‘I had no concept of how difficult it was to coordinate all the Conclave’s activities as well as manage this school on a day-today basis.’
‘Any problems?’ she asked, taking the chair behind the desk he had just vacated.
‘The school? None to speak of. As Father instructed, we’re turning down requests to send new students, focusing our efforts on training to make our magicians ready to help in the coming fight, and everyone’s cooperating.’
‘And?’ she asked. ‘What isn’t going well?’
‘We’ve heard nothing from Kaspar’s expedition to the Peaks of the Quor.’
‘How overdue is contact?’
‘A few days.’
‘I won’t start worrying until he’s a week overdue,’ she said. ‘Remind me of the mission?’
Caleb’s dark eyes narrowed. He knew that his mother had an almost perfect memory for details, when she bothered to study them and realized she must have neglected to apprise herself of the details of this mission, because it was one of the last Pug had approved prior to his departure for the Dasati realm.
‘One of our agents in Freeport picked up a message between a smuggler and some unknown band of raiders whom Father suspected of either working for Leso Varen or perhaps with him.’
‘For or with? He thinks they’re either unwilling dupes or willing accomplices?’
‘Something like that,’ said Caleb. ‘The west shore of the Peaks of the Quor, specifically a large cove called "Kesana Cove", along with an approximate date, was expressly mentioned in the message—’
‘And your father was off and running to find out what that was all about.’
Caleb nodded. ‘He also wanted to get some of the lads from different groups working together, so he asked Nakor to talk to Lord Erik about his… irregulars out of Krondor, and they joined with some lads from Kesh and Roldem and he put Kaspar in charge.’
‘Well, your father’s been curious about the Peaks of the Quor for years,’ she admitted. ‘We’ve had little luck finding out much and have both been too busy to go down there personally to poke about, so I understand his reasons.’ Thinking about the coming confrontation with the Dasati, she added, ‘Though his timing could have been better. Let me know if you hear anything from Kaspar. Now, go and take the rest of the day off.’
Caleb frowned. ‘Only the rest of the day?’
‘Yes, because you’re not heading out to go hunting or whatever else you want to do. I’m sure your wife won’t object to you staying at home for a few more days… or weeks.’ Caleb’s frown deepened. ‘I’m not going to be here for long. I have a lot to do and I need to come up with a plan on how to accomplish it without your father and Nakor around.’
‘Do what?’
Miranda sighed. ‘Convince the Kings of the Isles and Roldem, as well as the Emperor of Great Kesh to accept refugees from Kelewan should it come to that.’
Caleb blinked in surprise. ‘Refugees? You’re thinking of contingency plans?’
Caleb saw his mother visibly wilt before his eyes. All her usual strength and vitality seemed to ebb away and she sat back in the chair with a look of resignation he had never see before. Softly she said, ‘No. Not a contingency. An eventuality.’
Pug sat quietly watching the faces of those nearby, as the sun settled behind the western horizon, a portion of the city wall, so vast and so distant it looked like a remote ridge in the evening haze. He occupied a small bench where, he had been told, Lessers who farmed the grove came to eat their mid-day meal. The others were arrayed around the workers’ shack, the only building in the grove, shielded from casual sight by hundreds of fruit trees. Pug considered the fruit a Dasati apple, though the colour was more of a yellowish-orange than red or green, and there was a luminous shimmer to the surface when it was freshly picked, the flesh of the fruit being a deep purple colour.
As the sun disappeared from view, Macros turned and said, ‘It’s done. The Great Culling is now over.’ With a heavy sigh he came to sit down next to Pug. ‘The killing will continue for a bit – the fights don’t simply stop because the sun has set, but combatants will now withdraw rather than press the issue, and those in hiding will slowly emerge, and tonight the cleaning-up will commence.’
Nakor stood a few feet behind Pug, observing the bucolic peace that all knew to be an illusion. Safety was almost an impossibility on this world, yet for a moment, he could see in the faces of the others the same thought: once this had been a tranquil, lovely world, with industrious people whose lives in many ways resembled those on Midkemia. Softly he said, ‘This is how it should be.’
‘Yes,’ said Pug as the sun set completely and the sky above turned into a stunning riot of colours as the western clouds reflected a spectrum no human eye could ever appreciate. ‘What happened?’
‘The Dark God,’ said Macros. Pug could tell that his illness was taking more of a toll than usual; the exertion of the last day was bringing him to the edge of exhaustion.