The three swordsmen spanned as many generations. Their blades were dull with neglect, their clothing shabby and patched cloth and fur. Auum could see hardship in their eyes and the effects of starvation in the slackness of their stances, their bony hands and hollow cheeks. He moved again and the swords were raised. He thought hard, fighting for the word in Balaian. He had heard one of the strangers on ship say it.

Auum pointed again. 'Help.' His mouth twisted as he pronounced.

The face of one of the men darkened, he mouthed a stream of gibberish and gestured threateningly with his sword. To Auum's right, Duele tensed but immediately relaxed as his leader made a minute movement with his hand. Auum knew he should back away but his decision was made, and unless he was very much mistaken he knew how the injured man had become so. And he was unused to being baulked.

He pointed a third time. 'I, help.' And he made to take a pace left. Immediately, one of the swordsmen stood in his way. His blade moved too close. Auum stepped inside his guard, blocked the sword arm away and smashed the base of his palm into the man's chest, knocking him from his feet. Another of the men moved but Auum's gaze stayed his action.

'Keep an eye,' said Auum to Duele. 'I will see if we were right.'

He walked over to the group around the injured man, ignoring the threatening raised voices.

The instinctive bunching around their fallen comrade loosened as Auum approached the two women and a man. He waved them aside, speaking the word again. Whether they understood him or not was unclear but he certainly scared them enough even though he was still unarmed.

He ignored their worried, angry stares and knelt by the man's head, moving the bloody cloth to reveal a trio of deep gashes torn down the left side of his head. Another set had flashed across his chest but these were not as deep and the bleeding not bad. ClawBound.

He turned to Duele, who stood easily in front of the uncertain swordsmen; the one Auum had knocked down had regained his feet and was rubbing at his chest. Nothing would be broken, he hadn't hit him hard enough.

'The ClawBound's minds are not yet clear,' said Auum. 'The panther has hurt this man but they aren't killing blows, just warnings.'

'These are not from Xetesk, then?'

Auum shook his head. 'They have no magic. Look around. They're barely alive. And scared. You can see how this could happen.'

The TaiGethen had no feelings whatever for these strangers but it was important to sense the mindset of the ClawBound. It gave them a problem. If this was typical, then the peerless trackers would be unpredictable, even a little careless, as had been the case here.

Auum unslung his sack and took out his herb pouches. He broke off some legumia bark, stood and walked away to the fire that burned in the centre of the settlement. Water in a pan bubbled on it and he scooped out a mugful, dropping the legumia into it to soften and infuse. He knew they were all looking at him. They amused him, these strangers who presumed themselves superior to forest-dwelling elves but knew nothing about how to bathe a wound and stop infection at its source. A bloody cloth rinsed in a stream would do more harm than good.

Walking back to the man, he cast around for some clean material, in the end pointing at a scarf around one of the women's necks until she shakily handed it to him. He dipped a corner in the hot water and wiped away the blood from the man's face and chest to expose the edges of the wounds. They would scar badly but he was lucky. He was alive. Then he took out the bark, tore it into fine strips and laid it over the wounds, hushing the fledgling protests. He beckoned one of the women to him, took her hand and pressed it against the bark, pointing up at the sky with his other and indicating one passage of the sun. She nodded.

'Let's go,' said Auum, rising and shouldering his sack. 'The ClawBound isn't far ahead. Perhaps we can stop any more of this until we find our enemies.'

He led his Tai from the settlement, the stunned stares of the strangers on their backs, their silence breaking into a confused babble and fading with the distance.

Heryst had just finished another long and difficult Communion with Vuldaroq and had woken shivering with exertion. Heryst thought he had made it clear to Vuldaroq that his position remained one of defence and negotiation unless he was attacked but the Dordovan would not listen. He was annoyed Heryst had refused to sign a full alliance and he meant to drag Lystern into the war regardless of her wishes. For that he had to tempt Xetesk into Lysternan or Julatsan lands.

Heryst had been particularly explicit concerning engagement. Commander Izack was to defend Lysternan land and to block any attempted hostile incursions by Xetesk into Julatsan territory. Nothing else. Heryst was aware of the rising tensions and had recently ridden out to reassure his own men and warn the Dordovan field command. But every day Dystran refused to speak to him, war came closer. Vuldaroq would ultimately get his way. A mistake would be made. For Heryst, it was like waiting for the death of a mortally wounded friend. This time the friend was peace for Balaia.

He barely had time to gather his thoughts and take in the spring shower rattling against the windows of his chambers when there was the sound of footsteps outside, a sharp rap on the door and someone, it had to be Kayvel, entered. He was red in the face and breathless.

'My Lord, I have a report from Xetesk.'

Heryst's heart was suddenly thumping in his chest. His thoughts became instantly clear.

'Never mind the niceties of reporting, Kayvel. Tell me the outcome. '

'Dystran,' he said. 'Dystran wants to talk to you about sharing research. Apparently his people are on their way home.'

'Yes!' Heryst slapped the arms of his chair and surged to his feet to grip Kayvel's shoulders. 'I knew it. Dammit, I knew it! When?'

Relief cascaded through Heryst and the fatigue of the last dozen days melted like ice in a flame. Now there was hope, genuine hope. And Vuldaroq could be made to listen.

'As soon as you are able,' said Kayvel.

'For this I am able right now.' Heryst sat back in his chair. 'Signal our delegation that Dystran can commune immediately he is ready. He has my signature and I am waiting. Likewise the Dordovan delegation. Tell them what is happening. Vuldaroq must be informed immediately.

'Oh, and Kayvel. Have my aides monitor the mana spectrum and my MindShield. I do not trust Dystran as far as I can throw him.' Dystran's voice entered Heryst's mind gently and expertly, with due deference and respect.

'My Lord Heryst, there has been silence between us for too long.'

'Not at my behest, Lord Dystran, but I welcome your decision to contact me at this most difficult time.'

'Before we begin, may I offer my heartfelt sympathy for the loss of the Lysternan negotiator, Rusau. A most unfortunate incident.'

Heryst bridled but bit down on his response. 'Though you are not personally to blame, your forces killed him. He was an innocent man.'

'Indeed it was a Xeteskian pike but you must see it was an accident. We had no axe to grind with Lystern, so to speak. And we still do not.'

'Even though we have made informal alliance with Dordover?' Heryst was prepared to let the matter of Rusau's death drop for now. Blame could be correctly apportioned at a safer time.

'It was a decision we regretted,' said Dystran carefully, and drew a deep breath, knowing it would boom and echo. It was a curious acoustic anomaly of Communion. 'And it has been one reason for my continued silence though you are aware that we have not detained any Lysternan or indeed any other college official inside Xetesk.'