There was a low growl at this, but no one spoke aloud, not wishing to attract the monarch's wrath. Still, the residents of both Hawk Haven and Bright Bay had ample reason to be aware that Waterland practiced slavery. Prisoners from naval engagements, if not ransomed, were routinely sold at the general market. Many were never heard from again.
The breadth of the White Water River where it separated Waterland and Hawk Haven made slave raids difficult if not impossible, but all along the kingdom's northern border parents frightened disobedient children with tales of slave raiders who swooped down and took those who didn't know their place. There might have been some truth to those tales, but King Tedric had not been able to say for certain.
"There are two classes of slave," Allister went on pedantically, "the born slave and the 'found.' Sometimes, as it has been explained to me, if a born slave shows particular talent for physical arts—strength or grace or courage—that slave is offered the chance to train as an assassin. If the assassin slave then performs a 'job' successfully, he or she is given his or her freedom.
"I will not pretend to understand the finer points of this peculiar and, to me, distasteful system. It has been explained to me that such assassins are commonly employed in Waterland to decide matters we would assign to legal courts and local custom."
The Waterland ambassadorial party looked rather angry at this, but King Allister continued blandly on:
"The assassins who attacked my son and his wife were these assassin slaves. As of yet, we have not determined their owners. When we do so, perhaps we will learn more."
"Surely," exclaimed Duke Oyster in exasperation, "the members of the distinguished contingent from Waterland
must
know who owns their own attendants!"
The senior Waterland ambassador was a corpulent man who looked as if he had never missed a meal, but had taken care to eat plenty in anticipation of the possibility. Since Allister had confirmed that the assassins were from Waterland, he had been steadily—almost frantically—signaling to be recognized.
Given that the assassins had worn Waterland colors, he had probably already found himself on the receiving end of a good deal of angry questioning. Before this, he could save himself by replying—in all honesty—that the kings had requested he hold his silence until the meeting. Now he must justify himself or face the consequences.
"Your Majesty," he said, nearly groveling once Allister had acknowledged him, "I beg your leave to explain some essential details regarding this matter."
"Speak on," Allister replied cordially.
"First of all," the diplomat, one Opulence Alt Rosen, said, "you should know that I had no part in choosing my entourage."
There were mutters of disbelief, but Opulence Rosen forged on, huffing a bit as if he were running uphill.
"I was already in this part of the world, serving as an observer for my government during the recent military events. When the joyous union of the two heirs was announced, I, of course, included the news in my report home. In interests of saving costs, I was told to remain and represent Waterland at both weddings. However, several members of my entourage were to rotate home in order to report more fully. A new support staff was sent out so that I would not be unduly inconvenienced."
Earl Kestrel made a slight scoffing sound that could easily have been ignored, but Opulence Rosen chose to respond as if questioned.
"I assure you, sir, that I had nothing to do in the choice of my new staff. I was somewhat surprised by its size, but decided that this must indicate the honor in which my government held the weddings."
"Staff, you say," Duke Oyster said, ignoring protocol once more. "Does that mean these killers had other skills?"
Opulence Rosen smiled weakly. "They did, but to be honest, their primary role was as honor guards. As such, they were an extension of my formal costuming, as it were."
"If His Majesty will permit," the Waterland diplomat continued, "I discerned some disapproval when the question of slavery was raised. I would beg your leave to explain further how the custom of the assassin slave arose. I would not wish your people to think we of Waterland value human life lightly."
King Allister nodded. He'd heard this explanation already and knew that Opulence Rosen would do himself no favors by giving it, but he had no desire to appear to be censoring any information related to the assassination attempt.
"Speak," the king replied, "but remember that this is not a lecture hall and keep to the point."
"Thank you, gracious Majesty," Opulence Rosen replied, bowing deeply before continuing to the assembled group, "As many of you already know, Waterland has no hereditary nobility. All that a father can pass to his son or a mother to her daughter is the wealth—whether in property, goods, or coin—that the family has accumulated. Our rulers are made up from a consortium of the most wealthy adults in the land.
"I shall spare you the details," Opulence Rosen added hurriedly, sensing the less than patient mood among his listeners. "What is essential for you to know in order to understand the place of the assassin slave in our society is that we place so great a value on human life that each person is accorded a monetary worth. Slaves who wish to acquire their freedom may purchase it or earn it. In this way, the estate is not diminished in value.
"However, not all slaves have the means to earn their worth in coin. Our wise founders felt there should be other means for them to earn their worth. Taking a risk of one kind or another can provide one of these means."
"Such as killing someone," interrupted Baron Shark.
The diplomat smiled in a thin facsimile of geniality.
"Yes, that's right, or building dams, or any number of other dangerous jobs that—since they create the risk that the owner might lose his or her entire investment—need to be compensated for in coin."
"And your point," King Allister prompted dryly, "is?"
Opulence Rosen flushed, though whether in anger or embarrassment was difficult to say.
"What I wish your people to realize, Your Majesty, is that the owner of an assassin slave may choose not to use that slave for his or her own needs. However, in all fairness to the slave, we believe that the slave should be permitted to employ its complex and exhaustive training before it becomes useless through age or injury. Thus, the assassin slave's services are often hired out to another contractor.
"I mention this most particularly because I wish you to understand that discovering the owners of these slaves who acted here during the wedding may not lead you to whoever set them on the good prince and his bride. They may have been contracted out to another party and the original owner may be innocent of any complicity."
Duke Oyster snapped out, "Tell me, Your Opulence, do you hire these assassins to foreign contractors?"
"I," Alt Rosen answered carefully, "do not currently own any assassin slaves, nor, given my earnings as a foreign representative for my nation, would I think it wise to hire them abroad. However, there are in Waterland who do so, who even
prefer
to do so since such contracts have fewer domestic ramifications."
