‘As far as I trust any Xeteskian.’
Laryon smiled. ‘It is all I can offer.’
‘Then it will have to do. But a word of warning. If The Unknown dies and you can’t explain why to Hirad in terms he’ll understand, you’ll find the result the same as if you hadn’t helped in the first place.’
‘Thanks, Ilkar,’ said Denser, sighing. ‘More wine, anybody?’ He refilled their glasses.
‘Quantify the risks for me,’ said Erienne.
‘Quantify, no. Postulate, yes,’ replied Laryon. ‘Firstly, it is only technically possible to repatriate a soul, and then only by channelling it through the DemonChain. We do not know what damage it might incur. We also have no idea whether the soul will volunteer to return or what harm prolonged suppression of total consciousness will have done. We are merely guessing at the system shock when the DemonChain is broken and the body is once more under its own control. Don’t forget, he was dead.’
Ilkar looked across at The Unknown. He was watching them. Or perhaps the DemonChain was listening and watching through him. As always, his eyes, hooded by the mask, gave nothing away.
‘A return to death would be preferable to what he has now,’ said Ilkar.
‘I tend to agree,’ said Laryon. ‘Denser? We must prepare. But first we must assess the situation with our friend Nyer. Denser, if you would contact your Familiar?’
Denser nodded and closed his eyes.
The cat shifted suddenly in Hirad’s lap, waking him from his doze. He sat up in his chair and looked out of the window. It was late afternoon and the sun was losing some of its strength, allowing a breeze to cool the fields. Hirad could see one of the farm hands working a plough away in the distance, and closer to home, the sounds of work echoed to him from the barns and outbuildings.
He glanced back at the cat, starting as he met the eyes of the demon.
‘Don’t do that!’ snapped Hirad. The Familiar smiled and chuckled, a hollow rattling that had nothing to do with humour. ‘What is it?’
‘They are coming. We must be ready to leave here.’
‘Denser?’
The Familiar shook its head. ‘Those who would have Dawnthief. We must be ready.’
Styliann gathered his thoughts as he looked around the hostile table. With the Wesmen already close to the Bay of Gyernath and nearing Understone Pass, he couldn’t afford to lose the support of the Colleges. And while he was furious with the actions of Nyer’s mage, Denser, he was equally livid with the actions of the Dordovan mage who had begun the trouble.
‘The unfortunate events—’ Vuldaroq snorted. Styliann stared him down before continuing, already biting back the reply his heart demanded - ‘in Dordover a few days ago have forced us to reveal to you something we wanted to remain secret for a while longer.’
‘You didn’t trust us?’ asked Heryst, no malice in his tone.
‘I felt that certain likely reactions at too early a stage would have jeopardised Balaia,’ said Styliann.
‘And you expect me to accept that your rape of my crypt was therefore justified?’ The voice was quiet but brimming with poison. Styliann kneaded his brow for a moment before replying, choosing to look the Dordovan in the eye when he did so.
‘The answer to your question has to be yes, but permit me to qualify that answer. Under any circumstances other than these, there is no doubt our action would have been different.
‘It is also true that before we authorised the action we took, lengthy consideration was made of the potential ramifications as we saw them. The manner of your discovery of our actions is deeply regretted.
‘It is also true that we believed that informing you of the impact of our actions would have been unwise and divisive.’
Vuldaroq nodded slowly, his face red, his jaw set. He leaned back in his chair, one of its wings hiding his face.
‘Lengthy consideration,’ he said. ‘Deep regret.’ He brought his face back into the light. ‘One of my mages died.’ He let the word hang in the air above the table.
‘Hmm.’ Styliann settled into his chair. He took a sip of water and read the notes written by his aides. They agreed with his line of argument. ‘Tell me, Vuldaroq. Why did he die?’
‘Because he tried to stop the rape of our crypts.’
‘Is that what he was doing? My understanding is a little different. Perhaps you would like to explain to the meeting how kidnapping and imprisoning a Familiar as bait for its master’s trap was supposed to help him achieve this?’
‘I am not some child caught doing wrong,’ snapped Vuldaroq. ‘Do not treat me as such. Our mage was murdered by your bastard Familiar, let us not forget that.’
‘Very well. I am prepared to concede that this was the end result. But I think we owe Barras and Heryst a complete view of the events leading to the unfortunate circumstance. I would hate them to feel they could not continue to lend their support to the alliance because of a misunderstanding.’
‘What is there to misunderstand?’ Vuldaroq was dismissive. ‘It is hard to misunderstand murder.’
Styliann’s eyes flashed and he made to rise. An aide pressed a hand on his arm and he relaxed.
‘What I fear,’ said Styliann carefully, ‘is that our colleagues might not realise that the Familiar was taken outside the walls of your College—’
‘It was still in the City,’ growled Vuldaroq.
‘Is that a crime?’ countered Styliann.
‘It was part of a—’
‘Is that a crime?’ repeated Styliann, his voice rising.
Vuldaroq’s scowl deepened. ‘No. It is not.’
‘Thank you for that clarification. I would also be unhappy unless I told our colleagues that the Familiar was merely an observer, that Denser was placed in woodland some distance from Dordover and that he would never have entered the city but for the kidnap of his Familiar.
‘Now I do not expect anyone to condone our theft, but I do expect everyone to understand its necessity and respect that we planned to take the ring quietly, peacefully and without using mages from any College but Dordover. Violence only occurred because of the actions of a maverick mage who suffered the inevitable consequence of caging a Familiar that was subsequently set free.’
There was a furious scribbling of notes all around the table. The delegates huddled and whispered while Styliann looked on.
‘Do you disagree with Styliann’s description of the events?’ asked Barras following his consultation.
‘The Familiar was removed from outside the College walls,’ conceded Vuldaroq. ‘But don’t forget that at this time, our grounds had been penetrated by two unauthorised individuals.’
‘I’m afraid your timings might be slightly awry.’ Styliann’s smile was laced with contempt. ‘The two members of The Raven you are talking about witnessed the kidnap from their position outside the walls.’
‘While they plotted an illegal entrance.’
‘Their actions are not disputed,’ said Heryst, his gentle voice cutting across the tension. ‘The actions of your College are.’
‘We are the victims here!’ Vuldaroq stood and slammed his fists on the table.
‘In that the ring was taken, yes, you are.’ Heryst shrugged. ‘But you are basing your objection to Xetesk’s actions on the death of a mage. A mage who kidnapped a Familiar from outside the College walls.’ He leaned into the light, a half-smile playing about his lips. ‘The first crime of the evening was committed by Dordover.’
‘Your point being?’ Red-faced, Vuldaroq wiped sweat from his forehead, his shoulders sagging slightly.
‘His point being that we have two separate incidents that you have intertwined. One Styliann has confessed to and given reasons for. The other, regrettable though it was, appears to have been instigated by a Dordovan, brought a Xeteskian and his Familiar to the College where they would otherwise not have been, and resulted in inevitable consequences.’