webcrawl/APGTE/Book-6/out/Ch-063.md.tex

\hypertarget{chapter-45-progress}{%
\chapter{Progress}\label{chapter-45-progress}}



\epigraph{``- one might then wonder if a kingdom's sufferance of a tyrant
for a decade is not worth the inevitable successful uprising by an
usurped relative and the golden age it will usher. Given the frequent
petty cruelty and mediocrity of kings, might it not be worth inducing a
great tyrant so that a great ruler will follow them?''}{Extract from the controversial treatise `Ethics of Fate' by Kalchas
the Gadfly, Atalantian philosopher}



The tavern had closed hours ago, as it was the middle of the night, but
the Peregrine had a knack for getting into places he shouldn't and I had
a Night-trick decent with locks. I snapped my fingers and a few streaks
of black flame sputtered to life in hanging lanterns, revealing a dirt
floor to the large room. Just like the one we'd had in the Rat's Nest.
Feeling just a tad nostalgic, I limped up behind the bar -- a nice large
oaken piece -- and went looking through the bottles after leaning my
staff against the sude. Whoever ran this place kept a cudgel under the
counter, I noted with approval. Good form.

I snatched up a bottle of what looked like genuine Neustrian schnaps,
pulling the cork and taking a sniff. Apple, maybe? It'd do. Klaus
Papenheim loved the stuff, and he'd offered it to me enough I'd acquired
a taste for it. I took up one of the wooden cups and filled it, cocking
an eyebrow at Tariq when he sat himself on the other side of the
counter.

``What's your poison, Pilgrim?'' I asked.

``I don't suppose there's a pear brandy lying around?'' the old man
asked. ``Alavan, if possible.''

I looked through the stock but there wasn't, sadly enough.

``Closest they've got is some sort of berry brandy,'' I told him, ``and
it looks Arlesite, though Gods only know from where beyond that.''

``Now you have me curious, I'll admit,'' the Pilgrim said. ``If you
don't mind?''

I deftly set the cup down on the counter without turning as I took the
bottle -- some things never quite went, huh -- and poured him a finger.
I sniffed the bottle discreetly afterwards and almost gagged. It smelled
like a whole bush had died in there along the promised berries. This
might be the Grand Alliance's camp but I wasn't a robber queen, so I
placed two golden crowns where the bottle I'd taken had stood. I cast a
look at Tariq, who looked faintly embarrassed.

``I have been travelling light,'' he admitted.

He wasn't so crass as to actually outright request I pay for his drink,
though, I noted with amusement.

``\emph{Heroes},'' I sighed, teasing.

I was actually out of crowns by I had a Praesi \emph{aurelius} and a
Proceran \emph{gran}, which should more or less cover the costs. The
gran was less pure, and so worth less, but some places refused imperial
coinage as they believed it to be cursed. I vaguely remembered that one
of the Dread Emperors \emph{had} in fact tried to drive a chunk of
Callowan nobility mad by cursing coinage a few centuries back so I
couldn't even blame them.

``You're covered for the bottle,'' I said, and raised my cup.

He matched it with his, and the drink went down. I laughed after it went
down, my throat aflame. Damn, but the Lycaonese liked it with a kick.
Orcs would actually enjoy drinking this, which was a standard rarely
met.

``Business, then,'' I said.

``Business,'' Tariq agreed.

I said nothing, only cocking an eyebrow as I leaned against the counter.

``I will assume,'' the Grey Pilgrim said, ``that your intent is not to
gloat.''

``I like to think I'm above such things,'' I lied.

``Naturally,'' the Peregrine seriously agreed.

A beat of silence passed.

``That said,'' I thinly smiled, ``I fucking told you so.''

He sighed, but did not disagree. That was already promising. I'd not
been sure exactly what to expect, as the silence and eventual assent
from the Dominion when I'd gotten the Wandering Bard to be designated as
formal enemy of the Grand Alliance had only told me he'd abstained from
getting involved. His actual thoughts remained unknown to me.

``It is possible that the attack on the Arsenal was meant to aid in the
long term,'' Tariq said, then grimaced and poured himself another finger
of brandy. ``But that is irrelevant. She has forced us to take her as an
enemy through her actions, regardless of whatever intent might lie
behind them.''

``There's precious few acts you can't justify by saying they'll help
down the line,'' I flatly replied. ``That does tend to be the convenient
thing about using the future for proof.''

