Free Those Below: The Empty Throne Book 2 by Daniel Polansky Page B

to the proceedings. Protocol only demanded that the Prime be present during the submission of the Dayspans, not that he actually pay attention to it.
    ‘The Sentinel says they receive reinforcements daily,’ the Prime said. His robes were samite and sterling silver, the long stalks of his hair were pleated and particoloured, pavonine and glorious. The great diamond that was the sole evidence of his office shimmered and dazzled from its place in his headdress. ‘That by spring they will have more than made up any losses they have suffered thus far during the campaign.’
    The Lord of the Sidereal Citadel was known more widely among the humans of the Roost as the Wright, and esteemed for his brilliance as an inventor and craftsman. It was he who had been responsible for the aerocraft that had lately come to bloom in the skies above the Roost, as well as innumerable other wonders during the long centuries of his life. He was also the confidant and the closest friend of the Prime, though there were times when Calla was not certain this was a useful term to apply to Those Above. ‘And?’
    ‘It is a very large sword not to bother unsheathing.’
    ‘The Dayspans kill one another,’ the Wright explained. He held an empty flute, though after two quick tics of his second finger a house-slave came forward with a pitcher and then he held a full one. ‘They have always, and ever will.’
    ‘How strong will we allow Aeleria to grow without responding? Once they have added the great wealth of Salucia to the vast riches they have obtained from the Marches and Dycia? When they have used this wealth to further consolidate their supremacy?’
    ‘Supremacy among the humans, you mean. Is not the Aelerian ambassador here today with his gifts? Have they not delivered their tithe? What concern is it whether one or the other flag waves over one or other city? We receive our due, as was ever the case.’
    The Baleferic ambassador consummated his devotions by dropping to his knees and setting the branch at the foot of the Prime’s seat. Moving past him with hurried dancer’s steps came the slaves, naked to the waist, caramel-coloured, the women high-breasted, the men broad-shouldered and tight-muscled. Watching them, a flush gathered across Calla’s cheeks.
    ‘The Aelerians are late immigrants to the continent,’ the Prime said, by all appearances unaware of the spectacle being performed in his honour. ‘Scarcely half a millennium since their ancestors came to our shores, and only three centuries since we proscribed their king and his line.’
    ‘I am not incognisant of recent history. What is your point, exactly?’
    ‘They have never accepted their role, as have the other, older nations. They do not appreciate the blessings our rule provides. They are more than fractious, and their aims go beyond amassing the balance of power against their neighbors. They aim for dominance, supremacy. They would devour us, if they could.’
    ‘So would the ants,’ the Wright answered. ‘It is not intent but capacity with which we ought to concern ourselves. By the Founders, surely you cannot have forgotten the last war. It was barely ten turns ago.’
    The Baleferic ambassador struggled to keep himself level, an awkward pose and the strain growing on his face. His accompanying slaves remained still and silent, as is the way of slaves generally. Calla was about to make some small signal but it proved unnecessary, the Prime finally deigning to play his end of the charade. He stood in one swift motion, in the curious and abrupt fashion with which they moved, and announced in a sonorous version of human speech, ‘Your crime was beyond forgiving, and law and honour enjoin us to proscribe you entire. But we are a merciful people, kinder than we are just, and your punishment shall be set back another year.’
    The Prime sat back down again. The ambassador executed the final part of the ceremony, an elaborate bow of contrition, then departed. The master