The silence and darkness shifted again, and the consciousness knew itself.
It separated from the silence and darkness.
I am Isloman. A carver. From Pedhavin, in Orthlund. Slain by the Alphraan defending… Trying to defend…
Pain.
… failing…
More pain.
Something touched the pain and it was gone.
Rock song; faint, but close. And the smell and feel of rock. Against his face, under his hand.
His hand?
And the other hand?
It tightened around the scabbard of the black sword.
Hawklan’s sword! It must not be lost!
Isloman’s awareness rushed in upon him and, with a start, he rolled over and opened his eyes. A flood of images rushed in on him. Torchlight and moving shadows formed an unfocussed, ill-shaped background. But immediately in the foreground, a dark silhouette bent over him, hand extended.
Isloman raised his left arm to protect himself, but the figure caught it and laid it aside.
‘It’s all right, Isloman,’ Hawklan said. ‘It’s all right.’
Loman clattered down stairs and along corridors, struggling to keep up with the fleet-footed young apprentice who had brought him the message. At his side ran Athyr. Yrain, troubled by her foot, fell increas-ingly behind, accompanied by a reluctantly sympathetic Gulda.
It was a long journey, deep into the heart of the Castle, but each time they slowed down to a walk, the boy looked at them anxiously. ‘Master Ireck said I was to ask you to hurry,’ he would repeat after about a dozen more leisurely paces. Thus both men were breathing heavily when they came upon Ireck and a group of others waiting in the hall in which the weapons were being temporarily stored and which marked the entrance to the labyrinth.
Loman made straight for Ireck.
‘I hope this is as urgent as your little messenger here made out, Ireck,’ he began crossly. He was about to tell Ireck that the meeting he had interrupted was impor-tant, but immediately regretting his initial irritability, he reached for a threat at once more dire and less serious. ‘Gulda’s coming,’ he said, flicking his thumb over his shoulder.
But Ireck’s face was grim, and showed a mood im-pervious both to Loman’s anger and his levity.
Loman began again. ‘What’s happened?’ he asked seriously.
‘We can’t get near the labyrinth, to collect the weap-ons,’ Ireck said simply.
‘What do you mean?’ Loman said.
‘Just that,’ Ireck said, frowning abstractedly at this response. ‘We can’t get near it. Sounds are coming out of it… it’s spreading… reaching out.’
Loman looked at him and then across the hall. The neat stacks of weapons stood clear and glittering against the ominous gloom of the labyrinth’s columns at the far end, like a field of golden, sunlit sheaves waiting under summer thunder clouds looming darkly on a near horizon.
He scowled, disturbed by Ireck’s vagueness. How could they not reach the weapons? They were only paces away. But Ireck had received a severe shock by the look of his face, and anyway was not a man given to hasty comment.
Loman cut through his own conjectures and, with-out comment, strode off towards the weapons. He felt Ireck’s hand brush his sleeve briefly as if to stop him. ‘Be careful,’ came his anxious voice.
Halfway towards the weapons, however, Loman needed no warnings. Crawling around his feet he felt the whisperings that were characteristic of treading too near the edge of the pathway through the labyrinth.
He stopped, and the sound of his footsteps mingled with the whispering and rose up around him mockingly. He felt his chest tighten and his mouth go dry with fear.
Slowly, face contorted with expectation, he placed another foot forward. A watchful expectancy came into the sounds hissing around him, and he seemed to feel a myriad tiny fingers plucking him forward. Horrified, he withdrew his foot quickly. A strange moaning sigh filled the hall, and he heard the group behind him shuffling further away.
Very cautiously, Loman stepped back until the whispering faded away. Then he stood motionless, his flesh crawling and his hands and face clammy.
Behind him he heard the group respectfully greeting the arrival of Gulda.
Without turning round, he said, ‘Memsa,’ hoarsely. He heard the soft clump of her stick on the hall floor as she approached, then he felt her dark form appear by his side. But his eyes did not waver from the waiting columns.
‘What is it?’ he said, still without turning.
Gulda moved forward a little, tapping her stick thoughtfully on the floor, then she walked to and fro across the hall just in front of him, her head craning forward, listening intently.
After two such patrols she clicked her tongue, then, without comment, returned to Ireck and the others. Loman moved after her, walking backwards for a part of the way, loath to turn his back on this frightening new manifestation.
