It is so, Lilias, the dragon affirmed.

“Good,” Ushahin said. “There, in Jakar, I will open the portal of the Marasoumië—open it, and hold it. In Darkhaven, Lord Vorax will hold open the other end, and General Tanaros will bring the army through the Ways.”

“Can this be done?” she asked him.

“Yes.” He gave her a twisted smile. “Not without strain. But with Lord Satoris’ aid, Vorax and I will bear the cost of it. Tanaros and his army will be untouched by it. In Jakar, they will rally and prepare to fall on the rearguard of Haomane’s Allies.”

Lilias looked away. “Jakar is far from Beshtanag, Dreamer. Too far.”

The half-breed shrugged. “It is far enough to be safe, Lady. There is nowhere within the boundaries of Pelmar that the army of Darkhaven can assemble unseen, and it is the element of surprise that assures our victory.”

“It seems to me it would be a considerable surprise for Haomane’s Allies to find them here,” Lilias said in a dry tone. “There is, after all, a node of the Marasoumië here in Beshtanag.”

“Yes.” Ushahin looked at her with something like regret. “There is. And there is a wall to pen us in Beshtanag, and the forest of Pelmar dense around it A trap must close at both ends, Lady. If we awaited them here, we would have no means of surrounding them, nor of sealing the avenue of their retreat. Do not fear. Jakar is near enough, and General Tanaros’ army is capable of traveling at great speed. The path they follow will already have been blazed by the enemy. It will take three days, no more.”

She bit her lip. Yesterday, one of the Were Brethren had come—a grey shadow of a yearling, thin-shanked and wary, making his report as the Grey Dam Vashuka had pledged. “Haomane’s Allies assemble at Kranac. In five days, they will be here, mounting a siege on Beshtanag.” She looked directly at him. “Where will your army be then, Dreamer?”

“On their heels.” He returned her gaze unblinking. “One day, or two. Such was the nature of your bargain, Sorceress. Can you hold?”

“What do you think?” Lilias asked grimly. Rising from her cushioned couch, she strode past the kneeling Sarika to the balcony doors, thrusting back the heavy silk curtains that veiled them. “Look and see”

He stepped through the doors and onto the balcony. His crippled fingers rested on the marble railing as he looked down at the mighty wall that encircled Beshtanag Mountain. Gauging by the figures that moved in its shadow, the wall stood three times as high as a tall man. There were no hewn blocks, no mortar—only smooth and polished granite, flecks of mica glinting in the sun.

“Such is the power of the Soumanië?” Ushahin glanced at her.

“Yes.”