Or until the City fell.
'Soon, my impatient love,' his Dark Queen purred in his mind. 'Serve me well and you will have all you desire …'
And so, with an idle comment here, an innocent observation there, Anigrel had worked day and night to turn Lycaelon's anger at his son's defection outward to a hatred of the Free Borderers, and to fan a furious envy at Mage Breulin's successful policies of enclosure into a more grandiose plan of his own. That Lycaelon's agents had received the bit of fortunate intelligence about 'The Outlaw's' location at the most opportune moment to make an otherwise harmless boy into a nightmare menace was no surprise to Anigrel; he knew perfectly well who had given it to them, and why. The Dark Lady had agents everywhere, and if she could not have Kellen corrupted and in her power, she would use his mere presence on earth to serve her in other ways. Anigrel knew without envy that he was but a small component in a glorious Working, so that one day the Tree of Night would flower and spread its branches against the sky, blotting out the sun once more, this time forever.
And to his well-concealed relief, at last Lycaelon had taken his careful hints to heart. When the news about The Outlaw came, Lycaelon set Anigrel to immediately preparing the preliminary paperwork for a Scouring Hunt of enormous proportions. The Arch-Mage explained nothing, of course, but after laying so much groundwork, Anigrel didn't find it difficult to guess what lay in Lycaelon's mind.
Soon bycaebn will come and tell you that he has proposed a glorious campaign against the east to extend the boundaries of the City all the way to the High Hills — incidentally running that dreadful and dangerous enemy, The Outlaw, to earth—all in the name of Purity, and that the Council has given it their full support. Be sure to act surprised, Anigrel told himself mockingly.
THE NEXT FORTNIGHT was a desperate race against time.
Every village in the Western Hills was busy with harvest and had few people to spare for other tasks, but everyone who could be spared was sent with messages to still other villages and far-flung crofts, warning that Armethalieh was extending its reach into the Western Hills.
Kellen had gone back to Merryvale a few days later to meet with the Council of Elders. He spent two days there, explaining in detail what Armethalieh's rule would mean to them—not only the taxes and tithes, the restrictive laws about what you could buy and sell, but the fact that nonhuman folk weren't welcome in Armethaliehan lands at all, and mixed villages like Merryvale were considered an abomination by the Priests of the Light.
'But… why?' Master Eliron and the others kept asking him, and all Kellen could do was shake his head and repeat over and over: 'That's just the way it is.'
The debate went on endlessly, as if the people of Merryvale simply couldn't comprehend what he told them. They probably couldn't, he reflected. It must seem utter madness to people who had lived as they had for so many decades.
'But surely—if Armethalieh is a city of Law—we, too, will have rights,' the Mayor said hopefully. 'We will send the City a petition protesting this violation of our sovereignty…'
'And I'm sure they will receive it, Master Badelz, and perhaps even read it. And they will tell you that the Law of the City is for the good of all, and that your rights begin and end with doing as you are told by the High Council. They will tell you that the Otherfolk have no rights, because they are not human, and the first thing they will demand is that you cast them out of Merryvale. And if you do not do as you are told, they will treat you as an enemy. Please, sir, remember that they have armed men, trained in fighting, to enforce their rule. What do you have? And they have High Mages, who—well, their magic doesn't require the prices that Wild Magic does; they can make it do anything they want to. You've heard about the Outlaw Hunt—Idalia says a Scouring Hunt is a hundred times worse. They're going to set it on all Wildmages, and all Otherfolk. And if you try to resist them they'll set it on you humans.' He swallowed hard. 'I am… I was the son of the Arch-Mage, Master Badelz. I know every Mage on the High Council, and they speak with one voice in this. I know what I'm talking about.'
Kellen almost wished he hadn't told them that, because of the way they looked at him then, but he knew he had to convince them at any cost. Idalia was right. If the stone Hounds came here and attacked, there would be nothing left of the village.
But he also knew that the Hounds would be looking for him; and for Idalia most of all, once Lycaelon realized she was still alive. Idalia was right. If the two of them could cross the border into Elven lands before the Scouring Hunt was set loose, perhaps the Hounds wouldn't waste too much of their energy on lesser targets.
'Well, if the colt says that, it's good enough for me,' a Centaur named Yadrian said firmly. 'I'm taking my family and heading east—now—before some greedy Mage decides to hitch me to a plow!'
It turned out that Yadrian spoke for most of the Centaurkin in Merryvale. By the time Kellen left the village, they had already begun dismantling their houses and shops, preparing to head east to places of greater safety. By the time the first Lawspeakers from the City arrived, the only sign that Centaurs had ever been here would be the carvings on the village walls—and the Lawspeakers and Militia would probably insist those be taken down and burned, Kellen thought gloomily. Not that it would matter much. He thought that even the humans who planned to stay and protest Armethalieh's land-grab would be following the Centaurs and the rest of the Otherfolk within a season or two.
