What has this to do with Tilot’s arguments? Consider this: prompted to look outwards and beyond our easy assumptions by the events of the past few years, scholars of Vanam have discovered aetheric magic hidden among the Mountain Men and Forest Folk both, well hidden from prying eyes. If we of Ensaimm and the other erstwhile western provinces of the Old Empire are indeed descended from the Plains People, how is it that we have no recollection of such lore? Alas, I fear the secrets of the Plains magic were scattered on the wind as the nomads fell beneath Tormalin blades. As the re-emergence of Artifice holds out its intriguing promise, I am surely not the only one to mourn such a loss.

You’re either bored or plotting something.” Sorgrad studied me after looking round my door to find me sitting cross-legged on my bed.

“Bored,” I said with a rueful grin. I was playing an idle game of runes, one hand throwing against the other. “No one’s overly inclined to gossip with me.” I’d done my best to be helpful and friendly after another strangely assorted breakfast but none of the women about the keep would give me more than a couple of words.

I threw a cast of runes on the bed and totted up the score out of old habit. With the Sun dominant, dagger hand had the Reed, the Pine and the Chime beating the off-hand’s Horn, Drum and Sea.

“They’re just jealous.” ’Gren peered past his brother’s shoulder. “With you so devastatingly beautiful and this shocking shortage of men.” He sighed in mock regret.

“Where did you sleep last night?” I asked as I put away my rune sticks.

“Next to me and snoring fit to shake the bones that guard our homeland,” Sorgrad replied with faint malice.

“I could have tucked up a pretty girl five times over.” ’Gren shook his head. ”But my so-chaste brother here thinks it better we keep ourselves to ourselves.”

“Five would be a record, even for you.” We were walking down the corridor now. “Why does a runt like you get welcomed like Halcarion’s best idea since sex itself?”

’Gren stuck his tongue out at me. ”Because they’ve lost four ships since Equinox, all hands drowned, all thanks to Ilkehan according to the word at the wellhead.”

I winced. “That’s a lot of widows and orphans.”

“A drain on Olret’s resources just when he lacks strong arms and backs to get the hay cut and the harvest in.” Sorgrad shrugged. “Ilkehan’s not stupid.”

“He will be when he’s dead. Do we have a plan yet?” ’Gren looked eager.

“There’s a chunk of rock towards the northern end of the strait between here and Ilkehan’s territory.” Sorgrad smiled. “It used to be part of Rettasekke and Olret’s been wanting it back for some while. He’ll attack while we take a boat to the northern end of Kehannasekke.”

I frowned. “Which leaves us with a cursed long walk, if I’m remembering the map right, over barren land at that.”

“The central uplands are passable in summer, according to Olret.” Sorgrad was unconcerned. “Anyway, we want to give Ilkehan a few days to send all his muster off to fight and leave his keep unguarded.”

“But how do we get to kill Ilkehan?” demanded ’Gren.

“There’ll be time enough to work that out as we travel.” Sorgrad shot his brother a piercing blue look. “Your feet are always running faster than your boots.”

And if we made our plans as we went, I thought, no one here could betray them, by accident or design.

“You don’t plough a field by turning it over in your mind,” ’Gren retorted. But he dropped the subject as we found Olret in the main hall with Ryshad and Shiv poring over a map on the long table.

“I’ll gather men and boats here and here.” Olret stabbed a finger at the parchment. “We can attack tomorrow.”

“Then we leave today.” Sorgrad looked at Ryshad.

I ducked under Ryshad’s arm, sliding a hand around his waist as he nodded to Sorgrad. “Well soaped is half shaved.”

Olret frowned with what could be suspicion or just bemusement at that particular piece of homely wisdom. “So soon?”

Ryshad hugged me before leaning forward to trace a finger down the broken mountains that formed Kehannasekke’s spine. “That’ll be hard going. The more time we have in hand the better.”

“How long will you be fighting Ilkehan?” demanded Sorgrad. “If you’ve driven him off those rocks before we’re barely halfway there, we’re all but lost.”

“Or if he drives your lot into the quicksands,” added ’Gren, all polite helpfulness.

Olret scowled at him. “We will not be driven back.”

“All the more reason for us to be ready to strike as soon as possible,” Ryshad said firmly.

Shiv was still studying the map. “Could you send some other boats fishing or something, at the same time as we set out? They’ll draw any curious eyes away from us.”

“Maedror can arrange that while he finds you a boat and crew,” Olret grudgingly conceded.

Sorgrad shook his head. “We’ll row ourselves. If we’re caught, we’ll take our chances. If your people are taken, that tells Ilkehan you’re helping us.”

“We don’t want to bring any more trouble down on your people,” said Shiv earnestly.

Olret’s face twisted with resentment. “Ilkehan thinks himself so powerful, so untouchable.”

“We’ll show him different,” ’Gren assured him blithely.

“We’ll get our gear, while Maedror arranges a boat.” Ryshad’s respectful courtesy left Olret with no option but to summon the guard waiting warily by the far door. By the time we’d packed up our few possessions and returned to the great hall, Maedror was waiting.

“The master will meet us at the water’s edge,” he said shortly as he handed us each an oilskin-covered bundle. I found mine contained bread and dried meat as he led us out to the stone jetties where an anonymous hide-covered boat bobbed gently at a tether.

Instead of his earlier ill temper, Olret greeted us with a smile. I wondered if it was as false as my own. “You have been my guests for so short a time but know that I value the friendship you offer.” He spoke loudly enough for the curious, pausing in their incessant fish gutting, to hear. “As you depart, I offer gifts in earnest of our future hopes.”

Ryshad and Shiv each got a braided wristlet of pale leather, threaded through beads of dark red stone.

“We call it Maewelin’s blood.” Olret offered similar wristlets to ’Gren and Sorgrad. “The tale has it that the Mother cut herself shaping such sharp mountains.” He chuckled and we laughed dutifully at the pleasantry.

“Does it hold any virtue?” I nearly said Artifice but caught myself just in time.

“Not beyond its beauty.” Olret looked puzzled. “But it loses its lustre unless it sees the sunlight, which we take as token of the Mother’s blessing within it.” He had a pendant on a single thong for me but I stopped him putting it over my head with a deprecating smile. “May I look?” No one puts something that might strangle me around my neck. I studied the red stone glowing in the bright sun, veins of green and yellow teasing the eye as they disappeared into the piece skilfully shaped to resemble the closed bud of a flower. “It’s beautiful.” I put the thong around my neck with a suitably grateful beam.

“We should leave before those boats get too far away to give us cover.” Ryshad pointed to others already cutting through the water, most with oars, one larger with a single square-rigged sail of ruddy leather. They were heading southwards down the strait towards the dark line scored by a broken row of sandbanks and rocky outcrops rising barely higher than the water. With a final bow to Olret we took up the places we’d become used to in the boat that had brought us here.

“Keep close in to shore,” Shiv ordered as Ryshad pushed us away from the jetty. Sorgrad gritted his teeth and hauled in his oar, ’Gren doing the same beside him.