She nodded and moved to the Aspect’s side, Brother Verin keeping within ten feet of her as ordered. Arlyn turned to her, dipping his head in the shallow bow he had always offered to her father and brother. His expression was sorrowful, as might be expected, but she also discerned a judgemental cast to his gaze, one she knew he had never been shy in showing to Janus.
“Highness,” he said. “Please accept my condolences on the loss of King Malcius.”
“Thank you, Aspect. Though we have all suffered losses.”
His eyes flicked to Brother Verin. The young Gifted had seen much since taking ship with her and was less inclined towards displays of nerves, though he still squirmed a little under the Aspect’s gaze.
“I have learned caution in dealing with those who have met the Empress,” Lyrna said.
The Aspect nodded in placid acceptance and turned back to the river. They were parallel with the point where the Arisai had made their crossing, the current more disturbed here than elsewhere, churning white where it met the bank. “How was it made?” Lyrna asked. “The causeway. Lady Alornis considers it quite the feat of engineering.”
“With brick, bone and blood,” he replied. “Three thousand slaves labouring for ten days at my command. The river is swift, as you see, and the Arisai found much amusement in the whip. By the end there were barely five hundred slaves left.”
“The Empress’s stratagems are clever, but costly, it seems.”
He gave a faint shake of his head. “This was my stratagem, Highness. Conceived at her command, naturally. But the whole notion of attacking you here was mine.”
“I know you were not responsible for your actions. Our enemy employs many vile devices.”
“Indeed. A compulsion towards unreasoning vengeance being chief among them.”
“I make no apology for securing the future of the Realm.”
“Is that your intent, Highness? If so, the Empress would be greatly surprised.”
Lyrna folded her hands into her gown, unwilling to let him see how they clenched in suppressed anger. “If you have intelligence on the enemy’s designs, I would hear it.”
“She would come to me sometimes, down in that cavern of horrors where they carved their binding into my flesh. She asked questions mostly, testing my knowledge of history, my experience of command. I expected her to force from me every secret I held regarding the Faith and the Realm, but it soon became apparent she knew more than I did. It also became apparent that she is quite mad, an inevitable consequence of centuries spent in service to the Ally.” He lowered his head for a moment, eyes closed and breathing suddenly shallow. “Even a brief exposure is the harshest trial.”
“What will she do next?”
“Formulate another plan to kill you, I expect. She seems to find you greatly irksome. ‘I have birthed a thousand vengeful souls, but none so troublesome as this fire-breathing bitch.’”
“How many more Arisai does she have?”
“Perhaps seven thousand. Plus another eighty thousand Varitai and Free Swords.”
Lyrna glanced at Verin’s hands, confirming he gave the sign for truth.
“The war in the Realm swallowed the bulk of their best troops and discord grows in every corner of the empire. New Kethia has fallen to a slave rebellion, inspiring revolts across the provinces. She also seemed preoccupied with some mission to the north. She had me execute a senior general for questioning the wisdom of sending more troops there.”
“Tell me more,” she said, “of this discord.”
CHAPTER THREE
The tribesman’s name was either Hirkran or Red Axe; they seemed to be interchangeable given the frequency with which Erlin used them. “He’s lost three sons to the Volarians,” he reported. “One taken as a slave years ago, the other two in the last week.”
“He’s chieftain of these . . . Othra?” Vaelin asked.
Erlin shook his head. “Red Axe is an honorific, a title given to the tribe’s principal warrior. ‘Champion’ would be a better translation. And the Othra are but one of six tribes sheltering here. Every chieftain died in the fighting. He doesn’t speak for all.”
“Does he know if the others will fight with us?”
Erlin related the question to Hirkran, who cast a stern glance back at the cave where the gathered tribesfolk lurked in the shadows, all eyes apparently intent on this meeting.
“He isn’t sure,” Erlin translated. “Some won’t simply because the Othra will. Some will stay here and piss themselves forever.”
“Can he guide us to the Volarians?”
Hirkran gave a long pause before answering, his gaze fixed on Vaelin. “He will but first he insists on being named leader of the army.”
