Magnor would not stop looking over at her. Lyssia had avoided contact with him so far, and she did not feel guilty about it. He was doing just fine on his own; he didn't require her help. Honestly, she was surprised that she had thought he would.

The Jarlsclan was in fine form today. They did not even bother to keep their complaints to whispers. No one wanted to prolong the talks with new discussions. They wanted something familiar to argue over. Lyssia had heard similar complaints lodged against Rijek. It had ever been his goal to bring forth new discussions and delay the end of the talks.

Her father and uncle - who had just as much right to wrangle them - seemed disinclined to help. Their silence was the only support they gave Magnor. They did not try to cut him off or control the flow of conversation. This was Magnor’s day to rule over the negotiations table, and he was holding his own.

He did not need to keep looking to her. Lyssia didn't know if he was trying to see if she was impressed or asking for a show of support. Once again, her mind was only half on the discussion as she turned her attention to the eight Jarlsons in attendance and the puzzle her father had handed her.

She felt more awake - more alive, if that were possible - now that she had a task all her own to focus on. She would have to approach it like a puzzle to solve. Her father had never once tasked her with socializing with her peers or making friends, and to think of his assignment in such terms would likely drive her mad. She had little experience in the making of friends, and even less in the keeping of them.

This was a stealth mission. It was a study on allies and human nature. It was a puzzle to be examined and put into place by her steady hands. Her father's grand purpose could very well be her education in these matters. He had his reasons and expectations already in place, and she intended to exceed them.

But how to begin? That was always the hard part. Once she had one foot out the door, it was easy enough to follow through. All she could do now was sit and observe the Jarlsons while trying to appear as though she was not.

Answering the question of which Jarlson would make a strong ally very much depended on what she knew of their fathers. She did not want to rule anyone out as a potential ally, but Jarl Halvor's son - Sorev - would most assuredly not be her pick. One down, seven to go.

Her gaze circled the table to where Azerian sat behind Jarl Fulrik, which put him directly beside Halvor and Sorev. The older landowner had come alone to the peacemeet, so there was a vacant seat ready to be filled behind him. Azerian had taken one look at Roakev and Lyssia walking into the meeting room together, muttered something rude under his breath, and stalked off to find another seat.

Lyssia was thankful she hadn't been able to make out his words. The message was clear enough. He and Roakev had not called a ceasefire on their little spat. Roakev had placed Lyssia in her chair and taken Azerian's empty seat behind her. Lyssia thought it a kind gesture but also a petty one, and Roakev did not offer her the same distraction that Azerian would have. All in all, she felt as though she was getting the short end of the stick.

She wondered if she brought this puzzle to Azerian if he would laugh at her struggles or offer her advice.

“What does Dunival have to offer us in exchange for labor?”

A hard voice broke through Lyssia's thoughts. She glanced back toward the center of the table. Magnor’s eyes tried to grab hers, but Lyssia hastily looked away. What advice would Magnor give her?

“If your countrymen come to Dunival to settle they will not be used for labor. They will be given land, homes, knowledge. They will be treated with the utmost respect, as I would expect pilgrims from Dunival would be treated. It would be an equal exchange.”

“But what assurance will be provided for us that they will remain safe? Or that they will be allowed to return when they wish?” Jarl Fulrik asked.

“And what knowledge could you, our poorer ally, offer us? The knowledge of the wulv-ken? Hahaha.”

This came from the colorfully dressed Jarl that Lyssia had taken note of the day before. She let her attention waver from Magnor, her eyes searching for signs of reaction from the young man sitting behind the Jarl. He shifted his weight away from his father, fidgeting as though uncomfortable. Well, that was interesting.

“Angar, Fulrik, be silent.”

The attention in the room shifted from Magnor and the Jarl who had just insulted him to her father. Magnor sat in one fluid motion, no hesitation in his bearing as he ceded the floor to his elder.

“My men are used to speaking their minds during these meets, Magnor, as you well know. They do not always speak for me. Rest assured, I don't think my agreement with Dunival is merely symbolic. I expect an equal exchange in all our arrangements; Dunival has offered us much wealth over the years."

Lyssia’s father spoke in cajoling tones as though he expected Magnor to snap again at any moment. Keep them wondering where and when you might slip...

