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wasn’t as if he particularly liked Avila, still convinced she’d some hand in Guinalle’s refusal to accept the love he offered, but the acerbic Demoiselle was the only person he knew on this side of the ocean.
    He lifted the lid on one of the silver dishes but his gorge rose at the spicy scent of the mutton. He poured himself some wine. No, Avila wasn’t the only person he knew here. There was Ryshad. Was the sworn man going to prove the true friend he’d seemed the year before? Temar sipped the excellent vintage and tried to ignore a mocking memory of his self-assured boasts to Guinalle before sailing. It was his duty to serve Kel Ar’Ayen by presenting their needs to the nobility gathered for Solstice in Toremal, and he’d surrender that to no man, he’d told her.
    Now he wondered just what he would find there, seeing how this one little town was so fearfully changed.
    He needed Ryshad’s help, that much was certain. Setting down his wine, Temar opened the parlour door, but as he did so a hall lackey opened the main door to the two lady mages and Temar hesitated, pushing the door to.
    “You owe Casuel a certain duty of gratitude. He recognised your affinity and brought you to Hadrumal. That does not entitle him to treat you as his personal maid.” Velindre sounded a worthy match for Avila at her most abrasive.
    Temar smiled a little as he held the parlour door open a crack and watched the lackey usher the women into a dining salon.
    “My lady Velindre Ychane and my lady Allin Mere.” The grace titles seemed entirely appropriate as the taller mage swept elegantly into the room, Allin at her heel visibly unsure of herself. Temar sympathised ruefully.
    “Good evening.”
    Temar clicked his tongue in annoyance as he heard Ryshad’s courteous greeting. There would be no chance to speak to him in private now. As he wondered what to do, the other mage, Casuel Something-Or-Other, bustled down the stairs, all ill-disguised curiosity and smoothing a full-skirted coat of rich tan velvet as he hurried into the dining room. The fool was going to be uncomfortably hot in that, thought Temar uncharitably. No, Guinalle was always rebuking him for that kind of rapid judgement. Temar rubbed a hand over his long jaw. If he was ever going to make Guinalle change her mind about him, he had to succeed in this voyage. Unknown wizards intent on their own concerns could be a real thorn in his shoe. Temar walked softly down the hallway and listened at the dining salon door.
    “Are the colonists not joining us?” That was Velindre. An artless question, Temar thought, but why ask when she could plainly see they weren’t?
    “Not tonight.” Ryshad was courteous as always. “So, what’s your interest in Kellarin?” Courteous but blunt when need be. Temar grinned.
    “A passing one,” the mage replied readily enough. “I’m only interested in so far as it relates to the Elietimm threat.”
    Temar felt his skin crawl and fancied the chill silence filling the room was nigh on palpable through the door.
    “We have no reason to suppose they have abandoned their ambitions to territory beyond their own islands,” Velindre continued easily.
    “And you saw no need to seek Planir’s permission or guidance before involving yourself in concerns that reach as high as the Emperor himself?” asked Casuel waspishly.
    “Not for a few general enquiries, no,” Velindre said coolly.
    Casuel cleared his throat. “The Elietimm were comprehensively rebuffed when they tried to seize Kellarin last year. It’s clear enough their scheming in Tormalin before that was part of their search for the lost colony. They’ll know they are overmatched now and abandon such adventures.”
    Temar shut his eyes on vivid recollection; black-hearted Elietimm raiders shattering their dream of a new life over the ocean, murdering friends and mentors, forcing the trapped survivors to insane trust in the half-understood enchantment that was their only hope of