“Something wrong,” September said with a grunt. Pessimism was part of September’s natural reaction to anything unfamiliar, and Ethan knew it. He didn’t mention his own initial suspicion of Valsht’s seemingly prepared greeting, having already dismissed that as unwonted.
“What’s bothering you, Skua?” He strayed onto the icepath, slipped, regained his balance while glaring at a covey of cubs who’d witnessed his clumsiness.
“Not sure, feller-me-lad. That’s what’s botherin’ me most.” He didn’t elaborate and Ethan, excited at the prospect of finally trying out their confederation proposal on a prospective government, didn’t pursue the conversation.
The slope they were climbing never turned steep, and the main approach to the castle was placed from the western side of the island so that the prevailing wind blew always from the back of anyone approaching. Thus, the Tran did not have to tack uphill, but were swept upward effortlessly while Ethan and September struggled to keep pace.
A central gate of dark wood bound with brass fittings admitted them to a wide courtyard. Guards stared at the humans and pointed, all the while chatting among themselves. The group passed the armory, which seemed unusually large to Ethan, then entered the main structure. A long iced ramp led to a floor, a hallway, and finally into a circular domed chamber.
It was quite different from the throne room in the castle of Wannome where Elfa’s father held court. Placed on a raised central dais instead of at the far end of the room were three high-backed chairs. The dais was mounted on a huge, carved stone disk which cleared the floor by a centimeter or two, leading Ethan to suspect it could revolve. Decorative mosaics and reliefs filled curving walls, alternating with windows that looked out onto island and harbor. They depicted the six surrounding crag-crowned islands.
Undoubtedly the Tran slumped into the center chair and staring at them was Rakossa, Solace of the Six Peaks and so on. Compared to the ruling Tran Ethan had encountered thus far, he seemed to be very young. There was no white in his gray fur, no crinkling of the skin beneath. He guessed the Landgrave to be, in human-equivalent terms, younger than himself.
Of the two other Tran seated on either side, one was an older male, the other a young female. Advisors, he mused, or perhaps queen and father. He examined the gargoyle-lined stone disk again, wondered at the mechanism that powered it.
All three were in turn studying their five visitors with obvious interest, though different expressions.
Valsht approached the throne, halted a correct distance from it. “Your pardon, sir, but I have duties I must return to.” The young Landgrave dismissed the harbormaster with a diffident gesture. Valsht turned, hurried past the visitors. As he passed, he favored Ethan with a brief, complex, inexplicable stare.
No one spoke or moved. Finally Hunnar stepped forward. “My breath is your warmth, sirs and madame. We come to you from a far distant land hight Sofold. We come to forge what we hope will be a union, a confederation of many island-states for the purpose of dealing on fair and equal terms with strange new friends from off-world. These friends,” and he indicated Ethan and September.
“They bring great promise and fortune to all Tran who will have the foresight, as your highness surely will, to join in this unifying proposal. I realize that this thought is…”
Without warning the Landgrave rose, thrust a trembling clawed finger at them. “Liars! Offspring of guttorbyn! You bring promise of naught but enslavement and poverty!”
Of all the visitors, only September was not so shocked that he couldn’t mutter: “That does it.”
Ethan whirled, staring dumbfounded at the giant.
“I knew there was something wrong, lad. When the harbormaster was escorting us here, we passed through the heart of town. And we were assiduously avoided. No one except the cubs gave us so much as a curious glance, except the soldiers here in the castle, and even they didn’t act too excited. Contrast that with the stares and inquiries we got from the crews of other rafts.
“Means there’s been other humans here before you and me. Or else,” and he glanced at the third figure seated on the dais, the distinguished looking older Tran whom Ethan had guessed to be an advisor or royal sire, “word of us.”
“That is the first truth you have spoken,” said the young Landgrave angrily. He gestured to the softly smiling Tran on his right. “’Twas fortunate that my good friend here, Calonnin Ro-Vijar, Landgrave of Arsudun, arrived but two precious days ago. He told me of your infamous plans to enslave and make servants of the independent peoples of my world, beginning with Poyolavomaar.”
Hunnar took a couple of steps toward the dais, his hand going toward his sword hilt. “Ro-Vijar, was it you who had our ship assaulted off your south coast and the Elfa Kurdagh-Vlata kidnapped?”
The older Tran stood, looked imperiously at them. He acted as cool as the air blowing through the open windows. “I did indeed wish you on your way to the afterlife, traitor, to prevent the spread of your evil intentions,”
If the confrontation had begun badly, it was still capable of deteriorating. Ethan moved toward the throne. “Your highness,” he said desperately, “it’s Ro-Vijar, who lies to protect his own monopoly and trade with my people, to poison your mind against us. He trades truth for money.”
“Silence and quiet!” Rakossa looked nauseated. “We will not credit the broken words of a hairless k’nith who masquerades as a true person. Your falsehoods do not touch us.”
Ethan saw the eyes of Rakossa, wild and fearful, dangerous and cunning. Yellow with cat-pupils, they were not human eyes, but there is something in the gaze of a madman that transcends shape, reaches across genetic distances. There was nothing to be gained by arguing with Tonx Ghin Rakossa. His mind was made up. Logic and reason would only antagonize him.
Only in the near-neutral expression of the female consort, who had not spoken, was there a hint of something else. It might be sympathy, it might be sadism. Ethan couldn’t tell.
Hunnar’s sword came half free of its scabbard.
Several of the mosaic walls moved inward, revealed compartments behind which disgorged dozens of armed Tran. Hunnar stopped.
“Fight and die here,” said a tight-voiced Rakossa, “or wait ’til you are properly judged.”
“Sounds like that has been done already,” Tersund murmured softly.
The Landgrave continued; he looked vastly pleased with himself. “Your ship is already taken, the sailors aboard already imprisoned. As are those who scattered themselves thoughtlessly throughout my city. You will greet them again in the dungeons below.”
Meanwhile Ethan was counting the surrounding pack. They filled the circular chamber until they stood shoulder to dan. Better to die here than…
He felt a hand cover his beamer as he moved to draw it. “No, young feller-me-lad. There are too many and likely more behind these. Life is chance, death the absence of opportunity. We’ve nothin’ to lose by waiting and hoping.”
“What chance will we have without beamers, Skua?” But he left the weapon at his waist nonetheless.
Ro-Vijar stepped off the dais and approached them. Without hesitation he undipped Ethan’s beamer, then September’s, lastly Williams’.
Other guards began disarming Hunnar and Tersund. Then they were escorted from the room. Tran bodies were packed so tightly around them they could hardly move without stepping on sharp-chived feet.
“Ro-Vijar’s the liar, your highness!” Ethan shouted over a shoulder. “He has money in place of a soul!”
Trying hard not to smile, Ro-Vijar whispered to the Landgrave. “Do not tilt your ears to the words of the sky-outlanders, mighty ruler of mighty state. They are truly more advanced than we poor Tran—in matters of falsehood and deception. You must constantly beware their subtle intonations.”