'Right though,' said The Unknown. 'No use pretending.'

'None of this changes the original point I was trying to make which was that three hundred of us are not going to sneak across Triverne Inlet or the Bay of Gyernath, undetected by Wesmen. We need to make a decision on whether that bothers us and if it does -and it should - what we're going to do about it,' said Hirad.

The Unknown stared ahead at the backs of the cavalry in front. He then turned and gazed at the Protectors behind him.

'We need to talk more,' he said. 'And this isn't the place. We'll be overheard and I don't think Styliann should overhear us. Hirad's right. In the rush to leave and plan at Parve, we've forgotten ourselves. We're The Raven. We make our own decisions. Privately.' He nodded at the lead Protector who inclined his head very slightly, ebony mask betraying nothing. But, Hirad thought, something passed between them. Whatever it was, The Unknown kept it to himself.

The motley column crossed the Torn Wastes under a blazing sun. The signs of former Wesmen encampments littered the packed ground and harsh scrub. Blackened earth and charred wood, torn canvas, broken posts and tent pegs, lengths of rope and discarded offcuts of metal. And, here and there, the body of a Wesman who picked a fight with the wrong kinsman.

It was seven miles to the tree line and the welcoming canopy of leaf and branch over the marked trail that led from the Torn Wastes, north of the Wesmen Heartlands, through the rugged valleys and hills of Western Balaia, past the Wrethsires' plundered temple and all the way to Understone Pass.

Behind them now, the rip hung in the sky, menacing the air and throwing its shadow over the city of the Wytch Lords. A shadow that would grow to envelop them all unless The Raven could find a way to close it.

The column rode unbroken for two hours, leaving Parve far behind. Hirad felt a growing release of tension as the. buildings dwindled in the distance. And it was a release that just about made up for the discomfort of the ride. The horses sweated in the heat, attracting clouds of irritating, buzzing flies that plagued mount and rider alike. Forever waving a hand in front of his face, Hirad's body was covered in a sheen of damp, beads running down the line of his back where they collected in his seat to chafe and rub.

The late afternoon brought mercifully cooler temperatures, a cover of cloud and a change in the terrain. Passing across the northern edge of a beautiful region of river valleys, lush green vegetation, great and ancient trees and fern-covered hillsides, the Eastern Balaians moved into altogether harsher lands.

The ground rose to a series of sharp peaks, littered with cracked rocks and strewn with boulders. Darrick ordered a dismount to save the horses' legs and hooves, relieved men and mages stretching as they led their mounts over teacherous slabs of stone, half-buried under tough stands of long grass. To both sides, the ground fell away down steep scree slopes into wind-blasted clefts. Nowhere in sight was there any sign of habitation. Nevertheless, The Unknown was nervous.

'We're exposed here,' he said.

'But only, it seems, to the elements,' replied Ilkar, drawing his cloak more firmly around his shoulders, the breeze whipping at cloth and grass, the heat changing quickly to chill.

'If we're spotted, we have no obvious cover,' said The Unknown. 'Thraun, what do you think?' The shapechanger had spent some time at the head of the column earlier in the afternoon, advising Darrick's scouts. He walked up to join The Unknown.

'It's not as bad as it looks although we might want to ride perhaps another quarter of a mile north if we can. The scouts have reported very little habitation up here. The land is useless for all but grazing goats. We're unlikely to meet locals; the only risk is running into Wesmen warriors.

'There are limited passable trails for horses and this is one of the better ones, believe it or not. I get no feeling that Wesmen will be a problem for a day or so. I've advised three of the scouts to travel to the fork above Terenetsa. That's still more than two days' ride from here for a fast scout. We'll have a better picture in three days. Until then, the elves and me are the best chance we have of avoiding trouble.'

'And you think we will?' asked Ilkar, who had come to respect Thraun's reading of land and scent.

'Yes.'

Shortly after dusk, Darrick halted the column in the lee of another steep climb. The wind had blown away the cloud and, while it had dropped to a gentle breeze, the clear skies were cooling fast.

Quickly, elves marked fire boundaries outside of which no flame could be shown. Thus marked, the perimeter of the camp was established, the first guards set and the cook-fires laid.

The Raven took themselves to the opposite corner from Styliann and the Protectors. As they sat down around Will's stove, waiting for water to boil, Hirad chuckled.

'I wonder how he feels?' he said. 'Styliann, I mean. I know he hasn't got too many friends but there's got to be a hundred feet between him and the nearest cavalryman, and they still look nervous.'

'I shouldn't think he cares at all,' said Denser. 'The Lord of the Mount is used to isolation.' The Dark Mage was flat on his back, head propped up on Erienne's lap, she stroking his hair in what was becoming a familiar scene as he recovered from the casting of Dawnthief. Hirad and The Unknown exchanged a glance. They were the first words Denser had spoken the entire day. And it had been a detached silence, the Xeteskian riding or walking apart from The Raven. All he had got from Erienne in response to his looks had been shrugs and shakes of the head. Now, as she cradled Denser, Erienne's concern and confusion were obvious even in the uncertain light of the flames.

