‘You make it sound as though you’re on your uppers,’ said Talan.

Gresse shrugged. ‘Taranspike Castle is of major tactical importance. The owner negotiates rights of passage through one of the principal routes in and out of Korina. Had I lost it to Baron Pontois, he would have controlled both of my key transport routes to the capital as well as holding land on two sides of my estate. He could have chosen to deny me access or price it out of my reach, either way bankrupting me over time. My best alternative route takes days, not hours.’

‘Unless you chose to take one back by force,’ said Hirad.

‘That is always an option. Expensive but an option.’ Gresse’s face hardened.

‘And yet you’ll sit down with Pontois at the Korina Trade Alliance, ’ said Talan.

‘Yes. Strange, I know, but reality. Such is the malaise of the KTA. The word “alliance” rings very hollow these days.’ There was more than a hint of sadness in his tone.

The table fell silent for a time. The Unknown Warrior studied the Baron while he drank his coffee. The big warrior smiled, Gresse caught his expression and frowned in response.

‘It seems to me that you omitted to tell us any rumours you might have heard,’ said The Unknown.

‘I did, and I have something rather more than rumour, I’m afraid. I have evidence that the Wesmen, far from burning, are subjugating, building and uniting again.’

‘What do you mean, again?’ asked Hirad.

‘I’ll teach you the history later,’ said Ilkar with a shake of his head.

‘How could you—’ Denser bit his lip and closed his mouth.

‘Something to say, Xetesk man?’ Hirad growled.

‘I was merely curious how he came by such information.’ Denser’s recovery was betrayed by a face that displayed his surprise.

‘Everything has its price,’ said Gresse, coolly. ‘Might I ride to Korina with you this morning?’

‘Be our guest,’ said Hirad. ‘Denser’s paying, after all.’

‘Good.’ Gresse rose, shooting Hirad a quizzical look. ‘My party will be ready in, shall we say, one hour?’

‘It suits us perfectly,’ said The Unknown. ‘Gentlemen, The Rookery beckons.’

Erienne and the Captain met in the library. Warmed by two fires and lit by a dozen lanterns, the immaculately kept house of books was testament to his intelligence if not his morals.

Five shelves high, covering three sides of the room, perhaps fifteen by twenty-five feet, books loomed around her. A fire stood either side of the only door. Rugs covered the floor and a reading desk dominated the far end. She had been told to sit in a large green leather-upholstered chair near one of the fires, and when the Captain came in, followed by a warrior carrying a tray of wine and food, he said nothing before setting himself in a similar seat at right angles to her.

She had locked her gaze on the fire to stop her eyes catching sight of him, allowing the light of the flames to mesmerise her, only dimly hearing the clink of glasses, the glug of a pouring bottle and the metal sound of knife on carving tray.

‘Once again, welcome, Erienne Malanvai,’ said the Captain. ‘You must be hungry.’

Erienne let her eyes travel over the tray that sat on a low table between them, surprised at the quality of its content.

‘How dare you offer me that, when the muck you served up for my boys is hardly fit for a dog, let alone frightened young children?’ she said. ‘They will each have a plate of this now.’

She could sense the Captain’s smile. ‘You heard her. Fresh lamb and vegetables for the boys.’

‘Yes, sir.’ The door closed.

‘I am not unreasonable,’ said the Captain.

Erienne’s face was pure disgust. ‘You have taken two innocent children from their homes in the middle of the night and locked them terrified in a cold tower. You have kept me from them and fed them muck I wouldn’t give to my pigs. Don’t talk to me about reason.’ Still refusing to look at him, she selected some meat and vegetables and ate in silence. She poured herself a glass of wine and drank staring at the fire. All the while, the Captain watched and waited.

‘So ask,’ she said, placing her empty plate on the table. ‘I doubt I have any secrets from you.’

‘That would certainly make things simpler,’ said the Captain. ‘I am glad you are being so co-operative.’

‘Don’t feel it’s out of any fear of you or your band of lame monkeys,’ Erienne said haughtily. ‘I care for my sons and any way that I can help them that does not compromise the Dordovan College is fine by me.’

‘Excellent.’ The Captain refilled his glass. ‘I do wish you’d look at me.’

‘To do so would make me nauseous. To utter your name is an affront to my College and to speak with you is tantamount to heresy. Now get on with your questions. In an hour I want to see my sons again.’ Erienne kept her face turned to the fire, drawing comfort from its warmth and colour.

‘And so you shall, Erienne, so you shall.’ The Captain stretched out his legs towards the fire; a pair of scuffed and age-cracked brown leather riding boots moved into Erienne’s vision. ‘Now then, I am becoming very disturbed by the extent to which so-called dimensional investigation and research is damaging the fabric of Balaia.’

‘Well, you’ve clearly been very busy in here, haven’t you?’ said Erienne after a pause.

‘Clever remarks will get you hurt,’ said the Captain, his tone leaving her in no doubt that he meant it.

‘I was trying to say that very few people have any knowledge of the existence of dimensional magics, never mind the potential for their danger.’

‘No.’ The Captain reached down and scratched his left leg, Erienne glimpsing his greying hair, thinning from the crown. ‘Contrary to popular belief, I believe in the value of magic in the right place. But I also understand its dangers because I have taken the time to find out for myself. Meddling with dimensions could, I believe, destabilise the world balance that currently exists.’

‘You’re talking to the wrong College,’ said Erienne.

‘Well, Xetesk mages are just a little harder to come by,’ said the Captain testily.

‘I’d love to say I was sorry,’ retorted Erienne. And at last, she looked at him. He kept his grey hair close-cropped and his beard, which still held flecks of brown, was similarly well trimmed. Skin was sagging under his eyes and his red-patched cheeks and nose were evidence of a reliance on the bottle. He was getting fat, too, as he breasted middle age, a fact which his leather coat and shirt failed to hide. He ignored her sudden attention.

‘But Septern was a Dordovan mage.’

‘We’ve already established that you’ve done your homework.’ Erienne refilled her glass. ‘It also no doubt told you that he’s been presumed dead for about three hundred years.’

‘And there the information ends?’ said the Captain. ‘I was rather hoping a Dordovan Lore Mage like yourself could fill in a few gaps.’

‘And now the misunderstanding is yours,’ said Erienne. ‘Because you assume we have secret texts.’

‘But Septern was a Dordovan mage,’ repeated the Captain.

‘Yes, he was. And a genius. And so far ahead of his time that we still haven’t managed to re-create all of his work.’ Erienne plucked some grapes from the fruit bowl and ate them, spitting the stones into her hand and throwing them into the fire.

The Captain leaned forwards, frowning. ‘But surely he reported his findings. I understood that to be a requirement of every mage.’

‘Septern didn’t live by those rules.’ Erienne sighed as the Captain’s frown deepened. ‘Look, you need to understand. Septern was a throwback to the days before the Colleges split.’

‘So he wasn’t just ahead of his time, he was behind it as well.’ The Captain smiled, pleased at his own joke, revealing lines of brown, rotting teeth set in flame-red gums.