Kard was seated between Kerela and Barras with, running left around the polished marquetry table, Endorr, Vilif, Stefane, Cordolan and Torvis. The outer wall of the room held three open windows which admitted the afternoon light and a mild breeze. Braziers on the opposite wall balanced the illumination and a tapestry at either end, depicting Councils long dead, accorded the room the weight of ages.

‘If you could first detail our strength of warrior and mage, General, ’ invited Kerela. Kard nodded and unrolled a piece of cream parchment.

‘I had a platoon conduct a census. I’m afraid to tell you that it didn’t take as long as I’d hoped.’ Kard took a deep breath. ‘Inside these walls, we have one hundred and eighty-seven mages including yourselves. Yesterday we had over five hundred. Our military strength is hardly better. I now command seven hundred and seventeen able-bodied men, thirty walking, hobbling and lying wounded and a dozen I am not expecting to survive until morning. Four hundred and eight children between a few months and thirteen ran in here along with six hundred and eighty-seven women and three hundred and fourteen men of varying ages and abilities.

‘That’s two thousand, three hundred and fifty-five altogether and yes, that’s a real crowd in here but fortunately the wells are deep and enough of you took notice of my warnings to ensure there is four weeks’ food. After that, well . . .’

Barras’ heart sounded loud in his ears in the shocked quiet that followed Kard’s summation. Every head contemplated the three-coloured table top. No one could bear to catch another’s eye. The braziers blew in the breeze, guttering for a moment.

‘Gods in the ground,’ breathed Torvis, his old, tall and bony frame hunched, his wrinkled face showing all of its advanced years. ‘How big is the population of Julatsa?’

All eyes were fixed on Kard once more. He shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable, looking at them through hooded eyes.

‘Before the Wesmen attacked, including approximations for transients and the absence of mages and the guard sent to Darrick at Understone, there were somewhere in the region of fifty thousand people in Julatsa, actually within the city,’ said Kard. ‘We have less than one in twenty of the population inside the walls of the College.’

Barras put his hands behind his head and leaned back. Kerela buried her face in her hands, while her head shook slowly. Stefane put a hand to a trembling mouth and tears ran freely down Cordolan’s and Torvis’ cheeks. Vilif and Endorr gave no outward reaction, too stunned even to cry.

Kard raised his hands. ‘I understand your sorrow, your shock and your helplessness, but remember that many of our people will have escaped into the surrounding countryside and will no doubt make their way to Dordover and the other Colleges.

‘But yes, we lost many good men in the defence of the city and there will be a significant number of prisoners. It is this that gives us our most immediate problem.’

‘So what can we actually do?’ There was a half-smile on Endorr’s face but no mirth in his eyes. His question ignored Kard’s last statement.

‘Our choice is straight,’ said Kard. ‘Surrender, remove the Shroud and open the gates to the Wesmen, or wait for rescue by Dordover and other forces unknown.’

‘Surrender is absolutely unthinkable,’ said Kerela. ‘To open the gates would be the end of Julatsa as a centre for magic and probably of all of us too. I ask you, how many of you around this table believe the words of Lord Senedai?’

‘We will be walking out to our deaths,’ said Seldane. ‘You know the Wesmen feeling for magic.’ There was a murmur of agreement around the table.

‘And if no help arrives in four weeks?’ asked Torvis, his eyes recovering a little of their twinkle.

‘I will, of course, work on escape plans with my senior staff, but you should know now that any escape will be bloody and must include us all,’ said Kard.

‘Not an escape, a break-out,’ said Torvis.

‘Yes.’ Kard managed a smile. ‘It will be a question of concentrating our efforts on the assessed line of greatest weakness. One reason why that tower they are building must be destroyed. Any moves we make have to be secret until the gates roll open. I’ll leave that to you. But there is something we must face with more urgency and it may sway the mood of the people within the walls.’

‘Surely they are happy they are alive,’ said Seldane.

‘Oh, I have no doubt that’s true,’ said Kard. ‘But most of them have loved ones outside the walls somewhere, either dead, in the wilds or imprisoned. Earlier, Senedai spoke of employing further pressure to force our surrender and the removal of the Shroud.

‘He has already lost enough men in the Shroud to understand its impenetrability and deadliness. I don’t want to spell this out, so I’ll ask you this. If you wanted us to remove the Shroud and surrender and you had several thousand prisoners in your hands, what would you do to put pressure on us?’

Septern’s return through the rip had been one of unbridled rage and the incongruity of it all still made Sha-Kaan’s mind fill with mirth. Septern had not been particularly tall for a human, perhaps only a little more than five and a half feet in Balaian terms. Sha-Kaan, by comparison, despite his youth, had at the time stretched more than eighty-five feet from snout to tip of tail. He had since grown to be well in excess of one hundred and twenty feet and was among the largest dragons still flying. More crucially, he was still almost as quick as he had ever been.

Septern had tumbled from the gateway, brushed himself down, seen Sha-Kaan immediately and had begun berating him and his kind. A Vestare doing the same would have been killed or at the very least expelled for insubordination. He’d pointed behind him repeatedly as he spoke.

‘Why don’t you go through and see what your beloved, what is it, “Brood”, has done? You have demolished a peaceful and beautiful civilisation with your damned fire and your damned jaws. How dare you assume the right of life or death over people in another dimension? How dare you? Well, I have seen to it that you will never do the same in my world. And none of your bastard murderous Brood will ever see the Avian dimension again by my hand. I just pray enough survive to rebuild what you have taken from them.

‘You are not the Lords of the world, only your own dimension, though I fail to see how destroying everything in your path makes you anything other than mindless animals. How can it possibly aid you to destroy innocent people? Well? Lost your power of speech, have you?’

By this time, Septern had been standing toe to snout with Sha-Kaan as the dragon rested on the ground, head pillowed on leaves and grass, wings furled, tail curled along the length of his body and under his long, slender neck. He had fought back the desire to punish the impudence of the human, keeping in mind how vital he might be to the Kaan’s survival and development.

Behind Septern, four Kaan, all that had survived the battle with the Skar in the Avian dimension, flew from the swirling brown depths of the gateway, victory calls echoing across the devastated land of Keol.

He recalled as if it was the day before, their next exchange.

Sha-Kaan waited until they had gone, scanned the sky, sniffed the air for signs of any Skar and began to talk, having pulsed a message to his most immediate Vestare to attend him.

‘I will tell you three things,’ he said. ‘My name is Sha-Kaan of the Brood Kaan, your world is not at risk from my Brood and you must curb your tongue because others of my kind are not as forgiving as I am.’

‘Forgiving? Don’t make me laugh. You call that slaughter through there forgiving too, do you?’

‘I call it survival,’ said Sha-Kaan, using the gentle tone he knew calmed anxious Vestare.