The talk pattered on in a broken way until coffee was poured. To Denser and Erienne's left sat Thraun and Will while Hirad and Ilkar flanked The Unknown to their right. The Unknown called for attention.

'Ilkar, Hirad, feel uncomfortable?' he asked. The two nodded, expressions stark in the firelight, eyes hidden by shadow.

'Why just them?' asked Will.

'Because it's only the three of us who have been in potential large-scale battle situations before, and there's a lot wrong with this one.'

'Not so far as I can see,' said Erienne. 'We just have to reach the Colleges quickly and safely and this is surely the best way.'

'No,' said The Unknown. 'Because we don't want to invite battle and this troop is doing just that, or it will be when we reach the vicinity of the Blackthornes.'

'So what do you suggest?' asked Thraun.

'We have to split from them. Our course lies in a different direction.'

'How do you work that out?' Thraun frowned, his gruff low voice grumbling across the stove.

'The situation is going to be very difficult when we reach Triverne Inlet, which is, I suspect, the favoured destination. We can assume the Wesmen will be supplying their armies across the water so there'll be a relatively heavy presence.

'If we stride up with Darrick and Styliann there'll be a battle. If we go through on our own, with Thraun's eyes and ears, we can take a boat and get across unseen.'

'And what happens to Darrick?'

'We have to persuade him to go south to the Bay of Gyernath, maybe creating a diversion for us along the way. Either way, we have to go alone.'

'The point is,' said Hirad, 'that we're being run as an addition to the cavalry. That isn't how The Raven operates. Not now.'

'So just how do we operate?' asked Denser.

'You should know,' said Hirad, frowning at Denser's flat tone. 'We go into a situation, assess, make decisions and recommendations and don't expect to be questioned.'

'You don't consider that a little high-handed?' ventured Will. Hirad merely shrugged.

'Just ask yourself why we're still alive after ten years' fighting. And why, particularly, we're alive when the Wytch Lords are dead. It isn't high-anything, it's The Raven's way.'

Ilkar smiled. 'Only you could be so cocky with fifty thousand Wesmen between you and your next port of call.'

'It's not that, it's-'

'We know,' said Ilkar. 'If we do things how we think they should be done, we'll stay alive.' He mimed a yawn. Will and Thraun laughed. Hirad scowled slightly. The Unknown cleared his throat.

'I'm glad we've cleared that up,' he said. 'Now listen. While Darrick will almost certainly see sense, Styliann almost certainly will not.'

'Why not?' asked Will.

'Because Triverne Inlet represents his quickest route to Xetesk, barring Understone Pass. If he won't see sense, we'll have to leave by the back door in a couple of nights. I just hope it doesn't come to that. Styliann could still be a powerful ally and his sway will definitely help us gain access to the College libraries.'

T don't trust him,' said Ilkar.

'Now there's a surprise,' muttered Denser.

'No, it's more than inter-College mistrust. He tried to kill us at the Wrethsires' Temple and let's not forget why. He wanted Dawnthief so he could use it to assume power over the Colleges, and as a threat to the Wytch Lords and Wesmen. He wanted to rule Balaia and I'm sure he still does. God knows what this pooling of knowledge will reveal but I don't think Styliann should have any part in it.'

'What, just cut Xetesk out, is that it?' asked Denser sharply. Ilkar sighed.

'You're here, aren't you?'

'You made your choice at the Temple,' added Hirad. 'You're Raven.'

'There's something more,' said Erienne. 'The dividing of Septern's works between the Colleges was no freak or accident. Septern was very careful to ensure no one College had enough knowledge to be dominant.'

'Was he really that good?' asked Will.

'It was the potential of his magic that he recognised as so dangerous,' said Erienne. 'I suspect he could see the way his research might be taken. And he was right, as Xetesk proved with their DimensionConnect. Just think of the danger when they can stabilise the gateway.'

'I'm hearing everything you're saying,' said Thraun. 'And there's one thing badly astray in our assumptions. We're banking on Styliann's influence opening the doors to the College libraries. I mean, let's face it, if you were a senior mage and you got a request from him to sift all of Septern's work and put it together for the Lord of the Mount to examine, would you just roll over?'

'Exactly,' said Erienne.

'No,' said Ilkar. 'No you wouldn't. And Styliann must know that.'

'If he knows that, why was he so confident back in Parve?' asked Hirad.

'Well, his network is wide, isn't it?' replied Denser with a sniff. 'He'll pull strings rather than make a direct approach, certainly to Julatsa and Lystern. The Dordovans might respond well to a personal request, though.'

'But if he is planning to commune directly with senior mages in other Colleges, we need to stop him taking the short cut to Xetesk and from calling ahead to speed up the research process,' said Hirad. 'Fat chance.'

'So where does that leave us?' asked Will.

