“What does this entail, being a second?” Atelo asked in Raulin’s doorway.

“You act in my stead,” Raulin said, checking his knives. “I can’t communicate with the aggrieved party, Mr. Auslen, so you’ll have to do that for me. He’ll be doing that through his second, which I believe is going to be the tall man he’s been speaking with lately.”

“I can’t speak Ghenian well, though.”

“I’ll translate for you.”

“So, you can’t speak to the tall man nor the angry one, but you can hear their words and translate to me, then I can speak and have those words translated by you?”

“Yes.”

“That is stupid.”

“I didn’t create the rules.”

“This is done often in kemor lands?”

“I couldn’t give you a number, but I believe a city like New Wextif probably has at least one per week. Those are duels that actually make it to the final stage; most complaints are solved amicably by the seconds and no blood is ever spilled.”

“I can do this, making amends?”

“You can feel free to try. I doubt he’d be open to it, since he seemed quite insulted.”

“Does this man not realize he’s going to die?”

“He’d probably rather die than be dishonored.”

“Did you do it?”

Raulin dusted the arms of his tunic. “Yes.”

Atelo shook his head a little. “Why?”

“She’s a beautiful woman. It just happened.”

“This man is right. You are in the wrong. And yet, he will die because he has decided to settle things outside of a court.”

“Yes.”

“Miartha are stupid.”

“If I were a miartha,” he said, pausing for the irony, “I would agree. There are so many little things within the law that aren’t fair.” He looked outside quickly. “We need to leave now or else they will think I’m a coward and have forfeited the duel.”

“Perhaps you should,” Atelo said.

This was a hole in the plan Raulin had spotted and therefore had a lie prepared. “If I forfeit, it means I have to hold still while he kills me.”

“Ah, then perhaps you shouldn’t.”

They stepped out onto the main deck where Raulin quickly spotted the boats that had already left. Al and Tel were being rowed to a small atoll by Ilden or Encran, whichever one wasn’t rowing Anla and the captain. Another sailor was waiting to row the two trirecs, a thin fellow with a shaved head who seemed none too pleased at his job. The rest of the crew was to look lively, since he’d heard the captain use the excuse of the ship needing repairs.

By the time they had reached land, the other parties were already in position. Tel stood next to Al, facing the beach, while Anla stood opposite the captain. The two sailors stood off to the side, kicking sand with their shoes and pointing out different features of the tiny spit of land.

Raulin took a deep breath and stepped ashore, walking purposefully towards the group. The sand was toasty in color and coarse beneath his boots. Al met his gaze with a look of such intense hatred Raulin had to pause and remember it was all a lie. He stopped at the vacant point and nodded at the captain.

“Gentleman, we’re here because there is a matter of honor at stake. Do we still wish for the duel to commence?” Al spoke to Telbarisk, who answered in the affirmative. “Then, my job, as requested, is to make sure all the rules are adhered. The weapons chosen are knives. Is this correct?” Al looked at Tel, who nodded, then the wizard pulled out two knives that seemed better suited to filleting fish than fighting. Raulin snapped his out. “Is there anything either of you would like to say before we begin?”

“Yes,” Al said. “I would like to claim this island as my own.”

“As a certified captain under His Majesty, I am authorized to acknowledge your claims to this island. What do you wish to call it?”

“Isele-e Librath,” he said. Raulin tipped his head at that. It meant “Island of freedom” in Arvonnese and he was sure it wasn’t a coincidence.

“Beware,” Atelo said after he translated. “He’s sovereign of the soil we stand on. He’ll try enact some immunity to save himself. It’s clever.”

“It’s not,” Raulin said. “He’d need to adopt the Noh Amairian Accords and those would only pertain to god-blooded monarchs.”

“Then what is he doing?”

Al spoke. “As ruler of Isele-e Librath, I would like to adopt the laws of Gheny and add only one: any dispute that demands a trial shall be dealt with immediately as well as the punishment. If you disagree, you must leave immediately.”

“This is odd,” Atelo said. “He hasn’t asked for anything that gives him an advantage. Am I missing something?”

“Perhaps.”

Just as he was beginning to realize what Al was doing, he turned to Raulin and said, “Now.”