‘Are you all right?’ Gulda said to Ireck.
‘Yes, thank you, Memsa,’ he replied. ‘I think so. But it was a nasty shock. I just walked straight into it.’ He slapped his hands together to demonstrate the impact. ‘I can’t remember how I got out now. I must have staggered back.’
Gulda looked at him carefully and took his arm gently. ‘It’ll take you a little time to recover fully,’ she said. ‘Perhaps a day or so. But the effects will fade, believe me.’ Ireck nodded, almost reluctantly, Loman thought.
‘When were you here last?’ Gulda went on.
‘Two days ago,’ Ireck replied after a moment’s thought. ‘We moved those from over there.’ He pointed to a wide gap in the nearest row of weapons. ‘There was nothing wrong then that I noticed, though I didn’t go near the labyrinth.’
Gulda nodded. ‘Has anything strange happened here recently?’ she asked. ‘Anything at all.’
Ireck shook his head. ‘Nothing,’ he said. Then, as an afterthought, ‘There were some children in here when I arrived. I’d forgotten that, but they… ’
Loman caught Gulda’s eye. ‘Children?’ he said, inter-rupting. ‘Whose?’
Ireck nodded and then shrugged. ‘I didn’t see them,’ he said, adding, slightly flustered, ‘Well I did and I didn’t. They were playing in here, then they hid when I came in, and scuttled off when I was distract… ’ He stopped suddenly and his eyes opened in realization. Slowly he pointed towards the centre of the stacked weapons.
‘They were over there,’ he said anxiously. ‘Right over there. Crouching down.’ He turned to Gulda. ‘How…?’
She squeezed his arm reassuringly. ‘What distracted you, Ireck?’ she asked.
Ireck told her of the voice, and Gulda questioned him gently. No, he’d no idea who it was, or where he’d gone, or what he’d wanted. But the position of the playing children dominated his concern. ‘It… this change… must have happened immediately after they left,’ he concluded. ‘They couldn’t possibly have been so far into the hall otherwise. But I didn’t hear or see anything.’
Gulda affected indifference. ‘Children are children,’ she said offhandedly. Then, briskly, ‘Re-order your day, Ireck. You’ll move nothing from here today.’
‘But what are we going to do, Memsa?’ Ireck asked anxiously. ‘What’s happened? We need more weapons. I doubt we’ve enough upstairs for all our training needs, and even with these here there won’t be enough for any large distribution. We have to be able to get into the Armoury. We… ’
Gulda patted his arm affectionately, and turned him towards the exit. ‘Yes, you’re right, Ireck,’ she said. ‘We do have a serious problem here, but it won’t affect us immediately, and not all our training is weapons training, is it? The important thing is that we mustn’t allow this to interfere with our overall intention, must we?’
Ireck nodded, but looked doubtful. He folded his arms as if to protect himself from something. ‘It’s a bad feeling, Memsa,’ he said. ‘The Castle turning against us like this.’
Gulda’s face became stern. ‘It’s not the Castle, Ireck,’ she said forcefully. ‘Trust me. The Castle’s protecting us as it always has and always will. Never think otherwise.’
She turned to the rest of the group, before Ireck could voice any doubts. ‘I think I know what’s happened here,’ she said. ‘But I have to think about it. And I have to talk with Loman. When that’s done, then we’ll all talk and decide what to do. In the meantime, we must continue with our work. Nothing must deflect us from that.’ Her piercing blue eyes scanned her listeners, defying any argument.
As the group left, she instructed Athyr to accom-pany Yrain to Tirilen. ‘The silly girl’s foot needs attention,’ she said. ‘And there’s nothing you can do here for the time being. Tell Tirilen that it’s important I have Yrain fit and well again as soon as possible. I’m afraid we may have a rough time ahead of us, and I want no weak vessels with us.’
Then she turned to Yrain. ‘Last chance, girl,’ she said with a sudden power and grimness that made even Loman start. ‘You do exactly what Tirilen says. And start now learning to listen. Either that or school yourself to the idea of making your contribution from your village infantry group.’ Yrain’s brow furrowed and her mouth became a tight, rebellious line. Gulda bent forward towards her, blue eyes terrible. ‘You should know by now I don’t speak just to hear my own voice, girl. Your scatterbrained notions of independence are going to get someone killed eventually. Someone, perhaps, that you’re fond of. Someone, perhaps, that I’m fond of, and… ’ Her voice faltered slightly. ‘I’ve lost enough already. We all stand on each others’ shoulders round here. In future, if you’ve any bright ideas of your own, spit them out so that we can all debate them, otherwise be under no illusions, you are out.’
