St.-Mere-Abelle. If Prince Midalis makes an appearance, we will destroy him. If not, then let us secure the whole of the southland, the mother abbey included. Our position will only be greater in that event should the prince come south."
"And what of the eager DePaunch?" De'Unnero asked, doing nothing at all to hide his continuing contempt for the young upstart.
"I will see to him," said Aydrian. "Along with his victory in the gulf, when Pireth Tulme is ours, St.-Mere-Abelle will be completely isolated.
As will Prince Midalis. Time works against the prince, not for him. Even those peasants who might have supported him have warmed to the thought of King Aydrian, no doubt."
"They are a fickle lot," Duke Kalas agreed with a derisive chortle, a sentiment that was shared by everyone in the room.
The now-formidable armada of Prince Midalis swept out of Vanguard harbor, sails full of wind. Sleek Saudi ]acintha centered the fleet, her prow smoothly cutting the dark waters while the heavier, stolen Honce-the-Bear warships bounced and splashed along beside her.
The spirit of Aydrian, hovering over the gulf waters, wasn't nearly as surprised that the efficient prince had so quickly turned the ships back out as he was to discover the trailing fleet of Alpinadoran longboats.
So, Midalis had made some allies in Vanguard.
Any thoughts that Aydrian had harbored of sending the rest of his fleet out from Palmaris to confront the prince flew away now, in light of the size and strength of this armada. When the young king's spirit had flown past Pireth Dancard, to see the charred skeletons of three warships and the tip of the mast of a fourth one, sunken in the bay, he had easily deduced the source of that disaster. His subsequent scouting of the island, to see that Earl DePaunch and the rest of his soldiers were still ashore, had made it fairly clear to Aydrian that the rest of the missing fleet had likely been stolen.
And here they were, sailing south from Vanguard, stacked with enemies of his crown.
In a way, Aydrian was glad to see the force moving against him - finally he knew the intentions of Prince Midalis. And given the size of the fleet, he knew, too, the general size of Midalis' force. Fifty boats, most of them longboats and only nine heavier warships.
Not more than five thousand warriors.
The young king wished that he could become a more substantial physical force at that moment, a great gale to circle behind the armada and fill their sails even more. Not to sink them, but to urge them on, to push Midalis more swiftly to the coast of southern Honce-the-Bear.
Then it would be over and he would be unopposed.
His pleasant musing was sharply interrupted, though, as a wave of energy overcame him. Suddenly, Aydrian's corporeal form seemed so much farther away, almost unattainably so! Panic welling, the young man soared back to his body in Entel, and rushed into it, coming awake and gasping repeatedly.
Gradually, he calmed and realized what had happened, and he forgave himself his moment of panic and misunderstanding.
He wasn't used to losing.
He recognized that sunstone antimagic had defeated him. Certainly it was easier to put up a sunstone antimagic wave than to utilize the spirit- walking ability of the soul stone. Even a much weaker gemstone-wielder could defeat the latter with the former.
Still, someone had noted his intrusion, it seemed, and he had been nowhere near to the fleet of Prince Midalis. Someone on the decks of one of those ships was apparently quite familiar, and proficient, with gemstone magic.
"Mother?" Aydrian asked slyly into his empty room.
At the front rail on the prow of Saudi Jacintha, Pony looked out at the dark waters and let the salty breeze blow through her hair. She had come up here alone to meditate on all the circumstances surrounding her, to consider the course of Dasslerond more completely, and now the attempts by Juraviel to help her put things aright.
To consider the man standing on the deck behind her, Prince Midalis, and the desperate gamble they were all now taking to try to find some weakness in the growing strength of Aydrian.
To consider Aydrian, her son, so lost and wayward, so wrongly guided.
And to consider Elbryan. Had it been a dream, a delusion wrought by weakness and agony? Had she really descended into the realm of death when she had been shot by that arrow along the waters offshore of Pireth Dancard? By all common sense, she knew it had