that,” said Ashe, indicating the solitary land mass in the midst of the Wide Central Sea to the west “Or at least they did; the Sea Mages have been limiting their contact with the outside world of late. The shipbuilding schedule is dramatically behind, the vessels I've ordered are arriving a few weeks late consistently. Has Edwyn Griffyth indicated why to you, Uncle?” Anborn snorted contemptuously. “As if my brother communicates anything to me, and as if I would be interested in anything he says. Over the centuries the Sea Mages have been less and less interested in commerce with the outside world preferring to pass their days in the folderol of magical research, invention, and the science of tidal studies, or some such rot. They have been fairly useless for centuries now; they were famously absent in the Great War, and have been ever less interested in our plight ever since.” His azure eyes gleamed as a thought occurred, and he turned to Achmed “Except for that idiot ambassador my brother sent with the walking machine last autumn; he seemed quite intent on con-tacting you.” The Bolg king's forbidding countenance soured even more “Oh, he did, rest assured,” he said. “I let him live in spite of it That's your fault again, Rhapsody.” The Lady Cymrian kissed her new son's downy blond hair ignoring him, maintaining her silence. “The ships were laden with human cargo,” Gwydion con-tinued. “Slaves, or would-be slaves, it seemed, captives from entire villages, being transported in wagons like chattel. Men, women, children; the distribution seemed very efficient. They were split up at the docks and dispatched in many different directions.”
“So Sorbold has been building up its internal capabilitie for war, its army and naval forces, at an extreme rate in less than a year,” Ashe said, noting his uncle's rising anger at the discussion of the slavery. "Anborn has always had his suspicions, but how did the speed of this escape our notice? Talquist isn't even emperor yet; he chose to take only the title of regent for a year.
All the ambassadorial meetings between the Alliance and the new Sorbold diplomatic mission have been cordial. There have been no hostilities in the time since the death of the Dowager Empress. There have been no raids that I have heard of in Roland, Tyrian, or the Nonaligned States except for the drunken thuggery during times of blood sport you just mentioned, Rial—and certainly none where captives were taken. And had there suddenly been orders for more ships by the crown of Sorbold placed in Manosse or Gaematria, surely the harbormasters and the Sea Mages would have alerted me."
“One would hope so, given that Manosse is one of your late mother's holdings, and Gaematria is a member of the Al-liance,” agreed Anbom. “So where are these ships and slaves coming from?” As the words left Ashe's mouth, he sat up suddenly as if shot by an arrow in the back.
Gerald Owen is coming down the stairs,“ he said softly. ”I gave specific orders not to be disturbed.“ Gwydion Navame felt an old fear well up inside him, a dusty and atrophied panic left over from the slaughter at the Winter Carnival, causing the saliva in his mouth to taste of metal and cinders. His guardian's dragonsense, set off by the action in the Great Hall above, left a cracking dryness in the dank air. Ashe rose and strode out of the glittering circle to the hid-den door. He opened it and stepped into the dark antechamber beneath the rough-hewn staircase, ”What is it, Owen?“ he demanded. The old man's reply was soft. ”A visitor is here to see you, m'lord,“ he said. ”This man knew you were meeting; he instructed me to beg an audience of you—when asked his name, he said merely that you and he had traveled the road as strangers and companions four year ago on the way to the Cymrian Council.“ The Lord Cymrian stood silent for a moment, then looked back into the lamplit chamber where his councilors were
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