"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.

Allek, who sat in the row in front of Rialus and Devoth, turned around and jabbed Rialus's leg. "Tell the truth, Neptos. Which is the richer people: Acacians or Auldek? I know what I would say, but what about you?"

Rialus had the momentary desire to kick the grinning youth in the face, but he answered the boy calmly. He had actually expected some question like this, considering how much pleasure the Numrek seemed to take in publicly taunting him. "I can't answer that. I've seen most of the Known World, which is wide and rich and wondrous, but I've seen very little of Ushen Brae-as yet only Avina."

"And what do you think of it?" Allek pushed.

"Very impressive," Rialus admitted, "from what I've seen-"

"From what you've seen?" Mulat broke in. He had just bitten a piece of roasted pork taken from the plates of food that occasionally passed from hand to hand. His chewing did not hinder his speaking. "What you've seen is less than nothing. It's but a sliver. Avina stretches along the coast for thirty miles. Thirty miles of city, of palaces and stadiums and monuments: there is nothing to match that in your lands."

Devoth did not seem pleased with the Numrek presumptions. He did not address them, smiling instead at Rialus. "You will see more, Rialus Leagueman. Many grand things. You're our guest, so you'll see the things that make us great. We will always treat you well, now and in the future. You can be sure of it. You believe me?"

He had to push it, didn't he? Rialus thought. They always did. It was one way the Auldek were not so different from their Numrek cousins.

"Yes, of course," Rialus began, but then faltered, unsure how to express his emotions. What was he? Grateful to be alive? Thrilled to have watched everyone he had traveled across the Gray Slopes with be slaughtered? Looking forward to whatever bloody spectacle he was here to watch? Overjoyed to be trapped in a land of brutes who threatened to stick red-hot pokers up his backside? Content to know almost nothing of his fate or what was expected of him? Resigned that if he did ever find his way back to Acacia, the queen would squash him beneath her shapely foot?

"I'm quite comfortable," he managed.

"Good, good." Devoth grinned and tossed his hair around. "It gives me joy to hear it."

The man's hard chin cut the air as he looked about, his eyes lit green by the sun. He kept brushing his hair back from his face, but he also moved in a manner to make sure it fell right back before his eyes a second later. Rialus almost suggested he tie it back with a cord, or perhaps get it trimmed. Not for the first time, Rialus wondered if Devoth was simpleminded. Or if he really might be unaware of the way in which Rialus's life was a misery. He knew neither was likely. Devoth, Rialus feared, was in complete control of everything.

The crowd, which had waited amid a murmur of conversation, erupted in applause and shouts. Rialus kept his gaze on Devoth, who was on his feet, roaring with the rest of them. Lucky, because Rialus would not have managed to hide his animus if Devoth had been paying attention to him. He felt his indignation rising again. It did not get far, because his eyes caught the motion on the field. His mouth opened, silent while those around him cheered.

From six different openings in the wall of the arena, columns of armed soldiers strode onto the field. By their relatively normal stature, Rialus could tell they were not Auldek, but neither did they appear entirely human. One group wore wolf-head helmets. Another was composed entirely of squat, muscled brutes, their naked torsos gray, metal barbs jutting from their cheeks. They bore curved short swords in both hands. Yet another group were slim as acrobats and wore light blue, with plumes on their heads in place of helmets. They carried only slender pikes.