The last three words were articulated slowly and came out like dagger thrusts. Yrain, already pale due to the pain in her foot, went paler still under Gulda’s onslaught. Her mouth worked vaguely, as if she were searching for words, but all she managed was a very faint, ‘Yes, Memsa,’ before reaching out to Athyr for support.
‘That was a bit severe, wasn’t it?’ Loman said when the couple had left, Yrain leaning heavily on Athyr and looking very young.
‘No,’ Gulda said, brusquely. ‘She hasn’t the judge-ment to use that kind of initiative yet. She could be a considerable asset, but if she can’t learn what it means to be part of a team, as well as being an individual, she’ll be a monumental liability. You can’t fight properly if you’re wondering what someone like that’s doing instead of guarding your back, you know that. If she doesn’t buck up, she goes.’
A flick of her hand ended the debate. Loman was not unrelieved. Gulda was right about Yrain, but he found the making of such decisions difficult and was quite willing to let Gulda carry the burden. He knew too, though, that the scene he had just witnessed was also to highlight for him this particular weakness in his leadership. He too must learn to accept the truly harsh responsibilities of his position.
He shifted his weight from one foot to the other as the memory of Yrain’s pain came to him briefly, then, dragging his mind back to the present, he turned to the labyrinth and said, ‘It’s the Alphraan, isn’t it? Children amp;mdashlittle people, using sound like that. What have they done? And how?’
Gulda did not reply at first, but walked forward until Loman heard the sound of the labyrinth stirring. Then, as before, she prowled back and forth across the hall, as if making out a boundary or testing for a way through.
Cautiously he joined her. ‘You don’t ask why?’ she said, stopping in front of him.
Loman replied without hesitation. ‘They said they’d oppose us, and now they are doing so,’ he said. ‘Though why they should, defeats me. And I never dreamt they’d come down out of the mountains to do it. I thought they’d carry on as before, just interfering with our mountain training.’
Gulda nodded. ‘We misjudged them,’ she said. ‘And now they’ve struck right to our heart.’
Loman frowned. ‘What can we do?’ he said. ‘We’re lost if we can’t gain access to the Armoury.’
‘Can’t we make the weapons we need?’ Gulda asked.
Loman looked at her in surprise. It was a peculiarly defeated comment. ‘Given time,’ he said. ‘Smithing’s not common in Orthlund. There’s only a few of us capable of that kind of work, though I suppose we could bring on some of the apprentices more quickly in an emer-gency. But will we be able to get into the mountains for the raw materials?’
But Gulda was already waving the answer into obliv-ion, moving any from her brief lapse. ‘No, no,’ she said. ‘It was a foolish idea. Besides we may not have the time.’ Her voice fell. ‘Not if Hawklan’s met Dan-Tor.’
She stood still and silent after this remark, and Lo-man turned his gaze back to the gloomy columns. With their concerns about the Alphraan, it was almost the first time that Hawklan’s name had been mentioned since Loman had been hurled from the labyrinth.
The silence hung about them like a reproach.
‘What do you think has happened to him?’ Loman said hesitantly after some time.
Gulda shook her head a little. ‘I’ve no idea,’ she said quietly. ‘I wish I had. My heart says he’s not dead, and my reason tells me that Okl… Dan-Tor… has not had his way entirely, or his armies would have been at our gates by now. But what’s happened, where is Hawklan… or Gavor?’ She shrugged and fell silent again.
For a while the only sound in the hall was the sinis-ter whispering of the labyrinth.
‘But it makes no difference,’ she said abruptly, bang-ing her stick on the floor. The sound spread outwards like ripples in a still pond, to return almost immedi-ately, transmuted by the labyrinth into a deep pulsating echo that filled the hall like a cavernous laugh. ‘What we’re doing is all we can do, whether Hawklan comes back to us or not.’
She turned round and walked a few paces away from the invisible new boundary that the labyrinth seemed to have set. ‘If he comes back, he’ll have urgent problems at his heels for sure, and he’ll be none too pleased if we’ve been dragging ours. And if he doesn’t come back… ’ She paused. ‘Then at least we’ll be ready to face whatever’s brought him low.’
