'Unless you chose to take one back by force,' said Hirad.
'That is always an option. Expensive but an option.' Gresse's face hardened.
'And yet you'll sit down with Pontois at the Korina Trade Alliance, ' said Talan.
'Yes. Strange, I know, but reality. Such is the malaise of the KTA. The word "alliance" rings very hollow these days.' There was more than a hint of sadness in his tone.
The table fell silent for a time. The Unknown Warrior studied the Baron while he drank his coffee. The big warrior smiled, Gresse caught his expression and frowned in response.
'It seems to me that you omitted to tell us any rumours you might have heard,' said The Unknown.
'I did, and I have something rather more than rumour, I'm afraid. I have evidence that the Wesmen, far from burning, are subjugating, building and uniting again.'
'What do you mean, again?' asked Hirad.
'I'll teach you the history later,' said Ilkar with a shake of his head.
'How could you-' Denser bit his lip and closed his mouth.
'Something to say, Xetesk man?' Hirad growled.
'I was merely curious how he came by such information.' Denser's recovery was betrayed by a face that displayed his surprise.
'Everything has its price,' said Gresse, coolly. 'Might I ride to Korina with you this morning?'
'Be our guest,' said Hirad. 'Denser's paying, after all.'
'Good.' Gresse rose, shooting Hirad a quizzical look. 'My party will be ready in, shall we say, one hour?'
'It suits us perfectly,' said The Unknown. 'Gentlemen, The Rookery beckons.'
Erienne and the Captain met in the library. Warmed by two fires and lit by a dozen lanterns, the immaculately kept house of books was testament to his intelligence if not his morals.
Five shelves high, covering three sides of the room, perhaps fifteen by twenty-five feet, books loomed around her. A fire stood either side of the only door. Rugs covered the floor and a reading desk dominated the far end. She had been told to sit in a large green leather-upholstered chair near one of the fires, and when the Captain came in, followed by a warrior carrying a tray of wine and food, he said nothing before setting himself in a similar seat at right angles to her.
She had locked her gaze on the fire to stop her eyes catching sight of him, allowing the light of the flames to mesmerise her, only dimly hearing the clink of glasses, the glug of a pouring bottle and the metal sound of knife on carving tray.
'Once again, welcome, Erienne Malanvai,' said the Captain. 'You must be hungry.'
Erienne let her eyes travel over the tray that sat on a low table between them, surprised at the quality of its content.
'How dare you offer me that, when the muck you served up for my boys is hardly fit for a dog, let alone frightened young children?' she said. 'They will each have a plate of this now.'
She could sense the Captain's smile. 'You heard her. Fresh lamb and vegetables for the boys.'
'Yes, sir.' The door closed.
'I am not unreasonable,' said the Captain.
Erienne's face was pure disgust. 'You have taken two innocent children from their homes in the middle of the night and locked them terrified in a cold tower. You have kept me from them and fed them muck I wouldn't give to my pigs. Don't talk to me about reason.' Still refusing to look at him, she selected some meat and vegetables and ate in silence. She poured herself a glass of wine and drank staring at the fire. All the while, the Captain watched and waited.
'So ask,' she said, placing her empty plate on the table. 'I doubt I have any secrets from you.'
'That would certainly make things simpler,' said the Captain. 'I am glad you are being so co-operative.'
'Don't feel it's out of any fear of you or your band of lame monkeys,' Erienne said haughtily. 'I care for my sons and any way that I can help them that does not compromise the Dordovan College is fine by me.'
'Excellent.' The Captain refilled his glass. 'I do wish you'd look at me.'
'To do so would make me nauseous. To utter your name is an affront to my College and to speak with you is tantamount to heresy. Now get on with your questions. In an hour I want to see my sons again.' Erienne kept her face turned to the fire, drawing comfort from its warmth and colour.
'And so you shall, Erienne, so you shall.' The Captain stretched out his legs towards the fire; a pair of scuffed and age-cracked brown leather riding boots moved into Erienne's vision. 'Now then, I am becoming very disturbed by the extent to which so-called dimensional investigation and research is damaging the fabric of Balaia.'
'Well, you've clearly been very busy in here, haven't you?' said Erienne after a pause.
'Clever remarks will get you hurt,' said the Captain, his tone leaving her in no doubt that he meant it.
'I was trying to say that very few people have any knowledge of the existence of dimensional magics, never mind the potential for their danger.'
'No.' The Captain reached down and scratched his left leg, Erienne glimpsing his greying hair, thinning from the crown. 'Contrary to popular belief, I believe in the value of magic in the right place. But I also understand its dangers because I have taken the time to find out for myself. Meddling with dimensions could, I believe, destabilise the world balance that currently exists.'
'You're talking to the wrong College,' said Erienne.
'Well, Xetesk mages are just a little harder to come by,' said the Captain testily.
