Auum unslung his sack and took out his herb pouches. He broke off some legumia bark, stood and walked away to the fire that burned in the centre of the settlement. Water in a pan bubbled on it and he scooped out a mugful, dropping the legumia into it to soften and infuse. He knew they were all looking at him. They amused him, these strangers who presumed themselves superior to forest-dwelling elves but knew nothing about how to bathe a wound and stop infection at its source. A b.l.o.o.d.y cloth rinsed in a stream would do more harm than good.

Walking back to the man, he cast around for some clean material, in the end pointing at a scarf around one of the women's necks until she shakily handed it to him. He dipped a corner in the hot water and wiped away the blood from the man's face and chest to expose the edges of the wounds. They would scar badly but he was lucky. He was alive. Then he took out the bark, tore it into fine strips and laid it over the wounds, hushing the fledgling protests. He beckoned one of the women to him, took her hand and pressed it against the bark, pointing up at the sky with his other and indicating one pa.s.sage of the sun. She nodded.

'Let's go,' said Auum, rising and shouldering his sack. 'The ClawBound isn't far ahead. Perhaps we can stop any more of this until we find our enemies.'

He led his Tai from the settlement, the stunned stares of the strangers on their backs, their silence breaking into a confused babble and fading with the distance.

Chapter 38.

Heryst had just finished another long and difficult Communion with Vuldaroq and had woken shivering with exertion. Heryst thought he had made it clear to Vuldaroq that his position remained one of defence and negotiation unless he was attacked but the Dordovan would not listen. He was annoyed Heryst had refused to sign a full alliance and he meant to drag Lystern into the war regardless of her wishes. For that he had to tempt Xetesk into Lysternan or Julatsan lands.

Heryst had been particularly explicit concerning engagement. Commander Izack was to defend Lysternan land and to block any attempted hostile incursions by Xetesk into Julatsan territory. Nothing else. Heryst was aware of the rising tensions and had recently ridden out to rea.s.sure his own men and warn the Dordovan field command. But every day Dystran refused to speak to him, war came closer. Vuldaroq would ultimately get his way. A mistake would be made. For Heryst, it was like waiting for the death of a mortally wounded friend. This time the friend was peace for Balaia.

He barely had time to gather his thoughts and take in the spring shower rattling against the windows of his chambers when there was the sound of footsteps outside, a sharp rap on the door and someone, it had to be Kayvel, entered. He was red in the face and breathless.

'My Lord, I have a report from Xetesk.'

Heryst's heart was suddenly thumping in his chest. His thoughts became instantly clear.

'Never mind the niceties of reporting, Kayvel. Tell me the outcome. '

'Dystran,' he said. 'Dystran wants to talk to you about sharing research. Apparently his people are on their way home.'

'Yes!' Heryst slapped the arms of his chair and surged to his feet to grip Kayvel's shoulders. 'I knew it. Dammit, I knew it! When?'

Relief cascaded through Heryst and the fatigue of the last dozen days melted like ice in a flame. Now there was hope, genuine hope. And Vuldaroq could be made to listen.

'As soon as you are able,' said Kayvel.

'For this I am able right now.' Heryst sat back in his chair. 'Signal our delegation that Dystran can commune immediately he is ready. He has my signature and I am waiting. Likewise the Dordovan delegation. Tell them what is happening. Vuldaroq must be informed immediately.

'Oh, and Kayvel. Have my aides monitor the mana spectrum and my MindShield. I do not trust Dystran as far as I can throw him.'

Dystran's voice entered Heryst's mind gently and expertly, with due deference and respect.

'My Lord Heryst, there has been silence between us for too long.'

'Not at my behest, Lord Dystran, but I welcome your decision to contact me at this most difficult time.'

'Before we begin, may I offer my heartfelt sympathy for the loss of the Lysternan negotiator, Rusau. A most unfortunate incident.'

Heryst bridled but bit down on his response. 'Though you are not personally to blame, your forces killed him. He was an innocent man.'

'Indeed it was a Xeteskian pike but you must see it was an accident. We had no axe to grind with Lystern, so to speak. And we still do not.'

'Even though we have made informal alliance with Dordover?' Heryst was prepared to let the matter of Rusau's death drop for now. Blame could be correctly apportioned at a safer time.