``Peace, Black Queen. I am not attempting to justify the Wandering
Bard's offences against us,'' Tariq tiredly said. ``Merely struggling to
reconcile the woman I have known for a very long time with the one who
is now my foe.''

Much as I hated it'd taken him this long to get here, it was starting to
look he actually \emph{was} there so I swallowed the many barbs still on
the tip of my tongue. Rubbing salt in the wound would get me nothing
save a fleeting moment of satisfaction.

``Then we're in agreement that she's kill-on-sight,'' I said. ``And that
an order ensuring as much comes down on both your side and mine.''

``You are unlikely to actually kill her, using such means,'' Tariq said.
``But I do not disagree with the principle: her power comes from access
to and influence over Bestowed, stripping her from these strengths is
sensible.''

``Sensible,'' I slowly repeated. ``Yes, I believe so. Another sensible
thing would be, for example, how you came to be so certain she won't
die. I know why I think that, Peregrine, but you've been less than
forthcoming about your ties with her.''

``Should I complain to my representative under the Terms and being so
clandestinely approached?'' the Pilgrim drily said.

I filled my glass, conspicuously.

``This is just two old friends having a drink and a chat, Tariq,'' I
toothily smiled. ``Not an interrogation. Skirt around the letter of the
law, me? Perish the thought.''

He cocked a brow.

``Perish is the right word,'' the old man said. ``How does the Red Axe
fare, these days?''

``I believe they went with decapitation,'' I said. ``'twas a little late
to boil her alive, admittedly, and a brisk hanging would have been good
fun but little else.''

I suspected that Hasenbach had been amused, in that discreet way of
hers, that from now when the execution by sword of the Red Axe was
spoken of there would be a great deal of trouble over the nomenclature.
Mind you, that it would add a dash of confusion to any rumours about the
execution in the Arsenal was a more likely culprit for why she might
have arranged that.

``You lost trust when you arranged that,'' Tariq said. ``Some with our
Bestowed, more with the man who leads them.''

``Tell me something I don't know,'' I replied, almost rolling my eyes.
``You disapprove, I take it?''

He sighed.

``No,'' the Grey Pilgrim finally said. ``It helped stave off the
collapse of Procer at otherwise minor costs. I only wish it had not
forced a distancing between yourself and young Hanno, though perhaps it
is for the best.''

I drank of my cup, silently inviting him to elaborate.

``The cordiality of the relationship between you two has much been
commented on,'' he said.

``If this is going to turn into another polite request I don't sleep
with him, I'm going to get miffed at having to repeat I'm not
interested,'' I warned him.

``I believe you,'' Tariq replied, sounding like he meant it. ``But
friendship is already seen as dangerous enough. You represent interests,
the both of you, and those interests are often at odds. Friendship
complicates that.''

I waved him down.

``Bullshit,'' I frankly said. ``If anything liking him made dealing with
him significantly easier. But it's no longer an issue anyway. Let those
fears be buried, and instead of dealing with fish market gossip we can
perhaps deal with the endless undead armies trying to kill us all.''

``I have yet to witness any power in this world or the next that quell
gossip,'' Tariq amusedly said, ``but your point is taken.''

``Good,'' I said. ``I believe we were talking about the Bard?''

The Grey Pilgrim conceded with a nod.

``We first met in the Free Cities, when I intervened in a spot of
trouble within the Helikean royal family,'' he said. ``I took her for a
simple Bard, that first time, but recognizing her under a different face
a few years later put paid to that notion.''

Yeah, that'd do it. I still wasn't sure what his reading aspect exactly
was, but it was frighteningly sharp even when the Ophanim weren't
actively whispering secrets into his ear.

``And you knew she wasn't strictly one of Above's,'' I pointed out.
``You weren't surprised when I told you I'd seen her work on Below's
behalf.''

Blue eyes sad, he nodded.

``That much became beyond dispute when she disrupted my pursuit of a
villain in Lange within a decade of our first meeting,'' Tariq said,
``forcing me to retreat from the Principality entirely and so lose the
trail.''

I whistled.

``And you didn't, you know,'' I delicately said, slicing a finger across
my throat, ``try to Mercy her afterwards, so to speak.''

I glanced atop the hero's sparse crown of white hair apologetically.

``No offence meant, fellows,'' I added.

I didn't get smote, so I decided to ascribe a passable sense of humor to
the Choir of Mercy. The things you learned, huh?

