The sun was sinking in the west by the time Klinberg's Pride-commanders had gathered in the map room. The Steward was forced to partially lower the shields to cover the high western windows and obstruct its brightness from the eyes of the assembled knights and Council members. The heavy plates of metal were left high enough to allow a band of the sun's light to scythe through the room's lower half and across the oval map table, picking out its finely wrought detail and casting long shadows across its sculpted contours. Chief-communicant Vennar, standing with the other Council members, gazed down happily at the God's view of the Order's lands, while beside him, High Madriel-master Sprak squinted furiously in a bright beam of light that reflected harshly from the polished surface of the western marches. In the west, the sun would be shining bright on the same marshes that the green glass had been worked to represent.

The land beyond the great-bailey had now been searched from that far border, all the way to the river Siceria in the east, and from the river Rhebus in the north to the Faulker in the south. All day the soldiers of Klinberg had travelled the corridors, rooms and battlements of the fortress, but neither sight nor scent of any other assassins had been found. Sir Kralaford had not expected there to be, but if the concern that the motive for his attempted murder had not been discovered, he was vigilant in his efforts not to let his disquiet be displayed openly. A motive could be easily surmised, of course, and the timing of the attack was unlikely to have been a coincidence.

The heavy door of the map room swung open and Pride-commander Galder strode through, still dressed in his travelling clothes, coated in dust from his ride south. He walked to the Grand-commander's empty chair, slowly drew his sword from its sheath and lifted the curved blade up to his face, before bowing his head so that his greying hair touched the metal. Beneath his hair, his angular features were like a wind blasted cliff, the heavy line of his brow flat above grey eyes, their paleness piercing, as he acknowledged the other knights in the room.

In recognition of his seniority, he inclined his head a fraction to Sir Unsaethel, who was reclined in his chair beside the empty seat of the Grand-commander. He then regarded each of the other knights in turn until his eyes finally rested on Sir Kralaford.

"Commander," he said. "I am pleased that you live. Word reached me that we have had assassins within our walls."

"Indeed," replied Sir Kralaford. "But I have survived them."

"You must give my compliments to your wife."

"I will, Commander," replied Sir Kralaford, choosing to ignore the slight.

Sir Galder frowned and looked around at the assembled Council members, who had retreated from the map table and were now seated on the hard benches that lined the room's walls.

"Greetings, Masters and Councillors," he said. "Though I do not understand your presence here; this Chapter meeting was called as a military assembly."

"You called for a meeting of the Chapters," replied Council-master Hepskil, from where he sat in the group's centre. "But it was Commander Unsaethel who called for the attendance of the Council."

Sir Galder turned his grey eyes to Sir Unsaethel. The senior Pride-commander straightened in his chair, showing no discomfort at the hostility of that glare. For once, he had foresworn his customary faded garments for a fine tunic of green and black check, and his greying hair was combed and clasped at his neck with a circlet of dark metal. When he spoke, his voice was measured.

"Our Order is not currently at war, Commander, so the situation in the north is not yet a military issue. Therefore, it is the Council's right to attend this meeting."

Sir Galder stepped towards the map table.

"An army is at our border! Of course it is a military issue, no matter how you attempt to tangle it in words of procedure and precedent. This fortress' replies to my previous messages make it clear to see that this Order is unable to understand the seriousness of the situation!"

"We have sufficient understanding of the situation," said Sir Zembulla, who stood beside the map table, his massive arms crossed in front of his chest like a defensive buttress. "The Chapter Commanders have agreed that Lord Taine's troops do not carry a significant threat to this fortress. Therefore, deployment of further reinforcements is not required."

"The situation has changed," growled Sir Galder.

"How so?" asked Master Hepskil.

"The Northern Orders' is not the only army standing at our border."

Sir Galder strode to the table opposite Sir Zembulla and jabbed his finger at an area of the map where the gentle undulations of the plains rose in a plateau of hills.

"The Free-clans have assembled an army in the hills at Solridge."

Sir Kralaford stepped up to the table.

"Their numbers?"

"My scouts reported at least seven sections of swordsmen and three of spearmen. They also reported twelve pack banners representing at least four of the senior Clan-patriarchs, but there may be more. Their patrols are being uncommonly zealous in their duty, and my scouts cannot get closer."

"And what action have you taken in response?" asked Master Hepskil.

