“You don’t,” Ser Yrsa said with penetrating confidence.

  Aefric opened his mouth to object, but Ser Beornric cut in quickly.

  “The point,” Ser Beornric said, “is that your life is no longer yours alone to risk.”

  “You belong to all of us now,” Ser Yrsa said. “To your vassals, through your oaths, yes, but to the peasantry as well. And to your soldiers. And your merchants. All of us.”

  “We all have a stake in what happens to you,” Ser Beornric said, and Aefric began to wonder if they’d rehearsed this. “And we will all suffer if you fall.”

  “This is why we will lay down our lives for you,” Ser Yrsa said. “And why, when the time comes for that sacrifice, you must let us.”

  “I will not throw away the lives of my people.”

  “And no one is happier to hear that than I am,” Ser Yrsa said, not so much as blinking at Aefric’s protest. “But we’re not talking about throwing lives away. We’re talking about our roles in life. Soldiers fight. Knights fight. Dukes rule their lands.”

  “I am also a knight,” Aefric said. “King Colm knighted me before he elevated me.”

  “The point remains,” Ser Beornric said. “If you are willing to fight, should war come, so much the better. You will inspire your troops, and they will love you more and fight all the harder for it.”

  “And you’ve already proven you’ll do it,” Ser Yrsa said. “You proved yourself before you ever had the title.”

  “But not every squabble and skirmish is worth risking your life,” Ser Beornric said, pointing at Aefric for emphasis.

  Aefric realized he’d been holding a breath, even as he’d been holding onto an objection.

  He let both go slowly, turning away and looking up into the clear blue sky of midsummer.

  “Ser Beornric is right,” Ser Yrsa said. “You’re off to an excellent start as a duke. Especially for a man not born to his title. But you must accept all of your role or you will end up chipping away even the gains you’ve made.”

  “If your vassals learn that you continually risk your life,” Ser Beornric said, “they’ll stop thinking of you as their duke. In their minds you’ll become nothing more than the man sitting regent for the next to hold the title. You will lose their trust and confidence. They will feel they have no choice but to work and plan for themselves.”

  “Your knights and soldiers will feel that you do not trust them to do their jobs, and they will lose faith in your leadership.”

  “All right,” Aefric said sharply, turning back to face the united knights. “I get your point. And I acknowledge that you’re right. Now hear my point.”

  Ser Yrsa blinked in surprise, but Ser Beornric only frowned and nodded.

  “There will come times when I must be the one who acts. Because there will be times that I can do something that none of you can do.”

  “Including Karbin, your ducal wizard?” Ser Yrsa asked.

  “Perhaps,” Aefric said, grimacing as he acknowledged her point, but pressing on all the same. “But the actions will be more powerful coming from me. More meaningful.”

  “Motte,” Ser Beornric said, thoughtfully. “When you blasted your way into Castle Kirandai and challenged Count Ferrin before his court.”

  “Exactly so,” Aefric said. “There will be times to remind everyone that I am not only a duke. That I am a force to be reckoned with on my own.”

  “Perhaps,” Ser Yrsa said, grudgingly. “But will you at least agree to consult with Ser Beornric or myself before you take such an action? Or at least your ducal wizard? Will you allow one of us to determine if there might be another way of accomplishing your goal, before you charge into the hazard?”

  “You do have advisers for a reason, your grace,” Ser Beornric said softly.

  Aefric considered that through a long, slow breath.

  “Very well,” he agreed.

  “Thank you, your grace,” Ser Yrsa said meaningfully, and even added a bow, for good measure.

  Ser Beornric joined her in that bow, and Aefric began to realize that they hadn’t just been angry at him, for what he’d done in assaulting that slaver ship.

  They’d been worried. Honestly worried.

  He wasn’t used to people worrying about him.

  He’d have to think about that.

  As part of trying to take a more hands-off approach — as well as letting his people do their jobs — Aefric left the rest of the guarding to Ser Yrsa. He’d allow her to handle any further interrogations, as well, should any prove necessary.

