Sire Neen turned and pointed toward Dariel. Devoth looked briefly in his direction. Dariel thought the moment might be his chance. He thought of bolting forward through the Ishtat while the attention was on him. Devoth would surely wish to hear from him. He might have the bit removed and then Dariel would turn the tables on Sire Neen and show him for the villain he was. Rialus would speak for him. But in the few seconds it took to think this, the moment passed. Devoth looked away, uninterested, and the leagueman carried on.

“Neen says he understands that the Auldek will have to learn to trust him, but the league is well known to some from Ushen Brae. He has even brought agents to testify to the league’s power and the possibilities for their partnership.”

And then, as if on cue, the Numrek arrived. They tramped in, shouting out a chant in their language, a booming percussion of sound like warring drumbeats. Everyone turned to watch them. Even Devoth rose on the balls of his feet, mouth agape as the Numrek approached. They jostled their way through the Ishtat contingent and arrived before Devoth and the other Auldek. They stopped their singing and fell forward, smacking their foreheads on the stones. Devoth and the other Auldek stared at them, their faces stunned, drained of color. The masses behind them edged forward, the front ranks of them stepping into the bright light to see better.

Sire Neen’s satisfied voice slithered into the hush, rising above it and, for a few moments, seeming to command the chamber. Before he had gotten far, Calrach snapped to his feet, the others just after him. Calrach glanced at the leagueman and silenced Neen with a wave of his hand. Sire Neen sputtered to a halt, clearly surprised. Calrach turned to address Devoth. Rialus murmured a translation, trancelike now, smooth and nearly matched to the speakers themselves.

“‘We who were banished have returned,’” Rialus translated Calrach’s voice, which had boomed to reach beyond Devoth into the entire crowd. “‘You may slay me now, if you wish. We give you our souls. If you would hear us, though, we will tell you truths to make you joyful.’”

Devoth considered this for a moment, and then nodded. Sire Neen began to say something, but Calrach spun on him. “Shut your mouth!” he said, speaking Acacian. “Men are speaking. You wait.”

Sire Neen stopped.