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Zelnesakkk demanded of Alan.
    â€˜Honour – redemption.’ Iyezzz interrupted.
    The King snorted. ‘Have we not already afforded you and your army of witch warriors every assistance? Your fleet is cluttering up the bay; we have not hindered your army disembarking; you go about your purpose unchecked – what more can you possibly expect of us?’
    Alan gazed around at the extraordinary setting in which the Garg elders were gathered. There was a crescent of basalt columns low enough to provide seating for those who chose not to stand, and landwards, the backdrop was an encircling cliff of much taller columns, some of them hundreds of feet high. Amidst this, tiny blue rock flowers blossomed, like furtive eyes peering up out of the shadows. Whether the Gargs had done a little sculpting of the natural, Alan couldn’t say, but he had no doubt that the choice of place was another example of the Garg passion for nature.
    â€˜Sire,’ he said, ‘you know that our enemy is your enemy. The Tyrant can hardly be unaware that you helped us defeatthe Witch – his ally. What do you think he will do to you if he wins this war? Do you think he’ll come here and offer trade?’
    The King shook his bat-like head, causing the heavy, jowled cheeks to wobble. ‘You scorn us with your sarcasm, but it is not as simple as you paint it.’
    Seekers were flying in and out of the Garg-inhabited caverns in the surrounding cliffs. They were so abundant that Alan wondered if the place was the site of origin of these bird-like spies.
    The King had insisted on keeping a certain distance between him and Alan, which allowed his shaman, Mahteman, and others among his advisers, to be close enough to whisper in his ear. Was he aware that Alan was capable of reading their minds – of eavesdropping on their whispered conversations? Was the King testing Alan and his respect for their privacy?
    The King spoke again, loud enough for the entire assembly to hear. ‘We have suffered enslavement – and worse – for tens of thousands of years. Briefly have we tasted this freedom, yet you would press us to risk this in your cause. What you are really asking of me, of the entire Eyrie nation, is that we risk annihilation.’
    â€˜We risk the same fate.’
    â€˜But your need is not ours. The continent of Monisle, with its witch warriors, has been at war with the Tyrant for thousands of years. Your purpose has ever been as it remains today – to destroy him. What you demand of uswould mark out a very new purpose, and danger, for our race.’
    â€˜Father,’ Iyezzz spoke from his position between Alan and the king. ‘I would ask that you allow Shah-nur-Kian to speak.’
    Alan stiffened. Was this the opportunity that Iyezzz and the queen were waiting for? Would she explain whatever sign she had drawn from her dawn communion with Mahhh-nur-Sakkk, the Sacred Lady of Tide and Oceans?
    The king turned to bow to his wife who stood beside him with her head held high and her regalia gleaming, but he did not invite her to speak. Instead he turned his eyes in the direction of Mahteman, who lowered his head to stare down at the sand between his feet.
    Alan sighed. Perhaps neither king nor shaman needed the queen to explain, because they knew already. They, or their spies, would have observed the queen in every minutiae of her dawn ritual.
    The wily king climbed to his feet. ‘We shall pause for refreshment. While we do so, I shall take counsel with my advisers, as you, Duval the Slayer, might take the same opportunity to consult with yours.’
    *
    Returning to his own camp, Alan could hardly control his disappointment. He couldn’t really blame the Gargs for their reluctance to engage in this coming war. They had lost half their armies at the battle for Ossierel, when the Gargs had been allies of the Tyrant’s own legions and Alanand the Fir Bolg had been their mortal enemies. Now