“If there’s a chance he’s alive, we should find out.” Tryss felt a spark of hope. “We must rescue him.”

The Speaker sighed and shook her head. “If only we could, Tryss. He is in the middle of the Pentadrian army and imprisoned by sorcerers. We would only get ourselves captured as well.”

“Of course.” Tryss felt his face flush. The answer was obvious. “Auraya will rescue him.”

“No.” Sirri put a hand on Tryss’s shoulder. “She’d have to fight five powerful Pentadrian sorcerers and all their priests and priestesses. Alone, she would not survive either. We might be able to win this war with one less Siyee, but I doubt we’d have a chance with one less White.”

Tryss stared at her in disbelief. “So we just give up?” He felt a pang of frustration and anger. “It could have been me. I wanted to lead the scouts, but you said I’d be more useful here, working with Songmaker.”

“Tryss…” Drilli murmured.

“And you are,” Sirri told him firmly. “I’m as grieved as you are, Tryss, but all the same I’m glad you didn’t go. I need you here. Tireel may have saved many more of us. We know about the black birds now. We have time to invent ways to fight them.”

He looked at her sharply. Something about the way she had said “invent” suggested that she had used the word deliberately to distract him. Of course she did, he told himself. She’s trying to drag my attention away from Tireel’s fate to something more pressing—the safety of us all.

He managed a smile of sorts. “We had better start making plans, then.”

She squeezed his shoulder. “That’s why I’ve called a Gathering. The landwalkers can leave without us today. We’ll catch up later, after we’ve discussed this among ourselves. Tonight you and I will tell the war council our plans.”

Her gaze shifted away from him. She looked over his shoulder and narrowed her eyes.

“There’s Speaker Vreez. I must go now. When I join my tribe to discuss ideas, Tryss, I hope you’ll have plenty of them.”

“I will,” he promised.

She nodded, then managed a half-smile for Drilli. Walking past him, she strode away toward a trio of older men.

Tryss felt Drilli’s hand curl around his. “If I complain about you spending all night talking with Songmaker again, kick me,” she murmured.

As the last massive tree trunk was lowered into place across the road, Kar heard footsteps behind him.

“That is my favorite so far.”

Kar glanced back at the approaching man. Fin, Lem of the Tarrep warriors, was tall for a Dunwayan. He was handsome, though, and kept his beard short. The tattoos on his face accentuated slightly tilted eyes and an intelligent gaze.