Ilkar said nothing, just stared back, impassive.
'This is a fascinating debate I'm sure,' said Thraun. 'But tell me, is it how the Triverne Lake meeting will proceed? If it is, we might as well all fall on our swords now, because you'll still be bickering when the Wytch Lords stroll in and take your precious Cities.'
Denser and Ilkar looked at him as if he'd spat in their dinners.
'It won't be far off the level of debate, I can assure you,' said Erienne before either could reply. 'It's getting us nowhere, and there's something else I think we'd all like to know: what exactly will this meeting achieve?'
'Well, isn't it obvious?' Denser frowned.
'No, it is not,' said Erienne. 'If Xetesk is as split as you suggest, then the message you bring to the table will be confused and likely to cause further division.'
'No.' Denser shook his head. 'It won't be confused. The Lord of the Mount is delivering our message personally. The College delegates already accept the threat, and Dawnthief is the only solution.'
'I hope you're right,' she said.
'So do I. We mustn't lose the four-College co-operation or any force will be too weak and the Wesmen will sweep us into the eastern seas.'
'Cheerful, isn't he?' said Hirad.
'Getting back to the reason we all stopped,' said Jandyr. 'What is the risk to us outside Xetesk?'
'To be honest, I'm not sure,' said Denser. 'I've been away a while and I don't know the strength of those who want Dawnthief for themselves. However many, they'll be dangerous if they discover your location.'
'And you're leaving us without any magical protection,' said Hirad.
'But not out of contact,' replied Denser. 'The Familiar will stay with you much of the time.'
'You are joking,' said Jandyr. He was sitting next to Will, who stared at Denser in mute disbelief.
'I-' began Denser, then saw Will. He sighed. 'It's the only way to cover all the angles.'
'After what he did to me, you can even suggest this?' It was the first time Will had spoken all day.
'I'm sorry for what happened, Will,' said Denser. 'But he didn't actually do anything to you.'
'You call this nothing?' Will's voice rose to a shout. He pointed at his greying hair. 'And this?' He lifted a spread hand, palm downwards. It trembled. 'This is your nothing, Denser. Without my nerves, I am nothing. Your bastard creation has ruined me.'
Denser regarded Will for some moments.
'I understand your fear, but it will pass. Talk to Erienne, understand its nature. It will not harm you.'
'With you here, I believe it is under control. In your absence - well, I have seen the results.' Will drew up his legs and hugged them to his chest.
'It will not harm you,' repeated Denser.
'Accepting that,' said Jandyr into the silence that followed, 'I understand that it can communicate with you, but how does it do so with us?'
'Someone will have to agree to see him,' said Denser. 'For whatever reason, he seems to regard Hirad as acceptable company.'
Ilkar sniggered.
'The feeling is barely mutual,' growled Hirad.
'Do you consent?' asked Denser.
Hirad shrugged.
'Don't,' said Will.
'I really don't have too much choice, do I?'
'Good,' said Denser. 'Come with me. Introductions have to be made.'
'One more thing.' Thraun stopped them. 'Where will we hide?'
'I know a place,' said Denser.
The darkness suited her, and with her keen sight picking out pitfalls in front of her feet, Selyn began making her way towards the once dead and now apparently resurgent city of the Wytch Lords.
With night falling on the Torn Wastes, the scale of the Wesmen encampments was hidden, but the firelight and noise of laughter, talking, shouting and fighting; of dogs barking and wind flapping canvas, all served as reminders of her precarious position.
But they were clearly preparing to leave. Before the light had failed completely, she'd made a rough count of the tents she could see, surmised a total to encircle Parve, added the number of Wesmen she'd seen marching away from the Torn Wastes two days before and multiplied it by a likely number of occupants per tent that still remained. Twenty thousand. And that was probably conservative. Call it twenty-five thousand. She'd shivered. That took the total number of Wesmen way past eighty thousand. And they were clearly once again servile to the Wytch Lords.
It was now merely a question of when the Wytch Lords could take significant part in the impending invasion. Too soon, and the Colleges would merely become the wavefront for the tide that would wash eastern Balaia into the Korina estuary. It was a question to which she had to find the answer, quickly.
Selyn dropped to her haunches behind a large lichen-covered boulder. She was a little over halfway to the first buildings of Parve, and already the smell of fear was invading her nostrils.
