“The Ally’s creature is trying to draw you out, surely you see that. And you did not come here for war, you came for the knowledge you imagine I hold. The key to defeating the Ally.”
Vaelin frowned at the sardonic note in Erlin’s voice, the tone of a man facing an all-too-predictable outcome. “This has happened before?”
“There have been a few over the centuries. Scholars, kings”—he gave Vaelin a brief, regretful grin—“warriors. All facing the unhappy truth of the Ally’s existence, guided to me by ancient lore or gifted power. Though none found me in times quite so troubled as these.”
“The Ally means to make an end. This time it will be different.”
Erlin sighed and got to his feet. “Then I had best show you what I showed them, brother.” He pointed his stick towards the east where the black clouds hung low over the peaks. “Though I doubt these folk will find the climate to their liking.”
? ? ?
The hills remained stubbornly empty as they marched east, tracking through valleys devoid of life save a few elk that scattered at the first tinge of their scent on the wind. “The mountain folk are miners,” Erlin explained. “Digging copper and tin from the mountains which they trade to the Volarians, despite their perpetual difficulties. There are few seams this far north and any scouts will be preoccupied with this latest incursion.”
“You have lived here a long time?” Vaelin asked.
“Six years this time, though I once lingered for nearly three decades. That was two centuries ago, when the people here were not so fierce.”
“What kept you here?”
“A widow with several children. She had a harsh tongue but a kind heart and didn’t seem to mind if I stayed and played the husband. When she passed the children had grown and the Volarians were mounting their first slaving operations. I thought it best to move on. Though I am always drawn back.”
“By what?”
Erlin’s expression clouded as he paused to regard the fire mountains in the distance, their fiery glow brighter now, and the sky above ever more dark. “In good time, brother.”
In the evening Lorkan, Cara and Marken gathered around Erlin, keen for stories of his travels. Cara’s memory of him was the dimmest of the three but she still recalled his tales from her childhood sojourn to the Fallen City. “Did you return to the Far West?” she asked. “To the temple above the clouds?”
“Indeed I did.” He glanced up at the Sentar who had also gathered round. They seemed to be amongst the few people with whom he had little experience and found their endless hunger for a story a surprising contrast to their fierce reputation. “Though I stayed only one night.”
“Was she there?” Cara pressed. “The Jade Princess?”
“She was, and as lovely as ever. Unmarked by age and still singing her beautiful song. I was glad I made the effort to hear it again, though the journey was harder than before. Even the land of the Merchant Kings is not immune to strife.”
“Jade Princess?” Vaelin asked.
“The only soul I have met who has lived longer than I. Consigned to the temple above the clouds five hundred years ago by the Merchant Kings, who still make pilgrimage to seek her counsel, imagining she has the ear of Heaven. I think she finds them greatly amusing, though it’s difficult to tell. Her moods are often as inscrutable as her words. But her song . . .” He closed his eyes in remembrance of something blissful. “Uncounted years spent in practice of voice and harp. I alone have been blessed to hear it more than once in a lifetime.”
Vaelin saw Kiral shift in discomfort and knew what her song told her; this was a man fully expecting never to hear the Jade Princess again. We bring his doom, that’s what he fears.