  In the meantime, there was something he could do, and he was determined to do it.

  He went back to see the refugees.

  They’d split into three groups. The humans and eldrani in one group, the derekek in another, and the borogs slightly to one side, on their own.

  Aefric found it odd that the derekek were being left to themselves. Prejudice against the borogs, well, that wasn’t surprising in the wake of the Godswalk Wars. But the derekek had fought alongside the humans and eldrani. And alongside the kindaren, for that matter.

  But then, perhaps this wasn’t a matter of prejudice, but a simple matter of communication, because none of the others seemed to speak any Dreykeke, and the derekek didn’t speak the common tongue or High Eldrani. Or, apparently, Low Eldrani, for that matter.

  As Aefric approached, Ulltruchu stood and came up to him, smiling.

  “Your grace,” Ulltruchu said in High Eldrani, with a bow. “I am pleased to be the one to tell you that both my people and the humans have all decided to remain here in Deepwater. I have begun compiling a list of the skills we have among us.”

  “Excellent,” Aefric said. “I’ll want to hear more about that. But if you’ll excuse me, I need to first find out what the derekek and borogs have decided.”

  “Your grace,” Ulltruchu said softly — and perhaps a bit chidingly — in the common tongue. “Surely you make not the same offer to them as you make us.”

  “They are refugees,” Aefric said. “The same as you are. And they have lost their homes, the same as you have. So yes, I mean to make them the same offer.”

  “Your grace is most generous,” Ulltruchu said, then switched back to High Eldrani. “But surely servants of the Flayer would sow only sorrow in your lands.”

  “The madness of the Flayer has gone from their hearts,” Aefric said. “I will give them the chance to show they are people, not weapons.”

  Ulltruchu might have said more, but Aefric turned away and moved on to speak to the derekek.

  “Wish you to remain here? Or make new homes elsewhere?”

  “Here is where the winds have blown us.” The speaker was the same one who’d spoken for the three derekek before. “Here is where we will build a home. If we are welcome.”

  “You are.”

  “We are sailors and traders. We worked the rivers, but know the seas as well.”

  Hardly a surprise. The derekek were known for their sailing.

  “You will have your choice,” Aefric said. “We need sailors on both. And I know where others of your people dwell and sail in my lands.”

  When the derekek had finished offering their thanks, which took a moment because all three wanted to wish Aefric long life, good health, and good winds, he moved closer to the water to speak with the borogs.

  “Your clan ereh tok me and me,” the big one said, before Aefric could begin.

  “Me no … ereh tok?” Aefric gave an exaggerated shrug.

  Both borogs snorted at that.

  “Us no,” the big one said, then switched back to his own language. “You clan … speak … me and me … outcast.”

  “Me speak, you choose, you run with me clan.” Aefric stomped his foot the way he’d seen a borog chieftain do after making a decision.

  The two borogs snorted, then conversed quickly and quietly.

  “Kora?” the big borog said.

  Aefric frowned. He’d heard that word before. He knew it. But what could it mean? What had it meant then?

  Wait.

  He had to be asking why. He wanted to know why Aefric made this offer.

  Aefric frowned, trying to think of the right words to come at least close to saying what he needed to say, in Borog.

  “Speak it humanway,” the big borog said.

  “Wait,” Aefric said. “Do you understand the common tongue?”

  The big borog snorted, and this time Aefric thought there was something more to that snort. As though the big borog was admitting something he’d wanted to keep close to the chest.

  Which meant he’d been listening to what Aefric had told everyone else. As well as what all the humans had been saying, both the refugees and his own troops.

  “Look,” Aefric said. “The wars are over. The gods have gone back to their heavens and hells. And they’ve left us to clean up the mess. I know my people blame yours for what your people did while in service to the Flayer. But can you tell me that yours don’t blame us for what we did for our gods?”

  The borog made a show of slowly shaking his big head.