Low, dark cloud moved slowly overhead, lit by myriad fires, but none burned more brightly than the six beacons that ringed the top of the pyramid housing the shattered remains of the Wytch Lords' bodies.
Now, the folly of her Xeteskian predecessors could be seen for what it had become. Built by Xetesk and sealed by its magic, the pyramid had represented a warning to any who challenged the might of the Dark College. But now, with their mana cage empty, it merely served as a focus for the growing power of the Wytch Lords, and the massing of their acolytes and soldiers. She shook her head. Overconfidence and ultimate arrogance. Not traits shared to such a degree by the current Lord of the Mount, but he would surely suffer for their presence in those who had gone before him.
She looked over and to either side of the boulder. A stand of seven tents, lit inside and out, was directly in front of her, no further than three hundred yards away and ringing a large fire. Wesmen stood, sat, crouched or lay in the light of the flames, making silhouettes of bulking shoulders, powerful frames and bull heads that filled her vision.
To her left, a similar encampment, this one hosted by a Shaman. She could not risk running into the mind-sight of one of them. Right, the tents stretched into the dark, the noise of thousands filling the air with a restless energy.
Looking away towards Parve, she assessed her options and found she had none. Her principal problem was that the mana drain for a CloakedWalk of such distance might not leave enough for communion. But considering the sprawl of enemies in her path, she knew it was a chance she simply had to take.
She gathered herself, formed the simple mana shape, spoke the single command word and started running.
Hirad studied the cat lying curled asleep in his lap, breathing fast and shallow. With eyes and mouth closed, the black was so complete you could lose yourself in its depths. Hirad shuddered. How different to the beast Denser had shown him. Even prepared, he had found it hard to keep looking as the demon's eyes bored into his face from inside its pulsating skull. And, try as he might, he had flinched when it had placed a clawed hand on his arm and spoken his name.
Will's terror had been so easy to understand, then. Already scared half witless by his journey through the Dordovan crypt, to see this thing in all its hideous glory would have been too much for most men.
It wasn't just the look, though. A look you could get used to, however awful. There was something else. In demon form, the Familiar exuded an aura of contempt, as if it was only there on a whim and could break out at any time and do anything.
The sound of a door opening brought Hirad to himself. Jandyr walked in.
'What do you think?' asked Hirad.
'Of this place?'
'Yes.' Denser had brought them to a farm some three hours outside Xetesk before riding immediately for the College City with Ilkar, Erienne and Sol. It was a working property, sprawling across several dozen acres and providing meat and cereal crops for nearby villages.
The house itself stood apart from the collection of barns and outbuildings, but all were clustered in the centre of the farm's land. In every direction, the ground undulated gently away, giving clear vision for a good six hundred paces before a stand of trees or a low hill obscured what was beyond.
Denser and Evanson, the farmer, were clearly on good terms, and though Hirad had initially opted for a barn, the farmer insisted they stay in the house.
'It's more comfortable for one thing, but more important, it keeps you out of sight of my workers. Village locals all of them, and none would keep their mouths shut if they saw you.' Evanson was middle-aged, with a face deep russet brown and wrinkled from long exposure to the elements. He had huge hands and powerful shoulders that bulged inside his loose shirt. His eyes sparkled from beneath his brow and his mouth was set in a smile. There was plenty about him to remind Hirad of Tomas back at The Rookery.
So they had agreed to stay in the house, and it was certainly a cosy option. Two storeys high, the building had beds enough for all of them to enjoy a little privacy. The range in the kitchen maintained a pot of hot water and food on demand, and with enough rest to let the adrenalin levels sink, all of them discovered a deep tiredness. Consequently, there had been little action save for some gentle snoring and a round or two of cards.
'I think several things,' said Jandyr. 'It's easy to defend. We have clear vision, plenty of warning and these beds are sent straight from paradise.'
Hirad smiled and lay back, arms supporting his head. 'My thoughts too. Where are the others?'
'Will's asleep and Thraun is reading one of Evanson's books. He's assembled quite a library.'
'Tell me about Thraun,' said Hirad. To him, shapechangers had been figures of myth. Until now. Now he had seen with his own eyes, and he didn't know whether to be scared, disgusted or amazed.
