Isana turned back to the Icemen and walked over to face Sunset again. She calmly lowered the bloodied cloth, and felt a slow warmth spread down her cheek. She very deliberately allowed her discomfort and annoyance to show on her face and in her bearing and stared at Sunset.
The older chieftain turned his gaze on Red Waters, and Isana felt a sudden, uncomfortably sharp spike of disapproval. Red Waters evidently felt it even more intensely than Isana had. He swayed slightly under the force of it and took a step back to stand beside Big Shoulders again, radiating a mild sense of chagrin. Amusement flowed around the circle of Icemen.
The Icemen, Isana realized, had just had their own version of the scene that had played out between her and Aria. Sunset had slapped Red Waters down-and the entire time, they never spoke. They hardly moved.
On an impulse, Isana opened her cloak and spread her hands, demonstrating that she was obviously carrying no weapons.
Sunset studied her for a moment, then nodded and passed his bone club over to Big Shoulders. Then he offered her his enormous, shaggy, claw-tipped hand.
Isana laid her own into it without hesitation, exactly as she would to convey her sincerity to another watercrafter. Whatever empathic sense the Icemen used, however it was done, it was obviously just as formidable as her own abilities, even though different. She wasn’t afraid that Sunset would harm her. The level of emotional control he had exhibited in conveying his displeasure to Red Waters was humbling.
His enormous hand enfolded hers gently, the claws never touching her skin. The Iceman watched her, expressionlessly.
“I have come here to seek peace between our peoples,” Isana said, allowing her feelings to flow down her hand and into Sunset’s grasp. She felt a brief urge to giggle. It was entirely possible that the Aleran arrogance that Doroga had warned her about was in play again. What made her suppose that she would be able to hide her emotions from the Iceman?
Sunset took a deep breath and bowed his head. A brief tide of emotion washed over Isana, every bit of it as real to her as if it was her own; grief, mainly, a sense of loss and regret that had grown to maturity over slow years. But mixed with it was fierce exaltation, weary relief-and tiny, painfully intense sparkles of hope.
“At last,” Sunset said aloud. “Your people send a peace-chief.”
Isana felt tears washing down her face, stinging painfully as they entered the cut on her cheek. She nodded mutely.
“This will not be easy,” Sunset told her. “Too much…” A surge of anger hit her, Sunset’s own, though it was under his control. The gentle grasp of his hand never wavered. “Too much…” He flashed another emotion at her: suspicion, and more than that-the expectation of betrayal.
“Yes,” Isana said quietly. “But it is necessary.”
“Because of the enemy attacking you,” Sunset said calmly. “We know.”
Isana stared at him for a moment. “You… you do?”
He nodded. “For three years, we have pressed you here, hoping that the enemy would weaken your people in the south. Force you to send your Wall-guardians there to defend your food lands and that your folk would follow and leave us in peace.”
And suddenly, Isana understood the attacks of the Icemen of recent years-why the winter storms and howling hordes had always arrived at precisely the correct time to pin the Legions of the north in place. Many folk, she knew, had feared collusion between the Icemen and the Canim-but it had been neither a mindless assault nor a sinister plot. It had been part of a considered campaign.
“That enemy has changed,” Isana said. “You do not know this.”
“One enemy or another.” Sunset shrugged. “It is of little matter to us.”
Doroga spoke for the first time. “It should be. Listen to her.”
“The foe that comes against us now is not a nation. It does not seek land or control. It is here only to destroy utterly anything that is not itself. It has attacked us without warning, hesitation, or mercy. It will not speak with us of peace. It slaughters innocents and warriors alike-and it will do so to any other than itself whom it meets.”
Sunset regarded her for a moment. Then he said, “Until today, I would have said that your people are little different. Many still would.”
“This enemy is called the Vord. And when it finishes us, it will come here for you and your people.”
Sunset looked at Doroga.
The Marat nodded. “And for mine. The Alerans caused your tribes to set aside your differences. They were a greater enemy. Now comes another enemy-one who will destroy us all if we do not lay our differences aside.” Doroga leaned on his cudgel and spoke intently. “You must permit them to withdraw in peace. To let the Wall-guardians travel south and battle our mutual foe. And to leave their people here in peace.”
Sunset stared at Doroga for a time. “What have your folk decided?”
“To let the Alerans fight,” Doroga said. “My people cannot defeat the Vord-not now. They are too many, too strong. You know that my people have no love for the Alerans. But we will not attack them while the Vord are abroad.”
Red Waters spat, “So we should let their warriors leave, but not drive their peoples from these lands? So that when the battle is done, their warriors return and take up their arms again?”
Sunset sighed. He looked from Red Waters to Isana. “He has a point.”
Isana frowned and looked at Red Waters, searching for the right words.
Araris stepped up beside her and bowed slightly to Sunset, then to Red Waters. “My people have a saying,” he said. “Better the enemy you know than the enemy you don’t.”
Red Waters stared hard at Araris for a moment. Then Big Shoulders let out a bark of laughter that was startling in how human it sounded. It spread around the circle of Icemen until even Red Waters shook his head, his rigid demeanor relaxing somewhat.
“Our warriors have that saying as well,” Red Waters admitted. He nodded at the blood, now freezing into scarlet crystals, on the tip of his harpoon. “But what peace-chiefs say is not always what war-chiefs do. Let us see your warriors depart. Then we will speak again of peace.”
“Antillus and Phrygia will never agree to that,” Lady Placida murmured. “Never.”
“You come to us asking us for peace,” Red Waters said. “But you offer us nothing.”
Isana met Red Waters’s eyes. “It seems to me that peace is not a gift one can give away. It can only be exchanged in kind.”
A sharp pulse of approval came from Sunset.
Red Waters answered him with a surge of sadness and caution.
Sunset sighed and nodded. He turned back to Isana, and murmured, “As I said. It will not be easy.”
“Too much anger,” Isana said. “Too much blood.”
“On both sides,” Sunset agreed.
He was right, Isana thought. Certainly, Lord Antillus had been less than willing to accept the possibility of peace. The most he’d been willing to believe possible was that he could shake the Icemen up, disrupt them enough to send a single Legion south-
The steady, buzzing hostility of the Shieldwall hummed against Isana’s senses.
She had a sudden, horrible suspicion and every Iceman in the circle around her suddenly became more alert.
“Lady Placida,” she said quietly. “Can you tell me if there are any Knights Aeris aloft?”
Aria arched a pale copper eyebrow. Then she nodded, closed her eyes, and lifted her face to the snowy skies. A moment later, she drew in a sharp breath. “Furies. More than a hundred. Every Knight Aeris under Antillus’s command. But why…” She opened her eyes wide, suddenly, staring around at the assembled chieftains of the Icemen.
“Sunset,” Isana said, “you must leave. You and your people are in danger.”