‘Dystran,’ he said. ‘Dystran wants to talk to you about sharing research. Apparently his people are on their way home.’
‘Yes!’ Heryst slapped the arms of his chair and surged to his feet to grip Kayvel’s shoulders. ‘I knew it. Dammit, I knew it! When?’
Relief cascaded through Heryst and the fatigue of the last dozen days melted like ice in a flame. Now there was hope, genuine hope. And Vuldaroq could be made to listen.
‘As soon as you are able,’ said Kayvel.
‘For this I am able right now.’ Heryst sat back in his chair. ‘Signal our delegation that Dystran can commune immediately he is ready. He has my signature and I am waiting. Likewise the Dordovan delegation. Tell them what is happening. Vuldaroq must be informed immediately.
‘Oh, and Kayvel. Have my aides monitor the mana spectrum and my MindShield. I do not trust Dystran as far as I can throw him.’
Dystran’s voice entered Heryst’s mind gently and expertly, with due deference and respect.
‘My Lord Heryst, there has been silence between us for too long.’
‘Not at my behest, Lord Dystran, but I welcome your decision to contact me at this most difficult time.’
‘Before we begin, may I offer my heartfelt sympathy for the loss of the Lysternan negotiator, Rusau. A most unfortunate incident.’
Heryst bridled but bit down on his response. ‘Though you are not personally to blame, your forces killed him. He was an innocent man.’
‘Indeed it was a Xeteskian pike but you must see it was an accident. We had no axe to grind with Lystern, so to speak. And we still do not.’
‘Even though we have made informal alliance with Dordover?’ Heryst was prepared to let the matter of Rusau’s death drop for now. Blame could be correctly apportioned at a safer time.
‘It was a decision we regretted,’ said Dystran carefully, and drew a deep breath, knowing it would boom and echo. It was a curious acoustic anomaly of Communion. ‘And it has been one reason for my continued silence though you are aware that we have not detained any Lysternan or indeed any other college official inside Xetesk.’
‘It has been noted.’
‘But, after taking considerable counsel, I understand the reasons for your action: we are nominally stronger, we have been blamed for the death of a neutral in battle and Vuldaroq is a very persuasive man. Very. For a man who only three seasons ago made an alliance with the Black Wings.’
‘I am aware of Vuldaroq’s past misdemeanours. As I am of Xetesk’s,’ said Heryst. ‘It was a despicable and unseemly act for any mage, born out of desperation, but the destruction caused by the Nightchild speaks in defence of his actions.’
‘Your General Darrick did not agree,’ said Dystran smoothly.
‘Neither did I,’ said Heryst. ‘And our cool relations since then testify to my unhappiness. I, however, prefer to look forward as, I hope, do you.’
‘I apologise, Lord Heryst; this was not the reason for my contact.’
Heryst chuckled, forcing himself to relax. ‘I should hope not.’
‘Our research on Herendeneth has revealed some fascinating possibilities which I am very happy to share with all other colleges.’
Heryst was taken aback. ‘Your actions in Arlen, which I abhor, do not support such a statement,’ he said. ‘You have ignored the rules of engagement and that cannot be forgotten. But that can be left for another time when the threat of wider conflict is gone. What are your conditions for sharing the information?’
‘They are few and simple. I require the immediate cessation of hostilities towards Xeteskian forces and the withdrawal of Lysternan and Dordovan forces from our borders.’
‘Anything else?’
‘I would like leave to call a Triverne Lake meeting at a time of my choosing when we have had a chance to evaluate the research of our mages.’
Heryst paused before replying. ‘Vuldaroq will refuse. He will not withdraw on a promise from you, a man he is unable to trust.’
‘In that case you can guarantee my mages’ passage to Xetesk yourself. You do not need Dordover.’
‘I am looking to reduce threat to Lystern, not increase it. I cannot
do this without Dordover’s consent. I’m sure you understand. And I can’t agree to Xetesk having exclusive first sight of the research.’
‘And what is your alternative?’
‘That your mages prepare and present to a four-college delegation at Triverne Lake at the earliest opportunity and before they come to Xetesk. And my forces must travel with your researchers as a sign to Dordover that you are genuine. That might mollify Vuldaroq. If your ambition is to share all that the Al-Drechar have revealed, surely that is a reasonable request?’
‘At first sight, yes,’ said Dystran. ‘But I believe there are issues with some of the information. Potentialities not necessarily being realities, work that needs more translation from ancient magics . . . I could go on.’
‘We are all capable of aiding in such an analysis,’ said Heryst.
‘Even so, I am advised that a few days’ examination by key experts in Xetesk will be of great benefit to us all.’
‘Meaning you personally?’ Heryst could well imagine the smug expression on Dystran’s face.
‘I flatter myself that I have more detailed expertise on the subject of dimensional magic than most,’ said Dystran.
‘And is it your understanding that what is coming will help repatriate the Kaan dragons?’
‘Signs are most encouraging,’ evaded Dystran. ‘But, as I say, some expert analysis is still required before we can present effectively.’
‘Right,’ said Heryst, drawing in breath expansively. ‘I will discuss your offer with Vuldaroq. He will refuse it and we will be back to square one. My offer of secure passage to Triverne Lake is one you must take more seriously. Otherwise the war will go on.’
‘Thank you for hearing me,’ said Dystran. ‘I will confer further with the Circle Seven.’
‘We can resolve this, Dystran. As long as we are all prepared to give a little. The question really is, do you want to see an end to this war?’
‘It is my dearest wish.’
‘Keep it so,’ said Heryst, and carefully but firmly, he broke the Communion.
Lystern’s Lord Elder mage sat with his eyes closed for a time, mulling over everything he had heard and considering how he would broach Dystran’s offer to Vuldaroq. When he opened his eyes, Kayvel was standing waiting.
‘He’s wavering,’ said Heryst. ‘Or he’s lying. Either way, we may have room to move peace a tiny step forward. But I have to make both him and Vuldaroq concede ground. But I suppose it’s progress of a sort. At least there is discourse. And now I must confess to a little tiredness. Wake me for supper and I’ll brief the council.’
The Raven rode from Blackthorne on a sunny morning with cloud far to the north. Hirad had not slept well. Beside him rode Ilkar, an elf and one of his oldest friends, under a sentence of death.
‘Can I ask you something, Ilks?’
Ilkar turned to him, his sombre face lifting a little. ‘Would it make any difference if I said no?’
Hirad shook his head. ‘How does it feel to be you? Your next heartbeat could bring on the Elfsorrow without warning. Not sure I’d deal with that too well.’
‘Thanks for reminding me,’ said Ilkar.
‘I’m sorry, Ilkar. I—’
‘I’m joking. Not a moment goes by when I don’t think about it. The point is, I have to live with it and being scared isn’t going to help. Best I can do is everything I can to repair the statue and stop this thing. And meanwhile I live every day as if it was my last.’
‘I think the whole of Blackthorne heard you and Ren treating last night as if it was your last.’
‘Hirad, do you mind?’ It was Ren from just behind them.
‘Those corridors didn’t half echo, you know,’ said the barbarian, revelling in Ilkar’s deep blush.