``None was taken,'' the Pilgrim informed me. ``Though after your\ldots{}
colourful conversations with Contrition and Endurance, that could be
seen as favoritism.''

I winked above his head.

``Don't spread it around,'' I loudly whispered.

Long-suffering, he sipped at his drink and sighed.

``I did, in fact, try to kill her,'' Tariq said. ``It did not take,
evidently, and the misgivings of my patrons in pursuing her demise gave
me pause. As did the eventual realization that the young villain she'd
helped escape me had within the year died fighting another villainess,
in the process exposing her schemes in Penthes.''

\emph{Ah}, I thought. There it was, the first of the missing pieces.
Tariq trusted the Ophanim, and we'd already established that the
Intercessor could affect angels.

``You thought she was another like you,'' I realized. ``Only subtler and
older.''

``It was my belief that she was not a willing servant to Below, and so
that she ensured all the victories arranged in their name would lead to
starker defeats down the line,'' the Pilgrim admitted. ``I suspected her
forced service to be a consequence of the nature of her Bestowal, a
storyteller's duty to attend to the foe as well as the hero.''

``She's not like us, Pilgrim,'' I said. ``Named, sure, but I get the
feeling there's a lot less between her and the Gods than there is for
the rest of us.''

``The sufferings she attended to are on a scale we can hardly imagine,''
Tariq softly agreed. ``And so I did not judge, Catherine, to borrow
another man's words. Even with the wisdom of the Ophanim close to me, I
cannot begin to understand the crushing burden of her purpose. Weighing
the suffering of a century knowing it might spare another, patching and
bleeding nations to prevent greater horrors -- a millennia of ugly
choices, one after another.''

He looked grieved.

``And still she did good whenever she could, I have seen this,'' the
Pilgrim said. ``It was she who led me to heal Laurence after her duel
with the Ranger, did you know?''

I blinked.

``I had no idea,'' I said.

I'd known about the duel between a younger Saint of Swords and Ranger,
since Indrani had told me what she knew, but I'd never known the Pilgrim
to be involved.

``I trusted her,'' Tariq admitted, ``to see a path out of the dark even
when I did not.''

I'd never really had that kind of trust in me, but then I supposed there
was a reason I'd become a villain and not a heroine.

``I still believe she seeks a better future for Calernia,'' the Grey
Pilgrim admitted. ``But that is not enough. I have seen the world we
would make, through the Alliance and the Accords, and I am willing to
fight for it. If she seeks to darken that path, then she is my enemy
regardless of her intent.''

Not exactly the ringing endorsement of killing the Intercessor first
change we got I'd kind of been hoping for, but life was all about
tempering your expectations. I'd settle for a grief-stricken fight
between past comrades if that was all he had it in him to summon up.

``More will be asked of you,'' I bluntly said. ``I know there are
dangers, but by the White Knight's sentencing you've gained a pupil in
Christophe de Pavanie.''

``I am aware,'' Tariq frowned.

``What you're not aware of is how he's tied to that mess in Cleves,'' I
said. ``You know, the House of Langevin being made to eat crow.''

``He's the reason Prince Gaspard abdicated in favour of his son?'' the
Pilgrim asked, sounding surprised.

Hasenbach had wasted no time spending the political capital she'd gained
through the trial, though at least she'd been subtle about it. Gaspard
Langevin had, officially, taken a bad wound and passed the burden of
leadership to his younger and more vital son. It'd been an unpopular
move in Cleves, where the man was respected, but Hasenbach had privately
marshaled the Highest Assembly using his ties to the Mirror Knight as an
anchor around his neck instead of the trump card Gaspard had likely seen
them as. The army under General Rumena then leaving regardless of
protests had made it very clear to him that he'd made more enemies than
his house could afford, driving the final nail in the coffin.

``Not exactly,'' I said. ``But he was involved.''

I elaborated quickly, laying out the concerns Sve Noc had brought to me
along with the plot and the difficulties the situation had represented
for the First Prince: stark consequences to acting, worse if she did
not.

``I'm assuming Hanno will speak to you as well when he arrives with the
Mirror Knight,'' I said. ``But I wanted you to know the nature of what's
being dropped on your lap. He needs to be straightened up before he
blunders into another mess like this, Pilgrim.''

I grimaced.

