"Unbind them," said Rayth.
Rikard stretched mightily, rubbing cramped arms. Leda stepped over beside him and her hand stole into his. The guards marched out, except for two who stood alertly against the wall.
"And now what?" asked the barbarian.
"Why, I suppose you will want to clean yourselves. There is a bathroom over that way. Afterward we will eat, and then we can talk."
There were garments for the prisoners, of a soft colorfulness such as they had not known since the last time Nyrac captured a trading caravan in the tunnels, and there was a feast of skillfully prepared meat and bread, fresh fruit, wine and delicacies for which they had no name. They sat around the table and gorged.
Rayth exerted himself to be pleasant. He brought in slave girls to dance and play, he kept the wine glasses full, and the words that flowed from his smiling lips had nothing to do with immediate reality. Despite himself, Rikard had to listen with interest and reply where he could, and Leda sat enchanted.
The prince got onto ancient history, which seemed to be a pet subject of his. He discoursed of a thousand years of war, politics, conquest and liberation, dynasties and gods and people, and after the vague heroic songs of the barbarians it was a new experience to listen to his crisp cynical prose. They could still read and write in Coper City, though only a few nobles besides the Engineers took the trouble to learn, and so they remembered with precision.
"But the Fall?" whispered Leda. "What was that?"
"The Fall from Earth?" Rayth smiled and arched his brows. "Well, my fair one, suppose you tell me what you think."