"What do you think of Fehern?"

"I don't trust him," replied Alcaren, "but he has little enough reason to trust us, either.

Secca yawned. 'Dinners such as tonight are more tiring than riding."

"That could be because you rode this morning," he pointed out "What do we do when we meet with him tomorrow? Besides develop a battle plan that doesn't put us at his mercy?"

"That could be obvious," mused Secca's consort. "We have to find a way to make it less so."

"Do we have to do that now?" asked Alcaren, glancing toward the bedchamber.

After a moment, and a shared flush, they both laughed.

27.

Wei, Nordwei Ashtaar is the last one to enter the council chamber, and all eyes focus on the silver-haired Council Leader as she takes her place in the middle of the long dark table. She does not speak immediately. Instead, in the muted light cast by the oil lamps in the sconces on the walls, she looks from one end of the table to the other. The room is silent, except for the breathing of those present, and the occasional rustle of garments.

Her voice is cold and firm when she speaks. "I have heard it said that the future of Liedwahr is being decided as we meet, on the high plains of Dumar somewhere near Envaryl." A tight crooked smile appears, showing teeth shockingly white and even for one so old as Ashtaar. "I would like to say there might be a grain of truth in such a saying, but I doubt that. Our seers have followed the shadow singer of Defalk. Like the one before her, she is no fool. She did not land at Narial, but picked a small fishing port to the west. She had almost reached Envaryl before the Sturinnese realized her plans and gathered their forces. The sorceress has joined with Lord High Counselor Fehern and is poised to sweep the Sturinnese from Dumar." Ashtaar glances around the Council room. "That is as it appears. Especially in war, early appearances can be deceiving."

"How might they be deceiving, Leader Ashtaar?" asks the balding and young-faced man in gold- trimmed brown. His voice carries both apparent earnestness and an almost-hidden sarcasm. "The Sorceress Protector defeated the Sturinnese in Ebra and destroyed the Sea-Priest fleet off Encora."

The momentary glitter hardens Ashtaar's eyes, but her smile is polite. "High Trader Fuhiar . . .

you may recall the Sea-Priest fleet in the Ostisles? It is now northwest of Landende, clearly on its way to Esaria as soon as the ice melts, and perhaps sooner, if the Sea-Priests choose to employ sorcery. But it could turn south at any time. The Liedfuhr of Mansuur has been forced to split his lancers, for even he cannot afford to leave Wharsus undefended, much as he dislikes a greater Sturinnese presence in Liedwahr and much as he would prefer to stand by his sister. By the time the snows melt and allow his lancers in Unduval to cross the Mittpass, they will face a ride of two weeks or more to reach Esaria, and he will be able to send but a third of the force he had earlier assembled."

Ashtaar's gaze rakes across those at the table. She swallows silently to forestall a cough.

"How does this affect the Sorceress Protector in Dumar?" asks a burly man in dark blue.

"The Sturinnese will not fight her unless they can be assured of an easy victory. They will march and retreat, evade and skirmish, and attempt to force her into hasty action because they know that she knows her sister sorceress cannot prevail in Neserea without her aid."

"That will only delay her, from what we have seen," suggests Marshal Zeltaar.

"No." The hard and low negative comes from the hooded Lady of the Shadows. "She will grow impatient, and she will call forth greater sorcery, and the Sea-Priests will be prepared and respond with even greater sorcery---and we will see a disaster greater than the creation of the Zauberinfeuer. It could easily be greater than the Spell-Fire Wars or, the harmonies forbid, the Pelaran Devastation."

"Those are strong words, lady," suggests Fuhlar.

"There is another possibility," Ashtaar says slowly, waiting until all eyes are back on her before continuing. "The shadow singer may indeed be most effective in her sorceries, and they may be greater than the Sea-Priests anticipate. She has outmatched them so far. According to our seers and calculations, the spells she used to destroy the Sea-Priest fleet should have recoiled and killed any sorceress or sorcerer. They did not."

"They prostrated her," points out Fuhlar.

