parent. ‘And he's declared me fit for duty.'
Ibris grunted suspiciously and then led Arwain over to the fire, motioning Ryllans and Feranc to follow. He looked at his son's damp hair and wrinkled his nose.
'You stink of the fog,’ he said. ‘Sit down, both of you, and give me your report. All I've heard so far is that you were hurt in some street fighting.'
Arwain told such of the tale as he could and Ryllans completed the remainder. Ibris, leaning against the mantelpiece, asked few questions, and nodded approvingly at Ryllans’ sending some of the Mantynnai into Bethlarii territory.
When they had finished, Ibris stared thoughtfully into the fire for a long time. When he looked up he turned to Feranc.
'How near are the local garrisons to being fully mobilized?’ he asked.
'Very near,’ Feranc replied. ‘But despite the gossip about the Bethlarii envoy, the feeling is that it's an exercise.'
Ibris nodded. ‘Well, none of us likes to face reality,’ he said. ‘But I want them ready for a forced march to Whendrak within the week, with first and second reserves standing by.’ He turned to his chancellor. ‘Aaken, what's the position with our mercenary groups?'
'Most of them have signed for winter duty, but I've no doubt they'll be clamouring for extra payment if there's actual fighting to be done,’ Aaken replied.
Ibris frowned slightly. ‘Keep an eye on that, Ciarll,’ he said. ‘An agreement's an agreement, and they've had precious little to do these last few years. Let me know if you're not happy with anything, I don't want any of them suddenly changing sides in the middle of a battle.’ Feranc nodded in reply but did not speak.
Ibris paused to push a smouldering log back into the fire with his boot.
'Send to Meek and ask them to mobilize also, with a view to watching for incursions south, just in case this is only a diversion after all. And tell them at Herion, Nestar and Veldan. Any havering there and invoke the Treaty right away. And find out if there's been any unusual Bethlarii activity in their areas recently. And tell our divisional commanders at Tellar and Stor what's happened so far, and that I want them ready for a march on Whendrak at a moment's notice. It'll cause some flurry, but impress the urgency of the matter on them.’ He looked at Feranc significantly. ‘And I think they'd better mobilize their reserves also, if only for domestic protection. We'll review the situation when Menedrion and the Mantynnai get back.'
Feranc nodded silently again, but Aaken fluttered slightly. Ibris spoke: ‘You know how fast the Bethlarii can mobilize if they want to, Aaken,’ he said. ‘Their whole society's built around the procedure. They could field an army ready to march into Whendrak in half the time it takes us. And it'll cost a damn sight more than mobilizing a few reserves if they do that.'
'I wasn't going to quibble about the cost,’ Aaken replied defensively. ‘At least, not now we have Sened backing. But what you're doing could be construed as a provocation and give the Bethlarii the excuse they've been looking for.'
'No,’ Ibris said, definitely. ‘They need no provocation from us; they've made up their minds, I fear. Their envoy having survived, they're going to use the trouble they've stirred up in Whendrak as an excuse for whatever large-scale military adventure it is they intend. I don't know what it will be, and I certainly don't know why, except that it's something to do with that damned religion of theirs…’ He stopped abruptly and his gaze drifted thoughtfully towards the fire.
'Although it occurs to me now that what they're doing is not more than self-defence in a way,’ he said softly, after a long silence.
Arwain looked up, his bandaged forehead wrinkled into a surprised frown. ‘We don't threaten them,’ he said, almost indignantly. ‘We've been meticulous in observing both the letter and the spirit of the treaty.'
Ibris nodded. ‘True,’ he conceded. ‘But nevertheless we threaten them, and will continue to do so increasingly.’ He was speaking half to himself, as if to clarify his thoughts. ‘We've grown and prospered through this long peace. Gained wealth, and won increasing influence in the land. Spread knowledge and invention and beauty. While the Bethlarii have clung-remained true, they'd say-to their old ways … to their ancient traditions. And stagnated as a consequence. Just by being what we are, we've struck at their very heart. Blow after blow after blow. And to oppose us in kind would be to change: to accept our way, and destroy their old ways even further.'
