and forefinger. It sailed on past him and hid itself in the grass somewhere behind him. Just like that, it was done.
“Was there a point to be made with that or not?” Hanish asked, lowering his bow. “You decide.” He spun and moved away, dropping the weapon to the ground after a few steps.
Cori
With effort, she pulled her eyes from the trees and touched on the boy, who still stood in exactly the same spot. He had lowered his hand, but he stood as if unsure whether something else would be asked of him. It was good that she had not asked him his name.
Back at the lodge and wrapped up in her thoughts, she was surprised when Peter, the head servant, appeared beside her in one of the stairwells. He came at her like an attacker, pouncing from where he must have lain in wait for her. “Princess,” he said, “you’re not the girl I remember.” He paused inches from her. She had not been so close to him yet during the visit and never alone with him. His eyebrows twitched with an emotion she could not fathom. She nearly shouted out.
“Your father,” he said, “would have been proud at how tall you stand. I heard of your fate, but I didn’t believe it until I saw you arrive here.” For a moment he looked overcome with misery. “When will he come, Princess? Share with me and we will be ready to join with him. All here are still loyal.”
Cori
“Why, your brother, of course! We all pray to the Giver that Aliver will return soon and with a vengeance that sweeps Hanish Mein from existence.”
CHAPTER
As his horse kicked up the last few feet of the rise to the top of the Methalian Rim, Haleeven Mein could feel the nearness of home again. A breeze braced him and seemed to caress the fissures of his pock-marked visage, looking for signs of familiarity. The scent of the land was moist and fetid, rank with the boggy rot of the lower Mein summer. He dismounted and bent to the ground. He grasped the turf in his fists and whispered a prayer of thanks to his nephew. Hanish had given him a great gift by allowing him to see his home again for the first time in years. Better yet, he had returned to begin the transport that would lead to his ancestors finally wi
The world before him was damp with spring. Layers of snow had melted and still continued to do so beneath the tentative warmth of the slanting sun. In this area of the plateau the earth was a thick blubber of living peat. Sopping as a drenched sponge, it squelched underfoot. Haleeven, the company of mounted soldiers around him, and the long train of plodding conscripts behind them had to stay on established paths, where the earth had been packed to hardness. The air thrummed with newly awakened insect life, tiny things that seemed to like nothing better than pasting themselves to the whites of people’s eyes. They flew headlong into mouths and up through inhaling nostrils. And they bit as well.