'It was a decision we regretted,' said Dystran carefully, and drew a deep breath, knowing it would boom and echo. It was a curious acoustic anomaly of Communion. 'And it has been one reason for my continued silence though you are aware that we have not detained any Lysternan or indeed any other college official inside Xetesk.'

'It has been noted.'

'But, after taking considerable counsel, I understand the reasons for your action: we are nominally stronger, we have been blamed for the death of a neutral in battle and Vuldaroq is a very persuasive man. Very. For a man who only three seasons ago made an alliance with the Black Wings.'

'I am aware of Vuldaroq's past misdemeanours. As I am of Xetesk's,' said Heryst. 'It was a despicable and unseemly act for any mage, born out of desperation, but the destruction caused by the Nightchild speaks in defence of his actions.'

'Your General Darrick did not agree,' said Dystran smoothly.

'Neither did I,' said Heryst. 'And our cool relations since then testify to my unhappiness. I, however, prefer to look forward as, I hope, do you.'

'I apologise, Lord Heryst; this was not the reason for my contact.'

Heryst chuckled, forcing himself to relax. 'I should hope not.'

'Our research on Herendeneth has revealed some fascinating possibilities which I am very happy to share with all other colleges.'

Heryst was taken aback. 'Your actions in Arlen, which I abhor, do not support such a statement,' he said. 'You have ignored the rules of engagement and that cannot be forgotten. But that can be left for another time when the threat of wider conflict is gone. What are your conditions for sharing the information?'

'They are few and simple. I require the immediate cessation of hostilities towards Xeteskian forces and the withdrawal of Lysternan and Dordovan forces from our borders.'

'Anything else?'

'I would like leave to call a Triverne Lake meeting at a time of my choosing when we have had a chance to evaluate the research of our mages.'

Heryst paused before replying. 'Vuldaroq will refuse. He will not withdraw on a promise from you, a man he is unable to trust.'

'In that case you can guarantee my mages' pa.s.sage to Xetesk yourself. You do not need Dordover.'

'I am looking to reduce threat to Lystern, not increase it. I cannot do this without Dordover's consent. I'm sure you understand. And I can't agree to Xetesk having exclusive first sight of the research.'

'And what is your alternative?'

'That your mages prepare and present to a four-college delegation at Triverne Lake at the earliest opportunity and before they come to Xetesk. And my forces must travel with your researchers as a sign to Dordover that you are genuine. That might mollify Vuldaroq. If your ambition is to share all that the Al-Drechar have revealed, surely that is a reasonable request?'

'At first sight, yes,' said Dystran. 'But I believe there are issues with some of the information. Potentialities not necessarily being realities, work that needs more translation from ancient magics . . . I could go on.'

'We are all capable of aiding in such an a.n.a.lysis,' said Heryst.

'Even so, I am advised that a few days' examination by key experts in Xetesk will be of great benefit to us all.'

'Meaning you personally?' Heryst could well imagine the smug expression on Dystran's face.

'I flatter myself that I have more detailed expertise on the subject of dimensional magic than most,' said Dystran.

'And is it your understanding that what is coming will help repatriate the Kaan dragons?'

'Signs are most encouraging,' evaded Dystran. 'But, as I say, some expert a.n.a.lysis is still required before we can present effectively.'

'Right,' said Heryst, drawing in breath expansively. 'I will discuss your offer with Vuldaroq. He will refuse it and we will be back to square one. My offer of secure pa.s.sage to Triverne Lake is one you must take more seriously. Otherwise the war will go on.'

'Thank you for hearing me,' said Dystran. 'I will confer further with the Circle Seven.'

'We can resolve this, Dystran. As long as we are all prepared to give a little. The question really is, do you want to see an end to this war?'

'It is my dearest wish.'

'Keep it so,' said Heryst, and carefully but firmly, he broke the Communion.

Lystern's Lord Elder mage sat with his eyes closed for a time, mulling over everything he had heard and considering how he would broach Dystran's offer to Vuldaroq. When he opened his eyes, Kayvel was standing waiting.

'He's wavering,' said Heryst. 'Or he's lying. Either way, we may have room to move peace a tiny step forward. But I have to make both him and Vuldaroq concede ground. But I suppose it's progress of a sort. At least there is discourse. And now I must confess to a little tiredness. Wake me for supper and I'll brief the council.'

The Raven rode from Blackthorne on a sunny morning with cloud far to the north. Hirad had not slept well. Beside him rode Ilkar, an elf and one of his oldest friends, under a sentence of death.