"I have reinforced my eastern camp, but I have no further troops to deploy. May I reiterate my request for further reinforcements from your Chapters? Maybe some of Commander Zembulla's knights could join. Unless he is happier keeping to the safety of Klinberg's walls?"

Sir Zembulla, who had been standing immobile and silent, unfolded his arms and leant threateningly on the table.

"I would be happy to come and show your men how to fight, should it be deemed necessary," his deep voice rumbled.

Sir Galder glared savagely around the room. When he spoke it was with barely concealed anger.

"All my knights and their men are committed. With this new army of the Free-clans, I am outnumbered. I have already been forced to marshal my levies, but still I cannot defend an attack on three fronts."

"Commander Kralaford," said Sir Unsaethel, who was once more reclining in his chair. "What are your thoughts on the matter?"

Sir Kralaford, who had been looking down at the map with lowered brows, glanced up at the Senior Commander. The presence of the Free-clan troops complicated things, but his plans could be easily adjusted.

"I have given my views of Lord Taine's disposition before now..."

"Which is doubtless why I have not received reinforcements previously," said Sir Galder, his eyes piercing in the strange half gloom of the room.

Sir Kralaford met the hostile stare with his own.

"I am not concerned about Lord Taine's intentions, as I have said, but I do join with Commander Galder in his concerns with the presence of the Free-clans. Their motives may be as defensive as I believe Lord Taine's to be, but there is no way we can be certain."

"Their motives are abundantly clear to me; they are to join forces once more with the Heights, as they did before."

High Lance-master Tzarren leant forward on his bench.

"I am sure that the Free-clan's interjection at Wessvall resulted in some serious oath-debts for the Order of the Heights, and though we do not know the details of those debts, I am sure they were substantial. I doubt Lord Taine would be willing to incur more."

"He has probably promised them our land in payment," said Sir Galder, "The Order of the Heights have made no move to give us their cooperation in the restoration of Solridge!"

"I fear that the Order in the north does not have the influence it once did," said Master Hepskil sadly. "Certainly after Wessvall, the Free-clans are more powerful than ever, and we cannot rule out the possibility that the Clans and the Order will join together against us."

"Where are your eastern troops stationed?" asked Sir Kralaford.

Sir Galder indicated an area of land half way between Solridge and the river Siceria, where the Rhebus flowed into it before it began its long winding journey south across the plains towards Trehlsvale.

"Kinder's Drop."

"And now the Free-clans are at their flank," said Lance-master Tzarren, standing and stepping up to the table.

"I am fully aware of the strategic inadequacies of my position, High Lance-master! That is why I need my fellow Commanders to deploy their troops."

"You seem certain of the Free-clans alliance with the Order of the Heights," said Sir Unsaethel. "But I do not believe you are correct in your thinking. It is more likely that they are merely seeking to take advantage of the current situation, and the uncertainty between the Orders. Many farms and ranches lie along Solridge's border. Maybe it is their intention to raid our lands and take what they can in the event of hostilities."

Sir Bevrik leant forward in his chair. The Pride-commander of Asquith Chapter was as immaculately dressed as always. His long tunic was of a shimmering blue, trimmed with black volus fur and fastened with a belt of jewelled metal links.

"It would be useful if we could know their intentions..."

He was silenced by Sir Galder's fist, slamming down on the table's edge.

"Their intentions be damned!" he roared, his voice rising to fill the room. "I am tired of your indecisive clacking. Are you Pride-commanders or marsh fish wives?"

"We are Pride-commanders," replied Sir Bevrik mildly. "And our loyalty is to Fortak and the Order. Have you forgotten your duty?"

"You dare to lecture me on duty, when all I have is the safety of our people in mind!"

Master Hepskil lifted his staff for silence.

"Commanders, please! This will take us nowhere."

The two Commanders lapsed into silence.

"May I make a suggestion, Council-master?" said Sir Kralaford, still studying the map. "I may have a solution to our dilemma."

"Please let us hear it, Commander Kralaford."

"We may gain an insight into both Lord Taine's and the Free-clan's intentions if Commander Galder were to withdraw his troops from the border..."

"Leave the Rhebus unguarded!" growled Sir Galder. "The river provides our best defensive line, and if I remove my troops there would be nothing then to stop them from crossing into our lands."

"If you will permit me to finish, Commander? I suggest that you pull your troops back and take them across the river Siceria. Bring your eastern troops south to meet them and conceal them in the Sanctuary."