  “Now,” Aefric said. “We can hold on to old grudges and prejudices forever. Or we can learn to move past them. To see each other as people, not enemies. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather live in a world where we all learn to get along, than one where we’re always at each other’s throats.”

  “You … people…” the big borog said, haltingly, and his voice seemed to have to grind out his words. “…never … for-give.”

  “They’ll learn.”

  “What … us … do?”

  “Borogs are said to be great miners,” Aefric said.

  “And the dark swallows all.”

  Aefric had to shake himself, hearing a borog proverb that was their way of saying something was so obvious it didn’t need to be said. But he’d been in such a literal conversation, that for a moment he’d forgotten he was hearing a saying.

  The big borog snorted, and this time there was amusement in it.

  “Our mines also have na’shek,” Aefric said. “Not many, but a few.”

  Both borogs lowered their horns. Enmity between the borogs and the na’shek went back centuries. Perhaps further.

  “You want to be accepted?” Aefric asked. “You and the na’shek will have to learn to live and work together too.”

  “Mar kon nokka ton,” the big borog said.

  Aefric didn’t know the literal translation for that one, but he knew it amounted to saying something was impossible.

  Aefric sighed. “Well, that’ll be harder. I was hoping you’d be able to work in the Threepeaks Mountains, maybe in the gold or silver mines. But I couldn’t guarantee that you wouldn’t run into any na’shek. There aren’t many there, but—”

  “Dig … gold?” the borog asked, then used the Borog word for gold, seeking confirmation. “Aur?”

  “Yes,” Aefric said. “You would be mining gold for me, and paid for your efforts.”

  The smaller borog stomped and scraped his — or maybe her — feet over and over, one after the other. Aefric wasn’t sure, but he thought that was an expression of excitement.

  “Yes,” the big one said. “Us … dig gold … for you.”

  “You’re sure?” Aefric said. “Even if there are na’shek?”

  “Aur ke na tak,” the bigger borog said. “Gold … god metal.”

  “Holy?” Aefric asked.

  Both borogs snorted.

  “Bigger … than clan,” the big borog said.

  “Well, perfect then,” Aefric said, smiling. “I’ll make the arrangements.”

  2

  Though the waiting did seem interminable, in truth, the sun was not that much lower in the skies above the Risen Sea when the three frigates from Ajenmoor returned with the slaver ship in tow.

  By that time, one of the slavers had cracked and poured out his information to Ser Yrsa. Or, at least, he pretended to. When Ser Yrsa had gone over the information with Aefric, she’d sounded skeptical that he’d given her more than the absolute minimum.

  Certainly his captain didn’t look nearly as upset about the proffered information as she should have, if it were all real and useful.

  So the chances were that he’d lied about their base, or their normal routes, or the contacts he’d named, or perhaps all of the above.

  The captains from all three Ajenmoor ships came to shore in the same launch, and Aefric was surprised to see who had come with them.

  “Karbin!” he said, happily.

  As always, Aefric smiled at the familiar sight of his old friend and mentor, now ducal wizard. Karbin had been a wizard for a long time before Aefric had first met him, well over a decade ago, but the man’s appearance hadn’t changed by the years. His blue-black skin still radiated the youth and vitality of a man of only thirty summers.

  But then, magic-users often found ways to stretch their youth well beyond reason.

  Karbin continued for favor the colors of sand and dusk in his clothing. He wore robes, today, with high boots of hard leather, and carried six wands on his belt, along with that obsidian rod he favored.

  “Couldn’t let you take on slavers all on your lonesome, your grace,” Karbin said, stepping out of the launch and onto the rocky shore of the Dragonscar.

  “Oh, too late to stop his grace from that,” Ser Beornric said lightly, getting a frown from Karbin.

  “We’ve already had that talk,” Aefric protested, but Karbin’s frown deepened as he stood to one side and let the captains come ashore.

