"Well?" Lilias arched her carefully plucked eyebrows a fraction higher, watching the page stutter. "Are the Were not our allies? See him in!"
He left in a rush. Sarika ceased her fanning. "You should bind him to you, my lady," she murmured, lowering her head to press her lips to the inside of Lilias' wrist. "He would be quicker to serve."
"I've no need of fools and imbeciles, dear one." She stroked the girl's hair. "Enough surround me without binding."
Head bent, Sarika smiled.
Calandor?
Abide, little sister.
The Were ambassador, when he came, entered the room like grey smoke, flowing around corners, low to the ground. Only when he stood and bowed did his form become fixed in the mind's eye. Sarika let out a squeak, huddling close to her mistress' couch. "Sorceress of the East." The Were dipped his muzzle in acknowledgment. "I am Phraotes. I bring you greetings from the Grey Dam of the Were."
Lilias frowned. "Where is Kurush to whom I spoke a fortnight ago? Has he fallen out of favor with the Grey Dam Sorash?"
Phraotes grimaced, lips curling back to show his sharp teeth. "The Grey Dam is dead. The Grey Dam lives. Vashuka is the Grey Dam of the Were."
"Ahhh." A pang ran through her. For as long as Lilias had lived—far longer than the allotment of Arahila's Children—Sorash had been the Grey Dam. "I grieve for your loss, Phraotes," she said in formal response, rising from her couch and extending her hand. "I give greetings to the Grey Dam Vashuka, and recognize the ancient ties of alliance. Thy enemies shall be mine, and my enemies shall be thine."
"Sorceress." He bowed his head, but his amber eyes glowed uneasily at her. "The Grey Dam values the friendship of Beshtanag."
The words were a blow. "Friendship." Lilias withdrew her outstretched hand, regarding Phraotes. "Not alliance."
The ambassador's keen, pointed ears tightened against his head. "War comes to Beshtanag. We do not desire war. Only to hunt, and live."
"You helped to set these forces in motion, Phraotes."
"Yes." His muzzle dipped in a nod. "The Grey Dam Sorash had cause for vengeance. Two Brethren accompanied her. All are dead. The debt is paid. The Grey Dam Vashuka does not desire war."
"Why?" she asked him.
His lip curled. "Once was enough, Sorceress."
Lilias paced her drawing-room, ignoring the clatter of Gergon's wardsmen arriving in a panic, waving them back when they sought to enter the room. Phraotes watched her with wary patience. "You prevailed in that war, Phraotes."
The Were shook his head. "We won our battle, Sorceress. We lost the war."
It is so, Lilias.
Lilias sighed. "You should have stayed in the west," she said to Phraotes. "The children of Men would not hunt you beneath the Sunderer's protection. He commands a vaster territory than I do."
His amber eyes shone. "Our home is in the east, Sorceress. We are Oronin's Children and it is here he Shaped us."
"Oronin should have better care for his Children," Lilias said sharply.
"No." Phraotes' shoulders moved in a shrug. "He is the Glad Hunter. He Shaped us in joy. The Grey Dam Vashuka believes we were foolish to listen to Satoris Banewreaker, who spoke smooth words and roused our ire against Haomane First-Born for denying us the Gift of cleverness. Only Yrinna's Children were wise."
"The Dwarfs?" She laughed. "The Dwarfs are content to till the soil and tend the orchards of arrogant Vedasian nobles, ambassador, accepting humility as their lot. You call that wisdom?"
"No one slaughters their young," said Phraotes. "There is merit in Yrinna's Peace. So the Grey Dam Vashuka believes. I am sorry, Sorceress. You have been a good friend to the Were. In Beshtanag, we have been safe. No longer, if war comes." He paused, then added, "We do not abandon you. The Grey Dam pledges a scouting-pack of yearling Brethren to range the western borders, reporting to you. But we will not join in battle. We are too few."
It is their right, Lilias.
"I know," she said aloud, replying to the dragon. "I know." Reluctantly, Lilias inclined her head to the Were ambassador. "I hear your words, Phraotes. Though I am disappointed, they are fair-spoken. Tell the Grey Dam Vashuka that the Sorceress of the East values her friendship. So long as Beshtanag is under my rule, the Were are welcome in it."
"Sorceress." He bowed with obvious relief, ears pricked at a more confident angle. "You are wise and generous."
In the hallway, one of the warders coughed. Lilias suppressed a surge of annoyance. Her wardsmen enjoyed an easy life, and greater freedom than they might elsewhere in Pelmar, subject to the whims of the Regents. With the aid of the Were, she and Calandor defended the boundaries of Beshtanag. All she had done was to forge a holding where she might live in peace, as she chose.