``He's still the best match we have with the Severance,'' I reluctantly
admitted. ``And I'd be a lot more comfortable trusting him with that
power if you were able to first look me in the eye and promise be he
wasn't going to shit the bed with it.''

If anyone could do it, mind you, it was the Peregrine. As far as heroes
were concerned, he was \emph{the} mentor. To Tariq's honour, he did not
balk or try to pass the responsibility to another.

``How long would I have with him?'' the Pilgrim asked.

``If things go well, we want to try Keter next summer,'' I said. ``I
know it's not long, but\ldots{}''

``I will do all I can,'' Tariq simply promised.

``Hells,'' I grimly said, ``that's all I can ask, isn't it?''

And on that we toasted, cups rising in accord and going down with the
same.

---

It was probably a good thing that our attendants were far enough behind
they couldn't hear us speak as watched over the entrance of the
reinforcements into the stronghold with threadbare ceremony.

``I don't know what my niece has been bribing the Levantines with, but I
hope we have more in stock,'' Prince Klaus Papenheim appreciatively
said.

The older man was eyeing the rows of heavy Alavan foot with an almost
hungry look. I snorted at the sight. I'd found it difficult not to like
the grizzled Prince of Hannoven from the start, even knowing he'd almost
been one of the leading generals in the invasion of Callow. He was from
a mould I was familiar with, that I'd spent most my life around: an old
soldier, a veteran who'd spent almost as much time on the saddle as
reigning in his capital. My reputation with Lycaonese tended to be
decent, for a servant of wicked power, but I'd not expected the old
prince to take to me as well.

``Having infantry envy, are we?'' I mused. ``That ought to be a familiar
feeling by now.''

More a tease than a truth. An open ground exercises my army tended to
trounce his own, but the moment the terrain got difficult the balance
tended to swing harshly the other way. It'd been about as I expected,
given the difficult of using classic Legion tactics in the mountains
when they'd been designed to win wars on the plains of Callow. On those
plains, though, Black's war machine still reigned queen despite the best
efforts of the opposition. The Lycaonese were good, but they hadn't
mastered the tactics of the Reform yet.

They'd find it difficult to catch up there, since their lack of mage was
even worse than my own. Unfortunately for them, they wouldn't have the
workaround of having stolen a Legion or two as I'd done when founding
the Army of Callow.

``Talk to me when your lot use a goat path without waking up all of
Ashur,'' the one-armed prince scathingly replied.

The obligatory trading of insults having been seen to, I took a better
look at the six thousand troops Lord Yannu Marave had sent our way. Most
of them Alavan, by the colours on the shields and faces, but I was
hardly complaining about that: the Champion's Blood coughed up to arm
its heavies in good mail and plate, and they fought ferociously with
their swords and shields. Two thousand of the Levantines were lesser
captains sworn to the Holy Seljun instead of Alava, though the pattern
for why they'd been chosen was neither the size of their warband nor
their origins. Instead they were all, in majority, made up of slingers.
Less a boon than the heavies, these, but still very much a boon.

The Dominion's armies were inferior to those of Procer and Callow in
several regards, but they were also the only standing force that still
fielded slingers -- whose thrown stones had proved to have a great deal
of bite against the undead than arrows.

``That was the last major force we were waiting on,'' I said. ``The
White Knight will arrive with Named and the latest from the Arsenal in a
few days, which has us almost ready to begin the push.''

``Weren't you waiting on some sort of Levantine bounty hunter?'' the
older man asked. ``I was warned she might be trouble by the Silver
Huntress.''

``The Headhunter's a prick,'' I conceded. ``But they're a prick with the
finest tracking chops in the Grand Alliance. Archer went to fetch them,
and they should both be here by dawn.''

The Prince of Hannoven cocked a brow.

``They?'' he asked.

``Fluid,'' I explained.

He grunted in understanding.

``I want to split the Dominion forces between the armies when we move
out,'' Prince Klaus said, ``You know their discipline holds better when
they're kept apart.''

``I also know it'll be a cold day in Ater before you get Tanja and
Aquiline to split,'' I snorted.

``They listen to you,'' the older man said.

``When it suits them,'' I shrugged.

``Then take them both with you,'' the Prince of Hannoven said. ``And
leave me the Alavans.''

``Fat chance,'' I replied. ``I'd get both a guaranteed headache and fuck
all slingers, Papenheim. Aren't your people supposed to be all about
giving people a fair shake?''

