“Yes, and these things tend to spread with a religious fervor once they get started. Even if Moburu is the High King, I’d strongly advise King Alidosius to make sure he never sits in any throne—not unless you want to invite civil unrest or even civil war to Alitaera. Jorsin Alkestes still stirs all sorts of emotions. A High King would itself be bad enough, considering the sheer area such a man would rule, but in the Alkestian prophecies, he is a harbinger. Think what may happen in each of our lands if people really believe that the Lord of Hell is coming in bodily form, that creatures from their nightmares will walk again, that kingdoms are doomed to fall.”

Ambassador Guerin looked moderately ill. “Yes, I’ll convey all this to the king. Is that all?”

“No, I need to know if your lancers are on their way.”

“You ask me this now, after you’ve only just given me the information which might make the king amenable to such a request?”

“I gave you the information when we got it. We need those soldiers now.”

“I told you months ago that without access to whatever intelligence you had about an invasion we would be unable to grant your request. If you’ll pardon an old military man speaking bluntly, we can’t send five thousand lancers every time an old ally gets nervous. That’s not what the Accords oblige.”

An old military man? You haven’t lifted a lance in thirty years. “The Accords oblige a robust defense of the Chantry, which seems even more pressing now that Moburu Ander’s company—an Alitaeran company—fought for Khalidor at the Battle of Pavvil’s Grove. We’re facing two enemies here even without Moburu Ander’s men, and each alone may be capable of annihilating us. The fact is, even the two thousand lancers you have across the border—yes, of course I know about them—probably won’t be enough to defend us. The best I can expect is that they will hold our flank against the Lae’knaught while we go to Black Barrow.”

“You’re going to Black Barrow?” Marcus Guerin asked.

“The Khalidorans have learned to raise krul.”

“Krul? A legend!” Marcus Guerin scoffed. “This is completely—”

“Have you been to Black Barrow, ambassador?”

His blue eyes looked troubled.

“Black Barrow is the only place where, once killed, the krul can’t be Raised again. It’s the only place we can fight them with any hope of winning.”

“So you want us to help you invade your neighbor? That’s an awfully bold interpretation of accords intended to curtail the Chantry’s imperial ambitions.”

Suddenly, from many stories below, the Speaker felt an unfamiliar magic. Though she’d only met a half dozen magi, and had never seen them use their Talents, she knew instantly that this was a magus—in her Chantry.

“Speaker, is something wrong?”