26

Best Laid Schemes

The next morning Candle, Pasco and Locryn stepped through the moongate and arrived at Gwavas. All three of them paused as they looked around and took in the changes to the fortifications and camouflage.

"The Mester's been busy," said Locryn, admiring the vast collection of wooden stakes and two large wooden trebuchets that had appeared on either side of the serpent stairs. "The Kenning's not going to like this."

"If you want peace, prepare for war," signed Pasco, as they made their way up to the Keep. "The Ancestors allow for self-defence."

"They do," said Locryn. "In theory."

Candle hurried along behind the pair as they debated the finer points of Havian religion. There were ditches and stakes and towers everywhere, and she had to side step large groups of people hammering, training and building every inch of the way. She had never seen the grounds so busy. The Mester must have called in squads from all over the nation.

Inside the castle walls, it was just as crowded, and the noise from the mess was ear-splitting. They had to push through the throngs of men and women to make their way to the meeting room in one of the lower levels near the spring in the bedrock. Pasco located the right door and pushed it open. Inside there were two men in Ancestor's colours that Candle didn't know. They were both dressed, as were Pasco, Locryn and Candle, in grey travelling cloaks with their gambesons underneath. They leapt up as they entered, looking much too excited, in Candle's opinion.

"Goron," said the first, introducing himself with a grin. He was cheerful and blonde with dark chestnut skin and almost black eyes that shone with unrestrained enthusiasm. He shook hands with them all. "Thief of this parish! I was arrested for stealing from the King."

"De," said the second, bowing extravagantly. He was older; older even than Jory with greying hair and sardonic twist to his face. "Bombmaker and explosives expert. Convicted for blowing stuff up. Pasco, I know - but you two?" He looked at Locryn and Candle quizzically.

"Locryn," said Locryn, "and this is Meraud." He folded his arms across his broad chest and leaned back against a table. Candle scurried around to stand at the back, feeling anxious. Goron raised an eyebrow and surveyed them both through the dark of his brows.

"And?"

"And what?"

"Tell us what you can do!" Locryn surveyed the enthusiastic pair with impatient scorn, then sighed melodramatically.

"Oh, alright. I like to punch things; she can see magic." Candle blushed underneath her blindfold as the two whistled appreciatively and complimented her on her useful talent. She didn't feel useful. She felt sick. The air was positively electrical with anticipation, and Goron and De were doing nothing to calm her nerves. Fortunately, the Mester did not keep them waiting long.

Lady Dantalion strode into the room with Moloch at her shoulder, acknowledging them all with a terse nod. She searched the faces of the waiting group until she spotted Candle hidden at the back and smiled at her warmly. Candle did not return the smile. She wasn't there for the Mester.

"Thank you all for coming," said the Mester, not missing a beat. "I know I don't need to impress upon you the danger and importance of what we are doing. The Kenning hope we have a chance for peace." She paused, looking around at them all. It was impossible to ascertain her true feelings on the subject.

"Our plan is simple. We'll approach the barbarian's camp from the moongate in what is left of Sterlester's town square. As far as we can tell, the barbarians are camped close to the bay with another sizable contingent at the moonsilver mine." She looked around at them all. "I want you all to keep your mouths shut and your eyes open.

Most importantly -let me do the talking. Pasco, there is almost certainly a Teurek shaman. Keep an eye on her. Don't try to kill her unless I give you the signal." Pasco nodded grimly. Candle's stomach dropped. She knew this was dangerous, but the casual way the Mester talked about killing... Her stomach dropped even further as the Mester turned towards her, her eyes hard. "Meraud, I want a demon count. That's your most important job - a count and a good description of each. I have heard... disturbing reports of the barbarians physical appearances. But we shall see for ourselves. Keep a lookout for anything else supernatural - anything unusual, anything that feels wrong. I want to know if they are using magic and if they are using magic, I want to know how." Candle nodded, feeling the weight of her responsibilities. The Mester turned to Locryn.

"Stay close to Meraud. If anything goes wrong, I'm trusting you to get her out of there alive." Candle felt like she might throw up and swallowed hurriedly. Her hands started to shake slightly, and she hid them behind her back.

The Mester stared around at all of them, her bright brown eyes piercing in the dim light. They sparkled with glamour. To hide the blue, thought Candle. To conceal her demon from those she commanded; to hide her madness. This was such a bad idea, what had she been thinking? But it was too late now. Her fate was now tied to the Mester and these people. She didn't trust the Mester, but she trusted Jory and Pasco. She had to trust someone.

"No weapons," the Mester was saying. "We don't want to do anything that makes us look aggressive. This is a meeting of peace." Goron snorted, and the Mester looked at him, eyes narrowing. "I said no weapons, Goron." He spread his arms wide in an apologetic gesture. "Lose them," she said.

"They are not visible, syr," he protested.

"Lose them," she repeated, her eyes boring into him. Goron sighed and removed a throwing star from the waistband of his trousers and two small knives from each sleeve. He laid them on the table carefully, looking expectantly at the Mester. She waited. After a pause, he removed another small dagger from his boot.

"That really is everything," he said mournfully.

"Speaking of weapons," continued the Mester. "I am very keen to get my hands on some of the barbarian devices. If anyone has the opportunity, without endangering themselves too much... it might give us an advantage going forward if we know how they work." She stared around at each of them, holding their gaze one at a time. "We might not be armed," she said, "but you are all trained, prepared and intelligent. We will go in with our wits and some of De's smoke bombs." De patted his overcoat pockets and grinned. "Which he will deploy only if the talks go south-"

"Which they will," muttered Locryn, under his breath.

"- aiding in our escape," she finished, "if necessary." She handed them all small packets. "Gwavas soil," she explained, "salt, emergency rations." Candle turned the package over in her hands, examining it curiously. Approvingly she saw it contained a sandwich and some nuts. Locryn raised his hand.

"How will we use the moongate on our return?" he asked. "If we are to leave our daggers behind?" The Mester handed them all a tiny piece of cloth with something small wrapped inside.

"A pin for each of you," she said. "Sharp enough to draw blood but not large enough to be misconstrued as a weapon. Keep them safe. They may be your only means to return home." She sighed, heavily, her eyes momentarily hooded. "If we need to leave in haste if the barbarians don't already know how to use a gate I certainly don't want to teach them how."

Candle shuddered at the thought of barbarians randomly appearing through moongates across the continent. The fact that they had not done so yet implied they did not know how to work the gates. The Mester was right, that should be avoided at all cost.

"We will destroy the soil pots on arrival. If we get separated ... we will all meet back here as the Ancestor's will." She looked around at them. "Any questions?" she said. "Second thoughts? Now is the time to speak up." Her eyes lingered on Candle for a moment then moved on. "No? Alright then, let's go."