'Can I ask you something, Ilks?'

Ilkar turned to him, his sombre face lifting a little. 'Would it make any difference if I said no?'

Hirad shook his head. 'How does it feel to be you? Your next heartbeat could bring on the Elfsorrow without warning. Not sure I'd deal with that too well.'

'Thanks for reminding me,' said Ilkar.

'I'm sorry, Ilkar. I-'

'I'm joking. Not a moment goes by when I don't think about it. The point is, I have to live with it and being scared isn't going to help. Best I can do is everything I can to repair the statue and stop this thing. And meanwhile I live every day as if it was my last.'

'I think the whole of Blackthorne heard you and Ren treating last night as if it was your last.'

'Hirad, do you mind?' It was Ren from just behind them.

'Those corridors didn't half echo, you know,' said the barbarian, revelling in Ilkar's deep blush.

'Hirad, stop it,' said Ilkar.

'Tried to get a good night's sleep-'

'Ah, Hirad, but many of us were with our loved ones last night, weren't we?' said Ilkar. 'For me it was Ren, then there's Denser and Erienne and I understand The Unknown had contact with Diera through Aeb. And you talked sweet nothings with Sha-Kaan.'

'Now who's lucky, eh, Hirad?' said Denser.

'Is it my fault if I am called by a higher intellect?'

'Wouldn't want to sleep with it though, would you?' said The Unknown.

'Too much chafing,' agreed Ilkar.

The Raven dissolved into laughter, Ilkar bent double over his saddle, Hirad taking both hands off the reins to wipe his eyes.

Fifty yards ahead, Aeb had stopped and turned in his saddle, his blank mask asking the question more eloquently than any words. It served to sober them up a little. The Unknown waved him on.

'How is Sha-Kaan, anyway?' he asked.

'Angry,' said Hirad. 'And now alone. We have a lot to hate Xetesk for, don't we? No offence, Denser.'

'None taken. I agree with you.'

'Good,' said The Unknown. 'Then let's keep focussed. We've got a job to do. If the TaiGethen can't get the thumb from the Xeteskians before they reach the city it'll be down to us to go in and get it for them. Remember who we're doing this for and remember not to speak loosely around Aeb.'

Hirad leaned over and punched Ilkar lightly on the shoulder. 'I'll take it as a personal affront if you die before we succeed in this, all right?'

'I'll see what I can do,' replied the elf.

The Raven upped the pace. Xetesk was at least seven days away.

Selik stood on the ramparts inside the Understone stockade feeling deeply satisfied. Since the ma.s.sacre of Anders and his pathetic garrison of frightened boys, the twelve surviving Black Wings had been busy making as much of the town as habitable as they could. Water b.u.t.ts were full all down the main street, boards had been removed from buildings and firewood was stacked next to the b.u.t.ts. The bodies of the garrison had been burned long ago and their ash blown away by the wind.

Selik saw this town as the birthplace of his new order, and though it was rotten now it would one day be the centre of his power. The foundations were already there, they just needed renewing. Perhaps it should be renamed. After him would be good, or maybe after his mentor, Travers.

But first they would have to fight, and under cloudy afternoon skies he saw his army begin to a.s.semble. From the east came a line of men from Pontois, some riding, most walking or hitching rides on the dozens of supply wagons rattling along behind them. Later, he knew militia from Orytte, farmers from the devastated lands around Corin and Rache and refugees displaced from Korina and Gyernath would all come. He had no idea how many there would be or what sort of men he could expect, but with every person who walked into Understone he saw his power grow.

He was under no illusions. Though his captains would drill and he would speak, the thousands who marched on Xetesk would be little more than an ordered mob. They would not have the skill of those they faced but if, as he expected, battle had worn down the colleges, his numbers could surprise and overwhelm.

Hundreds upon hundreds would die, but such was the price of freedom and righteousness. Selik nodded to himself and went down to meet his recruits.

Thraun cantered along at the back of The Raven formation, feeling a sense of distress invade him. His recollections of Balaia were occasionally very sharp and the scents all around him fed his lupine side. Along with the thrill of the gra.s.s and the trees they pa.s.sed, the sounds of birds and animals and the fresh smells of spring life, came memories of fire and tortured howls. He saw again the betrayal in the eyes of his pack and their helpless bodies burning under mage fire, cut off from the embrace of the forest.