Free Valour by John Gwynne

has set you?’
    ‘The shipbuilding proceeds well. Twelve galleys are ready on your lake shore. The other shipyard on the coast does better still. Fifteen war-galleys, and seven deeper-draughted ships for
transport. Progress could be even better, though, if the supply of wood was less sporadic.’
    ‘Surely there is enough wood here for your purposes.’
    ‘Oak and elm is in plenty here, and on the coast, you are right. But I need a supply of spruce and cedar as well. That is less readily found.’ He paused and sipped some more wine.
‘May I speak plainly?’
    ‘Of course.’
    ‘Your barons controlling that supply are not cooperating as well as they might. I speak specifically of Marcellin in the north and Lamar in the south.’
    ‘There is trouble in the north that may be affecting your supply lines,’ Fidele said. ‘The Kurgan giants are raiding from their mountain strongholds. I have sent Peritus to
deal with it.’
    ‘That still would not explain the lack of cooperation in the south,’ Lykos said. ‘And, allow me to speak frankly – I believe Marcellin and Lamar are being obstructive
because I am Vin Thalun.’
    Fidele sat back, considering him coldly. ‘Yes, I believe you are right.’
    Lykos raised an eyebrow. ‘We have signed a treaty, formed an alliance.’
    ‘Yes, we have. As we are speaking frankly, let me say this. The situation between our two peoples is new, and old ways of thinking are hard to change in a day, or a moon, or a season, or
even a year.’
    ‘Our treaty was signed nearly two years ago, my lady,’ Lykos said.
    ‘Yes. But there were decades of enmity before that.’
    ‘Not under my reign,’ Lykos snapped, suddenly fierce, feeling his temper flare. ‘And the men that ruled then, well...’ He paused, tugging at an iron ring woven into his
beard, a timeworn method of controlling his anger. ‘They have either bowed the knee or had their heads separated from their shoulders.’
    ‘Nevertheless,’ Fidele said with a dismissive wave of her hand, ‘there is a history between our peoples. Lamar particularly has been a bulwark for Tenebral against your past
raids. He has seen much bloodshed and does not forgive so easily.’
    ‘True. Lamar I can understand. Marcellin, though. He rules in the Agullas, about as far as any man in Tenebral can get from the Tethys Sea. But he is close to Peritus, I believe . .
.’ Lykos left the rest unsaid. He knew that Peritus, Aquilus’ battlechief, was not a friend of the Vin Thalun, had even spoken openly against them, if only after Nathair had sailed
west. It was good to let Fidele see that he was no fool, that he understood something of the politics and people of this land.
    ‘I will speak to them,’ Fidele said. ‘But I have heard things about your people, practices that hinder any understanding between us, and I believe Lamar and Marcellin will have
heard the same reports that I have.’
    Lykos sighed; he had a feeling he knew what was coming.
    ‘I speak of your fighting pits,’ Fidele said, her mouth twisting with disgust. ‘In your own land your customs are yours to do as you see fit, but here in Tenebral, forcing
captives, slaves, to fight for your entertainment is unacceptable.’
    The fighting pits were part of Vin Thalun tradition, had been part of the three islands for as long as Lykos knew. Men could end up there by many roads – taken on a raid, owing a blood
debt, even from a very bad night with dice and a throw-board. There was only one road out, though, and that was to fight your way out, tooth and nail if you had to. With the end of war between the
islands and Lykos proclaimed Lord of the Vin Thalun, if anything the pits had grown in their popularity. His people were not made for peace and if his crews were no longer fighting or raiding
regularly, they needed something to prevent them turning on one another. The pits acted as both an entertainment and a distraction. He had tried to curtail the use of them while