‘Good,’ she said, not approaching too close. ‘They are anxious to meet you. They didn’t understand your reaction.’
Erienne stared at Ren’erei, a frown on her face. ‘Then I take it they haven’t spent much time around children recently. You have explained, I presume.’
‘As far as I could,’ affirmed Ren’erei. She smiled. ‘They have changed into more formal clothing.’ She turned to go. ‘When you’re ready, just come out. I’ll be waiting.’
‘Thank them for not intruding into our minds. That was thoughtful, ’ said Erienne.
‘They may not understand children but they aren’t without conscience. Don’t let the way they look affect your ideas of who they are.’ She closed the door quietly behind her.
‘If there had been any other way, I would have taken it,’ said The Unknown. He was at the doorway to his house. It was mid-afternoon. Out in the street, Denser was astride his horse, agitated, his mood communicating to the light brown mare who shifted her hooves, unable to remain still.
‘You’ve made your position quite clear,’ said Diera, her face red from tears, her hair rough-tied in a tail that trailed over one shoulder. Jonas was inside. She hadn’t wanted him to see the parting.
‘Diera, it’s not like that. Think how I’d feel if it were you and Jonas. I’d expect the same of them.’
‘Oh, I understand your damned honour and your damned code. What about the promises you made to me?’ She hissed her words, not wanting Denser to hear.
There was no answer to that. He was breaking his word and the knowledge of it tormented him. Yet it had seemed at first that she understood and their love-making had been tender and passionate. He had lost himself within her, never wanting the feeling to end and yet, lying next to her, basking in the afterglow, his head above her, his hand caressing her breast, her tears had warned him it would be no gentle goodbye. Their shouts had wakened Jonas and it was only his cries that broke the argument and brought them ultimately to this cold exchange.
‘I cannot excuse what I do but I cannot apologise for it either,’ said The Unknown, reaching out a hand. Diera pulled away. ‘I couldn’t refuse him just as he couldn’t refuse me if you had disappeared. ’
‘But you never really considered saying no, did you?’ The Unknown shook his head. ‘You haven’t stopped to think about what you leave behind and you ride off to reform The Raven.’ She spat the word out as if it left a bad taste in her mouth.
‘Because they . . . we are the best. Together, we have the best chance of finding Erienne and Lyanna and all coming back unharmed. This isn’t for money, Diera. I owe Denser my life, you know that.’
‘And what do you think you owe me and Jonas? Nothing?’ Her expression softened a little. ‘Look, I know why you’re leaving. It’s why I love you.
‘But you didn’t ask me, Sol. It feels like my opinion isn’t important. You made promises to me and Jonas, and though you don’t want to walk away from them, you are. And the thought that you might not come back at all is breaking my heart.’ She gazed deep into his eyes. ‘We are your life now.’
‘What would you have me do?’ he asked.
‘Whatever I may feel, I do understand you. I would have you go and I will take comfort that should I ever encounter trouble, The Raven will help me. But I would also have you think about me and Jonas before everything you do. We love you, Sol. We just want you back.’
She moved forward and held him tightly and he was surprised to find tears on his cheeks. He clutched at her back, his hands rubbing up and down it.
‘I will come back,’ he said. ‘And believe me, I never do anything without thinking of you. And your opinion is important. It’s just that I never had any choice that you could influence.’
Diera put a finger to his lips, then kissed him. ‘Don’t spoil it now. Just go.’
He broke away and mounted his horse, turning it towards the north and Julatsa. And as he spurred the animal on, Denser following close behind, he prayed to the Gods that he would see her again.
Vuldaroq sat at the centre of a long table. Flanking him, four to either side, were the humans and elves who made up the Dordovan Quorum.
In front of them stood one man, tall and proud, a semi-circle of fifteen College guards behind him. The small auditorium was chill, but not because of the icy wind that howled outside. It was the aura that bled from the man and the repugnance in which he was held that cooled the room. He was the most hated of men among mages and he was standing on the hallowed ground of Dordover, his wrecked face displayed now his hood was thrown back, the black tattoo on his neck a symbol of his reviled beliefs.
His arrival at the College gates had triggered a flurry of activity, culminating in the hastily arranged meeting; abhorrence of the individual was outweighed, at least temporarily, by incredulity and a desire to learn what had brought the man to a place from which he could never hope to leave.
‘The risk you take is unbelievable, Selik,’ said Vuldaroq. ‘Indeed, I’m amazed you aren’t dead already.’
‘Lucky for you that I’m not,’ said Selik to snorts of derision from the Quorum, his speech slow, thick and incomplete, the result of his horrific facial injuries.
Vuldaroq studied Selik’s features and could barely suppress a smile of satisfaction. The left-hand side of his face appeared as if it had been smeared by the careless swipe of a brush on wet paint. The bald eyebrow angled sharply down, the sightless eye beneath it milky white and unmoving. The cheek was scored as if by the drag of heavy claws and it pulled the mouth with it, forcing Selik to speak through a perpetual sneer. It was a fitting expression, completed by left side upper and lower jaws slack and devoid of teeth.
And all caused by the spell of a Dordovan mage. It had been believed that Erienne’s IceWind had killed the Black Wing and number two to Captain Travers but somehow he survived it and the fire that The Raven had laid in the Black Wings’ castle. And with him the Witch Hunter order. Less numerous now but no less zealous.
‘I can never envisage a time when your not being dead would be lucky for any Dordovan mage,’ said High Secretary Berian, his face curling into an unpleasant smile.
‘Then envisage it now,’ said Selik. ‘Because, like it or not, we are after the same thing.’
‘Really?’ Vuldaroq raised his eyebrows. ‘I would be fascinated to know how you reached that conclusion.’ A smattering of laughter ran along the table. Selik shook his head.
‘Look at you, sitting there so smug it nauseates me. You think no one is aware of what you do yet I know you have lost a great prize and you want it, her, back. And I am the only one who can really help you. And help you I will, because in this quest we are in accord. This magic cannot be allowed to prosper or it will destroy us all. I know the direction of their travel and I know at least one of those who helped them.’ He stopped, studying their faces. Vuldaroq could taste the silence his words engendered.
‘Got your attention now, haven’t I? The Black Wings see all and always will. Remember that, O mighty Quorum of Dordover. As you are well aware by now, the Al-Drechar are no myth; we just don’t know where to find them. But if we work together, we will, believe me.’
‘Your front is extraordinary as is your blindness, if you think for one moment that we would suffer to join forces with Black Wings!’ Berian’s face was contorted and red with rage. ‘Have you taken leave of what remains of your senses?’
Selik shrugged and smiled, a grotesque leer on his ruined face. ‘Then kill me and never learn what we know. The trouble is, you haven’t the time to risk me being right after killing me, have you? Late at night in Dordovan taverns, your mages are not always as discreet as you might wish. Much has reached our ears and it is very interesting. Very interesting indeed.’
‘But you haven’t come here to exercise your altruistic streak, have you Selik?’ asked Vuldaroq. ‘You want something. What is it?’