Before Loman could comment, she was stumping towards the archway that led from the hall. ‘We’ve got a serious problem, Loman,’ she said, as he came alongside her. ‘The labyrinth’s a fearful device, Anderras Darion’s ultimate defence. If the circumstances so determined, it could spread its influence throughout the entire Castle.’
‘What do you mean?’ Loman asked uncertainly.
Gulda frowned. ‘Exactly what I said. The labyrinth can reach out to protect all parts of the Castle if need arises.’
Loman’s eyes widened in horror at this revelation. ‘The entire Castle?’ he exclaimed. ‘And those… creatures can sneak in here and control it? I’ll have a guard placed… ’
Gulda overrode his concerns. ‘They can’t control it,’ she said. ‘No one can control it, except perhaps Ethriss himself. But they’ve tinkered with it very effectively in some way, and we have to face the fact that only they can undo their work.’
‘Meaning?’ asked Loman.
‘Meaning that we’ll have to find some way to talk to them again,’ Gulda replied. ‘Persuade them to allow us back into the Armoury.’
‘Our talking and their listening are two different things,’ Loman said sourly. ‘They seem more interested in stamping their own ideas on us than entering into a debate about the rights and wrongs of events.’
Gulda nodded, but her voice was sympathetic. ‘They’re an alien race, Loman. We know little or nothing of them, and even less about their history. A slim volume can hardly contain the accumulated lore of millennia can it? Who knows what roads have brought them to where they are now?’
Loman grunted. ‘Well,’ he conceded marginally. ‘I’d rather talk than fight any day, but… ’ He stopped and looked back down the corridor. ‘They’ve imposed their will on us back there, Memsa,’ he continued thought-fully, almost disbelievingly. ‘We didn’t do that to them, or even attempt to.’ He stuttered slightly. ‘We… we wouldn’t even think of doing such a thing.’
‘You’ve never imposed your will on anyone, Loman?’ Gulda said knowingly.
‘Not an adult,’ he began, then crueller memories rose to mock him. He curled his lip in distaste. ‘I’ve killed people though, if that’s what you mean,’ he said. ‘But that wasn’t the same. That was in extremity. To protect myself or others.’
‘Perhaps that’s what they think they’re doing now,’ Gulda replied. ‘Preventing harm to us and perhaps themselves by denying us our weapons.’
Loman could not keep the scorn from his face. ‘No one’s that stupid, however alien their culture,’ he replied witheringly.
Gulda shrugged. ‘When you’ve travelled as much as I have you’ll learn there are no limits to stupidity, particularly amongst human beings,’ she said unequivo-cally. ‘I’ve met peoples who believed that weapons made violence, and forbade their very existence.’
Loman frowned in disbelief. Gulda turned away from him and shrugged. ‘While circumstances didn’t show them otherwise, they were without insight into themselves, Loman,’ she said. ‘Quite beyond debate. I have seen it. Perhaps the Alphraan are the same.’
Loman’s scowl deepened, then, abruptly, a great anger welled up inside him and burst out uncontrolla-bly. ‘Good grief, Gulda,’ he shouted. ‘I’m not interested in other people’s follies, and I’m not interested in conjecturing about what the Alphraan might or might not be thinking.’ He smacked his great fist into the palm of his hand. ‘Whatever stupid ideas they’ve got, they’ve used their own weapons very effectively to deprive us of ours. To leave us perhaps defenceless. Nothing can justify that.’ His anger mounted. ‘Damn it, they’ve judged us! I won’t be judged without any semblance of a hearing amp;mdashleast of all by strangers!’ His voice rang loud through the corridor. ‘We went to talk to them amp;mdashto warn them. And they do this! It’s tantamount to an act of war. We should go into the mountains in force and punch their arrogant noses.’
Gulda stopped and, straightening up a little, looked at him intensely. He met her gaze without flinching, his fists clenched and his jaw set. Suddenly she chuckled and, stepping forward, gave him an almighty smack on the arm. It was a comradely blow, but Loman staggered under its impact.
Gulda’s chuckle turned to a laugh, a strangely young and musical laugh. ‘He picked a good one in you, young Loman,’ she said heartily. ‘I’d never have said there was anything in you when you were little. You were such a scamp. Still, I suppose it was difficult, having the soul of a smith in a land of carvers.’ She chuckled again.