'Out in the cold, I expect,' said The Unknown. 'Look, assume for a moment that Styliann determines to cross at Triverne Inlet and that he rubs the Colleges up the wrong way with his demands. We need to know exactly what action we intend to take.' He looked around the fire. The faces of The Raven were expectant. He nodded, smiling slightly.

'Right. Here's what I think we should do. First, we approach Darrick. We need him on our side. He might be able to give Styliann a tactical reason to cross south of the mountains that Styliann will swallow. If not, in two days' time, when we are close to Leionu, we do as we are doing now, camp as far from Styliann as we can. Only that night, we'll leave four hours before dawn. Darrick will help us, maybe fake an attack by a Wesmen patrol or something to cover the noise.

'Until that time, if we are speaking with Styliann, we must try to persuade him to take the right course of action but it's imperative he doesn't tumble to the fact that we have ulterior motives. If we are respectful of his authority, he won't suspect us, Denser?'

The mage sat up to drink his coffee, shrugging. 'I'm not sure about the diversion thing but pandering to Styliann's ego is definitely the right idea. What worries me is the Protectors.'

'Let me handle them,' said The Unknown. 'There are ways to obstruct without disobeying.'

'How do you mean?' Hirad massaged his chin.

'You wouldn't understand,' replied The Unknown, and Hirad knew enough not to question him further.

'When do we talk to Darrick?' asked Will.

'Now would be a good time,' said The Unknown.

'His mages are in Communion,' said Ilkar. 'It may pay to wait.'

The big man nodded. 'How long will they be under?'

'An hour or so. It really depends on whether they can find a contact quickly or not.'

'Very well,' said The Unknown. 'We wait.'

Later, Erienne took Denser away from the fire, he going a little reluctantly.

'Are you going to tell me what's up with you?'

'Nothing's up,' replied Denser. 'I'm just tired and I can't believe that casting Dawnthief has left us in this state.'

'But no one blames you, Denser,' she said, her eyes looking deep into his and her hand caressing his hair, 'It's not a question of blame,' said Denser. 'It's here, inside me. I can't explain it to you. It's just . . .' He trailed away, hands waving vaguely.

'I can help you. Don't cut yourself off from me.'

'I'm not,' he said sharply.

'No? You're so quiet and withdrawn from me. From all of us.'

'I'm not withdrawn,' he snapped suddenly, his voice overloud. Erienne recoiled. Denser tried to smile. 'I just don't want to talk about it.'

'And that's not cutting yourself off, is it?' She felt her heart tripping in her chest and took her hand from his head. 'I need you, Denser. Don't leave me alone.'

'I'm here, aren't I?'

'Gods, you're like a child at the moment. That's not what I mean and you know it.'

'Well, what do you mean, then?' he asked, his expression sullen and angry.

T mean that your body's here but where's your heart?'

'Here, like always.' He tapped his chest.

'Damn you, Denser, why are you being like this?'

'I'm not being like anything. Why are you being like you are?'

'Because I'm worried about you!' She stormed, feeling her cheeks redden, desperate for him to understand what he was doing to her. 'About us.'

'I'm fine. Just let me be.'

'Fine.' She got up and walked away into the camp, biting her lip before she said something she regretted. He didn't call after her.

Darrick's Dordovan mages were not alone in their Communion. Surrounded by a close cordon of Protectors, the Lord of the Mount probed across the Blackthorne Mountains, connecting with one of the few aides he felt he could still trust. The Communion was short, the message stole his breath away and when he opened his eyes, he was shaking.

Julatsa was quiet. Throughout the night and into the morning, the Wesmen camped around the College walls had tried to breach the DemonShroud. The souls of those who touched it merely went to feed the insatiable appetite of the demons controlling the awful spell.

It had been as pitiful as it had been painful. Barras had listened from his rooms as the Wesmen tried to walk across the moat, then bridge it with wood and metal and finally climb above it using grappling ropes strung from nearby buildings to the College walls.

Now, with the sun high, they were building something. Barras, unable to simply hear the terrible calls of the dying, walked out to the Tower ramparts and took in the sight of the hell that he and the Council had created just beyond the walls.

The DemonShroud surrounded the College like a thin grey cloud, rising from the unbroken ground. It was ten feet thick, rippling into the sky as high as could be seen and, Barras knew, it drove into the earth deeper than men could survive. It was an awesome, oppressive conjuration. Majestic in its way and awful testament to the power demons could wield on Balaia with the help of mages. Proximity to it set teeth on edge and fear leached from its surface, covering everything in its compass with a sheen of anxiety and requiring conscious effort not to shy away from it.

He had no doubt the Wesmen would try to tunnel in at some stage during the coming weeks. He just prayed that they would see their folly before too many souls were taken. Yet, as he gazed at the Shroud, through which blue and yellow light occasionally flared and forked like desultory lightning, he wasn't so sure. Not sure at all. The Wesmen's actions so far revealed a fundamental misunderstanding of the reality of mana and dimensional connectivity. He found himself smiling a little sadly. Of course they wouldn't understand. The Wesmen had no magic. It was both their innocence and their curse.