Earthborn Page 0,14

Bego, "one of the worthies of your kingdom has information that, if you choose to heed it, will be a matter for a council of war."

"And who is this worthy? What is his information?" asked Father.

"He sits beside my otherself," said Bego, "and he can give you his information for himself."

All eyes turned to Mon, and for a moment he wanted to turn and flee from the room. Had Edhadeya realized how awful this moment would be, when she asked him to do this? But Mon knew he could not shrink from this now-to back down would humiliate Bego and shame himself. Even if his message was disbelieved, he had to give it-and boldly, too.

Mon rose to his feet, and, as he had seen his father do before speaking, he looked each of the leading men of the kingdom in the eyes. In their faces he saw surprise, amusement, deliberate patience. Last of all he looked at Aronha, and to his relief, he saw that Aronha looked serious and interested, not teasing or embarrassed. Aronha, thank you for giving me respect.

"My information comes from a true dream," Mon said at last.

There was a murmur around the table. Who had dared to claim a true dream in many generations? And at the king's table?

"How do you know it's a true dream?" asked Father.

It was something Mon had never been able to explain to anyone or even to himself. He didn't try now. "It's a true dream," he said.

Again there was a whisper around the table, and while some of the impatient faces changed to amusement, some that had been amused now looked serious.

"At least they're paying attention," murmured bGo.

Father spoke again, a hint of consternation in his voice. "Tell us the dream, then, and why it's a matter for the council of war."

"The same dream over and over for many nights," said Mon. He was careful to give no hint of who the dreamer was. He knew they would assume that it was him, but no one would be able to call him a liar. "A little boy and his sister, the ages of Ominer and Khimin. They were working in the fields, as slaves, faint with hunger, and the taskmasters who whipped them at their work were earth people."

He had their attention now, all of them. Diggers with humans as slaves-it made all of them angry, though they all knew that it must happen from time to time.

"One time in the dream the boy was beaten by human boys. Humans who ruled over the diggers. The boy was brave and never cried out as they... humiliated him. He was worthy."

The soldiers all nodded. They understood what he was saying.

"At night the boy and his sister and his father and mother lay in silence. I think ... I think they were forbidden to speak aloud. But they asked for help. They asked for someone to come and deliver them from bondage."

Mon paused for a moment, and into the silence came Monush's voice. "I have no doubt that this dream is true enough, because we know that many humans and angels are kept as slaves among the Elemaki. But what can we do? It takes all our strength to keep our own people free."

"But Monush," said Mon, "these are our people."

Now the whispers were filled with excitement and outrage.

"Let me hear my son speak," said Father. The whispers ceased.

Mon blushed. Father had admitted him to be his son, yes, that was good; but he had not used the formal locution, "Let me hear my counselor," which would have meant that he absolutely accepted what Mon was saying. He was still on trial here. Thanks Edhadeya. This could shame me for my whole life, if it goes badly. I would always be known as the second son who spoke foolishness out of turn in a war council.

"They have no sky people among them," said Mon. "Who has ever heard of such a kingdom? They are the Zenifi, and they call to us for help."

Husu, the angel who served the king as his chief spy, leading hundreds of strong, brave skypeople who kept constant watch on the borders of the kingdom, raised his right wing, and Mon nodded to give him the king's ear. He had seen this done before at council, but since he had never had the king's ear himself, this was the first time he had ever been able to take part in the niceties of formal discussion.

"Even if the dream