Jandyr nodded. 'It is something he tries so hard to hide.'
'How did it happen?' asked Hirad.
'It's a hangover from old Dordovan spell research. Thraun is descended from mages who tried to enhance their strength, agility, eyesight, hearing, whatever, by blending themselves with the essence of animals. For Thraun's forebears, it was strength and speed, hence the wolf shape.'
'But . . .'
'I know what you're going to say,' said Jandyr. 'The problem was that they didn't understand what they were doing. So rather than enhance what they already had, they replaced it. Some lived out their lives as the animals they used. Others found they could control it and the knowledge was passed down through the generations.'
'Why won't he talk about it?' Hirad had seen the benefits, the power and the speed.
'Because of how people view him,' replied Jandyr. 'There are enough who think all shapechangers are abominations whose lines should be stopped by death to make him scared to admit what he is.' Jandyr rose. 'Look, you have to understand that Thraun is a man like any of us. But he has another side he would rather not have. He is not to be feared, more to be pitied. Just treat him like a man. It is all he wants.'
'I understand,' said Hirad.
'None of us can ever truly do that,' said Jandyr.
Denser opened his door in response to the soft knocking. He didn't consider a threat - with Sol guarding the corridor for all of their rooms, he didn't need to. Anyway, he knew who it was.
So there she stood, and the first thought that rose in his mind was that, cleaned of all the grime of the trail and wearing soft, loose fabric, she was, as he had thought since he had first laid eyes on her, very attractive.
His groin stirred, unbidden, and he suppressed a smile. He wondered if she could read his face. He would enjoy this. He pushed the door wide.
Erienne swept into his room, smiling. 'Tonight I will conceive.' Her face was turned away from him, her voice emotionless.
He chuckled. 'Is that really all it is to you?'
'We made a deal. This is the payoff of that deal. What else could there be?' But her smile betrayed her words.
Denser closed the door and moved towards her, his eyes tracing the shadow of her body beneath her white robe as it flickered in the candlelight.
'It may be that the payoff of the deal could be pleasurable to you,' he said, eyes sparkling, pupils dilated.
'That isn't why I struck the deal,' she said quickly. 'But things do, um, develop.' Denser saw her face colour.
He stood close to her now. She didn't move away.
'I did it because I respect your skill as a mage.'
'And my power,' added Denser.
At last she turned to him. 'That's the main reason I chose you instead of Ilkar.'
'Ilkar, he . . .'
'He is certainly more handsome than you.' She was smiling again.
Denser stood squarely in front of her. 'But Ilkar's an elf !'
'Yes, and a Julatsan. Two more reasons I favour your seed.' The smile broadened and softened her face to beauty.
'Well, I'm flattered my College is so much more attractive to you,' said Denser.
'Lucky, more like, or I could be standing in front of Ilkar now.'
'Not short on self-confidence, are you?' He placed a hand on her cheek, cupping her face as she leaned into it.
'It covers the emptiness,' she whispered. She pushed a hand through his hair, smoothing it down his neck.
'Do you still hurt inside?' asked Denser.
'Like a knife is twisting through my heart.'
'Tonight, I want to stop that.' His voice was barely audible as he moved his lips to her ear. 'Together, we can make you whole again.'
She grabbed his face in both hands and looked deep into his eyes, searching for lies. She found none and felt tears well up.
'What's wrong?' Denser asked.
'Nothing.' She kissed him gently and he let his tongue whisper across her lips. Her hands moved to the back of his head and his arms caught her about her waist, crushing them together.
The kiss gained intensity, their tongues meeting, exploring mouths, heads moving, breath drawn in hard. Hands searched. He felt hers trail to his neck, where they kneaded and pressed before moving down to his chest to pick at the buttons of his shirt.
She was wearing a simple white shift, clasped at the shoulder. He found the fastening, fumbled briefly, and snapped it open, hearing her gasp involuntarily as the shift dropped soundlessly to the floor. Beneath it she was naked. Denser's arousal was complete. He walked her to the bed and laid her down, straddling her body on hands and knees and looking down at her face and at her breasts, which were moving in rapid response to her breathing.
He cupped one in his hand, feeling the nipple harden.
'You didn't want to waste any time,' he remarked.