The message was sent in good time. Then came the waiting, and that was the worst part of it.

Relma was concerned at any time that things would go from relative peace to violence. The satyr's good mood gave way to boredom, and men gave them uneasy glances. A few scuffles nearly broke out between them and the men at various points. At the same time, the funerals and cleanup from the battle were underway. Varsus got called into places to mediate disputes between them and the soldiers. Relma believed the fortress had not been built to house this many people. As a result, the army camp stretched out behind, and letters were being sent constantly.

"Will we be able to feed them all?" asked Relma, reading through some documents on logistics. Her ability to read had gotten a lot better lately, but she was having trouble with this book's scrawl.

"I hope so," said Varsus, adjusting his gauntlet and stretching his neck. Standing up from the heavy chair, he loosened the sword out of habit. The man always seemed to be checking himself and others. "An army is difficult to keep in the field, however. I've been arranging shipments from Gel Carn to supplement those De Cathe arranged.

"The satyrs, however, are restless. Or so Reginald says. Now that they've tasted blood, they want more."

"Then what will we do?" asked Relma. Privately, she wondered if Varsus was as in control as he pretended to be. Or was he putting on a bold front? So far, he hadn't led them astray, but she doubted he was as in control as he pretended.

"For now?" asked Varsus, letting go of his sword and adjusting his cloak. "I want you to go talk to your friend, Shren. Ask him what they will do if they survive this war."

Relma blinked and thought the question insensitive. "That's a bit dark."

"It's a question we need to ask at some point," said Varsus.

Relma supposed Varsus was right. Since Shren and his associates were a very violent and brutal collection of people. So Relma went to find Shren and found him on the wall, leaning on his falchion. He was smoking a pipe, gazing at the remnants of a pyre—where many bodies had been burned. Some were still burning.

"So, Shren, can I ask you something?" asked Relma.

"Of course," said Shren.

"If the war was won without all of your warriors being killed, what would you do?" asked Relma.

"We would launch a mass assault on our enemies, slaughtering all who would dare halt our crusade!" said Shren, raising a fist for a mark of strength. "And if you were to stand before us, we would be forced to kill you."

Relma decided that he answered the question very well. Actually, it was better than she'd have hoped. And judging by the cheers from the other satyrs, it was well mirrored by the other troops. "...Well, we'll have to find a way to make sure you all die then."

"Are you planning to murder us?" asked Shren, curious sounding.

"No!" said Relma quickly. She wondered why he seemed to regard her as the leader. And why were satyrs so obsessed with murder and death anyway? Relma couldn't stand doing it herself. "I, I don't really want to kill anyone. I'd much rather everyone get out of this alive. Even the Dragon Empire."

"That does not seem possible," said Shren, motioning to the pyre. "You've already helped kill a fair number of people. You helped one side win, and win we did."

Relma sighed and looked down. It was a bit selfish, she supposed. "I know."

"I do have an idea," said Shren, sitting down to warm his hands near the pyre. Relma kept back a pace or two from it while trying not to show she was. The smell of roasted meat was coming from it.

"What is it?" asked Relma. Privately, she wondered if Shren had any good ideas at all. He had not struck her as much of a thinker or strategist.

"The Road of Ancient Stone is under the dominion of the Ancestor," said Shren with a sharp smile. His eyes were glazing with darkness at the smell of blood. "It may be that the ancestor could open a path through the mountains to strike at the Dragon Empire. If so, we might take the enemy by surprise. Then we could curb their numbers in a glorious suicide charge that would bring both death and glory."

"Well, Varsus has sent Ajax to do more scouting of the Dragon Empire. So we might be able to get a sense of their location," said Relma, remembering her journeys. "Still, why don't you object to killing humans. The Tharakan are human, after all."

"Not all of them," said a voice.

Relma looked up to see De Cathe coming up to them. He had a heavy cloak on and was favoring one leg. He'd been hurt in the fight, and though the wound had healed, the pain remained. Relma had heard he'd slain many enemy warriors. Thus proving he had yet to get his reputation for nothing as usual.

"Edward De Cathe," said Shren. "What is it you desire?"

De Cathe said nothing and looked to the edge of his pass. Shren offered him the pipe, which he took before blowing a massive smoke ring. Then he handed it back. "When I served in the Dragon Watch, I often took my watch, looking out over the pass. The ground here is blackened from dragon fire, and what plants grow here is fed by the blood of a hundred. There has always been a war here. Sometimes, a dozen scale the wall to raid beyond in the night.

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"Sometimes, hundreds are testing the defenses.

"And sometimes, thousands."

"How could there have been a war for so long?" asked Relma.

"The war never really ends," said De Cathe. "It just changes fronts now and then. To the east, Antion and Haldren fight Calisha. But we at least understand Calisha. None have ever passed into the realm of the Dragon Empire and returned. Not since Estela's brother, Prince Otto, led an army through. He hoped to put a permenant end to the raids."

"To conquer the Dragon Empire?" asked Relma. "But how could he do that without understanding the language." Endless war without end? Relma supposed she had never heard of a period where there hadn't been any fighting going on. Not in this or any world. Wasn't there some way to stop it? Or slow it down?

Had anyone even tried? Everyone Relma met seemed to take it for granted that war was inevitable and part of the world. It seemed an oversight to not look into other possibilities. From what she'd heard, Duke Vanion and Arengeth seemed to agree on that. But they'd been in a private war for decades. And everyone, even Argath Marn, was taking sides in it.

It had to be stopped. And Relma had to stop it.

"Conquest was not on his mind," said De Cathe. "His purpose was destruction. Prince Otto believed that if he depopulated the Tharakan, it would stop the raids.

