Corwin understood. "I don't know, Justin. But if the mojos really do leave them there'll be nothing in particular to unite them into a common front, warlike or otherwise. Especially since they'll probably flounder around for a while just getting used to the new competition. And if they're broken up into smaller states or factions they're as likely to open trade as to take shots at us."
Justin shook his head. "You're forgetting what they're like. I've seen them,
Corwin, and I know they'll hold the grudge they have against us until their sun burns out. That kind of hate and fear will keep them working together against us, no matter what other competition arises."
"Perhaps," Corwin nodded. "But only if their paranoia level stays as high as it is now."
"Why would it change-?" Justin broke off as a look of disbelief crossed his face. "You mean... the mojos might have been behind that?"
"Why not? We know they can amplify human emotions when they want to."
"But what does it gain them to have their hunters jumping at shadows?"
"Well..." Corwin's lips twitched in a secret smile. "If you were convinced the universe was out to get you, where would you rather live? A city on a plain, or a village in the middle of a forest?"
Justin opened his mouth, blinked... and abruptly laughed. "I don't believe it."
"Well, maybe I'm wrong," Corwin shrugged. "But maybe in a couple of generations we'll find the Qasamans have become a perfectly reasonable society, ripe for trade and diplomacy."
"We can hope so, anyway." Justin sobered and turned again to the window. "It's so hard when the old folks leave the nest."
Corwin laid a hand on his brother's shoulder. "We'll all miss them," he said quietly. "But... well, they're old enough to make these decisions for themselves. Come on, let's get over to the others. Traumatic times like this are what families were made for."
Together, they headed down the hallway.