“Leor,” said Huldarion, his voice cool and even. “Leor is what I do not understand. What was he doing up there, crossing the wildland from Outer Kelvha?”
“We could have roamed around for another three weeks and not discovered that,” said Rothir.
“You could roam for a lifetime,” added Tiburé, “and if Leor did not want you to know what he was up to, you would never find out.”
Huldarion looked across at Maeneb, who shook her head. “He has always been obscure to me,” she said.
He looked down again, and laid his hands upon the map spread out across the table. The lower part of it was dominated by the strong blue ribbon of the Darkburn River, which was surrounded by the dark green of the forest and looped around in two great curves before it reached the sea.
There, near to the coast, was the city of Caervonn; Parthenal’s eyes were drawn to it. Not all that far away in miles but still unreachable. The rivers Thore and Borelet were lesser strings of blue, the first running almost straight from north to south, the other winding to the east. To the west, the Pridore gathered up its tributaries as it flowed through Kelvha, accumulating might: just as the Inner Kingdom of Kelvha seemed to gather tributary states around it.
Parthenal watched the scarred hand point to the area north of Outer Kelvha, a scattering of nondescript small towns. The hand was more interesting to him than anything it was pointing at.
“Some of these places are prosperous enough but none are of any military account,” said Huldarion in his unemotional, meditative way. “Why would a stoneman army go up there?”
“Because they could,” suggested Solon, casual as always. As one of Huldarion’s chief councillors he assumed an informality that others seldom did. When the council had gathered in the tent, he had greeted his wife Tiburé with the merest nod.
Thoronal’s nod to Parthenal had been hardly any warmer. Thoronal, who was Huldarion’s cousin and another chief councillor, was also Parthenal’s cousin on his father’s side and nominal head of his family. Parthenal knew well that Thoronal, ten years his senior, did not approve of him, although nothing had ever been said to him outright. He had schooled himself not to care, because Thoronal was an experienced and valuable Rider. That should be all that mattered. Somehow it wasn’t.
Vaneb, as marshal of resources, was also present. Arguril, being a mere junior patrolman, was not. The eight of them standing round the table filled the tent. A sharp autumn wind blew a few dead leaves around their feet.
“As I told you earlier,” Tiburé said sharply, “we don’t know where the stonemen went. We had to guess. We didn’t have the manpower to investigate.” She was the only one of them who would dare to speak so tersely to Huldarion.
Though I would dare, reflected Parthenal, if it were necessary. It is not a question of requiring daring. It is simply that Huldarion is so seldom wrong.
Huldarion looked up at him now, expressionless as always. Even Parthenal, who had known him all his life, found it difficult to read his face, its left side drawn taut with the old scars of his burns. The fire had spared his eye but not much else. Huldarion was the older by three years but also by a dozen years of silently borne pain.
“Parthenal,” he said. “You’re very quiet. What is your opinion?”
Parthenal studied the map and gathered his thoughts. “It was such an unpredictable expedition all round,” he said, “that I find it hard to know what to make of it. Possibly my wits have been slightly addled by the Farwth…”
“It does that,” said Solon, while Maeneb stirred but did not speak.
“...but it seems to me that the stonemen could have had no short-term military objective in heading north. They might have been pursuing Leor, but so many of them?”
“It would need many,” said Rothir.
“But why divide the way they did?”
“To broaden their search,” said Solon. “More chance to cut him off.”
Parthenal shook his head. “If they wanted to cut him off they should have spread out wide and thin. And they were hardly in a hurry; those carts slowed them down. I admit that the smaller group which Rothir followed north-east had no obvious destination, unless they were indeed pursuing Leor: so that is a possibility.”
“But what would Leor be doing up there in the wilderness?” demanded Tiburé.
“Who knows? Who ever understands Leor’s business?”
“The stonemen do,” said Huldarion drily, “according to your theory.”
“Knowing which direction he is taking is a different thing to knowing why.”
Huldarion nodded slightly. “Very well. The other group: the stonemen that you and Maeneb followed. I know you sent out your message warning the towns that lay ahead of them. On Tiburé’s return, we issued dispatches to Kelvha and they ordered some of their own troops up there. Only two companies; they don’t regard that area as of tactical importance.”
“Do they even have jurisdiction that far north?” asked Rothir.
“No. But that wouldn’t stop them interfering if they wished. Anyway, reports from those two Kelvhan companies came back to me this morning.” Huldarion picked up a scroll from the table. “As much as they choose to tell us, at any rate. They count this as a minor incident. They report three villages and a town – Moreva – burnt. An estimate of between fifty and seventy dead.”