"He took many Dragon Watch with him, Prince Rinseld also went. At first, the news was good. They took and destroyed three towns and killed several dragons. Then, all communication ceased.

"Only Rinseld returned with a small number of men. He spoke of dragons, clouds of dragons filling the air and assailing their defenses. And they came behind. It was a terrible battle made worse by rebellions breaking out all over Escor. That was even as we fought to hold the enemy back.

"But at last, the attacks ceased."

"I didn't even know Estela had brothers," said Relma.

"King Tyus' family was very large," said De Cathe sadly. "But Otto is dead, and Rinseld has abandoned us. I was not there with them when it happened."

"That sounds to me like an excellent war," said Shren.

"Excellent?" asked Relma. "How can you call it that?"

"Everyone died," said Shren. "The population was reduced, and tales shall inspire deeds of vengeance and war. The blood shall spill in rivers because of the trickle that Prince Otto unleashed."

"Perhaps," said De Cathe. "I've never understood the Tharakan. They don't try different tactics. Nor do their Dragon overlords support them as they did. They throw themselves against the walls and try to kill as many of us as possible in a frenzy.

"It happens again and again.

"They hate us, or so I assume. Yet they lack either the intelligence or motivation to destroy us.

"The situation is much the same in Sorn, Sir Garrick told me when I spoke to him. The Tharakan are bold. The Tharakan are ferocious but do not seem to be trying to win. "

"They are trying to die," said Shren.

"What makes you say that?" asked Relma.

"If they grew too numerous, they might one day overthrow their dragon overlords," said Shren.

"Failing that, they would hunt the game that the dragons feast on to extinction.

"They must be attacking us to show their loyalty to the dragons."

"I doubt that very much," said De Cathe. "There have been times where a large force gets past the walls and has gone to raid and plunder. Not all desire death as greatly as you, Shren. Though the dragons might do it to ensure their population remains lower."

"Look there, dragons from behind!" said a man.

Relma turned and saw familiar black figures flying toward them. Men drew back their bows, and she ran to them. "No, no, stay the weapons.

"They are with us."

"Wrynncurth," said De Cathe.

Wrynncurth descended and landed before them on the wall. His tail slashed like lightning as he perched on a crenelation above her. On came more dragons that landed around them. He loped over to where Relma was, crossing hundreds of feet in an instant. As he did, he slithered between several men. "Well, this seems a merry enough army. I've had to relocate our hoards temporarily to get this far. But things have all worked out splendidly.

"So, do tell Relma old girl. What's all this about negotiating with my cousins?"

"That's just it," said Relma, pleased to see Wrynncurth present. "The Dragon Empire has been attacking Escor for a very long time. And I'd like to figure out why and how to stop it." It all sounded awkward and weak, but that might help her more than hinder her. Relma got as far as she had so far by being underestimated.

"Well, that does sound like an interesting question," mused Wrynncurth. "We haven't had any contact with old Vanessa in a long while. I gather you boys aren't able to get through." He paused. "I say, is that a pipe. Care to join me for a smoke?"

"The Ancestor permits it," said Shren.

Wrynncurth moved on by, drew out his pipe from his scales, and lit it before sitting next to Shren on the walls. He lit it with a spell and puffed smoke while looking very thoughtful. Relma moved forward. "Wrynncurth, who is Vanessa? I heard Aren speak of her, but he didn't say more."

Wrynncurth looked up from his pipe. "Vrengar's eldest daughter. Always the brains between her and Bryag, I gather. Though Bryag never was a chap to lose easily in anything.

"So she isn't talking to you?"

"No," said De Cathe. "She doesn't seem to want to communicate at all. Even servants of the gods cannot understand her servant's speech."

"Well, that is troublesome," said Wrynncurth. "Did she do that plan of hers? Well, I imagine there is only one way to find out."

"And what is that?" asked De Cathe.

Wrynncurth blew on his pipe and sent three smoke rings into the pass. As they went out, they shifted into an army and a castle. The castle was laid to waste by a great gust of wind that blew it outwards toward the distance. "Go and see her, of course. I remember I met her when I was only a hatchling. Getting all this sorted out should be fine if we meet with her.

"Still, we'll have to decide who will meet with her. And that, old girl, will be a bit of a poser."

"Then we should call a council to decide the matter and who will go," said Relma. Councils and meetings, what good would any of this do? Relma wanted to make all the decisions herself, but she had to pretend to include other people first.

How would her Father Hadleim, have handled this? From what she'd heard of him, he wouldn't have. He'd have gotten maneuvered around by everyone and fought his way out of any situation he wasn't useful in. Hadleim probably never would have made it out of the cave of Eitrigg, and he'd have killed Ajax.

So Relma thought she was doing better than her Father already. Which was good; it was a bare minimum to do that. She last wanted to end up back on a farm somewhere, forgotten.

"A council that King Tyus ought to be at to choose a representative," said Aunt Pan, appearing suddenly.

"Aunt Pan? Where have you been?" asked Relma.

Aunt Pan looked bad. She had a red mark above her bow. The left side of her hair looked to have been cut with a knife. There were bags under her eyes. "Busy. Very busy. It has been many years since I was last in Escor, and I had to look up my old contacts among the spirits. It has been... unpleasant.

"Relma, you realize that you have made something of a display of yourself?"

"Oh. So I have," said Relma. "So about that council?"

Aunt Pan sighed. As usual, she could be trusted to oppose Relma's ambitions. But that was useful for making those ambitions more effective anyway. It was something Relma loved her for.