INTERLUDE

Kelas leaned close to the glass globe on his desk, straining to hear the voice coming from it.

“In all, we lost eleven of our twenty soldiers, and the wizard from Arcanix.” The small voice from the globe was Haldren’s. Kelas frowned—those were heavy losses. “But the worgs are routed. We still hear them howling, especially now that the sun is down, but there aren’t as many. We can hold the canyon until you arrive.”

“Good,” Kelas said. “I’ll try to get there before the wolves get reinforcements.”

“Thank you.”

Haldren expressing gratitude. Was his pride really so broken? Best to buoy it somewhat, he reasoned.

“Thank you, Haldren. The Dragon Forge couldn’t happen without you.”

He didn’t wait for Haldren’s reply, but waved a hand over the orb and saw its light fade.

It seemed that everything was in place. Time for him to make his report.

Resting his fingertips on the globe again, he closed his eyes in concentration. Nara ir’Galanatyr—he thought her name, then concentrated on fixing her face in his mind. He saw her severe face, dark eyes, and short hair. He concentrated on her most likely location, her villa outside Wyr, on the Eldeen border. For good measure, he framed his thoughts with the details of her identity: the former head of the Royal Eyes of Aundair, abruptly removed from her position at the end of the Last War. Few people knew why, but Kelas was one of them. Simply by working for her, Kelas would have been committing treason, even if it hadn’t been treason they planned.

A ruby light flared to life in the heart of the crystal, and he opened his eyes to see Nara’s face form in the glow. She looked tired and angry—she had probably been waiting up for his report.

“It’s about time, ir’Darran,” she snapped.

“My apologies. I only just received word from the canyon.”

“Tell me.”

“All appears to be going as we planned, except for the speed. Haldren ir’Brassek has secured the canyon. Baron d’Cannith is ready to send her aid, and Arcanist Wheldren has won the commitment of the Arcane Congress to our cause. Reports from the west indicate that the Carrion Tribes are already on the move.”

“What about the changeling?”

“I have heard nothing from him, but that is not unusual. He might well be dead, but he’s very resourceful.”

“And the mark?”

Kelas smiled, quite pleased with himself. “I received a messenger a few weeks ago who promised to deliver a Siberys heir with the Mark of Storm to me. I’m not positive it’s the same man, but I don’t think it matters.”

“Who sent the messenger?”

That was the question he wanted her to ask. “A dragon from Argonnessen.”

“Another dragon.” Nara did not seem as pleased as he’d hoped. “Of course. We can’t build the Dragon Forge without dragons. And we’ll have dragons—the messenger promised that as well.”

“Then all is ready.”

“Yes,” Kelas said. “All is ready.”