“And that’s a minor incident?”
“To Kelvha it is. They didn’t bother to count the bodies. It could have been far worse, but for your warning message. They spoke to a few of the survivors: thanks to you, most of the population got out before the stonemen came. Only the men who stayed to defend the place were killed.”
Rothir sighed. “That’s something, I suppose.”
“It is much,” said Huldarion. “The Kelvhan companies saw no stonemen. One company followed the stoneman army’s trail west to the Outlands; when it was clear it was continuing to head away from Kelvha, they turned round and came home again.”
“The Outlands? But there’s nothing there.”
“Except stonemen, now.”
There was a pause.
“We should go back there ourselves,” said Rothir. “Find out what’s happening.”
“We know what’s happening,” said Huldarion, “we just don’t know why.”
Here Vaneb spoke for the first time, her voice quiet and clear after the stern bass of the two men. “If we went back ourselves, Rothir, it would require a great part of our resources. Two Kelvhan companies is equivalent to a quarter of our Riders. We could empty Thield and leave it unprotected, of course…”
Meaning of course we couldn’t, thought Parthenal. Huldarion was looking at him again.
“You still have something left to say,” Huldarion observed. “You told us that the stonemen could have no short-term military objective. But what about long-term?”
“Long-term is a different matter,” replied Parthenal. “It’s just possible they could overwinter in the Outlands, and in the spring make an attack on Kelvha from the north.”
There was a silence. Huldarion studied him, one finger tapping thoughtfully on the table. Those considering eyes on him made Parthenal’s skin tingle. He hoped he did not show it.
“That would be a long winter,” Huldarion said. “Provisions?”
“The villages that were burnt out – it’s my guess that they ransacked the granaries and store barns first.”
Huldarion nodded slowly. “And harvest fully in,” he said. “But where would the stoneman army stay?”
“The Outland Forts,” said Parthenal.
Rothir threw back his head as if in sudden memory. “The Outland Forts. Why didn’t I think of them? And I was there only a couple of years ago – less than that. They’re still habitable if you’re not fastidious.”
“Stonemen are not fastidious,” said Tiburé. “What were you doing all the way up there?”
“Chasing a rumour that there had been signs of life within the Forts. Fires had been seen from a distance. Parthenal didn’t come with me; it wasn’t deemed all that important, only the word of a wandering shepherd. So I took a few days out to check.”
“And you told me you found nothing,” said Parthenal.
Rothir nodded. “That’s right. I didn’t check all the forts: they go on for miles, in various states of dilapidation.” He brushed a hand across the map. “All the way west to the far mountains. There must be dozens of them, but I only visited the ones closest to the eastern road. No life was visible apart from birds and a few mangy sheep. The earth was trodden down around the forts but the only prints I could see clearly were those of wolves and bears.”
“Bears do not light fires,” said Huldarion.
“No. It’s true I did see signs of fire-making in two places. I put them down to another wandering shepherd.”
“How habitable are the forts?”
“Considering their age – what are they, five, six hundred years old? – they’re surprisingly well-built. The ones I checked had their walls almost entirely intact. Doors and roofs had gone, of course, but you could see the stone brackets for each set of floor beams – at least three levels – and the stone staircases were complete most of the way up.”
“You told me you wouldn’t mind moving in yourself,” Parthenal reminded him. “Put a ceiling in and it would be more comfortable than Thield, you said.”
“I expect I did.”
Huldarion asked, “Are there trees nearby?”
“Yes. Numerous large stands of pine. Not exactly forests, but certainly enough to refurbish a few forts. I saw no signs of attempted refurbishment.”
Huldarion looked at Rothir in a way that Parthenal recognised. He had been on the receiving end of that look too, from time to time. When it happened, it made him feel afraid – not because of any ill-will on his leader’s part, but because Huldarion always understood more than he was told, and then he judged. That they had been friends since boyhood made no difference. Huldarion’s was the only opinion that Parthenal ranked above his own: and his the only judgement that he feared.
“So you put in your report saying there was no cause of concern,” Huldarion said to Rothir.
“Yes.”
“But you thought privately that re-use was possible.”
“I… yes. The forts seem made for it – if there were any point. They’re on the edge of nowhere. It’s not a defensive location.”
“It was once.”
“Evidently. But hasn’t been for centuries.”
Huldarion looked at Parthenal. “And you think the forts may be re-used this winter.”
“There’s nothing else up there,” he said. “No other place the stonemen could hide out. So, yes, I think the Outland Forts may be re-used: not for defence, but for attack.”