'I'd love to say I was sorry,' retorted Erienne. And at last, she looked at him. He kept his grey hair close-cropped and his beard, which still held flecks of brown, was similarly well trimmed. Skin was sagging under his eyes and his red-patched cheeks and nose were evidence of a reliance on the bottle. He was getting fat, too, as he breasted middle age, a fact which his leather coat and shirt failed to hide. He ignored her sudden attention.
'But Septern was a Dordovan mage.'
'We've already established that you've done your homework.' Erienne refilled her glass. 'It also no doubt told you that he's been presumed dead for about three hundred years.'
'And there the information ends?' said the Captain. 'I was rather hoping a Dordovan Lore Mage like yourself could fill in a few gaps.'
'And now the misunderstanding is yours,' said Erienne. 'Because you assume we have secret texts.'
'But Septern was a Dordovan mage,' repeated the Captain.
'Yes, he was. And a genius. And so far ahead of his time that we still haven't managed to re-create all of his work.' Erienne plucked some grapes from the fruit bowl and ate them, spitting the stones into her hand and throwing them into the fire.
The Captain leaned forwards, frowning. 'But surely he reported his findings. I understood that to be a requirement of every mage.'
'Septern didn't live by those rules.' Erienne sighed as the Captain's frown deepened. 'Look, you need to understand. Septern was a throwback to the days before the Colleges split.'
'So he wasn't just ahead of his time, he was behind it as well.' The Captain smiled, pleased at his own joke, revealing lines of brown, rotting teeth set in flame-red gums.
'Yes, I suppose so. The point is, his mind was able to accept lore at the very base level, and that let him read and understand Dordovan, Xeteskian and Julatsan lores with varying degrees of success. It made him brilliant but it also made him arrogant. He lived outside of the College, rarely reported on his work, made only cryptic logs of his research and not all of those logs are in our library. Xetesk has some, others are lost at his house - assuming he wrote anything at all about some of the things we know he was capable of.' Erienne took a sip of wine. 'Could I have some water, please?'
'Certainly.' The Captain rose and pulled the door open. The sound of a man dragging his feet to attention echoed in the corridor outside. 'Water and a glass. Now.' He returned to his seat. 'An interesting history. Of course, I am aware of his house. I have had men at the ruins on several occasions. So tell me, what is the state of your development of dimensional research, and what do you hope to achieve?'
Erienne opened her mouth to speak, then closed it, pondering her answer. It was all too easy. The Captain was nothing like she had been led to believe. That she would hate him for ever for the kidnap of her children was certain, but his behaviour was confusing. Here she sat in a warm room, where she had been fed with good food and asked gentle questions about her College activities. So far he had asked her nothing he couldn't have found out by knocking on the College's front door. There had to be more, it was just a question of when he dealt it to her. She had the uneasy feeling she was being softened up for a heavy blow. She determined to keep her mind sharp.
'What we know of Septern tells us that he achieved a great deal in terms of dimensional magics. He created a stable, self-sustaining portal for travelling between nominated dimensional spaces and we believe he travelled widely - some of his wilder writings suggest as much.
'Dordover is nowhere near his level of sophistication in dimension doors. We can't travel, we can't see in, all we can do is plot other dimensions and chart land and sea features. To progress more quickly, we need Septern's lost texts because we believe this magic mixes College lores.'
'And where do you hope this research will take you?'
'Into other dimensions. To explore, to chart, to meet other races. The possibilities are endless.' Erienne was enthused in spite of herself.
'To conquer, to subvert, to rule, to steal.' The Captain's tone was hard but not unpleasant.
'Is that the basis for your concern?'
He inclined his head. 'I believe we have no place interfering in other dimensions. We have our own and it is difficult enough to control without linking it to other places and times. I see nightmare scenarios where others might invade to avenge what we have done. No one will be safe anywhere because no one will ever know when or where a door might be opened.'
'All the more reason to complete our research and understanding, ' said Erienne.
'Neither of us is naive enough to believe that Dordover and Xetesk research this magic to benefit the population of Balaia, are we? I would hate to think you were opening doors which you were then powerless to close.' The Captain scratched an ear. 'Tell me, is Xetesk further advanced than Dordover?'
Erienne stared at him blankly. 'If and when the missing elements of Septern's dimensional texts are recovered, we may be forced to form a research group,' she said slowly. 'Until that time, communication remains minimal.'
'I understand.'
'It was a stupid question to ask a Dordovan.'
'Stupidity sometimes elicits the real gems.'
The door opened and a man entered carrying a jug of water and two glasses. He set them on the table and withdrew. Erienne filled a glass and drank it back in one.
'Anything else?'
'Oh, a good deal,' said the Captain. He drained and refilled his wine glass. 'I have hardly begun, although your information is gratefully received. I should let you get back to your children but think on this. Given that you appear to know all you can about dimensional magics already, I find it disturbing that there has been such a recent surge in interest surrounding Septern's research.
'Mastery of dimensional magic wasn't his only triumph, was it? There was one of even greater notoriety. He created a spell, didn't he? And I want to know why Xetesk has suddenly put all its muscle behind looking for it.'
Erienne's face became deathly white.
