The other lands

"Tell me," Cori

He nodded. He had his own question to ask and felt it should be dealt with first. "What word from Mena?"

"Mena is well. She has nearly completed the work I asked of her. Melio is well also, and Kelis. They have performed admirably at their tasks. I know part of you wished to be with them, hunting the foulthings, perhaps protecting your sister-but Mena needs no protection. You were right when you brought this charity work proposal to me. Now tell me of it."

Dariel reached for the wine, inhaled the spicy scent, and fell into a detailed response to her query. For the past year he had found a sort of joy in daily labor that he had never known before. It came about because he was so very fatigued with war, with piracy, with violence, with seeing his loved ones die. For several years after the war with Hanish Mein, Dariel had led forces to hunt down the surviving Mein-the ones still in any sort of rebellion, at least. And he had squashed the flare-ups of rebellion all over the empire, each people trying to find some way to grab more of the Known World's map before things settled again. It had amazed him that the peace seemed just as violent as the war. It was always this way after wars, advisers told him, but still it troubled him. This hadn't been just any war. It was Aliver's war! The war to set the world to rights so that there need be no future wars. Everyone said they believed this; few, it seemed to him, also acted as if they did.

When the peace was finally established, he found himself just as ill at ease. He did not want the throne, though he could have claimed it as the male heir. That sort of power did not appeal to him. He had no desire to loaf about the palace courting noblewomen, as Cori

Also, as soon as the quiet settled upon him, he began to have dreams-nightmares, really-about the day Aliver was killed. At first Dariel thought it was some belated way of mourning his brother, but as the dreams grew more intense he realized it was not just that. He dreamed more and more of the aftermath of the duel, more and more about his murder of Maeander Mein. He had ordered it, even though Aliver had granted Maeander protection and agreed to the particulars of the duel. Dariel could not be sure that his blade had even touched the man, but he had whispered for his death and made all his people accomplices to the murder. It was a foul way to stain the sacred moments after his brother's passing. The shame of it grew within him as time passed. More and more fervently, he wanted to find a way to live without regret, to do enough with the life he still had before him so that he would feel he had been a force for good in the world.

It was Wren who suggested he again find work to occupy him. Not murderous work, though, not military. "Why not build?" she had asked. "Likely, you'd be as good at that as you were at piracy and sabotage." She actually had to suggest it several times before the seed split within him and took root. Wonderful, quiet Wren, sharp as a razor in more ways than one.

When he took the proposal of rebuilding to Cori

He described for Cori

"As it should be," Cori

Dariel took a long draft of wine, enough to wash down the first thoughts he had on hearing this. She always thought foremost of rule and reputation and of the empire's fortunes. Perhaps she had to, as queen, but he wanted to remember the good he did for the people he served, not for the Akaran name.

"There is still so much to do," he said. "I barely know what to attend to next. There must be some way we can fight the drought in Talay. And I know it will seem a strange idea, but we must convince the Mainlanders to begin planting new trees to replace the ones they cut from the Eilavan Woodlands. I passed along the edge of it on the way to Aos and I saw miles of stumps and bracken, hardly a forest at all anymore." He paused, for no reason other than something in the patient way Cori

"I heard something that doesn't please me, Dariel. You have been critical of my policies."

Just like that, he felt a cold hand grip his heart. He felt the pulse in his palms, suddenly strong. It was absurd. She was his sister! There was no danger here, no matter that his body seemed to think there was. "I haven't," he said. "I don't know what you mean."

"King Grae complained to you about our tax levees on Aushenian ports. You, I've heard, said-Do you recall what you said?"

He did, but he shook his head, shrugged.

"You said, 'You may have a point.' How could you say that? Do you understand how that undermines me?"

"I didn't mean that. It's just that they pay us for-"

"Don't question me! They pay us for the very possibility of the prosperity-the peace to trade. That's what we give them; what we take is no more than our due. If we give them their commerce, we're giving them the first piece of their independence."