But it was clear to Lyssia that Magnor had as much control over himself as he had over his men. She had never seen such a well-behaved pack of debaters.

“But on this matter...I’m afraid my stance has not changed. I don’t doubt that my people would be welcomed in your kongdomr, or that we might benefit from the exchange in ways yet unknown to us. My concern has always been and continues to be the resources in making such an unnecessary move. The law of necessity---”

“Medicine.”

“What?”

“Among the numerous other resources we have to offer Ilvana, my father’s healers have been developing new medicines for...previously incurable...ailments. I would gladly share these with any allies of mine, but they involve delicate processes and native materials. It would make sense that anyone wishing to learn about the wonders being performed by Dunival healers would travel to our shores to learn.”

“Wonders, you say?” Her father kept emotion from his voice, but his thoughts were present in his sharp intake of breath and the way he shifted his body to lean toward Lyssia. “What sort of wonders? How long have you and your father kept this knowledge to yourself?”

Magnor’s gaze wavered to the side, just the tiniest bit, and Lyssia leaned away from her father. “You would find the developments we have made hard to believe given the fact we are such a poor kongdomr. It would be easier for me to try to explain them in private council with you, Dizean. No disrespect to our friends gathered here.”

He smiled at the men gathered around the table who were all staring at him with a mixture of disbelief and yearning. “My father, cautious man that he was, wanted to wait until all dangers had been eliminated, but that will never be achieved. He intended to bring forth the research at the meet this year. He wanted to be the one to place it in your hands. I have the notes written in his hand meant for you.”

“I see…” Lyssia’s father sat back. It was clear the Magnor’s words had sparked his imagination; his thoughts were a league away chasing down possibilities.

After a long moment of wondering, he sat up straight again and declared, “I will not be pushed into making a decision that I do not fully believe in, but I am open to more discussion. We should arrange a private meeting before your departure.”

“Dunival’s borders have always been open to Ilvana. They will remain so.” Magnor offered Lyssia’s father a half bow and turned to Bjarke, lifting his chin and speaking in a strong voice. “Let us move on. There is one more matter that we set to discuss today. Master Skald, please continue reading.”

Magnor had saved this discussion for last on purpose. It was a smart move. Let everyone tire themselves out with lesser arguments before making any mention of...

“On the topic of war,” Bjarke began, and immediately, angry protests sprang to life along the Ilvanian line. They held no life of their own. They were swift but weightless, like a fast-sprung gale. Bjarke did not falter.

“I ask that the leaders of Ilvana put aside their prejudice of old and consider Dunival a valuable partner in the preparation of defenses against those who would take advantage of our many and varied vulnerabilities. I have the authority and the strength of mind to promise you that I shall start no wars of my own. I have no desire to see the bloody history of Dunival repeated. But I have built ships, and I have sailed them. Though I have not been welcome in the world, I have set my sail against the wind to seek what peace I could find. I am a seeker of peace, as I know your own Kongr Dizean to be, but not everyone is. And where peace does not reside in the hearts of men, a spirit of war may flourish.

“I know not when. I know not how. I know not from where the attack will come. But I know this to be certain as if it had already come to pass. Men will seek to wage war against Dunival. If not in my lifetime then in the lifetimes of my sons, who will be unprepared to withstand battle. I can see it - the slaughter of my people - as if I am standing on the opposing shore of the great river of time glimpsing visions of the past. I have always known that Dunival would fall if I did not do all I could as a peace seeker to make allies.

“Glad was I the day I secured for Dunival such a strong ally as Ilvana. Knowing you refuse to pledge yourselves to a covenant of mutual protection wounds me deeply. I do not ask for weapons and men to wage war as if Dunival was a tidal wave set upon destruction for destruction’s sake. No. I ask that you help me build a dam against the wave of destruction that is coming for us. I have offered you my complete trust, all my resources, all my heart. My friends, believe me when I say that I would stand for Ilvana in an instant if called to protect her. Pretty words, yes, but I am prepared to put them into writing and sign my name in blood to this oath. Forgive me if my trust in you falters but for a moment when you have denied Dunival the same.