  Two of the captains were men, and one a woman. All three were human, and all three were about Ser Beornric’s age, though the years at sea had played them harder. All three were lean, and looked tough enough to hammer in nails with their fists alone.

  Of the three of them, the woman — Captain Coral — was senior, and did their talking.

  “Funny thing about that ship, your grace,” she said once the introductions were done. “By the time we caught it, it were already two masts light, and fire’d played hell across the decks.”

  “Yes,” Aefric said, “well, I didn’t want it to get away.”

  Captain Coral nodded. “Guess you didn’t at that. Well, most of the fight was gone from ’em when we caught up.”

  “Were there more slaves aboard?”

  She looked over at the refugees. “Got forty over there, do you? Your grace?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you got them all but for the poor young man we found chained up in the captain’s cabin.”

  “Ser Yrsa,” Aefric said. “Bring the good captains here up to speed.”

  “Yes, your grace,” she said, and stepped up to do just that.

  While she went over what Aefric and his people had learned, Aefric spoke quietly with Karbin.

  “Should’ve known you’d be coming. I said the magic word.”

  “Slavers,” Karbin agreed. “Not that I was left much to do.”

  “I’m not sure about that,” Aefric said. “The pirate queen Nelazzi’s involved. And there’s still the question of where the slavers were taking those refugees.”

  “I can’t think of anywhere that slavery is legal these days,” Karbin said. “Not formally or informally.”

  “Neither can I,” Aefric admitted, “but a lot may have changed with the Godswalk Wars. Some may be looking for an edge over their neighbors, even if they don’t admit to it openly.”

  “It’s possible,” Karbin said. “Want me to look into it?”

  “After we know all we’re going to learn from this.”

  With that, Aefric and Karbin turned their attention back to Captain Coral, who was just sending her rowers back to her ship to retrieve a healer, to see to the wounded. First among Aefric’s troops, and then among the prisoners.

  “If Nelazzi’s involved,” Captain Coral said when she turned back to Aefric, “this is a big deal. Too big for us. We’ve got our hands full, just keeping the seaways safe around Deepwater.”

  Aefric drew breath, but before he could make his observation, Captain Coral hurried along to make it for him.

  “And I can see that even then we’ve had blind spots. Never thought anyone’d be daft enough to use an unfriendly spot like this for smuggling. But now we can keep an eye on it.”

  “And I assume you can start today?”

  “Oh, don’t worry, your grace,” she said with a grin wolfish enough to give Ser Beornric a run for his money. “When that smuggler ship comes a-calling at dusk, we’ll be ready for it.”

  “Good,” Aefric said, then lowered his voice. “Our informant, Mavash, wouldn’t tell us where the Swift Wave is currently. That says to me that it’s at harbor someplace they want to continue to feel safe. I want to know where that is.”

  “You and me both, your grace,” she said widening her grin. And close as she was right now, Aefric could smell the salt fish on her breath.

  Perhaps everyone had eaten lunch by now but him.

  Still. Even his empty stomach wasn’t desperate enough to rumble at the odor of salt fish breath.

  “All right,” Aefric said. He looked over at the cargo the smugglers had been hiding in the cave. “Those crates contain varieties of seed, mostly, as well as various grains. And it saddens me that these things are fodder for smugglers these days. The other crates house art objects, likely looted from fallen castles, mansions and the like.”

  He sighed. “Tell me truly, captain. Is there any hope of getting that cargo back to the people it was stolen from?”

  “If the smugglers stole it themselves, your grace, there’d be a chance,” she said dubiously. “But the long odds say they bought it from those who bought it from the original thieves. Whatever’s in those crates was likely moved first when it was stolen, then each time it’s been sold since.”

  She shook her head. “Better chance of asking the sea to stop licking the shore for a day or two.”

  “All right,” Aefric said, shaking his head. “Will you need all three ships to handle the Swift Wave?”

  “Without its captain and most of its fighters?” Captain Coral spat. “Hardly a challenge for one of us, your grace, let alone three.”