Storm Rising

After waiting a few moments for a reply, Karal took his seat again, dropping heavily into his padded armchair with a thud. Altra did not seem to notice.

Huh. This is different. He's never acted like this before....

Then, suddenly, without any warning whatsoever, the Firecat leaped straight up into the air—

—and vanished into the patch of sunlight he had appeared out of.

'Oh, now that's an informative answer,' Karal growled to the empty air in disgust. 'Thanks a lot!'

* * *

Somewhere out there, Natoli and the others were isolating energy patterns, An'desha was helping them analyze the patterns, and Master Levy and his mathematicians were plotting courses. He suspected that Firesong's warning about monsters being created in Hardorn had been taken to heart, and Kerowyn's folk were inventing monsters and ways to deal with them. Somewhere in this very Palace, others were getting actual work done. Somewhere out in Haven, or beyond, artificers were trying to find a way of getting people and supplies in and out of an area quickly, perhaps involving some of Natoli's beloved steam machines.

And I am sitting here waiting for yet another Grand Council meeting. He sighed glumly and then sat up a little straighter as he realized that the Shin'a'in envoy, who had just entered the room himself, was heading, not for his own seat, but straight for Karal.

Oh, glory. Now what? A challenge to personal combat?

He made himself smile, and rose in courtesy as Jarim reached him. 'Greetings, sir.' Now what do I say? 'I trust you realize we are still on the same side?' Or— 'Are you still desirous of examining my liver at close range? I fear I cannot oblige you—' He settled for a neutral and polite, 'How can I serve you?'

'You can serve me, Envoy, by accepting an apology,' the Shin'a'in said brusquely—and grudgingly. But at least he was saying it, which was an improvement. 'I overreacted yesterday. My people are protective of their own.'

And mine are not? Is that your implication? 'I understand, sir,' he replied smoothly. 'Please, you must understand that I am trying to think of the best use of our admittedly limited resources. I am trying to suggest what is useful for the Alliance as a whole. Your people never encountered the armies of Ancar of Hardorn. My country and Valdemar are low on fighting men and the wherewithal to supply them; your people are mighty warriors, but they do not send folk off the Plains very often, and they would be at a bad disadvantage. The Hawkbrothers are no use as an offensive military force, and Rethwellan has sent all it can afford. I frankly would rather that the Imperials were slowly whittled away by magic-born monsters than that any fighter of the Alliance perish in ridding us of them. We must survive the mage-storms ourselves, after all, and —'

'Yes, yes, I see your point,' Jarim interrupted. 'But it should be obvious that we are going to have to eliminate these interlopers while we have the chance. They have a long history of conquest, and no border has ever stopped them before. It is pure folly to think that they will allow anything to stop them now, save such a fierce resistance that it is clear even to them that they have met their match in us! The only way to do that is to strike now, strike hard, and remove every trace of their forces from Hardorn. Then and only then will the Empire respect us enough to let us alone!'

He was getting wound up again, and nothing Karal had said had made any difference to him. His words said 'we' but it was obvious to Karal that what he wanted was personal revenge on the Empire for daring to murder a Goddess Sworn Shin'a'in.

By now most of the others had arrived, and all of the Grand Council were listening closely to this exchange, obviously waiting to see how he would answer.

But any answer other than the one that Jarim wanted—full agreement—was only going to start another argument. So instead of replying directly to Jarim's statement, he turned to Elspeth, who happened to be nearest to him.

'How long do the mages believe the breakwater will remain intact?' he asked earnestly. 'Has anyone an estimate?' It was one question that no one had asked yet—but it was important, because an answer might make it clear that there was no time for personal vengeance—or, indeed, any revenge at all.

'Good question,' the Princess replied, arching an eyebrow at Darkwind and Firesong, who edged closer at her signal. 'Do either of you have an answer—or even a guess?'

'I would prefer to err conservatively,' Firesong replied—earnestly, for once, rather than flippantly. He cast a glance at Karal that looked appreciative. 'I would not trust it to hold for more than four months at the most. Through the winter—perhaps. Not much beyond.'

'I would give it until summer, but that is certainly no more than six months away at best,' Darkwind said, nodding. 'Now, given that winter fighting is difficult at best and suicidal at worst, that means we will lose the breakwater before we have any chance at attacking the Imperials.'

Karal noticed that Prince Daren was also giving him a look of both appraisement and approval. Evidently he