Silence followed that. Imladrik waited for his words to sink in.
‘My lord,’ started Salendor cautiously, ‘we have been at war for nearly thirty years.’
‘Hardly,’ said Imladrik calmly. ‘We have been shown only a tithe of their strength.’
Salendor looked perplexed. ‘These are the opening moves of the game. We are ready for what will come.’
‘We are ready?’ asked Imladrik. ‘You sound sure. I hope you are. I hope you remain sure when your woods begin to burn. I hope you remain sure when our people begin to die in earnest, and I hope you remain sure when the corpses are piled high between the ocean and Karaz-a-Karak.’
Salendor looked taken aback. Still Imladrik did not seek to catch Liandra’s eye.
‘This is a lull,’ Imladrik continued. ‘My brother’s victory wounded them, but we know it will not last. You gave me two choices, but I give you a third: pull back from the precipice. Close the wound. Talk to the dawi.’
Again, silence. When the next voice broke in, Imladrik had to work hard to keep his expression neutral.
‘They will not listen,’ said Liandra.
Her speech was just as he remembered it – hard-edged, louder than most, flavoured with the rough tones that spoke of a long time away from home. For a moment he could have been dragged back in time, to the long conversations they had shared while on the wing together, the tips of their steeds’ pinions nearly touching. He could have recalled how her mind-voice had sparred with his, approaching that strange intimacy that a dragon rider shared with his steed.
It was harder than he had expected, to hear that voice again.
‘You are sure?’ he asked, unwilling to contradict her directly. Not yet.
‘With respect, we have tried this,’ interjected Salendor, clearly making an effort to retain his temper. ‘They do not talk. They slaughter.’
Caerwal also looked unconvinced. ‘That is the truth. If you had been here during these last years–’
‘I have been in the colonies longer than any of you,’ said Imladrik firmly. ‘I founded Oeragor in the east before the towers of this city were raised, beside which thirty years away is nothing. You are free to dispute with me, Caerwal, but never presume that I know not of what I speak.’
Caerwal looked chastened, and fell quiet.
‘War may come,’ Imladrik went on. ‘It may be too late to prevent it, but I will try. That is my first order: keep the defences in order, but no armies will march. Messages will be sent to the dawi. Snorri Halfhand is dead, but I knew his cousin in happier times – if I understand anything of them, he will be the first to seek vengeance, and of all of them he was always the mildest.’
Salendor shook his head in frustration. ‘Your brother killed Halfhand. You know how they are – his rage will blind him now. The father, too.’
‘Perhaps,’ conceded Imladrik. ‘If so, it will be a mark against us, for Snorri was a noble warrior when I knew him. For that reason I will make the attempt. We must make the attempt: we cannot be as blind as them, for we are the children of Aenarion and the fates hold us to a higher standard.’
He saw Aelis looking at him doubtfully. None of the others spoke in support of him. He had not expected them to do so; this counsel was always going to be unpopular with those who had suffered most.
‘Then how will you achieve this?’ asked Liandra. The tone of her voice was strange. ‘The dawi kill any of us they come across, even under banners of truce. The rules of war have long since ceased to apply in Elthin Arvan.’
Imladrik turned to her. Her face was just as he remembered it – framed by a shock of copper hair, pale and vigorous, her blue eyes rich and glittering.
‘It will not be easy,’ he admitted, ‘but no paths are free of danger, and I will not believe their minds are fully closed, not yet, not until I have seen it with my own eyes. They were a proud people, one in which honour once dwelt.’
‘So you always counselled,’ replied Liandra, ‘even before the war started. Things change, though, my lord. People change.’
Imladrik held her gaze. ‘The core of them remains the same. That never alters.’
‘Does it not, my lord?’
‘It cannot.’
They looked at one another for a little longer. Imladrik thought she might speak to him directly, mind to mind, just as they had once done freely.
In the event, she said nothing, and her eyes fell away.
‘If this is the will of the Crown,’ said Aelis slowly, breaking the awkward silence, ‘then of course it shall be done, just as you command.’
Imladrik nodded. ‘Good. Then our business is concluded here. This is our last chance for peace, my lords; let us ensure it does not fail.’
‘And, despite all, if it should?’ asked Salendor sceptically.
‘Then, my Lord of Tor Achare, you shall have the slaughter you desire,’ said Imladrik wearily. ‘And when that is done, when the world lies in ashes around us, we can reflect at length on what follies may be committed by the wise, and what horror may be unleashed by those who once only worshipped beauty.’
After the Council had dispersed Imladrik made his way to his chambers. He had taken up residence in one of the smaller towers, pressed tight against the inner wall as it curved round towards the harbour. Its windows faced west, back across the seas to Ulthuan. The accommodation within was modest: a few rooms in the lower levels in which to receive guests, a couple more devoted to charts and ledgers, a private suite at the summit in which he slept and meditated.
Tor Alessi’s citizens treated him with a muted reverence. They parted to allow him passage along the narrow streets. Mothers brought their children out to witness his presence, as if that would confer some sort of protection on them. Soldiers bowed low; mages doffed their staffs.
He found the whole exercise