He watched the scarred hand place two red tokens on the map, in the area where a number of small squares denoted the Outland Forts.
“So,” said Huldarion. “Thoronal? Your turn.”
Thoronal stepped forward. “Crade and I rode south,” he said, somewhat importantly. “We crossed the Pridore and skirted southern Kelvha, then rode up its western edge.”
“What for?” asked Parthenal.
Thoronal gave him a flicker of a glance. “Stonemen. What else?”
“We’d had reports,” Solon explained, “of troops of stonemen heading out that way. Small numbers but at frequent intervals, driving a few darkburns. They go west and they don’t come back. Kelvha have been too busy with the encroachments on their south-east borders to take much notice.”
“So what are these stonemen doing?”
“They’ve been setting up camps at the upper end of the Pridore, around the caves there,” said Thoronal. “We didn’t retreat until we tracked them down.” Parthenal sensed that this was a pointed comment on his own failure to track the enemy to its destination.
“Again, they have sought a deserted area to camp,” commented Huldarion. He reached forward to place more red tokens on the map. “Now Kelvha has stonemen on its south-west and its north-west flanks. If the group that Rothir followed were to stay in the north-east – and especially if their numbers were added to – Kelvha would then have enemies on three sides: none of them directions from which it would normally expect attack.”
“It would expect it from the south-east,” said Tiburé, “from the Darkburn forest, as usual.”
“Exactly. Kelvha has already been tackling a number of minor incursions – nothing serious as yet; but they seem to expect more heavy attacks from that direction. So if we are right, they will be surrounded on all four sides.”
“And with the snows up north,” said Parthenal, “and the frozen swamplands to the west, it would be almost impossible to prise the enemy out of their strongholds over winter. In fact, it would be extremely dangerous to try.”
Thoronal moved restlessly.
“This is leaping to conclusions, Parthenal. It’s all very well,” he argued, “this talk of wintering here and wintering there as if it were nothing for an army. Food might not be a problem if they’ve been sacking places as they go: and I suppose they can hunt if they run out of supplies. But the cold in the north would be dreadful. Spending weeks in freezing temperatures and darkness? The stonemen would be fatally weakened before they even started their campaign.”
“Cold is not a problem,” answered Parthenal, “if you have darkburns.”
For a moment everyone was silent.
“Kelvha needs to know this,” said Huldarion at last.
“They probably won’t want to listen,” Solon warned.
“They also need to know about the stones,” put in Rothir, “that they repel the darkburns. If that power applies to all the stones the stonemen wear around their heads–”
“Kelvha won’t want to know that either,” said Tiburé acidly, “unless they think it’s their own discovery.”
“All the same,” said Rothir. He seemed about to say more, but fell silent at a movement of the scarred hand upon the map.
“I think we need more proof of that power,” said Huldarion, “before we present it to the Kelvhans as a definite fact. And we also need more definite facts about the stonemen’s current hide-outs. I shall travel up to the Outlands with a company. A small one. It will not require a quarter of our strength to merely scout them out.”
Vaneb bowed her head in acquiescence.
“I should like to be the captain of that company,” offered Thoronal. Of course you would, thought Parthenal, so sure you are of your own claim. Who else would put himself forward in that presumptuous way?
“That will be decided shortly.” But Huldarion looked across at Tiburé. “I would have considered you for captain, Tiburé, were it not that I have another task for you to undertake. And if Kelvha is to be involved we cannot be seen to have a woman in authority.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Is Kelvha to be involved?”
“I hope so. That is where your task will be – in Kelvha City. We need to make sure that Kelvha takes an interest,” said Huldarion, “both for their sake and our own. Kelvha’s forces outnumber ours considerably. At present we are not important to them.”
“But we could be, if we bring intelligence of a forthcoming attack,” said Tiburé thoughtfully. “Especially if we then help them to repel it.”
“Kelvha’s problems are not ours,” objected Solon, possibly just for the sake of disagreeing with Tiburé. “Why should we risk our lives to protect their borders?”
Huldarion gazed down at the map.
“Two reasons,” he said. “Firstly, it is not just Kelvha who will suffer. At present it is not Kelvha at all. It is those outer settlements which have no defence against the stonemen; and I do not wish to stand by while they are ransacked and their people slaughtered.” Parthenal thought that at that moment Huldarion did, unusually for him, betray emotion.
“I agree,” Rothir murmured. “It is what we are for.”
“And the second reason?” asked Parthenal.
Huldarion raised his damaged, now totally impassive face.
“The second reason is Caervonn.”