Rwyan said, “That’s already made.”
“Only hear me,” he asked. “Do you refuse the demands of the Raethe, you know the outcome.”
Rwyan said, “That was made plain enough.”
Urt hesitated a moment, staring at the pond. I saw the pebbled bottom, trout drifting there, stationary in the current as their pale eyes scanned the surface, awaiting insects. I envied them their simple lives. Urt faced us again, and in his eyes I saw only sincerity and concern. I wondered if he dissembled.
He said, “I told them as much, but I discharge my duty-I was ordered to speak with you of this, and that I’ve done. I can return with clear conscience.”
I said, “Then have we aught else to say?”
I put it curt and got back a look of rueful reproach. “Daviot, you’ve reason enough to doubt me, but I am your friend yet. I’d find some way around this that shall leave you both unharmed.”
I asked him bluntly, “Why?”
And he gave me back, “For Durbrecht. Because I’ve no liking for Allanyn’s ways; no lust for war.”
I began to speak-to scorn him, to accuse him of treachery-but Rwyan touched my arm and bade me hold silent. I obeyed.
He smiled his thanks. “Had Allanyn her way, you, Rwyan, should be already emptied by the crystals; and you, Daviot, slain.”
Rwyan said, “But you delayed that course.”
I asked again, “Why?”
“Aye.” Urt nodded briefly to Rwyan. To me he said, “For sake of our friendship; because I loathe her methods.”
I frowned and would have spoken, but Urt raised a hand to silence me. “We’ve not much time and much to say.” He smiled a crooked grin. “Nor am I altogether trusted-Allanyn may well send watchers ere long. So do you hear me out and after judge whether we be still friends, or no?”
Rwyan touched my hand, urging I agree: I nodded.
“There are two factions within the Raethe,” Urt continued, “of which Allanyn’s is the greater. Born here she was, and she’s filled with the power the crystals give. No Changed sorcerer was ever stronger than Allanyn, and too many fear her. I suspect she’s crazed, but still she’s the ear of the many who would take her path.”
“Which is?” asked Rwyan.
Urt said simply, “War. Allanyn and her followers would ally with the Sky Lords to destroy you Dhar Truemen, or make of you what you made of us-servants.”
“And the Sky Lords?” I asked. “Are they not Truemen? Shall they be only your allies and nothing more?”
He answered me, “The Sky Lords would take back Kellambek for their own, no more. They’ve dreamed of that for centuries-a holy quest to regain their homeland-and the agreement made is that they shall have Kellambek, we Changed the rest.”
“And you?” I asked him.
“I’d see my fellow Changed shed their bonds,” he said. “I’d see them equal to you Truemen. Was that not once your thought, Daviot?”
I looked into his dark eyes and could only nod. “But not through bloodshed,” I said. “Not by war.”
He said, “Perhaps there’s no other way. I think there are not many Truemen think as you do.”
I said slowly, “No. But even so … war? Do the Sky Lords mount the Great Coming, the Changed rise-Dharbek should run red, and Changed and Truemen bleed and die alike.”
Soberly, he said, “Yes. And so I’d find some other way-if there is another way. I and a few like me, who’ve little love for Allanyn’s path. Does Allanyn prevail, I think the world shall not be better; only turned on its head. Where Changed now are, there’d be Truemen. And no doubt they’d plot to overturn it all again. I think that way should be only bloodshed, unending.”
I said, “War should be a great undertaking, Urt. Could the Changed hope to win?”
“Allanyn believes we should,” he said, “and she’s command of our army. Does she have her way, the Sky Lords will attack across both the Fend and the Slammerkin. Do they overcome the Border Cities, then we Changed shall march south whilst our kin in Dharbek rise. The slaughter would be terrible, I think.”
I asked, “How should your kin know when to rise?”
He smiled. “You know we communicate?” And when I nodded: “There’s more to it than you suspect, Daviot; and you’re likely the only Trueman to have understood so much. I’ve not the time to explain it all now, but …”
He paused, hesitant again, looking a moment at the pool where the trout rose hungry. Then: “Do you trust me?”
It was a blunt question, demanding a blunt answer. I said, “I don’t know, Urt.”
Hurt showed in his eyes, but then he shrugged. “Why should you? Perhaps, though, I might convince you. I think I cannot now, with words, but perhaps with another way.”
I frowned, waiting. I scarce dared allow the little spark of hope his words kindled.
He said, “Tonight I’ll come to you with all the proof I can give; I can do no more.”
This puzzled me. “And am I convinced?” I asked. “What then?”
He laughed: a short, sad bark. “I know not. I can see no way to thwart Allanyn, to avoid war. Perhaps when you’ve all the knowledge I can give you … perhaps you’ll see some way.”
Rwyan said, “You speak for peace, Urt?”
He thought awhile, then ducked his head and said, “I’d free my kind, but not at cost of their lives. Neither do I believe all Truemen are evil. This world of ours must change, but I cannot believe Allanyn’s is the way. Even though I see no other.”
Rwyan surprised me then, for she asked what seemed to me a very strange question in these circumstances. She said, “Urt, do you dream?”
He looked no less startled than I. His eyes narrowed, framing a question of his own even as he nodded.
Rwyan said, “Of what?”
He paused before he answered, as if the recollection were not altogether pleasant. I thought he braced himself before he said, “Of dragons, sometimes; of riding the skies with those creatures. You and Daviot with me. I feel, sometimes, they call me. I see their eyes, as if they sat in judgment.”
Rwyan laughed and clapped her hands. “The pattern! By the God, it’s the same dream.”
Urt stared at her as if he thought her mad. Some lesser version of that doubt crossed my mind, too-I’d looked only to comfort her with those musings, not taken them so serious myself. But now … now I began to wonder. Slowly, I said, “We share that dream. I’ve known it, and Rwyan; Tezdal, too.”
“But there are no dragons left,” he said. It sounded somehow like a catechism. “I remember in Durbrecht, Daviot, that you spoke of them.”
“And was laughed at,” I said. “But even so, those dreams return, time and time again. And even when we were parted, Rwyan shared them; then Tezdal. Now you.”
His expression was blank, empty of understanding. “Do you explain?”