He pointed to a region of the map south of the area where Sir Galder had committed his eastern troops, and west of where the northern roads to Solridge and Eifel met. There, a long low hill rose steep sided from the flat grass of the plains.

"The Sanctuary?" said Sir Galder.

Master Hepskil walked over to the table, leaning heavily on his tall staff.

"I do not like the idea of an unguarded border any more than Commander Galder does. What is your reasoning, Commander Kralaford?"

"My reasoning is simple. Removing our troops from the border will give Lord Taine and the Free-clans the opportunity to withdraw if, as I believe is the case, he has assembled them as a precautionary measure in response to uncertainty at our own intentions."

"And if your beliefs are wrong, you will leave our border undefended," said Sir Galder, as though addressing a small child.

"Not at all. I also propose that the Order readies a sufficient force here at Klinberg, equipped to advance in its defence. We can supply our troops for a fast march. The supply wagons and war engines can follow after if necessary. If it is the case that the Heights and the Clans have amassed their troops on our borders with the intention of attack, then let him come; we will be ready for them. If they attack in the east, then our armies can march along the Trehlsvale road and your knights would be on hand to deliver an unexpected counter attack at their rear, once they have been engaged. If they concentrate their forces at the Force road and march in the west, your troops can return over the Siceria by the deeps bridge, and be in a position to deliver a similar attack to their flank."

A humourless smile spread over Sir Galder's face.

"You think to set a trap?"

"Not as such, but if their intention is to attack, a trap will be ready for them."

"With our borders unguarded, we are permitting them to enter our lands wherever they wish. What if they attack from their current positions on three fronts?"

"Then we can destroy them piece by piece," said Sir Zembulla.

"My thoughts exactly," said Sir Kralaford. "First we destroy their western forces, then we can cross the river and engage those in the east."

"And while you are fighting in the west, you would be quite happy to leave me and my knights in the east with two armies to engage," said Sir Galder. "Do you seek my destruction, Commander?"

"Not at all. You could not engage their eastern troops directly, but your knights can harry them and make their progress slower. Javac cannot match your madriel on the open plain, and they would soon learn the error of setting foot on Klinberg's soil."

Sir Bevrik laughed.

"That sounds like it could be entertaining. I would be glad to join you myself for such an opportunity."

"I think Commander Galder is more than able to fulfil the task," said Sir Kralaford.

"Do not attempt to flatter me," said Sir Galder with a fierce scowl. "I do not like your plan."

"But it does have its merits," said Sir Unsaethel, now leaning forward in his chair. "If Lord Taine intends an invasion, then we shall be prepared. If the deployment of his troops is defensive, as Sir Kralaford believes, then we will avoid a war."

"A war cannot be avoided," said Sir Galder, with barely concealed discourtesy.

"I thought that you only had the interests of our Order and its people in mind," said Sir Bevrik. "And surely an opportunity to avoid hostilities at this time should be taken. Is peace not of more benefit to the people that Klinberg protects?"

Sir Bevrik looked around the other knights at the table, and at the assembled Council Members, many of whom were nodding in agreement.

"The measures that Commander Kralaford suggests are sound," said High Lance-master Tzarren. "I see little point in an avoidable conflict while we are still without leadership."

Sir Galder looked about the room at the Council Members and his fellow Pride-commanders.

"It looks as though I have been left with little choice."

"So you will agree to remove your men?" said Sir Unsaethel.

"I do not like to give ground to an enemy."

"Just so, but let us see Lord Taine's reaction," said Sir Unsaethel. "And if one single Javac sets foot over the Rhebus without our consent, the full weight of reprisal will fall on him."

"Then I shall do as Commander Kralaford suggests."

Sir Kralaford inclined his head to his fellow Pride-commander.

"I thank you for heeding my strategy, and can I suggest that we begin our preparations immediately. Maybe we shall put an end to this business within the week."

"This matter will not be settled so quickly!" retorted Sir Galder. "Even if Lord Taine removes his troops."

"No," replied Sir Kralaford. "But such an act will be enough to reassure me of the possibility of peace."

"Indeed," said Sir Bevrik, and then he smiled brightly at Sir Galder. "If we are correct, then this strategy of Commander Kralaford's means that you will not have to endure the rains while camped out on our border. Is it not fortunate that he survived last night's attack?"

Sir Galder stared back at the Commander of Asquith, then transferred the gaze of his hard grey eyes to Sir Kralaford, but gave no indication of the thoughts that lay behind them.