The Vin Thalun.
What was she to do with them, now that their fighting pit had been discovered? Nathair had great plans for the Vin Thalun. She knew that much relied upon them, and yet Lykos had deliberately disobeyed her – worse, lied to her. Far worse than that: some of those she had found in the pits had been her own subjects, stolen in raids. And how many were dead?
They rode out of the shadow of the forest and soon turned south, following the river on its journey to the sea. It was not long before she saw the Vin Thalun’s settlement – large storehouses and barns, a ramshackle village made mostly of timber and reed; the skeletons of half-formed ships lay along a flat sandy beach, looking like a leviathans’ graveyard.
Fidele had been here before, the day after they had raided the fighting pit at the ruins of Balara. They had come with carts full of the dead: Vin Thalun who had been killed during the raid and corpses that they had found in the labyrinth of fighting pits. Fidele had questioned the leaders here. They had been sullen and denied the existence of any other pits in Tenebral. Of course Fidele did not trust them, and that was why she was back.
She kicked her horse into a canter, wanting to give the Vin Thalun as little time to react as possible. Those with her kept pace, and she saw Krelis loosening his great sword in its scabbard.
‘No killing, unless we are attacked,’ she yelled at him.
They swept through the makeshift village and boatyards, warriors spreading out and searching the place as people poured out of buildings – men, women, children. Bony dogs chased the horses through the streets, yapping and nipping at hooves.
Fidele reined her horse in close to the beach, in the shadow of one of the ships standing upright in its timber frame. Orcus and a handful of eagle-guard stayed with her; the rest spread out to search the buildings.
A group of Vin Thalun approached them, mostly warriors by the number of rings tied in their beards. One led them, a bow-legged older man.
‘What’s the meaning of this?’ he demanded.
‘I am searching,’ Fidele said.
‘For what?’
‘You’re talking to the Queen of Tenebral,’ Orcus snapped. ‘Show some manners.’
‘Tenebral has a king, but no queen, last time I heard,’ the Vin Thalun said.
He’s right, Fidele thought. ‘My son is King. I am regent in his absence,’ Fidele said coldly. ‘The result is the same. I rule here.’
The Vin Thalun glared at them. ‘Searching for what, my Queen?’ he said.
‘For evidence of your fighting pits.’
‘There was only one, and you’ve destroyed it.’
‘We shall see. What is your name?’
‘Alazon. I am chief shipwright here.’
‘Wait with us, Alazon.’
It was not long before Krelis and Peritus appeared, leading a line of ragged men. Krelis’ warriors were holding back the Vin Thalun crowd that followed them. Fidele saw that the men were chained together, their clothes threadbare. Most of them were covered in wounds of some description, from clean cuts to scratches and bite marks.
‘Will you insult me with an explanation?’ Fidele said to Alazon.
‘They are rowers. A ship came in from one of the islands last night,’ Alazon said. He spoke boldly, holding Fidele’s gaze, but she did not believe a word of it.
‘You.’ She pointed to the first in line, a young man, surely younger than her Nathair. He had a scabbed cut that ran the length of his forearm. ‘How did you get that cut on your arm?’
‘They are slaves – taken from foreign lands. They often come damaged,’ Alazon said. He stared at the captive as he spoke.
‘You have nothing to fear,’ Fidele said. ‘As of this moment you are all free men. We shall escort you to Ripa, feed you, and then your future is yours. So – tell me, with fear of no repercussions: how did you come by that wound?’
‘In the pits,’ the lad said, looking at his feet, as if a deep shame had been revealed.
‘He lies,’ Alazon said, stepping forwards. Krelis moved in front of him.
‘Find some wains for these men, then continue your search,’ Fidele said. ‘And, Krelis, make sure you have searched under every rock in this rats’ lair.’
She looked at the captives, and saw harrowed looks sweeping them, some silently weeping, others just utterly wretched. It turned her stomach and brought the sting of tears to her eyes. She turned away and rode onto the beach a little way, looking out to sea. Orcus followed her, staying a short distance behind. He had learned to read her moods.
Where are you, Lykos? In some distant land? Dead? I hope that you are, you swine, for if you ever return to my homeland I shall see your head struck from your body.
CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
CORBAN