All she asked was loyalty.
Her indulgences were few. There were her attendants, her pretty ones, but what of it? She liked to be surrounded by beauty, by youth. It was a precious and fleeting thing, that span of time wherein youth attained the outer limits of adulthood and reckoned itself immortal, refusing to acknowledge the Chain of Being. It reminded her of why she had chosen to become what she was, the Sorceress of the East.
Most of them served of their own volition. And the rest… well. She tried to choose wisely, but perhaps there were a few exceptions. It was a small Shaping, a minor binding at best. None of them took any harm from it, and Lilias dowered them generously, lads and maids alike, when the freshness of their youth began to fade and she dismissed them from her service to go forth and lead ordinary, mortal lives, shaded by the glamor of being part of a story that had begun before they were born, that would continue after their deaths.
None had any right to complain.
And none of them were wise enough to shudder under the shadow of what had occurred here this day, hearing in Grey Dam Vashuka's stance the echo of what was to transpire in the promise of Haomane's Prophecy. Lilias heard its echo, and knew, once more, the taste of fear.
The Were shall be defeated ere they rise…
"Thank you, ambassador," she said. "You have leave to go."
He left, belly low to the ground, flowing like smoke.
"BESHTANAG HAS NEVER DEPENDED ON the Were, little ssissster."
"No." Lilias leaned back against the strong column of the dragon's left foreleg, watching blue dusk deepen in the cavern mouth. "But it's a blow nonetheless. Even if all goes as Tanaros Blacksword claimed, we have to be prepared to keep Haomane's Allies at bay for a day, perhaps longer. Beshtanag won't fall in a day, but it would have helped to have the Were in reserve."
"Yesss."
On the horizon, the red star winked into visibility. "Calandor?"
"Yess, Liliasss?"
"What if he's right?" She craned her neck to look up at him. "What if the Dwarfs did choose wisely in choosing Yrinna's Peace? Might we not do the same? Are we wrong to defy the will of Haomane?"
A nictitating membrane flickered over the dragon's left eye. "What is right, Liliasss?"
"Right," she said irritably. "That which is not wrong."
"In the beginning," Calandor rumbled, "there was Uru-Alat, and Uru-Alat was all things, and all things were Uru-Alat—"
"—and then came the Beginning-in-End, and the Seven Shapers emerged, and first of all was Haomane, Lord-of-Thought, who was born at the place of the Souma and knew the will of Uru-Alat," Lilias finished. "I know. Is it true? Does Haomane speak with the World God's voice? Are we wrong to defy him?"
The dragon bent his sinuous neck, lowering his head. Twin puffs of smoke jetted from his nostrils. "You quote the catechism of your childhood, little ssisster, not mine."
"But is it true?"
"No." Calandor lifted his head, sighing a sulfurous gust. "No, Liliasss. You know otherwise. These are things I have shown you. The world began in ending, and it will end in beginning. Thisss, not even Haomane Firsst-Born undersstands. What he grasspss is only a portion of Uru-Alat'ss plan, and his role in it is not as he thinksss. All things mussst be Ssundered to be made whole. It is not finished… yet."
"Calandor," she said. "Why did you tell such things to Satoris Third-Born, yet not to Haomane First-Born?"
"Because," the dragon said. "He asssked."
For a long moment, neither spoke. At length, Lilias said, "Is that why Haomane despises him?"
The dragon shifted. "Perhapss, Liliasss. I cannot sssay."
"Between them, they will tear the world asunder anew," she said in a low voice.
"Yesss," Calandor agreed. "One in his pride, one in his defiansse. Sso it musst be. All things change and transsmute, even Shapers. They play the roles they mussst."
"Do they know?" she asked.
Calandor blinked once, slowly. "Sssatoriss knows."
In the unseasonal warmth she shivered, wrapping her arms about herself, pressing her body against the scaled forelimb. Even the forge-heat of the dragon's body could not dispel her chill. "Calandor, what of us? What happens if we fail?"
"Fail?" There was amusement in the dragon's deep voice. "What is failure?"
"RIGHT." THE CAPTAIN OF THE Ilona's Gull scratched his stubbled chin, running a calculating eye over Carfax' company. "My bargain was for twenty men, not horses. 'Specially not these horses. Reckon they'll wreak right hell in my hold if the crossing's rough, won't they?"