he'll start turning our own people against us! Do we have a choice!'
Kero looked into the eyes of each Councillor in turn; some returned her stare for stare, and some only dropped their gazes to the table in front of them, but one and all, they only shook their heads.
Elspeth cleared her throat when Kero's gaze reached her. Kero nodded; since she was no longer the Heir, she had no real place in Council, but habit would make them listen to her anyway.
'We can baffle him with strike-and-run tactics,' she said. 'That will delay him while he tries to take ground. If he is expecting either all-out panic or a defensive line, while the special forces are getting into place, we can puzzle him by not playing either of the games he expects.'
Kero nodded cautiously at that. 'Is there a plan behind this?' she asked.
'One he wouldn't think of - evacuation,' Elspeth replied. 'Strike north and lead him up while you evacuate to the south. Then strike from the south and lead him into scorched-earth while you evacuate in the west. That way we can get everyone out - and Captain - no one is going to like this - but if people won't leave, pull them out and burn their houses and fields. They won't stay if there's nothing to eat and nowhere to live.'
Someone gasped in outrage, but the Lord Marshal nodded, his face a mask of pain. 'We have to think of the people first,' he said, 'And if we deny Ancar any kind of sustenance, he will be forced to march far more slowly than if he can loot as he goes.'
'But how can we destroy our own land?' Elibet did wail. 'How can we simply give him our Kingdom, and lay waste to it ourselves? How can we do this to Valdemar? And how can we explain this to the people?'
Elspeth did not stand, but held herself proud and tall. 'Tell them this,' she said. 'Valdemar is not grainfields, or roads, or cattle; it is not cities, it is not even the land itself. It is people. Grain will grow again - herds can be bred - houses can be rebuilt. It is the lives of our people that are at stake here, and we must preserve them. That is what we must fight for, every precious life! There is no book that cannot be rewritten, no temple that cannot be rebuilt, so long as those lives are preserved. So long as the people live - so does Valdemar.'
She looked around the table as Kero had, meeting the eyes of every woman and man on the Council.
'There is not a Herald in Valdemar who will not stand between those people and Ancar's forces - even if the only weapons he has are those of his mind and bare hands,' she continued. 'That includes me - for, my lords and ladies, I will be the first to volunteer for the group that goes into Ancar's land. You know how much he hates me, personally, and what he will do if he takes me. Every Herald will defend our people to his last breath and drop of blood, and lament that he has no more to give. Tell your people that - and remind them that the Heralds have no homes, no belongings, and never have. All that Heralds have comes from the people - and it will all return to their service, first to last, until there is no more to offer.'
Kero sent the trainees out of the Council Chamber - more for their protection than from the need to keep secrets from anyone Chosen. The trainees were as trustworthy as their Companions, but there were a lot of them. It would be difficult to protect all of them from enemy agents if word somehow got out that they knew the contents of a secret plan. Searchingly, she looked at each of the members of the Council in turn. 'From here on, nothing leaves this room,' she said emphatically. 'And I mean nothing. If I had a way, I'd put a spell on you people to keep you from even thinking about this when you're outside this room.'
Darkwind coughed politely, and Kero's head swiveled like an owl's. Her eyes met his, and he nodded, once. 'Don't tell me; you can do that,' she hazarded. 'I should have guessed.'
Darkwind shrugged. 'It is called a spell of coercion,' he offered politely, 'And we do not use it except in times of greatest need. We prefer not to use the version that makes one forget something important, unless we think that an enemy may also be a strong Mindspeaker. It can be broken, but the person in question must be in the physical possession of a mage stronger than the one who set it, at least in the areas of mind-magic. It can be worked around, but again, the person must be in the physical possession of a countering mage, and it takes a great deal of time. A Tayledras must also have the consent of the one it is placed upon; others are not so polite about it.'
Like Falconsbane, Elspeth thought grimly. She recalled, all too vividly, what Starblade had endured to have his coercions broken.
The other members of the Council, including Heralds Teren, Kyril, and Griffon, stirred uneasily, and there was more than a shadow of fear in some eyes. Magic; that was the problem. Mind-magic they knew, but this was different, alien, and fraught with unpleasant implications. About the only times any of them had encountered true magic, it had been in the hands of an enemy.
Prince Daren simply looked interested; after all, he had seen magic at work often enough in his days as his brother's Lord Martial. 'I'd heard of coercions, but before today I'd never met any mage who could set them,' he said. 'It was said that the Karsite Priests of Vkandis could set coercions, though, and some things Alberich told me from time to time seemed to confirm that.'
Talia, who sat secure in the knowledge her Gift of Empathy gave her, that Darkwind would sooner cut his own arm off than harm her or any other Herald, nodded gravely. 'I can see where such a precaution would give our force a great deal of protection from slips of the tongue.'
'This would be for your protection as well as my team's,' Kero said flatly. 'What you can't tell, no one can
