I looked at the ships bringing home the spoils from what must have been a lengthy trading trip by Kaeska Shek. Two were the same style of galley as the one that had carried me here; broad in the beam, square-rigged for a following wind, far more massively built than those that plied the coast of the Gulf of Lescar. Each rower on the benches had his own oar, rather than all three pulling on the same one in the Tormalin style and I knew the Aldabreshi had long made sure that no one else experimented with this technique by sinking any other vessel they saw with more than one rank of oars. Since the Warlords were the ones with all the gemstones, mainland mariners tended to let them have their own way on this issue.
The third ship was a bird of a different feather altogether; lean, narrow, its three ranks of oars set one on top of each other, armed men lining its rails and a fleck of foam betraying the long ram cutting the waves just below the waterline. This was a warship, one of the more compelling reasons why the galleys that ply the coasts from Col to Relshaz and onto Toremal keep close to their own shores and do not venture into the Archipelago without a very specific invitation and the flags to fly to prove it. Two of these vessels had joined our galley as soon as we had left the outer Relshazri anchorages. On our lengthy progress down through the Islands, I had learned that Shek Kul had treaties with other Warlords that allowed his vessels to land each day on certain tiny islets to take on food and water and to rest the rowers. At all of these halts, we had seen more such predatory shapes standing off at sea, shadowing us until we left the waters of that particular domain. I had come to the conclusion that Dastennin has indeed favored us southern Tormalins with the violent weather that screams around the Cape of Winds and keeps the Aldabreshi out of our waters for the most part. At least the prevalent atmosphere within the Archipelago was one of armed truce at the moment and I sincerely hoped peace would hold until I got myself out of there.
A little boat was leaving the warship’s side, rowers bending to their oars, three figures seated in the stern. One was bright in flame-colored silks fluttering in the breeze; sat beside her was a man all in solemn black, close-cropped white hair vivid in the sunlight. He was little taller than the woman next to him but broad in the shoulder and deep in the chest. I had seen such men before, the previous year and in Shiv’s scrying as the heart of the Empire was consumed by flames. I watched the boat draw nearer, a mounting dread stifling my instinctive denials. That man was an Elietimm, I’d wager my oath fee on it.
“Kaeska, my beloved!” Shek Kul walked on to the beach to help Kaeska down himself, oblivious to the wavelets lapping at his ankles.
“My revered husband.” Kaeska’s tones were warm with affection as she embraced him. “Mahli, my dearest, you should have waited in the gardens, in the shade; it’s too hot for you to be walking so far, so close to your blessing.”
“I had to welcome you properly, you’ve been away so long.” Mahli kissed Kaeska’s immaculate cheek with every appearance of sincerity as Laio and Gar stepped forward to embrace the new arrival.
After all the tales I’d heard from Laio about Kaeska’s manipulative, cunning and vengeful nature, I’d been expecting something a little more impressive than a small-boned, doe-eyed woman with neat ankles and a pert figure. Her skin and hair were a little lighter than the other women, there was a distinct tint of red in the curls artfully coiled around her head. I judged her about my own age.
“What a delightful dress, Laio my sweet.” Kaeska held her at arm’s length to get a better look. “Your face too; what an unusual style.”
“Laio has a new body slave,” Gar chipped in, beaming with pleasure.
“Oh yes!” Laio was all girlish excitement. “It was so clever of Gar to choose me a mainlander. Can you believe it, he knows nothing of our ways, not even how to talk? It has been such fun, training him up from nothing!”
I stood and stared straight ahead, trying to look as if their rapid chatter was beyond my understanding. Nevertheless, I caught a fleeting glance exchanged between Gar and Kaeska, the former looking for approval, the latter giving it with a glint of satisfaction in her hazel eyes. So there was something they had woven between them, was there?
“You have brought us a guest?” Shek Kul turned to study the white-haired man with frank appraisal.
“This is Kra Misak.” Kaeska turned her head to acknowledge her companion with a brief nod. “He comes from a land far to the north and wishes to investigate the opportunities for trade here.”
I ran the name through my mind; Kramisak, it would be on a civilized tongue, but it had an unfamiliar ring to me, no echo of the Empire anywhere.
“You are welcome to my domain.” Shek Kul did not bow or offer a hand, but the Elietimm was not discomposed, evidently well briefed on what to expect.
“I will respect your hospitality.” The man ducked his head in a show of nicely gauged homage; his face was honest and open, his stance one of ease masking slight intimidation. He had definitely been very well advised; it had taken me days to work out the precise bows required for the different levels of nobility. My shoulders still smarted under my chainmail at the memory of Laio’s displeasure after I had embarrassed her in front of a visiting friend.
The Elietimm ran a swift glance over Grival, Sezarre and myself, the three of us standing like statues on a shrine front, all alike with our armor, weapons and close-trimmed beards. I kept my eyes motionless, holding the blank expression that Laio’s switch had drilled into me. The man’s eyes were ice blue and austere but gave nothing away as he offered Kaeska his arm and we all began the ascent to the palace compound, Mahli’s laborious pace slowing the rest.
I stared at this Kramisak’s back, sure I was missing something here. Kaeska was talking to him, laughing and smiling. As she turned towards him, I felt suddenly cold, despite the heat of the day. I recognized her in that tilt of her head, in her profile. She was the woman I had seen on the dock at Relshaz, talking to the Elietimm who had been at the slave auction. This wasn’t the same man, the would-be purchaser had been younger, a little taller, that much I was sure of, but there had to be a connection. However I had fallen into that Relshazri lock-up, the Elietimm had known enough to be ready to try and take advantage, hadn’t they? If Kaeska had encompassed my purchase through Gar, what did that signify? I wondered at the Elietimm’s lack of any insignia; all the Ice Islanders I’d seen the previous year had worn a badge to proclaim their loyalty to one or other of the bitterly contested fiefdoms. Why was this Kramisak so anonymous?
Before I could pursue that thought, Sezarre deliberately knocked his elbow against mine. That was unusual enough to get my undivided attention. I slid my eyes sideways to catch his and saw a faint frown darkening his face. He tilted his head a fraction toward Grival, who immediately stumbled for a pace to allow me sight of Kaeska’s body slave, who had fallen into line on his far side.
The man stared straight ahead, one eye darkened by a livid bruise that overlay the fading discoloration of an older injury. His beard was raggedly trimmed, uneven and clotted with dried blood under the ear that I could see. His shoulders were square under his chainmail, but the tension in him was brittle with fear rather than ready for action. His hands were striped red with weals from a whip or a cane and I wondered what other injuries we would see when he was stripped for exercise with the rest of us. His skin was pale, paler than my own tan, and though his hair had the tight black curls of Aldabreshi blood, the cast of his features was distinctly Caladhrian. If he were mixed race, I wondered if he retained any attachment to the mainland that I might use to my benefit, especially given Kaeska was so clearly mistreating him. I didn’t hold out much hope of that; his eyes were as dead as those of a dog whipped too often and too long.