“It would be easier if we did it now!” Before our mounts are starving, before some gaggle of hedge knights goes into revolt, before this so-called Alliance shatters into a million shards. He ground his teeth to keep the words behind them; if Ivrulion was loyal to anything but himself, it was not to Runacarendalur. I lost all hope of his loyalty when I told him I’d never live to rule. The thought was bitter, but far from new.
“You won’t argue me to your side now any more than you could before; stop trying,” Ivrulion said patronizingly. “Would you feel better if I told you the idiotic ‘council’ is as little inclined to follow my suggestions as it is to follow yours?”
“And you our father’s pet!” Runacarendalur jeered. “I’m shocked, Prince Ivrulion, I truly am.”
The horses had slowed to a walk now. Runacarendalur glanced behind him. The army was tiny with distance. I’ve probably already covered as much ground as it will all day, he thought in frustrated anger.
“All I say is—” Ivrulion broke off sharply.
Runacarendalur glanced quickly around, searching for some movement, some enemy. There was nothing. Then—
“What’s that?” he asked, gesturing toward the trees.
“A problem,” his brother answered grimly.
They spurred their horses forward again.
“I don’t believe— How could she—?” Runacarendalur sputtered.
“If by that you mean to ask ‘Did Lord Vieliessar’s army come this way?’ the answer is yes,” Ivrulion answered. The undisguised irritation in his voice would have cheered Runacarendalur at any other time.
“How?” he repeated.
“Magic,” Ivrulion said shortly.
“Helpful,” Runacarendalur answered. “Look at this forest, ’Rulion,” he said, so shaken he forgot Ivrulion was his enemy. “Even if every single Landbond she has did nothing but chop at tree trunks morning till night, they couldn’t clear the half of this in a moonturn.”
They’d ridden to the break in the scrub Ivrulion had spotted. Beyond it, a broad, shining path of undisturbed snow led into what should have been dense forest. The corridor stretched straight as a bowshot until distance narrowed it into invisibility. They turned their horses into it. There must be tree stumps beneath the snow—surely there must!—so Runacarendalur sent Bentrain forward at a cautious walk, but the ground beneath the stallion’s hooves seemed smooth.
“Fortunately for her, she has Lightborn with her as well,” Ivrulion snarled. He reined his palfrey to a halt and swung down to wade through the snow-crust to the edge of the trees, then stopped and began digging. “Here. One of Niothramangh’s boundary stones. No wonder she vanished.”
“You’ve been tracking her?” Runacarendalur asked.
Ivrulion gave him a venomous look. “We didn’t have to. We could follow her Wards. A fortnight ago they seemed to disappear. The obvious assumption was that they’d decided to hide themselves. Obvious—and wrong.”
“Why not do both?” Runacarendalur asked.
“You can’t be as stupid as that question makes you sound,” Ivrulion said flatly. “Haven’t you been listening to anyone these past sennights? Or did you simply think you weren’t getting hot baths out of some perversity on the part of the Caerthalien Lightborn? There have never before been so many Lightborn gathered together in such a small area. Between her Lightborn and ours, the Light in Niothramangh is nearly gone. It will be moonturns, even years, before there’s enough of it here to draw on again.”
“But her Lightborn didn’t change their spells,” Runacarendalur said. “They simply crossed the bounds.”
“I knew you weren’t actually stupid,” Ivrulion said in tacit agreement. “And once they had … You cannot feel it, but I can: there is a Flower Forest here more vast than any in all of Jer-a-kalaliel. Untapped.”
“And that gave her Lightborn the power to do … what…?”
Ivrulion sighed heavily and walked back to his palfrey. “Transmutation, I suspect. Probably to sand; that’s what I’d do, if I had the power of a thousand Lightborn to direct as I chose and a wild Flower Forest to draw on. The tree becomes a heap of sand, her army rides over it, the snow covers it, there’s no trace she’s been there. Or reverse the spell afterward, and you have a heap of sawdust. They won’t lack for charcoal.”
“That’s … disturbing,” Runacarendalur said.
“Isn’t it?” Ivrulion said, swinging himself into the saddle once more. “Because I have no idea what’s in this direction, and no one else does either. What I do know is they had an easy passage over ground favorable to their wagons, so whatever’s there, she’s much closer to it than we are.”
“There isn’t anything out there,” Runacarendalur said, shaking his head. “Everyone knows that.”
“‘Everyone’ isn’t a madwoman being directed by an ancient prophecy,” Ivrulion answered, turning his mount back the way they’d come. “Come along, dear brother. We must tell Father what she has done.”
“We follow her of course,” Gallanillon Teramarise said flatly.
Runacarendalur moved to stand at Lord Bolecthindial’s shoulder, from which vantage point he could study the map that covered most of the table. It showed only the Uradabhur, from the Mystrals and the Dragon’s Gate in the west to the Bazrahils and the Nantirworiel Pass in the east. A line drawn between the two passes was a line drawn through the center of the valley. South of the Dragon’s Gate, the Southern Pass was also marked. But a line drawn due east from the Southern Pass was a line that passed through … nothingness.
“Into a trap, as I’m sure you meant to add, my dear Gallanillon,” Girelrian Cirandeiron said. She made an ostentatious show of settling herself more comfortably at the circular table. There were nearly forty people gathered in the gigantic War Pavilion, most standing. “Of course, perhaps you meant to say something else?”
“We’ve followed her this far—what’s changed?” Lord Gallanillon demanded belligerently.
“What’s changed is that there’s a Flower Forest beyond that border—as Ivrulion Lightbrother finally deigned to tell us,” Lady-Abeyant Dormorothon of Aramenthiali said.
“Do you imply I knew of it earlier?” Ivrulion asked.
“I? I imply nothing,” Dormorothon replied artlessly. “I only remark it is a great pity you could not be bothered to send anyone across the bounds before now. But I have long said the training under Helegondolrindir Astromancer was not all it should be. Celelioniel was her chosen successor, after all.”
“Then perhaps I am mistaken in believing Aramenthiali also saw no reason to do so. Or perhaps you did, and did not think it worth mentioning,” Ivrulion answered quickly. “Certainly that is to be expected from Aramenthiali—since the training under Famindesta Astromancer was not all it should have been.”
“Insolent Caerthalien whelp!” Dormorothon spat. “I should—”
“This gains us nothing!” Lord Bolecthindial shouted.
“Except to remind us Caerthalien breeds spineless cowards and fools,” Consort-Prince Irindandirion of Cirandeiron purred.
“Brave words, when you know you cannot be called to account for them,” Runacarendalur snapped.
The whispers and murmurs that had been private asides rose in volume as the War Princes and their consorts began to hurl accusations and demands at one another. Ivaloriel Telthorelandor and Ladyholder Edheleorn sat quietly, waiting. Runacarendalur could never look at them without remembering that Ivaloriel and Edheleorn were Bondmates. It always irritated him.