Before Loman could respond to this unexpected and rather painful testimonial, she was off again.
The sudden change in Gulda’s mood took some of the outward passion from Loman’s anger, but like metal fresh from the forge, it was still dangerously hot even though it was not glowing, and it betokened a profound inner change.
Rubbing his arm ruefully, he followed after her. For a while they walked on in silence.
‘I agree with you, Loman,’ Gulda said eventually. ‘Whatever their reasoning, what they’ve done is wrong, and wanting to punch their arrogant noses is a very understandable response. But you know well enough it won’t be that easy. We must try talking first. We really don’t have any choice, we know too little about them for conflict.’ She looked at him sternly. ‘And we’ll be in a better frame of mind if we give them the benefit of the doubt for now. If we assume they’re well intentioned.’
Loman managed to lay the excess of his anger to one side. ‘I suppose you’re right,’ he said. ‘But you don’t sound too convinced about the probable outcome yourself.’
Gulda breathed out noisily. ‘I’m not,’ she said sim-ply. ‘I think their intentions are benign, but whether they’re benign or malevolent, I don’t think they’ll listen, whatever we say. I think sooner or later we’re going to have to punch their noses and, bluntly, I’m not looking forward to it.’
As promised, Gulda gathered together Ireck and the other leading members of Anderras Darion’s increas-ingly military complement, to discuss the matter with them fully.
‘I don’t think we can begin to understand their thinking,’ she concluded. ‘Suffice it to say that, for whatever reason, they obviously can’t see our need.’
‘Or won’t,’ someone said.
Gulda acknowledged the comment. ‘Or won’t,’ she conceded.
‘What shall we do, then?’ Ireck said. ‘How can we talk to people we can’t see, and who won’t listen?’
A hesitant hand came up from the rear of the seated group. It was Yrain. Loman signalled to her to speak.
‘Memsa, you said before that you thought they were divided amongst themselves,’ she began. ‘That impres-sion amp;mdashyour impression amp;mdashis really all the information we have about their thinking. Perhaps we should work on that.’
Gulda looked up at her. Yrain faltered, but Gulda gave her an encouraging nod. ‘Spit it out, girl,’ she said, with a slight smile. Yrain flushed then leaned forward purposefully.
‘I think we need to show them that their trick hasn’t altered either our intentions or our possible effective-ness,’ she said. ‘I think we should send out as many groups as we can on survival treks. Send them out conspicuously unarmed. Show them all the usual stuff for surviving in the mountains, but… ’ She raised her hand, forefinger extended in emphasis. ‘Incorporate part of the weaponless fighting training into the treks and add in some ambush techniques, trap laying, etc.’
‘What purpose will that serve?’ Gulda asked.
Yrain’s eyes narrowed slightly. She struck off the points on her fingers. ‘They’ll be watching us presuma-bly. It’ll show them that we intend to continue training. It’ll show them that we can use sticks, rocks, bare hands… anything, just as effectively as swords and bows. And if they’re divided amongst themselves, as you think, then perhaps that might shift the balance in their debates.’
Gulda nodded, ‘But not necessarily to our advan-tage, Yrain,’ she said. ‘It might only serve to confirm to them that they have wild and savage neighbours who are best kept well away from anything with a sharp edge. And what if they chose to extend their control by preventing these… survival treks?’
Yrain lowered her eyes briefly, but when she looked up her face was resolute. ‘Frankly, I couldn’t care less about what they think of us,’ she said. ‘If they can’t understand what we’d be trying to show them, then they must be particularly stupid, so who needs their good opinion?’
There was some nodding of heads amongst the small audience at this forthright observation.
‘Besides, Memsa,’ she continued. ‘We’re supposed to be learning how to defend ourselves. We’re supposed to be making up for the years of neglect that eventually allowed creatures from Narsindal to march into our country unseen and unopposed, and commit murder. We can’t let these people treat us thus amp;mdashdeny us access to what’s been entrusted to us for such work.’ She glanced awkwardly at Loman. ‘So far, for all some of the training has been harsh, it’s been so much theory. Now, we have to act, and act as an army amp;mdashdeal with a real practical problem. If we take some knocks, we take some knocks, and that’s it. We’ll be the wiser for it. But we can’t sit and do nothing. It would be a betrayal of Hawklan… of ourselves… everything.’ She looked around, her face agitated. ‘And for all we know, these Alphraan might be in league with Narsindal in some way. This action they’ve taken could be part of some deeper scheme.’
