"They're black," Aubri announced, his voice startled and his beak gaping open, as he peered across the waves at the oncoming ship. "The humans in that ship, Skan, Drake, they're black"

"They're what?" Skan craned his neck as far as it would go and widened his eyes as well. His pupils flared to fill his eyes. "By—Drake, Aubri's right. These humans have blackskin! Not brown, not painted, not sunburned—they're really, really black!"

Black? But—Amberdrake blinked because he, and perhaps he alone of all of the Council, knew what that meant, and recognized who these people must be.

"They must be—but we aren't that far south—" He was babbling, he knew; speaking aloud what was running through his head, without thinking. He scolded himself. That would be a horrible habit for a kestra'chern to get into!

'They must be what, Amberdrake?" The Kaled'a'in Adept, Snowstar, stared at him out of silver-blue eyes in a gold-complected face, his expression one of impatience. He tossed his braided silver hair over his shoulder and stared hard at his fellow Kaled'a'in. "What are you babbling about?"

"They must be Haighlei," he replied vaguely, now concentrating on his effort to try to make out some details of the ship, at least, something that might confirm or negate his guess.

"They must be highly what?" Snowstar asked sharply, perplexed and still annoyed.

"Not highly," Amberdrake repeated, rather stupidly, shading his eyes against the glare of the westering sun on the water. " Haighlei. From the Haighlei Emperors. You know, the Black Kings. They're called that because they areblack. They're the only black-skinned people that I know of, but how on earth they came here, I haven't a clue."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Snowstar's mouth form into a silent "o," and the Adept also turned his attention to the boat that was tacking into the bay.

"Aren't we more than a bit north and west for them?" General Judeth asked, her voice troubled. She was right to be troubled; the Haighlei Empire was vast and powerful, even by the standards Ma'ar had set, and they were as mysterious as they were powerful. She shaded her sharp, dark-gray eyes with one hand, her strong chin firming as she clenched her jaw.

Amberdrake gave up trying to make out any details for the moment, and shrugged. "I don't know," he admitted. "I don't know of anyone from our lands who had even the vaguest idea how large their Six Nations are. For all Iknow, they could run from this Sea to the Salten Sea in the East!"

The only person he had ever met who knew anything about the Haighlei Emperors was his old teacher, the incomparable kestra'chern Silver Veil. At the start of the war with Ma'ar—had that really been twenty years ago?—she had been heading south, toward a promised position in the court of one of the Kings. She would be perhaps fifty now; no great age for a kestra'chern of her lineage and training—and she was one of those women who would never look anything other than agelessly elegant. Had she gotten that position? Was she prospering? He hadn't found out; the wars had eaten up all his time and energy, leaving none to spare for trying to trace his mentor's whereabouts.

He turned his attention back to the ship. The ship had entered the bay, now, and it was finally possible to make out the details of its fittings and crew. The White Gryphon "fishing fleet" was made up of fairly crude vessels fitted with oars and a single, basic sail—large enough for four men at the most. This was a real ship, clearly able to carry several dozen people, and Amberdrake didn't know enough about ships to know if it was of a type any of their few folk familiar with such things should recognize or not. It was quite elaborate, that much he knew on sight; it had three masts and several sails striped in red and white, and there were people swarming all over it. The hull was painted in blue and red, with a pair of eyes on the front; the sails were augmented by a network of lines and rope-ladders. There was a raised, houselike section in the middle of the boat that had a door and several windows in it. The men actually doing all the work were dressed simply, in white breeches, many with colored cloths wrapped around their heads and colored sashes around their waists, but there were three people in much more elaborate clothing standing in front of the door in that houselike section, peering at the people waiting on the dock. Rich hues of red, orange, and the gold of ripe grain, ornamented with winking glints of metal and the sharper gleams of gems marked the costumes of these three notables. The cut of their clothing was entirely unfamiliar to Amberdrake.

It did not comfort Amberdrake in the least to see, as the boat drew nearer, that every man in the crew had enormous knives stuck through their sashes, and that there were racks of spears visible behind the elaborately-garbed men watching them.

They're tall. They arevery tall. The ship was finally close enough for Amberdrake to make some kind of guess as to the general appearance of these people. The thing that struck him first was their height. The shortest of them would probably top the tallest Kaled'a'in by at least a head. Their features were handsome enough, finely sculptured, although they were not as hawklike as the Kaled'a'in. Amberdrake was amazed by the garments the three—officials?—were wearing; although the material was very light by the way it fluttered, it was woven with incredibly detailed geometric patterns in bright yellows, reds, and oranges. The robes fastened high up on the side of the neck, with the openings running down the left of the front rather than the middle. The robes boasted high, stiff collars that matched the cylindrical hats each of them wore. Heavy, jeweled neckpieces lay on their breasts and shoulders, and heavy, matching brooches centered their odd hats.

Although their hair was as tightly-curled as a sheep's fleece, it was so black that it swallowed up all the light. The sailors wore theirs at every length, although perhaps "length" was the wrong term to use for hair that stood out rather than draping down the owner's back. Some of them had cropped their hair so close to the skull that there was nothing there but a short frizz; others had clearly not cut their hair for months, even years. It stood out away from their heads as if lightning had just struck them. But the three men waiting with folded hands wore their hair as short as they could and still be said to havehair. The hats fit too closely to allow for any amount of hair.

They were all, without a doubt, beautiful to behold. Unfortunately they did not look pleased, if Amberdrake was any judge of expressions.

They did not bring the boat to the dock; instead, they anchored out in the bay, with a sophisticated set of tensioned fore- and aft-anchors that held them steady against the waves.

And there they waited. The sailors formed up in loose ranks on the deck of the ship and remained there, unmoving.

No one spoke a word; the ship hung at anchor, with the only sound being the steady pounding of the surf on the rocks.

"It appears that they expect us to come to them," Judeth observed, in her usual dry manner.

Of course they do. We're the interlopers, the barbarians.Amberdrake would have called for a boat to take him and the rest of the Council to the strangers if there had been any—but there weren't. Every vessel they owned was out fishing or dropping nets.

"They aren't stupid," Skan rumbled. "They can see we don't have the means to come to them. Besides, if they came this far, they can go a few more feet."