With his pulse in his throat, Raulin took off his mask. This was, as they say, the point of no return. It took a moment for everyone gathered to realize what had happened.

“What are you doing?” Atelo hissed, shoving him. “You fool!”

“He’s a bloody Noh Amairian,” Ilden said, his eyebrows high on his forehead. “I didn’t think they had those!”

Atelo grabbed Raulin’s arm and began to haul him back to the boats. “Wait!” Al said and they turned. “Is there a dispute?”

“Nothing that concerns you!” Atelo said.

“I’m sorry, but by staying on the island, you agreed to the terms of my kingdom. All disputes must be dealt with immediately.”

“This is not…I cannot make a judgment like this!”

“Ah, but you can. You are a trivren and can make calls for whatever you need for the best interest of Arvarikor.”

He growled. “How does he know this?”

“He stayed at the Hanala headquarters for a month. He likely picked things up.”

It was then it dawned on the poor Merakian. “These were the people who took part of your punishment! You know them! And you brought me here…to trick me!”

“I’m sorry, Atelo, but I must do this.”

“Again, there needs to be a trial,” Al said, his hands behind his back.

“A trial!” Atelo barked. “Yes, fine! I find him guilty of unmasking in front of miartha! His punishment is death!”

“No!” Al boomed and Tel actually startled. “The most severe punishment for unmasking is one lash per trirec in the lands. And since this is my land, free of any other lands, the total comes to…two.”

Raulin couldn’t help but grin.

Atelo stood in his spot, stunned. “I have nothing to punish him with.”

Al held out his hand and Tel unwrapped the whip they had borrowed from Abri from his waist. He walked over to the trivren and held it out for him to take. “Let’s be quick about this; I don’t want to miss tea,” Al said.

“This is…no! We need an inquest and a council and-”

“Atelo,” Raulin said, and he turned to look at him. “It would look bad for Arvarikor if you balked now. You have to show that the order has harsh and swift punishments.” He took off his shirt. “I’m ready when you are.”

“This is not over.”

“I didn’t think it would be.”

He knelt in the sand, his stomach jittery and his hand shaking. It was almost too much for him even though it was only two lashes. He had taken fifty-four a month and a half prior, and these two would mean freedom for him, but it seemed so much worse.

Anla must have seen the look on his face because she crossed the circle and knelt in front of him. “I’m here for you,” she said. “I’ll stay until this is done.”

“What is going on?” Ilden asked Encran. “Why is he not cross that his wife is helping the man she cheated on him with?”

Al heard this and held up a hand to quiet the sailor. Then he turned and watched as Atelo balled his fists, then stepped back. He cracked the whip twice, in quick succession, then kicked sand on Raulin’s back before limping off in anger.

Anla pressed her husband’s head to her chest. Tears streamed down her face, for his pain and for their future. One dropped onto his cheek as he tried to breath out the pain.

“You can still make this right,” Atelo said, crouching so his masked face was in front of Raulin’s. “Take the oath and renew your vows.”

Raulin reached down, picked up his mask, and shoved it into the Merakian’s chest. “No.”

“There,” Al said, turning to the two sailors. “Raulin Kemor is now dead. He chooses to live his life outside the order of Arvarikor as a free man.”

“I still don’t understand any of this,” Ilden said.

“They get mad when the trirecs take off their masks,” Encran explained. “So, they’re punished by being whipped. You can see it’s happened before; look at his back.”

“He’s done this three times now,” Al added. “I hope it’s sticking this time.”

Tel walked over and took Raulin’s hand. “He looks good for a man who’s died three times.”

Raulin laughed as he used his friend’s hand to pull himself up to standing.

Ilden and Encran walked over to Al as things began to wind down. “So, uh, if you want us to help you take that guy out, now would be a good time. He’s vulnerable and I don’t think that other trirec is going to help him now. He looks like he could chew iron and spit nails.”

“No,” Al said. “Everything’s as it should be.”

“Begging pardon, but I think he has your wife.”

“His wife. Anladet, who you know as Mayasena, is Raulin’s wife.”

“You were sleeping with his wife? He seemed pretty nonchalant about that.”

“Because he trusts me and knows I did nothing but snore next to her.”

“And how does he know that?”