“I leave this written plea behind not just for your Kongr, but for all who sit on his council. Please take these words into consideration and place my request upon your heart. The next time we meet, let us do so on equal footing and as true allies bent on the protection of all our brethren. Until my return for the celebration of our sixth year of peace, know that my spirit remains with you roaming the green foothills of Ilvana. In good faith and friendship, I bid you farewell and vas adhuil. Kongr Rijek of Dunival, son of Ritevok, Friend of Ilvana and Seeker of Peace."

Peace. Lyssia kicked at an imaginary boot.

She was oddly touched by Rijek’s letter. She had not expected this record to read like a personal missive. None of the others had. She wracked her brain for a memory of the letter being read at the Jarlsmeet that year. She recalled being asked to sit through the gathering, but the letter was missing from her memory. An oversight on the part of Bjarke or her father, or a mistake? Somehow, she did not think it was the latter.

“Thank you, Master Skald,” Magnor said, and all eyes flew to him. “I do not know that I could speak as eloquently as my father, but I would add my own words to his plea.”

It was not a question, and no answer was provided. The gale of mutterings did not die down, but Magnor cut a path through the wind to the map that hung on the wall behind him. One of his men made a pass for his arm, the first Lyssia had seen of a dissenting attitude among the Dunival party. Magnor shook him away and spoke a short command that sent the man reeling back against his seat. Lyssia watched with mild concern as he clasped a hand over his face and hunched over the table.

What was wrong with him?

Magnor had reached the map, and no one seemed to be paying the nameless man any mind. He traced an outline of Dunival with one finger not quite touching the woven surface. Then he stood there for a moment, just staring at it. When he spoke, it was with his back turned.

“Yes, the old prejudices remain. Yes, trust is a hard boat to steer. Yes, war is coming to Dunival, and though I am prepared to put up a fight, I am afraid that I have not the manpower nor the experience to succeed. If war reaches foul Dunival, it will not hesitate to reach across the water and strike fair Ilvana.

“I am prepared to offer the same promises that my father did before me. I want to see Dunival made strong again, and Ilvana with her. Nothing else will please me. I do not have a love of swords. My love is reserved for my people, and I would see them reach past this mourning that my father’s death has cast them into and look toward the dawning of a bright new morning. But I cannot promise to keep peace for them when I fear that peace will not keep me.

“My younger brother…” Magnor paused and a sigh escaped his lips. Lyssia spared him a glance, but her attention returned quickly to the man who appeared to be in distress.

He fell sideways, his head hitting the arm of the man beside him. The second man tried to shake him off, but he seemed to have fallen unconscious. Lyssia almost cried out, but she caught herself at the last moment. Someone else would speak up. They must.

“My younger brother has more natural patience than I could ever hope to attain, and yet it will do him no good when Listoria turns him away again. And after they have news that my father has been felled and Dunival is weakened...what will we do then? What will you do then? What will you do when Listoria shows its true colors and takes from those it does not respect without fear of being called to give recompense? Will you stand to protect us? Will you exact recompense for us? And if your answer is yes, as I hope it will be, then why can you not promise this now? Please…”

“But it is not only a promise of future aid that you are asking for,” Lyssia’s father spoke in the same low, placating tone he had used earlier. “You risk the safety of your loved ones by leaving them when you seem so sure that war is on your doorstep. What are you truly asking for?”

Magnor turned back to face the table, his arms extended wide, his head half bent and eyes lowered. “You cut to the heart of the problem, Dizean. Now search yours. Then you will know that what my father and I have said is true. I cannot pledge my trust to a kongdomr who speaks friendship but would deny us this protection. And yet I would pledge my whole heart to a kongdomr that offered us aid - men, weapons, horses - anything that would help us withstand this wave of destruction that is coming for Dunival. We need aid now. Please, do not dismiss this---”

A sound halfway between a moan and a bellow escaped the distressed man as he jumped awake. He broke free of his friend’s shaking and leaped to his feet.

Magnor turned, seeking the source of the disturbance. His gaze went naturally to Lyssia’s side of the table, but his eyes grew wide when he saw that it was one of his own men who had interrupted him.

The man took a shaky step toward him. “My lord, I---I’m sorry---”

He collapsed there at Magnor’s feet, his apology left hanging in the air.

An unnatural stillness took hold of the room as thirty-two Ilvanian hearts stopped beating in unison. Then the gale of mutters broke loose and with it all sense of reason.

**********