"My prince, he is very interested by her. She is a mighty enchantress, is she not?"
"Yes, I suppose she is."
"And it is true that she built a bridge, crossing a great chasm, with nothing but lore?"
Miro tried to make sense of the Hazaran emissary's words. There was a subtext here that he didn't understand. He could tell when a topic was being spoken around, rather than about. But in the Skylord's name he couldn't figure out what Jehral was getting at.
Beorn grinned at Miro's discomfort. "Yes, it's true," he answered for him.
"And she created an illusion that sent many of this Black Army to their maker?"
"Yes, she did." Miro rubbed at his eyes again. Where was the High Lord?
"Incredible," Jehral said. "Tell me, Lord Marshal Miro, what was her name again?"
"Ella," Miro said. "Her name is Ella."
"Ella," Jehral repeated.
As Jehral finished speaking, High Lord Rorelan entered the room. The recent battle had aged the late Lord Devon's son; his complexion was pallid at the best of times, and lately his skin was grey and drawn. But today his patrician features were curled into a scowl, and he stormed into the room without even noticing the two visitors.
"Miro, I need to speak with you," Rorelan said. "It's about your sister."
Miro and Beorn bowed their heads, placing their fingers over their lips and then touching their foreheads, while Jehral and Hermen hesitantly followed suit.
"High Lord," Miro said, "this is Jehral of Tarn Teharan, emissary of Raj Hazara, and Hermen Tosch of Castlemere. There is a great deal for us all to speak about. The Hazarans share a border with Petrya," he glanced significantly at Rorelan, "and much of our trade is dependent on the free cities."
"Please, High Lord, we can see that we are interrupting," Jehral said. "We are presently lodging in your beautiful city, and we can discuss these matters at a time more convenient."
Jehral and Hermen Tosch bowed and withdrew, leaving the three Alturans watching them depart.
"What was that about?" Beorn said. "First they storm in here without so much as a by-your-leave, and then when we make time for them they go."
Miro sighed. "I fear there's a lot about these people we don't understand." He turned to Rorelan. "My apologies, High Lord, they were supposed to wait while I sent a courier for you. It's probably for the best that we speak with them another time. I need to ask my sister about this Jehral and his people. She said she spent some time with them, and we should properly formulate a response before treating with them. I take it something else brought you here?" Miro stifled a yawn, and his jaw cracked. "You mentioned my sister?"
Rorelan's scowl returned. "I've just come from a meeting with High Enchanter Merlon. Miro, do you have any idea how low our supplies of essence are? We can't afford these experiments of hers. The High Enchanter says she won't listen to reason. And this new companion of hers… let's just say the Lord Marshal's sister needs to consider the company she keeps."
"I'll speak with her," Miro said. "Where can I find her?"
A great boom sounded from somewhere, followed by a whoosh that made the ground rumble. If they had been anywhere except the Crystal Palace, dust would have fallen from the ceiling.
High Lord Rorelan levelled Miro with a steady gaze. "I don't think you'll have any trouble."
2
TAPEL was always finding strange things, but this was certainly the strangest. He regarded the man, as always trying not to stare too hard at the bandages around the man's throat, while the man regarded him back with coal-dark eyes. The man tried to sit up, and when Tapel pushed him back down as his mother had instructed, the stranger was too weak to protest.
Tapel's mother was always telling Tapel what to do and what not to do, when it came to the stranger. She was out a lot of the time, so it was often Tapel who took care of him.
It was only fair, Tapel supposed. It was he who had found the stranger, after all.
~
THE armies of Altura and Halaran had met the Black Army just outside Ranalast, in a great collision of men and steel in the now-ravaged land that had once been low farmland, gentle hillocks and forested copses.
Like so many others, Tapel and his mother, Amelia, had prayed for their countrymen and their Alturan allies. Ralanast had been occupied for weeks, and all knew the attempt to liberate the Halrana capital from the ruthless soldiers of the imperial legion was a desperate gamble.