``And yours are supposed to spend their days trampling Praesi out in
Streges, but it's a strange new world,'' he grunted back. ``I'll take
the larger slice of fantassins and give you with Princess Beatrice if
you agree.''

Now \emph{that} was a tempting offer. My officers just didn't have the
knack for dealing with Proceran mercenaries without it going badly --
falsifying a report in the Army got you caned and demoted, when it was
considered common practice among those fantassin companies who even
bothered with reports. Some poor Arlesite bastard had even tried to
bribe an orc lieutenant, which got him his throat ripped out and ten
more people hanged in the aftermath of the vicious brawl that ensued.

``Gods, you must really hate dealing with the Blood,'' I said. ``That
leaves you who to run the Alamans, Prince Arsene? The man's got all the
boldness of a wet towel and I've never seen him send out his soldiers
when he could pass the fight to others.''

Never to the extent that it was insubordination or harmful to the war
effort, but the Prince of Bayeux was very clearly trying to make sure
his forces suffered as few casualties as possible even if that meant
other forces would suffer instead.

``I'll have Mathilda breathing on his neck and fill his days with petty
mercenary squabbles, it'll keep him too twitchy to be a load,'' the
Prince of Hannoven said. ``I can't do either those things with your
lordlings.''

I hummed pensively, the two of us watching the brightly painted ranks of
Dominion soldiers streaming in. I'd theoretically be leading the Second
and Third Army on my prong of the offensive along with the lion's share
of the Firstborn, so in truth I wasn't badly in need of more heavy foot.
If I got the army of Hainaut I'd get what I considered to be the cream
of the Alamans forces in the region as well as their finest cavalry
captain, which gave me a solid force to work with.

``If I were selected to lead one of the offensives,'' I said. ``That
might be a tempting offer.''

The older man spat to the side.

``You'll get one prong and me the other,'' Prince Klaus said. ``It's a
done deal, and I won't hear it otherwise. The lordlings are still too
green and the only other one I'd trust with a large force is Volignac.''

Prince Beatrice Volignac wouldn't be getting a command that size,
though. Not only was most of her principality already occupied by the
dead, the appointment of two Proceran commanders would go over\ldots{}
poorly with the coalition forces in Hainaut.

``You didn't agree outright,'' he said. ``So out with it. What more do
you want in the stew?''

``I want first pick of the fantassin companies,'' I said. ``If my flanks
are held by Levantines, I can't afford runners in the mercenaries.''

``You're a cold one, Foundling,'' the grey-haired man said. ``Sticking
me with both the company dross and the Brabant conscripts?''

``I'll cede General Rumena in return,'' I offered. ``It'll keep your
sigils in good order.''

Unlike the Prince of Hannoven, I could handle the Firstborn just fine on
my own. Mighty Jindrich could hold field command and I'd handle the
rest. Offering General Rumena was not a small concession to make, given
its known power and its standing as the finest commander among the drow,
and I could see the older man was tempted.

``Agreed,'' Prince Klaus said, and spat into his palm.

I did the same and clasped his hand.

``May the Heavens strike a liar,'' the Prince if Hannoven said.

``Crows take the oathbreaker,'' I replied, and we shook on it.

I could feel he was just as eager as me to get started on his planning,
but to our common frustration there'd be no going anywhere. The
Levantines had yet to finish coming into the stronghold, and it'd be
poor politics to slight them by leaving early.

Gods if it wasn't boring as all Hells, though.

---

``Glaring won't add lines to the report,'' Hakram said. ``Though I
praise the quality of the effort.''

I sighed and dropped back into my chair, blowing at an errant strand of
hair that'd slipped out of my loose ponytail and gotten into my face.
Sinfully comfortable as the seat liberate from Arcadia was, it did not
improve my mood.

``It's ridiculous that we still have so little reliable information on
the fantassins,'' I complained. ``I know we're thin on Jacks, up here,
but this isn't even bare bones. It's bare \emph{bone}, maybe, and even
then I'd argue it's not a full one.''

I'd sent for all we had on the fantassin companies of the Hainaut front
after returning to my tent -- which I still used for work, if not always
to sleep in -- and even as the parchments flooded in my despair at what
little we actually knew increased. Half of this was rumours -- many
reported by our soldiers, sure, but that didn't magically make them more
than rumours -- while the solid information was\ldots{} sparse. Company
names, captains and numbers. A few records, including who had gotten
commendations for bravery, and a few bits about which companies were
known to hate each other or to have bad blood with the Army of Callow.
The three largest of the companies had a little more on them, a bit
about the leading officers and their reputations, but I had to admit
this was largely a pile of nothing.