Several members of the group shifted uncomforta-bly at this suggestion. Gulda leaned forward and rested her head on her long hands, folded over the top of her stick. Then, in an echo of Loman’s earlier sentiments, Yrain finished. ‘The arrogant little devils have no conceivable right to do what they’re doing.’
Several voices spoke up in agreement.
‘And if they try to prevent us?’ Gulda repeated, when the talking died down. ‘Start attacking our training parties?’
Yrain frowned. ‘They haven’t done us any real harm so far,’ she said.
‘Except murder,’ someone said.
‘No,’ Yrain said, wincing slightly as she twisted round in her seat to look at the speaker. ‘When we first met… encountered them… with the children, they admitted two of the deaths and said they regretted them. We were helpless so they’d no need to make any such admission, and they sounded sincere enough to me.’ She turned back to Gulda as if for confirmation. ‘They said the deaths were the result of our own actions. I know it’s no justification if they were interfering in some way to disturb concentration, but all the… accidents… happened to our people when they were doing difficult, dangerous, climbs.’ She paused, hesitant to move too quickly past the shades of their dead friends. Then, almost apologetically, ‘But there’s no need for anything like that in what I’m suggesting. Really we’ll just be lumping everyone’s basic survival training together and bringing some of the ordinary training up into the mountains. If we keep away from too dangerous places, my feeling is that they won’t be able to harm us even if they wanted to.’
Gulda lifted her head to speak, but Yrain, anxious to commit her every resource before execution, continued. ‘And if they do attack us in some way, then we’ll learn more about them, and what they do. And if we put a large number of groups in all at once, we’ll perhaps get some measure of their strength.’
The room fell silent as Yrain finished. All eyes turned to Gulda. She looked around. ‘What do you think?’ she said.
The debate was brief. Yrain’s sentiments chimed with most of those present. Despite a strong desire to ‘punch arrogant noses’, the dominant feeling was that far too little was known about this unexpected foe, and some form of peaceful probing was essential.
‘I agree,’ Gulda concluded. ‘We’ll get on with it straight away.’ She raised a warning finger. ‘But maximum safety though. Lots of good communication, observers, pre-arranged meeting places, etc, etc. I need hardly remind you that they succeeded in making a group of our better students miss an entire mountain. We must all be very alert. Whatever else they might be, they’re capable of some subtlety.’
As the meeting broke up, Gulda signalled to Yrain. The girl, supporting herself on a stick, limped across to her, her thin face suddenly anxious.
‘Tirilen said it would be all right to come,’ she be-gan, before Gulda could speak. ‘The stick takes the weight off my foot… and Athyr helped me,’ she added hastily.
‘Sit down,’ Gulda said.
Without taking her eyes off her nemesis, Yrain nervously lowered herself onto a nearby chair. Gulda sat down opposite her and rested her head on the end of her stick again. Loman eyed her carefully, prepared to act as champion for the girl if need arose.
‘Well done, Ysain,’ Gulda said. ‘That was nicely reasoned and a step in the right direction.’ There was sufficient reservation in Gulda’s voice, however, to prevent Yrain’s relief overwhelming her concern, and she kept her eyes fixed on Gulda’s face.
Gulda continued. ‘This is going to involve some drastic changes to our training schedules,’ she said. ‘And I want you to work with Loman here on the details. We must treat this affair as being most urgent. I want the new schedules ready by this time tomorrow, designed for immediate implementation.’
Loman raised his eyebrows. ‘That’ll be difficult,’ he said. Gulda shrugged. ‘Just do it,’ she said simply. ‘You’ve defined the problem clearly enough yourselves. We’re in the dark, and we’re virtually defenceless. Yrain’s idea is sound and we’ve got no real alternatives.’ Her face became grim. ‘We don’t discuss it, but you know as well as I do that at any moment, a rider could come down from the north and tell us that the absence of so many weapons has changed from being an inconvenience to being a disaster. Just bear that in mind if you get the urge to go to sleep tonight.’
Loman nodded. ‘What will you be doing?’ he risked.
Gulda looked at him narrowly. ‘I’m going to prepare some touches of my own,’ she said. ‘To see if I can find a wedge for Yrain’s hammer to drive into the split in our neighbours’ opinions.’