Red-faced with fury, Duke Oyster surely would have said more, but King Allister hammered once again for silence.
"Thank you, Opulence Rosen, for clarifying the place of the assassin slave within your society. Let me further inform those gathered here—since Your Opulence has already assured me upon this point—that you and your associates will be assisting us in every way possible as we work to track down the original owners of these slaves. Indeed…"
The king permitted himself a humorless smile. "Indeed, Opulence Rosen will be remaining with us in Bright Bay indefinitely while other members of his party return to Waterland to undertake the necessary research. Since we are greatly concerned for Your Opulence's safety in these troubled times, we will be assigning guards to follow you wherever you go and to remain close to you at all times. In this way, your safety will be assured."
King Allister stopped, sipped his watered wine. He didn't need to actually say the word "hostage" to make his intent clear to everyone present. To the man's credit, Alt Rosen concealed his dismay quite well.
"I thank Your Majesty for your concern for my person," he said.
Bowing stiffly, he resumed his seat.
King Allister nodded graciously, then resumed addressing the general assembly.
"That concludes my remarks regarding the current tragic happenings. If there is some rumor I have failed to address, I have some few moments remaining before my next appointment during which I may attempt to answer your questions."
Taking this opportunity, Duchess Pelican asked about the possibility that the canceled festivities—a ball and several banquets—would be rescheduled. The king regretfully announced that the events would not be rescheduled out of respect for those who had died in defense of their monarchs.
This decision was well received. The next question was less easily dealt with—all the more so because it was raised by young Derian Carter, who was apparently unaware that he was treading on sensitive ground.
"Your Majesty," the red-haired youth said seriously, "what puzzles me is why the assassins chose to strike during the wedding. Surely there would have been better times and places. Did your interrogation reveal anything that might help this make sense?"
Had King Allister believed the young man was playing at politics he would have given some bland answer, but that wouldn't do in the face of Derian's evident sincerity. Brushing him off would raise more questions than the young man's query had brought out into the open.
"A bit, Counselor Derian," the king replied. "The ceremony enabled them to get near to all of their targets at one time. Even at a banquet or ball, the parties in question would have been more spread out.
"The targets," Allister went on, anticipating the question, "were first of all the bride and groom—preferably as one. Then myself and/or King Tedric, followed by my younger son Tavis, my daughters, and, if the assassins' luck extended so far, any ranking nobles within reach. Since the queens are not in line to either throne, they were relatively safe. Since successful assassination would have thrown one or both of our allied nations into chaos, it is impossible to deduce from those orders who the contractor for the assassinations might have been."
A sort of guilty thrill went through the audience as all the members realized that they had been in at least some danger. Earle Peregrine of Hawk Haven, representing her quite elderly father, asked:
"And have measures been taken to protect the targets?"
"Considerable measures," King Allister assured her, "including plans for the dispersal of this noble company so that we will not remain so vulnerable."
That provided an ideal note upon which to end the meeting. Suddenly, everyone was eager to get out of the crowded room. As they left, Allister overheard anxious discussions beginning as to how soon it would be polite to take leave of both castle and city.
Allister retired alongside King Tedric. Once they were vanished into a more private area, the old monarch looked at his nephew and smiled sardonically.
"You put the wind up them nicely, Allister. You have the makings of a fine king."
"I put the wind up, all right," Allister agreed, "but I must wonder how that wind will fill their sails and to what harbors it will drive them."
O
nce again, Firekeeper and Blind Seer sat upon the parapet, but this time instead of facing the bay they faced inland. This time, instead of watching the roar and crash of the seemingly endless waters, they watched a receding stream of humanity as most of the wedding guests departed the castle at Silver Whale Cove.
As before, the young woman sat with her arm flung around the neck of the great grey wolf, and those who looked back upon the castle and chance glimpsed the sight shivered in themselves, remembering her bloodied hands and gown, and the rumors that she had attacked an assassin with her
teeth
. The fact that these rumors were true did nothing to stop them from being enhanced.
Despite the numerous persons who had witnessed the attack, more than one forwent the evidence of his or her own eyes in favor of the lurid tales that told how the wolf-woman had ripped out the assassin's throat with fangs suddenly as sharp as a wolf's own. Never mind that the man had been taken from the Sphere Chamber alive and walking—albeit somewhat stiffly—under his own power. Enough dead men had been carried away to "prove" the tales.
Firekeeper knew something of what was being said and, far from being troubled by it, was amused. Had the tales been told about Blind Seer she would have been infuriated and worried, for the wolf could not speak to defend himself. She, however, could do so and would do so, confident in not only the protection of two kings and their heirs apparent but in her own strength.
Firekeeper, still in her teens and already the slayer of several powerful men, remained rather innocent. She did not realize how little the strength of a single person mattered against the tides of politics or how little the protection of kings and their heirs might count when fear came alive.
But this afternoon two days after the wedding of Crown Princess Sapphire and Crown Prince Shad, Firekeeper wasn't thinking about fear and its consequences; she was more concerned about the immediate question of who had tried to kill two people she rather liked. She had not had time to meditate on the question in privacy, though she had listened to several heated discussions of the matter. Now, taking advantage of the fact that no one needed her to sit with an invalid or threaten a prisoner or any other of the many tasks that had enlivened these past few days, she took the time to think about what she had learned.
Wolves regularly attacked their rivals in power, so the idea of killing to gain position was neither alien nor repulsive to her. The use of assassins she had filed as yet another of the curious tools—like swords and bows—that humans created to make up for their lack of personal armament. What she still had to puzzle through was the subtle strategies involved in killing those who were expected to
inherit
power rather than those who held the power itself.