'You'd be the last to denounce tradition,’ Arwain said. ‘The rope that joins our shifting present to the solid anchor of the past.'
Ibris smiled slightly at this use of his own past rhetoric. ‘In its place,’ he agreed. ‘While we know why we're following it-for remembering and learning from the past-for harmless pleasure, even.’ His smile faded. ‘But never blindly. Never just because it is. We all seek security and safety from the world's crueller ways, but change is the natural way of things no matter what we think about it, and the only true security is to accept that and act accordingly. The Bethlarii have sought to deny it; to deal with growing knowledge and complexity with ignorance and wilful simplicity. Now, in contrast to the light we've brought to ourselves, they've turned back to the dark centre of their nature, of all our natures, manifest in their savage old god and his bloodthirsty ways. They seek the annihilation of our whole way of life whether they realize it or not, and we must be prepared to seek theirs if we're to survive.'
Arwain frowned. ‘A grim conclusion,’ he said.
Ibris nodded regretfully. ‘One prevails in combat only by being willing to be more ruthless than your enemy,’ he said. ‘You know that.’ It was the dark adage that had pervaded all Arwain's military education and that encapsulated the true horror of combat, be it between individuals or nations.
Briefly, visions of a war of conquest and the suppression of a people passed through Arwain's mind, but it was Ibris himself who dispelled them before they found voice. He let out a noisy breath. ‘Still, it probably won't come to that,’ he declared. ‘If we can hit them hard enough, their very rigidity may bring the whole thing down about their ears.’ He became brisk. ‘And I've spent enough time conjecturing. Gentlemen, I'm detaining you from your duties.'
Arwain remained behind after the others had left.
Ibris became preoccupied again, standing staring into the fire. For all the hectic activity of the past days, it was the information that Antyr had brought to him in his strange, dreamlike visitation that loomed largest in his thoughts.
Without preamble, Ibris told his son of the strange events that had drawn Antyr and Pandra and their strange Companions into his confidence.
In so far as he had considered the matter Ibris had half expected Arwain's reaction to be one of rather caustic suspicion, but when he had finished, his son was silent and wide-eyed.
Ibris looked at him narrowly. ‘Have you had any strange dreams recently?’ he asked anxiously.
'Two. Both involving Irfan.’ Arwain answered without hesitation, his voice hoarse.
Ibris stood up and tugged urgently at a bell pull by the fireplace. Almost immediately a servant entered.
'Ask Antyr and his Companions to join us immediately,’ Ibris said, sharply. The servant disappeared even more quickly than he had appeared.
'You'll tell Antyr all about your dreams, and answer any of his questions fully and truthfully,’ Ibris told Arwain, his manner forbidding any debate.
A few minutes later, Antyr was shown into the room followed by Tarrian and Grayle.
The two wolves moved to Ibris, their tails wagging, and he bent forward to stroke them. Arwain, however, stood up suddenly and pointed at Antyr. ‘You were the one in the Moras the other day, with the Liktors and the Mantynnai…’ He clicked his fingers. ‘…Estaan.'
Antyr edged back slightly. ‘Yes,’ he said, suddenly nervous. ‘But I thought that that had all been attended to.'
Ibris laid a hand on Arwain's arm and eased him back into his seat. ‘I heard about your little encounter,’ he said with a smile. ‘But we've more important matters to deal with at the moment.'
The sight of Antyr, however, had brought all Arwain's concerns about the Mantynnai flooding back.
'More important than Ryllans hearing something that left him openly afraid and had all the Mantynnai holding late-night discussions in their own language?’ Arwain replied in a low, urgent voice.
Ibris frowned briefly. ‘I know something's disturbed them badly,’ he said. ‘But I'm not prepared to question
