Yestin shrugged. "It'll heal. There's something else that concerns me more. The Winter Kingdoms haven't recovered from the fight to bring down Jared the Usurper. Had Martris Drayke not succeeded, it wouldn't have been long before every kingdom was at war- against Margolan, or on. its side. Now, the Council and the Truce are wavering. And there'll be more questions to come. I've heard that King Martris will have to go to war against Lord Curane before too long. There are vayash moru.in Margolan who intend to go with him. That will strain the truce or break it completely."
"Even the Sisterhood isn't what it once was," Eiria added. "The Flow's unstable, and getting worse. My people can feel it. It makes our shifting all the more difficult. When it's out of balance, the Flow's power favors blood magic, and light magic becomes harder to control. That bodes-badly for King Martris. Lord Curane is known to employ dark mages." She paused. "There are some among the Sisterhood who aren't ready to return to their citadels. When King Martris goes to fight Lord Curane, Sisterhood mages will go with him, whether the Sisterhood approves or not." "I'm not following your point," Jonmarc said, sipping his brandy.
Yestin turned his violet eyes on Jonmarc. "The point is that the old ways are in flux. Old bonds are being broken. The alliances that kept an imperfect peace for hundreds of years are fracturing. These are dangerous times. My people know something about shifting. One is never more vulnerable than when one is between what was and what will be. The war isn't over yet. It's just changed form."
"Then the Lady help us all," Jonmarc said, feeling a sudden chill despite the brandy. "Because we'll need it."
DEEP IN THE forest, the hunter stalked his prey. The trail was clear. The smell of fear and sweat was heavy in the cold night air. Broken branches and fresh footprints left a path easy to follow. This night's quarry had given him a good run. The prey had been resourceful, at first. Now, panic overtook reason. The hunter smiled. His kill was near.
Malesh did not need to signal the other two uayash moru who hunted with him. This was their sport, and they were masters of the craft. Gradually, the circle would tighten. The prey would realize he was being herded. Malesh smiled. Soon, very soon, it would be over.
He could hear their prey stumbling ahead of him. The man sounded like a wounded bull. Malesh had watched this one for some time. Big and overconfident, stupid and cruel, no