Chapter 5.
The Raven and their charges rode from Taranspike Castle as the sun picked at the dew lying heavily on the grass of yesterday's battlefield. The rain of the previous night had blown away west across the central flatlands towards the dark line of the Blackthorne Mountains and a gentle breeze blew warmth through the dawn of the early spring day. Baron Pontois, his soldiers, mercenary warriors and mages were gone, disappeared north through the Grethern Forest from which they had come. All that was left of their encampment was flattened brush and a single, wood-picketed mound where the dead were buried.
At the head of the small horseback party were Hirad, Richmond and Ilkar, while much to his bodyguards' displeasure, Baron Gresse chose to ride flanked by Talan and The Unknown Warrior. Denser and Sirendor Larn rode behind the second trio, leaving Gresse's quartet of men bringing up the rear.
For the Baron, the ride was clearly a chance to shake off the shackles of an overprotective family and ride free. For The Unknown and Talan, the habit of gleaning information from whatever source came their way was impossible to break.
'Are you still allied with Blackthorne?' asked Talan.
Gresse nodded. 'We have a reciprocal passage arrangement but I wouldn't call it an alliance. He travels toll-free through this pass to Korina; I have similar rights through his lands to Gyernath.'
The Unknown frowned. 'Did he take the lands east of Gyernath? I heard he-'
'Six months ago. He's all but annexed Gyernath now, though the City Council has applied significant pressure on him to keep his passage levies low. Successfully so far.'
'So what happened to Lord Arlen?' asked The Unknown.
'He works for Blackthorne.'
'Ah-' Light dawned.
'Gods, no, there was no fighting. No more fighting, should I say. Arlen still nominally controls the lands east of Gyernath, though the truth is he's supported by Blackthorne's considerable muscle, furnished with metals from the southern mines and taking a rake off the levy on traffic from the south-east, including Korina.' Gresse chuckled and reached a hand out to pat The Unknown's thigh. 'If I were you, I'd cross Arlen off my list of potential employers. Blackthorne has all the finance around Gyernath now.'
'Anyone else we can strike off?' Talan asked.
'Not me,' said Gresse. 'Pontois hasn't finished yet, I'm sure. He's either already planning another strike on Taranspike or hoping I'll over-fortify there and leave myself open to him further west.'
'Well, if you need us, get in early,' said The Unknown.
'Very early,' said Talan.
'Heard a rumour you lot might be hanging up your leather,' said Gresse, careful not to catch either man's eye.
'Believe it on seeing it,' advised Talan, raising his eyebrows.
'So much for a trade of information,' grumbled Gresse, a smile touching his eyes.
'You'll be the first to know if it happens, how's that?' said The Unknown.
'It'll have to do.' Gresse fell silent, shaking his head.
Taranspike Pass was sheer grey and no less than four hundred feet high all the way to Korina, its cool slate home to birds and tenacious vegetation. Either side of the walls of the pass, the land was precipitous, falling to black chasms, deep ravines and harsh, lifeless valleys where water ran beneath rock, its sound like the souls of the lost as it poured under the ground. In the pass itself, run-off from the previous night's rain puddled on the soft earth, making the way muddy. But with the sun lighting the pass throughout the day, that softness would be driven away and the cracks in a trail which varied between a dozen wagons and just three wagons wide were testament to the heat that sun on rock could generate in the hot season.
The sounds of birds, horses' hoofs and men's voices echoed from the walls, bringing with them an atmosphere that would have provoked discomfort in a lone rider but which a company, with the confidence of companionship, could ignore.
Sirendor Larn took another deep breath of the clean air of Taranspike Pass, revelling in the cool rush that filled his lungs and driving from his mind the smells and smoke of the castle and its surrounds. They would encounter no trouble along the pass. Gresse's men kept the way safe enough and, to Sirendor's knowledge, it wasn't particularly dangerous anyway. With Korina less than a day's ride away, his mood, never down, was lightening by the moment. The only cloud over him was the meeting, and he feared how Hirad would react.
He had kept up a light conversation with Denser for much of the ride, grinning at Ilkar's scowls when he caught the elf's eye. Denser seemed all right. It certainly wasn't the first time Sirendor had fought a man one day and ridden home with him the next. Such was the way of mercenaries. He was clearly a capable mage and, cut from the rules of war, was just another man wondering where the next job would take him. The only difference was that this mage seemed a lot more certain than most. Sirendor took that to be a function of his upbringing in Xetesk and he reminded himself to ask Ilkar more about the Dark College.
Looking across once again at Denser, he smiled. That pipe was clamped between his teeth, gently smouldering as always, and the cat was balancing on the front of his saddle. The mage had been very reticent when pushed for details about the cat, mumbling only that it was an ideal companion for what was, for him, a life largely consisting of solitude. Denser himself was, not for the first time, trying to drill holes with his eyes through The Unknown's back.
'He fascinates me, too,' said Sirendor. 'Always has.' Denser glanced around, his reverie broken.
'What?'