“You may sit,” said Ylith softly. “T ‘Elas, if you will look to the starboard side, I believe you may see the reason we have called you.”
Kta turned on one knee, and Kurt looked also. A ship was bearing toward them, slowly, relying on only part of its oarage. The black sail bore the white bird of Ilev, and the red immunity streamer floated from its mast.
“As you see,” said the Methi, “we have offered the Families of Nephane the chance to talk before being driven under. I have also ordered my fleet to gather up survivors, without regard to nation-even Sufaki, if there be any. Now if your eloquence can persuade them to surrender, you will have won their lives.”
“I have agreed to no such thing,” Kta protested angrily.
“This is your opportunity, t’Elas. Present them my conditions, make them believe you-or remain silent and watch these last ships try to stop us.”
“What are your conditions?” Kta asked.
“Nephane will again become part of the empire or Nephane will burn. And if your Sufaki can accept being part of the empire… well, I will deal with that wonder when it presents itself. I have never met a Sufaki, I confess it, as I had never met a human. I should be interested to do so, on my terms. So persuade them for me, t’Elas, and save their lives.”
“Give me your oath they will live,” Kta said, and there was a stirring among the Methi’s guards, hands laid on weapons.
But Kta remained as he was, humbly kneeling. “Give me your oath,” he replied, “in plain words, life and freedom for the men of the fleet if they take terms. I know that with you, Ylith-methi, words are weapons, double-edged. But I would believe your given word.”
A lifting of the Methi’s fingers restrained her men from drawing, and she gazed at Kta with what seemed a curious, even loving, satisfaction.
“They have tried us in battle, t’Elas, and you have tried my patience. Look upon the pitiful wreckage floating out there, and the fact that you are still alive after disputing me with words, and decide for yourself upon which you had rather commit their lives.”
“You are taking,” said Kta, “what I swore I would not give.”
Ylith lowered her eyes and lifted them again, which just failed of arrogance. “You are too reasonable,” she said, “to destroy those men for your own pride’s sake. You will try to save them.”
“Then,” said Kta in a still voice, “because the Methi is reasonable, she will allow me to go down to that ship. I can do more there than here, where they would be reluctant to speak with me in your presence.”
She considered, nodded finally. “Strike the iron from him. From the human too. If they kill you, t’Elas, you will be avenged.” And, softening that arrogant humor: “In truth, t’Elas, I am trying to avoid killing these men. Persuade them of that, or be guilty of the consequences.”
The Ilev longship bore the scars of fire and battle to such an extent it was a wonder she could steer. Broken oars hung in their locks. Her rail was shattered. She looked sadly disreputable as she grappled onto the immaculate trireme of the Methi, small next to that towering ship.
Kta nodded to Kurt as soon as she was made fast, and the two of them descended on a ship’s ladder thrown over the trireme’s side.
They landed one after the other, barefoot on the planks like common seamen, filthy and unshaved, looking fit company for the men of the battered longship. Shock was on familiar faces all about them: Ian t’Ilev among the foremost, and men of Irain and Isulan.
Kta made a bow, which t’Ilev was slow to return.
“Gods,” t’Ilev murmured then. “You keep strange company, Kta.”
“Tavi went down off the Isles,” said Kta. “Kurt and I were picked up, the only survivors that I know of. Since that time we have been detained by the Indras. Are you in command here, Ian?” ,
“My father is dead. Since that moment, yes.”
“May your Guardians receive him kindly,” Kta said.