“Because Raulin and I have been friends for over a year now. Anla is like a sister to me.”

Ilden scratched his head. Encran rolled his eyes. “They put on this ruse to catch that other trirec guy so that that guy could get out of being a trirec.”

“Oh. So, is the tall guy actually tall?” Encran cuffed him upside his head.

Atelo was already being rowed back by the captain. It made for a tighter return, but since Anla and Raulin didn’t mind sitting close to each other, it wasn’t unpleasant.

The crew and passengers looked at Raulin strangely when he arrived, but before he could say anything, he and Al were summoned to the captain’s quarters. They sat and Jorme poured a glass of pear brandy for the three of them.

“To whatever the hell just happened,” the captain toasted before sipping. “Gentleman, I understand that I’m not going to be privy to all the information at hand. All I’m concerned with is the safety of my crew and the passengers aboard The Tempest Free. Can you assure me of that?”

Raulin, realizing his back was ablaze and that he could get drunk if he wished to, put the empty snifter on the table after guzzling the contents. “If you include me in that, then, no. I will speak with Atelo as soon as I can to amend things, but I can’t guarantee that it will work. But, Atelo will not hurt anyone else. I can say that, at least.”

“I’m sorry your life is at jeopardy aboard my ship.”

“Not your fault. I should have taken the hand of friendship instead of the backhand of masters. A lot of things would have been solved if I had just stopped being so selfish and learned to think of others.”

Al briefly raised his eyebrows at this. Jorme coughed. “Yes, well, I understand if you don’t wish to say anything more, but I am burning with curiosity. I was given a story about how you all met and I saw the chalice, but I wonder if there isn’t something more going on here.”

Raulin rubbed his chin. “Do you consider yourself a shrewd man, Captain Mayard?”

“I’ll admit that I’m not quick witted, but given a chance to dwell on things, I usually discover everything I need to.”

Turning to Al, Raulin said, “Well, I think it might be best to bring him into the fold.”

“You think that would be wise?”

“I need to learn to start delegating. If a rumor spreads among the troops, you either ban them from talking about it, speak to them directly, or level with the general and let him deal with it. He says he’s a clever man; he’ll figure it out and I’d rather have a captain in my pocket. Especially someone who treated my friends so fairly.”

“I don’t object,” Al said.

Raulin sat at the edge of the seat and tilted back so his shirt hung loosely. “I have spent the last eighteen years of my life as a trirec. Before that I was Prince Caudin of Arvonne.”

Jorme choked on his drink and began coughing. “You…don’t…say…”

“I was smuggled out of Eri Ranvel on the night of the Coup by my butler and another trirec. To make a very long story short, I think it’s time to take back the throne.”

The captain looked between the two of them. “This is pinch-me real?”

“You don’t realize how hard he tried to keep this from us,” Al said. “I was the one who realized it, and he still tried to suppress it. To get to the point where he’s willing to not only admit who he is but to want to attempt to rule is fathoms from where he was just a month ago.”

“This doesn’t have the feel of a con,” Jorme said, “so I’m willing to put my doubt aside. What would you like of me?”

“Your men and the passenger may ask questions. Just cover for me, for now. I’d like to be careful and plan better before I go public, so for now I’m Quin Sesault. Come up with whatever story you’d like.”

“And anything else?”

“I think if you could keep your ear out for anything I should be aware of.”

Jorme stared into his drink for a moment before downing it. “I can do that.”

“Thank you,” Raulin said, standing. “I need to go find Atelo and settle things with him.”

“You’re welcome…Your Majesty,” he said.

“We can forgo the honorifics, but thank you. Oh, there is one other thing. If there is any way you could drop us off closer to Arvonne, I’d appreciate it.”

“I was hoping to get a bonus for returning to Gheny far ahead of schedule. I could drop you off in Sayen, if you wish, since that’s not terribly far from Kitstuar.”

“Sayen?” he asked, surprised. “Is your ship able to traverse land? How would you do that?”

“Sayen has control of the Mialsa River and the port city of Erifana.”

“I didn’t realize that. We may ask for that, then. I’ll need to speak with my friends. Are you coming?” he asked Al.

“Yes,” he said, though he was very pensive about something and not at all happy.