"It might be most interesting to discover how you found that out, Fuhlar," Ashtaar says slowly, "but that will wait for another time. Would you care to make the conclusion you so carefully interrupted?"

There are smothered smiles around the table.

Fuhlar clears his throat. "You wish us to conclude that the shadowsinger and her compatriots may be powerful enough to destroy the Sturinnese totally in Liedwahr and then unite both Dumar and Neserea under Lord Robero's rule."

"If they succeed against the Sturinnese," Ashtaar says deliberately, "that is highly likely. Lord Robero will not wish a repetition of what has just occurred. Ebra is well on the way to becoming a part of Defalk, and Dumar has shown itself weak and unable to resist invaders. Were you Lord Robero, what would you do?"

"He may do otherwise," suggests a figure in maroon.

"When has he done the unpredictable in the past half-score of years?" The scorn in Ashtaar's voice is almost venomous. "Still. . . there is something else to consider, don't you think, Marshal Zeltaar?"

The black-clad marshal offers a nod. "The Sturinnese have planned all of this very carefully.

They may well be playing a far deeper dissonance."

Fuhlar raises his eyebrows in disbelief.

"What if . . ." The marshal pauses. "What if the battles in Dumar leave Fehern and his kin dead, and the sorceresses contend with the Sea-Priests in Neserea. . . and lose?"

Ashtaar nods.

After a silence, the Lady of the Shadows clears her throat. "I will be the one to state the obvious.

There would be no one left in-Ebra, Dumar, Neserea, or Defalk capable of stopping them."

"Either alternative is intolerable," Fuhlar says. "It will serve us ill to have Liedwahr dominated by either Defalk or Sturinn."

"Can you suggest another?" asks Ashtaar quietly. "If you can, we would all like to hear it."

There are glances exchanged, and frowns around the table, but none speaks.

28.

Secca and Alcaren stood in the entry foyer of the villa, a foyer empty of decorations and wall decorations, as indeed was the entire villa, looking through the narrow windows that flanked the closed double doors. Outside, the day was gray, threatening both rain and wind. A squad of the South Women lancers was drawn up as an honor guard for Fehern, with Captain Peragirn mounted in front of them. Secca's overcaptains and chief players were already gathered in the upper-level sitting room.

"Do you think he will come?" asked Alcaren.

"How can he not?' replied Secca. "He needs us more than we need him. Also, it would show fear or distrust for him not to come." She laughed. "He will keep us waiting, and he will have an excuse for that. He will be most apologetic, pleading the press of something."

"I would scarce wager against you on that," replied Alcaren, shrugging his overly broad shoulders. "In truth, I'd scarce wager against you on anything." His gray-blue eyes sparkled as he beheld his consort.

"You say that because you love me."

He laughed. "True as that may be, I'd not have wagered against you from the day I met you, and that was before I came to love you."

"You speak so fairly . . ." At the sound of hoofs, Secca opened the doors and positioned herself on the top step of the four that led down to the entry lane, and the sole mounting block there. A clammy mist drifted out of the north, thick enough that the villa to the north was but a blurred shape.

Fehern rode up at the head of a column that comprised a good two companies of lancers. The Lord High Counselor, wearing an oiled gray leather riding jacket over his crimson tunic, reined up by the mounting block and immediately dismounted. Behind him, Halyt and two overcaptains dismounted.

Secca waited as the four walked toward her, then spoke as they started up the steps. "Greetings, Lord High Counselor."

"Greetings, Lady Sorceress. I beg your pardon, but a messenger arrived just as I was leaving."

Fehern shrugged. "You understand, I am certain."

"I do indeed. The others are waiting upstairs."

"Others?"

"Just my overcaptains and my chief players." Secca smiled. "The chief players must know so that they can position the players, and so they can inform us if there are situations where the players could not play. One cannot assume that sorcery is equally effective all the time."

"Ah . . . no, but you would know best about such." Fehern smiled indulgently.

