He had heard rumours of Julatsa's failure to rise from its ashes and that the colleges were at war with one another, tearing each other apart. And even better, that the ordinary people, those not afflicted by magic, were turning against their would-be masters. And that these same people desired to rebuild their lives without the use of spell and chant. Very interesting.

Tessaya needed answers and he needed proof. He had made mistakes before, believing in the tales of others, and his people had died in their thousands because of it. This time he wanted to hear the truth from mouths he could trust. He knew the Wesmen were weakened, that his armies would be small. But if the prize were truly there for the taking, and if much of the east no longer supported the colleges, there was hope. Hope that the Wesmen could finally claim their birthright and dominion over Balaia.

Lord Tessaya breathed deep. He would need to talk to his closest advisers and Shamen. This was a matter that would need particularly careful handling. He bent and plucked one of the early flowers from the earth at his feet and took it back in to show his wife.

The smoke had cleared from the battlefield; the spells and arrows had stopped falling. The pleas for help were fading echoes against the blank walls of Xetesk and the only sounds filtering across the space between the enemy forces were the taunts of the victors and the calls of carrion birds.

Dila'heth, her head thumping at the site of the gash she'd sustained, stood up from the dying Al-Arynaar elf she'd been tending and looked again over the battlefield. Bodies lay where they'd fallen. Scorched mud and shallow craters signified where FlameOrb and HellFire had landed. Scraps of charred clothing blew on the light breeze. Beyond the bodies, the Xeteskians had stood down their front line, leaving a handful of guards to watch while the rest celebrated in full view.

She felt someone moving up beside her. She glanced sideways.

'Why don't they attack?' she asked.

'They don't need to,' said Rebraal. 'All they have to do is keep us away from the walls and occupied while they finish their research of the texts they stole from us.'

The leader of the Al-Arynaar pointed to a group of Protectors and mages who were moving back towards the gates.

'And they aren't going for a rest, I guarantee you that.'

'Where, then?' asked Dila.

'Well, they were struggling to the south, so the messengers said, so it could be there.' Rebraal shrugged.

'But you don't think so.'

'No. If The Raven are right, they'll be looking to strike north as soon as they can.'

'North?'

'Julatsa.'

'Would they?'

Rebraal nodded. 'Why not? They want dominion, Julatsa's the weakest player…'

'But…'

‘Iknow, Dila,' he said, touching her arm briefly to comfort her rising anxiety. 'Tell me what it felt like. Out there.'

'How could you understand?' she asked, unwilling to recall the void she had touched. ‘Idon't know, it svas like the magic just… failed. For that time, it just wasn't there. I felt like you feel every day and you can't know how horrible that is for a mage.'

Tlkar had been trying to explain.' Rebraal's smile was weak. His brother's death had affected him more than perhaps it should, given Dila's admittedly incomplete knowledge of their relationship. 'But what does it mean?'

Dila shook her head. 'We don't know. We need to get someone to Julatsa, find out. Whatever it was, they'll have more information, I'm sure.'

'The reason Ilkar came to Calaius was to recruit mages to take back there to raise the Heart. Perhaps he knew something was going wrong. Is that possible?'

Dila shook her head. ‘Idon't think so. Like all of us, I expect he just wanted Julatsa returned to her former position. And if you're light about Xetesk's intentions, then that has become an urgent consideration. How many mages did he think he wanted?'

'He wasn't specific,' replied Rebraal. 'Hundreds, I think.'

Dila's heart sank. 'Rebraal, we've barely got two hundred spread around Xetesk now.'

‘Iknow,' he said.

'When will our reinforcements arrive?'

'Hard to tell. When we left Ysundeneth to come here with The Raven there was precious little activity. The word has only just gone out and the Elfsorrow has taken so many.'

'So what will we do?' Dila'heth felt a surge of desperation. And the sensation that, despite the open ground on which she stood, she was trapped.

'How many did we lose today?' asked Rebraal.

'Too many.'

'That's not an answer.'

Dila nodded. 'But it's still too many. There are one hundred and seventy-four bodies out there. And up here, seventy-eight won't be fit to fight or cast for ten days. Another forty or so will be buried where they lie.'

She looked into Rebraal's eyes, saw him doing the addition, the result making him wince.

'We lost over half of our Al-Arynaar warriors and mages in less time than it takes to boil an egg.' Dila gestured at the Xeteskians. 'They could snuff us out on this front right now, so why don't they?'

'Like I said, they don't have to. And actually, I'm not sure they could. Izack is still strong and they don't know the extent of our magical problems. Anyway, why lose men against an enemy not threatening you?'

'So what will we do?' Dila searched Rebraal's face for the answers she couldn't find.

'Wait and watch. Messengers have gone north and south. We'll get relief. And you must organise your message to Julatsa, either by horse or Communion. Until then, we have a border to keep until The Raven arrive. And Auum gets back.'

'Where is he?'

Rebraal gestured at the blank walls of Xetesk with his chin. 'Where do you think? They've got our property and we want it back.'

'Gyal's tears, how did he get in? More, how will he get out?'

Rebraal smiled. 'He's Auum. Duele and Evunn are with him. They'll find a way. They're TaiGethen.'

‘Ihope you're right.'

'Trust me,' said Rebraal. 'Trust him, too.'

'Rebraal?'

The Al-Arynaar leader turned at the sound of his name, Dila following his gaze. It was Izack. Armour dented and blood-streaked but still very much alive.

'Commander, we have much to thank you for. Without you, today could have been much worse.'

'It is worse, believe me.' Izack's face was grim and his eyes darted around, as if the facts he knew confused him.

'How?'

'I've had word by Communion from Lystern. You aren't going to like it.'

Hirad flew from his seat as the guards closed in to take Darrick to the holding cell in the Tower, their swords drawn. His chair squealed across the polished wooden floor and Denser watched him, trying to take in everything at once: the six guards striding towards Darrick from around the left and right of the table; the law mages who had stood as Heryst delivered his verdict; and the rest of The Raven, who shad spread reflexively to defend the condemned man.

'Not one more step,' warned Hirad. He reached for his sword but of course, he was unarmed as they all were. 'You aren't taking him, so back off.'

'Hirad, this isn't helping,' hissed Darrick.

The swordsmen came on. Denser saw The Unknown turn towards Hirad as the barbarian switched his gaze to Heryst.

'Make a new decision. Don't let them make you murder him.' Hirad's voice was a growl, his eyes were bulging and his whole body tensed for action. Muscles rippled in his neck and arms and his breathing had the natural depth of the ready warrior. Denser had seen the danger signs before; they all had.

'Stand aside, Hirad,' warned Heryst. 'You will not obstruct this court's officials.'

'I'll do more than that to any man who tries to take him.' The guards hesitated, looked to Heryst for guidance. 'Hirad, please,' said Darrick. 'Do as he says.' 'You're Raven, Darrick. And this isn't happening.' At a nod from Heryst, the guards made another move. Hirad exploded. He took off at a speed Denser didn't think him capable of any more. But The Unknown was both ready and quicker. The huge shaven-headed warrior met the barbarian square on, wrapping his arms round him and shoving hard, legs braced, feet slipping on the wood floor. The slap of the impact echoing around the hall made Denser wince.