“Am I?” Nekaun chuckled. “How generous of you.” He leaned back and swept his gaze over them all. “It is late. Tomorrow I have more of the city to show Auraya, and then we have dinner with Third Voice Vervel. I will escort Auraya to her rooms.”
Reivan barely heard him. She was sure something strange had just happened, but she wasn’t sure what, and now Nekaun seemed almost eager to leave. As the others rose and pushed back their chairs Reivan followed suit. They spoke polite farewells then parted, Nekaun, Auraya and Turaan leaving by the door they had arrived through.
As Imenja started back down the hall, Reivan replayed the conversation about Mirar through her mind.
“She probably read your mind,” Imenja said. “I think we finally caught her out. However, we don’t want her knowing that we have. Once she does we lose a small advantage.”
“So I won’t be meeting her again?”
“Not until we reveal our knowledge of her ability.” Imenja smiled apologetically. They moved out of the hall and into the corridor. “What did you make of her?”
Reivan considered. “I can’t say the chances of her allying with us are high.”
“Not even if Nekaun offered to hand over or kill Mirar?”
“No,” Reivan said slowly. “If she is loyal to her gods, she will not turn from them no matter what Nekaun offers.”
“That depends on what will please her gods more. Would they sacrifice her in exchange for Mirar’s death? She is no longer a White, so maybe her loss isn’t important to them.”
“She is a powerful sorceress. They would not want to lose her - at least not to us.”
Imenja nodded. “I agree. But we can’t dismiss the possibility that she will pretend to join us in order to secure Mirar’s death.”
“That would be a dangerous game to play. Would she risk discovery and death for the sake of killing Mirar?”
“It depends on how much her gods want Mirar dead.”
“And whether Nekaun does,” Reivan added. “Mirar is a powerful,
“That would be a much better arrangement for all, I think,” Imenja agreed. “Genza likes him, and thinks we will, too.”
“There is one significant problem, however.”
“Oh?”
“Dreamweavers do not kill. He would not be much use as an ally to counter Auraya.”
“Ah. That is true.”
“Having them both on our side would be even better.” Reivan chuckled. “Though that would be problematic, if they were at each other’s throats all the time.”
Imenja laughed darkly. “Yes, though it could be entertaining.”
Lifting the flap of the platten cover, Danjin saw the gates of an impressive structure ahead. The fortress of the Correl clan enveloped the crest of a hill with almost sinuous grace. All that could be seen of it were high walls, but those walls rose from the earth like natural outcrops of sheer rock. They looked as if they had been there for millennia and, despite or perhaps because of the subtle signs of repairs here and there, as if they would be forever.
Inside lived the small, reclusive Correl clan. Yem had told them the family’s decline was due mostly to few male heirs being produced. The current leader was an old man whose only son had been killed in a training accident. He had nominated a child of one of his granddaughters to succeed him.
But there were nephews and cousins enough to provide a small force of warriors.
Yem had gone ahead to announce their arrival. Danjin could not help worrying about the young man’s safety. If the warriors had been converted by the Pentadrians, too, who knew what could happen?
Danjin let the flap fall and looked at Ella. She smiled back at him.
“Don’t worry, Danjin. Yem is safe, and has arranged every thing.”
The platten slowed as it reached the hill. The arem were exhausted. The sound of their hoof beats suddenly echoed off close walls and the platten reached flat ground. It stopped and Ella drew the hood of her cloak over her head. Danjin followed her out and Gillen clambered after them.
They had arrived in a courtyard between two fortress walls. It was empty but for two warriors standing by a second gate and a pair of guards that Ella glanced at briefly. One of the warriors was Yem, the other a broad- shouldered man with gray in his hair.
“Greetings, Ellareen of the White. Welcome to my home,” the older warrior said quietly.
Ella smiled. “Greetings, Gret, Talm of Correl. This is Danjin Spear, my adviser, and Gillen Shieldarm, Ambassador of Hania.”
“Welcome. Come inside where we may talk in comfort,” he invited.
Ella had asked Yem to arrange for this meeting to be held with as few witnesses as possible. They saw no others as they walked through the second gate, along a narrow corridor and into a hall. Ella’s gaze was slightly distracted and Danjin guessed she was checking for the minds of unseen watchers.
Gret led them along the hall to a staircase and they ascended to a corridor. He stopped beside a door and ushered them into a cavernous room decorated with large wall hangings.
Ella took the seat Gret offered. The old warrior moved to a side table and poured fwa into five goblets, then handed them around.
“That is an impressive hanging,” Gillen murmured. He was gazing up at the largest. It depicted a grand view of hills divided into fields by low walls, with small villages glimpsed in the creases. The sea was a shimmering expanse beyond and huge clouds floated over all.
“My late wife made it,” Gret said. “She was gifted at the art. It is of the view from the roof of this fortress.”
“She was indeed gifted,” Gillen said. “It is an unusual subject for a Dunwayan hanging.”
“Unusual in such a large hanging,” Gret agreed. “Women often make smaller hangings of their homes, and keep them in their private rooms - which is why you have not seen them before.” He smiled. “Tia was more ambitious. I like them, so I had them moved in here after she died.”
He turned away and sat down opposite Ella. Gillen and Danjin took places on either side of the White. Looking up at the hanging again, Danjin wondered if one of the villages depicted on it was the one the Pentadrians had settled in.
“Yem said you were here on a matter of urgency and importance,” Gret said. “How can I be of help to you?”
“I need the assistance of your warriors,” Ella began. As she told him of the Pentadrians who had settled in Dram, the old man’s expression changed to dismay.
“Are you sure of this - that their intentions are ill?”
“I have read it from their minds,” Ella replied.
“I was told they were hard workers and kept their ways to themselves.”
“You did not investigate yourself?”
He shook his head. “I trust Dram’s leader. He would have reported any trouble. The Pentadrians pay their tithe. Some have even married locals.”
“You allowed marriages between Circlians and Pentadrians?”
He shrugged. “Of course.”
Ella shook her head in disbelief. “Tell me, was it a Pentadrian or Circlian rite?”
Gret shrugged. “I didn’t ask.”
“Did the Pentadrian of these couples convert to a Circlian, or the Circlian convert to a Pentadrian?”
He spread his hands.