Secca kept smiling as she led the way up the stairs, even as she bridled inside at the condescension that welled from the dark-haired lord.

Once they entered the sitting room, with the long conference table, Secca gestured to those waiting. "You recall my overcaptains, Wilten and Delcetta, and my chief players, Palian and Delvor?"

Fehern nodded. "This is Halyt, my arms commander, and Overcaptains Sterkan and Gedhar."

The four chairs were for Fehern and Halyt, and for Secca and Alcaren. Secca offered the chair at one end to Fehern, and took the one at the other end. Alcaren sat to Secca's left, across from Halyt. The other seven people in the room formed a rough oval around the table, standing back several paces.

"The first question," Secca began, "is where might be best to set a battle to halt the Sturinnese.

We have looked at the maps, and in the glass, and they show a line of steep hills some deks east of a small town, the closest true town to Envaryl."

"Hasjyl," supplied Halyt. "Some call the hills the east walls of Hasjyl." He laughed heartily.

"Most just claim they are a creation of dissonance."

'We should see them." Secca stood and slipped on the copper-tipped gloves, then lifted the lutar, the sole instrument in evidence, and began the spellsong.

"Show us now and with details still those hills just east of Hasjyl . . ."

The glass silvered, then displayed the rough and rocky hillside that ws but partly covered by winter-tan grass. To the right side of the image was a narrow road, and to the left the Envaryl River.

"You see," pointed out Halyt, "one must cross the river and take a long circular trail for days to avoid the hill route."

"Where would the long way take them, were the Sturinnese to use it?" asked Wilten pleasantly.

"They would have to ford the river west of Hasjyl about four deks, or follow the south side of the river all the way to Envaryl."

"So we would have the advantage if we are rested, and upon the heights of Hasjyl before the Sturinnese arrive?" queried Secca.

"So much as any have an advantage against the white priests." Fehern snorted.

"Where do your scouts show the Sturinnese to be?" queried Halyt.

"This morning the reports from scouts and from the glass showed that the main body of the Sturinnese is a two-day ride, a full two-day ride-east of Hasjyl."

"How many might there be?" prompted Halyt.

"Close to sixtyscore," Secca admitted.

"And together we have less than twenty," replied the Dumaran arms commander.

"We also have the use of sorcery," Alcaren suggested.

Halyt frowned, but did not respond.

"What if the Sturinnese do not come to Hasjyl?" asked Fehern.

"Then, we think about how we should attack them," Secca replied. "If they do not come to us, we will indeed have time to consider how to go to them."

"That is true," mused Fehern. "You said that the Sturinnese could make Hasjyl in two days, but when would you think the Sturinnese will actually reach Hasjyl?"

"From where they are . . ." Secca glanced to Alcaren, although she could have answered the question.

"At the pace they are making, four days, perhaps five. They are also sending out squads as scouts. Not all of those are returning to the main body, but none are near Envaryl or Hasjyl as of yet."

"You seem certain of that, Overcaptain," offered Halyt. "How certain?"

Alcaren shrugged. "For now, most certain. As they move west, it will be harder to tell."

"Oh?"

"Past Hasjyl, the high plains and fields look most similar in a glass, and we do not have enough lancers to send scouts in all directions."

"Nor do we," admitted Halyt.

"What sort of plan do you intend, Lady Sorceress?' asked Fehern. "Or do your overcaptains handle the battle plans?"

"Alcaren works with Wilten and Delcetta, and then we talk over what they think and what can be done with sorcery. We use sorcery from higher ground where possible, and against their sorcerers first, then against the first waves of attackers."

"Would they not do the same against you?' countered Fehern.

"They did at Elahwa," Secca admitted.

"How did you handle such?"

"We took a ridge below their position and began lofting arrows into their drummers and sorcerers. That forced them to attack." Secca shrugged. While that had not been exactly what happened, she wasn't about to reveal the full details.

Halyt laughed. "Like stirring up a nest of red ants...so mad they don't think, I expect."

"It did work," Secca said.