``I fucked myself negotiating with Papenheim,'' I noted. ``I might have
first pick of companies, but I can't even be sure what companies I
should pick.''

``Neither would the Iron Prince, dearest,'' Akua said.

Where Hakram had claimed a corner of the tent with several smaller
tables set around his wooden wheelchair -- though it was not all wood,
and Masego had laid so many enchantments on the thing that wards
sometimes confused it for a mage -- Akua had instead claimed a seat
around the table Indrani was still carving for me, and was lounging on
it with a cup of wine in hand.

``Useless consolation,'' I replied in an irritated tone. ``My favourite,
how did you know?''

``I shall endeavour keep this revelation in mind, my heart,'' Akua
silkily replied, ``though it has nothing to do with the point I was
making.''

``\emph{Ah},'' Hakram exclaimed. ``Beatrice Volignac. Clever.''

I frowned. What did the Princess of Hainaut have to do with --
\emph{oh}. Shit, I hated it when Akua was right just after I'd gotten
snippy with her. The Lycaonese weren't that much better at dealing with
Alamans than my own officers, so the Iron Prince usually delegated that
sort of thing to his most trusted among the Alamans royals, the Princess
of Hainaut. The Prince of Hannoven wouldn't be able to pick the
companies any better than I, but Beatrice Volignac very likely could.
She'd be assigned to my part of the offensive, too, so she'd have
motivation not to be half-hearted about this.

``Set up a meeting with her, Adjutant,'' I said. ``It's the kind of
thing that needs to be asked in person. Tomorrow morning -- wait, no,
early afternoon.''

It'd break one of those unspoken Alamans rules to ask her to do me that
favour before she was officially folded under my command by our morning
war council, even if the matter was effectively already settled.

``I'll see to it,'' Hakram said, his long and skeletal fingers jotting
notes down on parchment. ``You still need to decide where you'll be
addressing the villains, Catherine. The earlier we settle that the
better.''

I grimaced. I'd wanted to wait until the White Knight was here to hold
that, to ward off the perception that we might be plotting, but now that
the last two of my lot were arriving with dawn the Named I represented
under the Terms were due a proper council. Some were getting restless,
too, so I was wary of delaying further. So far I'd put them off by
saying all was best addressed after the war council settled broader
affairs, but that excuse would be expiring tomorrow morning as well.
That meant I'd be meeting with the villains assembled in Hainaut before
sundown, like it or not.

``I would suggest far from anything expensive,'' Adjutant dryly
suggested, a peek of fangs revealing his amusement.

His face hadn't changed much, I thought. So when he was seated, when the
fold of his clothes hid the missing arm and leg and meat, it was almost
possible to forget. Almost.

``Outside would be best,'' I agreed. ``Though I don't want
eavesdropping, which limits our options. There's not a lot of places
here warded up right for that.''

Most of them were war rooms, personal quarters or other places of
import. None of which I particularly wanted to shove a bunch of rowdy
villains into.

``Make a request to borrow wardstones from the Gigantes,'' Hakram
suggested. ``This is Terms business, not personal, so you would be
within your rights.''

``There any left so spare?'' I asked. ``I know we restricted who can
make requests, but they still go fast.''

``I'll know within the hour,'' Adjutant promised. ``If it is feasible?''

``Then do it,'' I ordered.

Which handled the privacy issues nicely. Leaving actual location as the
last hurdle.

``In the country will have to do,'' I finally said. ``I'd rather not do
this in the stronghold proper, if I have a choice.''

Obviously we wouldn't be doing this on the Dead King's side of the
trenches, so it'd have to be south.

``Akua?'' I asked. ``You've flown over the region often enough.''

``There's a large hill with a fire pit perhaps an hour away from
Neustal,'' she noted. ``Formerly used by shepherds, I believe. No other
larger significance.''

Mhm. Using somewhere with a little more weight to it would please those
who liked to feel important -- the Rapacious Troubadour and the Summoner
came to mind -- but I didn't necessarily want to encourage the
perception that this was a council momentous in any way. It was a
relatively large assembly of Named, but it should be nothing more than
that.

``It'll do,'' I said, then sighed. ``All right, what's next?''

The night was still young, and so there was still work to be done.