and looked around the circular table, with its diamond-patterned marquetry and its hollows where the elbows of ages had worn its scratched but polished surface. What decisions had been taken here over the centuries, what great projects had been discussed. History hung in the air; you could all but smell it. But no subject could have been more important than the one about to be aired now.
Doors opened all along the semicircular corridor that bordered the great hall on one side and in came the council. Thirty men and women, expectant but a little anxious at being called from their beds so early. Each took his or her allotted place at the table. Not a one spoke aloud though Heryst could feel the odd surge of Communion as some tried to get a hint of what was to come from friends they thought in higher places than themselves.
‘My friends, I apologise for the intrusion on your rest this morning and for my appearance,’ said Heryst, when all were seated. He had no doubt the fact he was still dusty and sweaty from the road had raised a few eyebrows. ‘But there are things I need to know and you need to hear.’
There was a murmur around the table. Heryst looked to his immediate left, straight into the eyes of his mentor, Kayvel. He touched the arm of the white-haired strong old man, smiled and nodded.
‘It has come,’ he said quietly.
Kayvel sighed, his grey eyes sparkling in the sun and lantern light. ‘And in my lifetime.’
‘And I thank the Gods you are here to advise me.’
‘Speak,’ Kayvel said.
Heryst turned to the council table and spoke.
‘My friends, you will know I am just returned from Dordover. I had thought to seek assurances from Vuldaroq that the conflict at Arlen was at an end before riding to Xetesk to seek the same from Dystran.
‘Instead, I find that we are facing our gravest crisis for hundreds of years. We have suffered animosities and skirmishes in my lifetime but all these disputes were settled by negotiation. What we are facing now, my friends, is war. War between powerful colleges at a time when the very existence of magic is being questioned on Balaia. At a time when surely we should be pulling together to repair the damage magic has done to our land, two colleges seek to rip us all to shreds. All over a dead girl and the information two dying elves can give.
‘Should we have been surprised? Possibly not. After all, we have seen Xetesk and Dordover battle over Lyanna; we have seen Dordover betray Erienne, one of their own, to the witch hunters; and we have seen our own General Darrick so sickened by our liaison with Dordover that he deserted his command. And the results of what Xetesk’s Protector army did to Arlen are there today for all to see.’
‘But is it war?’ A voice sounded from the far side of the table. ‘Could this not be another flexing of muscles?’
‘I rode here and probably killed my horse in the process because it is war. Both colleges want it and we will be swept up in it, whether we like it or not. I fear for us and I fear for Julatsa because I do not believe this fight will end when either Xetesk or Dordover is beaten. The balance of magic will be irrevocably altered and the victor will inevitably desire dominion.
‘Vuldaroq informs me that Xetesk has cleared its refugee camps by riding the people out like animals. They have scattered, many towards the Dord to the north. Some will inevitably come here.
‘Kayvel, I need you to contact our deputation in Xetesk. Make sure they are unharmed and free. Are there any questions?’
He looked around the table. No one spoke.
‘Good. I am going to rest and change. You are going to stay here and begin planning. And remember, if war comes to our borders and our negotiations come to nothing, we may have to defend not just ourselves but Julatsa too.’
The doors at the end of the chamber opened with a crash.
‘My Lord Heryst, council. I apologise but I must speak.’
Heryst stilled the irritated murmur with a hand and acknowledged the head of his mana spectrum monitoring team.
‘Go ahead, Dunera.’
‘My Lord.’ She nodded. ‘We’ve got a problem in the spectrum over Arlen.’
‘What is it?’
‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘But whatever it is, people are going to die. Lots of them.’
‘And the signature?’ asked Kayvel.
‘The mana is in flux, density increasing.