Dariel could not understand a word of it. Spotting Rialus a few guards away, he squirmed toward him. The Ishtat guards barely noticed, intent on the interaction before them. Nudging Rialus with his shoulder, Dariel made sounds low in his throat to get his attention. Rialus looked at him, dazed and seemingly surprised to find him so close. Dariel wrinkled his nose, rolled his eyes about, and gestured toward the Sire Neen and the Auldek leader. Rialus seemed to have no idea what Dariel was trying to convey. The prince, seeing this, put his fingers to Rialus’s lips, snapped them opened and closed, and then moved them to his own ear.

“Ah,” Rialus said, looking back at Sire Neen and the Auldek, “you wish me to translate? It is strangely accented Numrek. Or perhaps Numrek is really Auldek. I don’t know. Must I? It’s hard enough just making out what they’re saying.” He exhaled a fatigued breath.

Dariel wished he could smack him.

One of the Ishtat guards grumbled at Rialus’s talking, but another shushed him. “Let him speak,” he whispered. “Talk, Neptos, just keep it quiet.”

Rialus lifted his chin and cocked his head slightly to hear better, but he did not say anything for a while. Dariel jabbed him with an elbow. “Nothing of interest yet,” Rialus snapped. “Sire Neen is making formal greetings: that’s all. In praise of this and that, honor and the best intentions for mutual enrichment: the usual. The one in the center is called Devoth. The others are Herith, Millwa … Oh, I don’t know! I can’t catch it all. Something about the clan of Snow Lions … and antoks.”

Rialus went silent for some time, though Sire Neen droned on. Dariel tugged on Rialus’s arm. Rialus listened a moment longer and then hurriedly whispered, “Devoth wants to know why Neen is here. Sire Neen says he’s come offering them a new arrangement, new opportunities for trade that will benefit them both, and so on.”

Devoth turned away from the leagueman and spoke with his companions. Sire Neen folded his hands at his waist and waited, composed. He was a statue compared to the quick, free, and expressive motions of the Auldek representatives. Dariel could see only the back of his egg-shaped head, but he imagined Neen’s face was a mask of composure. Where did he get such confidence? Or was it arrogance? It surely helped that there were Ishtat Inspectorate guards and archers just behind him. But so, too, did Devoth have a mass of grumbling shadows behind him. Not to mention the sword still erect in the stones between the two groups.

Devoth turned back. He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and snapped it outward, as if flicking off moisture. It looked like a ritual gesture, though. Then he fell into a barrage of questions. Rialus picked up immediately this time. “‘Where are the Lothan Aklun?’ That’s what Devoth asked. ‘Where are they? Why are they not here?’ He named someone that he wants to speak to. One of the Auldek who led him here started to answer, but Devoth wanted the squashed one to answer. The ‘squashed one’ is Sire Neen. He’s answering. … Oh, that’s rich! Neen says that he is a representative of the greatest power in the Known World—the League of Vessels.”