The Bonne Chance sails into the harbor at Altona, where Vere last met with Prince Bran. His father King Devon may be back in residence, if the war is indeed over on this front. There are low, fat ships at anchor and docks for smaller craft, such as theirs.
The deck of the Bonne Chance is somewhat crowded, as Vere and Avis had agreed that a small number of guards and priestesses were vital, both for show and to discourage any last-minute attempts at circumventing diplomacy that might occur to the other side.
Vere brings the Bonne Chance, under power, up to the docks of the lake of Altona.
The harbormaster greets the Bonne Chance, and seems quite interested in the ship. He seems intent on searching it for contraband. Avis suggests he seeks contraband naval engineering.
Vere greets the harbormaster civilly, and sympathizes with his concern about contraband, mentioning how often he had to worry about smugglers himself when he was harbourmaster in his father's city. However, he points, out, the Bonne Chance is currently a diplomatic vessel, carrying the children of the Lady of the Isles to meet their friend Prince Bran before the negotiations begin to put an official end to the war, and he is certain the harbourmaster would not wish to delay them until the Prince himself could be summoned to come to the harbour to deal with such a minor matter. Not to mention the possibly disastrous reaction of the spirits bound to provide propulsion to the vessel, should anyone other than the sorceresses that bound them disturb them.
[Paranoia GM: lessee, is that a fasttalk roll, or a bluff? It's not bootlicking. Fine, we'll just go with intimidation...]
That gets his attention. He calls for a litter to carry the Princess and and offers Vere a horse (a litter will be provided if desired). He escorts Vere to the palace. Prince Bran is in the courtyard awaiting his arrival. He is calm and seemingly at ease. The troops in the courtyard look alert and sharp.
"Prince Vere!, welcome back."
"Prince Bran!" Vere calls out in answer. He slides from horseback and strides over to Bran, clasping arms with the man. "It is a pleasure to see you again. We have much of which to speak."
He turns towards the litter and says, "Princess Avis, may I present Prince Bran of Altona. Bran, this is my sister, the Princess Avis, who speaks with the full authority of our Mother, the Lady of the Isles."
"Highness," he says, with a polite nod to Avis.
"Highness," she replies in about the same tone. "I bear grave news that I must share with your King and his highest councillors immediately."
"At the moment, you are speaking to his highest councillor in the city. Shall we retire to the council room?"
Bran leads Avis to a cozy receiving room with a fire. "Prince Vere? Is this the matter of which you wanted to speak?"
"Indeed, Prince Bran, it is. As our host, you should hear of it first, before we tell the others who have come for the council of peace. If your wizards have not already begun to sense it, that is." Vere looks to Avis, to see if she wishes to be the one to speak on this matter.
Avis looks at Vere. "Prince Bran, I foster in my breast the hope that you are sensible, for a man and a warrior, and not likely to rush headlong to conquer that which cannot be conquered. Simply put, our Goddess has confirmed for us what we have feared these last years, since the fall of Lady's Town. Our world is ending, and it is time to save those who would be saved. As this was caused by actions taken on our behalf in the war with our sisters, our goddess has given me permission to take foreigners with us as we flee.
"You may be skeptical, Prince Bran, but the world will die by drowning, not in fire. You have heard of the Drowning of Lady's Town, I'm sure." Prince Bran nods.
"Tell me, has the water in your harbor reached new highs recently?"
Prince Bran looks alarmed, but only for a moment. "They may have. That happens. Prince Vere, what do you know of this?"
Vere nods gravely. "I fear she speaks truly, Prince Bran. When the Chancellor imprisoned the daughter of the goddess Ysabeau she and her brother tore at the tapestry of the world to gain her freedom. The damage done to existence in that battle would have eventually repaired itself, had not the warlord Huon invaded from realms beyond this world. His men slew the companion of the young goddess' brother, and in the resulting struggle the world was rent beyond repair." Vere shakes his head sadly. "The Lady Robin and I faced and fought Huon, as we told you we would do, and he has fled this world. But it is left mortally wounded. My sister and I shall lead all who will follow her to a new world. Those who stay behind are doomed, as is the world. It grieves me sore to say this, but so it is, and there is naught that can be done to avert the world's fate."
"Then this news is most grave." Prince Bran takes a step back towards the door, and opens it. "Send for the High Mage-Priest, please," he says to the gentleman waiting without.
Bran clearly is weighing matters carefully. "How long do we have, and how soon must we act?"
Avis looks to Vere, since she does not know.
"It is an accelerating systemic failure," Vere replies. "For now, the damage is increasing at a slow rate, but that rate grows ever faster, in an unpredictable manner. By the time we can truly predict how long we have, the rate will have increased so greatly that there will be little time left at all. Thus, the more quickly we can act, the better."
Prince Bran nods. "That will be difficult, but..."
The door opens and a lad announces the High Mage-Priest. Prince Bran asks Avis to explain the problem to him. The two go off towards a corner of the room, where a table is set up with two chairs. Prince Bran pulls Vere towards a window on the far side. "Let me explain my difficulty, Prince Vere. My father lies dying from a wound he took in battle, and it is not known outside of this room yet. It will be hard to uproot people on my say-so when I am new-crowned king. Is it weeks we have? Or months?"
"I am sorry, Prince Bran," Vere answers. "But I must see to the health of my own father, who is injured in a world far distant. I am leading my sister and her followers away from this world in a matter of weeks. I shall try to return later, to offer salvation to those who remain, but I know not how long it will be, nor if it will be in time. I can offer no more than this."
"Even if I leave, I will want to come back with you to try to help more of my people to safety. What of the witch-queens' people?"
"Yes, what of us?" says Hartwell, striding in door. He's not wearing a sword, but Vere knows he's a dangerous man even if completely unarmed.
Vere raises an eyebrow. "You consider yourself of the witch-queens, now?" he asks. "Has the Chancellor made so complete a conversion?" He smiles, although it does not reach his eyes. "In any case, surely these are matters for the women to discuss, not men such as you and I? Or does the Chancellor now heed your advice on political matters?"
"It is only you who make a distinction, my Brother. We have reconciled with our brothers and sisters from the mainland. If you would like, I would be happy to take you to the lands of our old enemies. You may find that what we were taught of them was based on what would most encourage our priestesses and people to fight, rather than what they are. You might find that you want your sister and mother to reconcile with them as well."
Vere continues to smile. "And is that not the very reason that we all meet here, my brother? Because it is time to reconcile, for the good of all the Children of the Goddess, and all the Children of this World? The Spider was right in her goals, but woefully wrong in her method. We must now seek to salvage what we can from the disaster that resulted from her breaking of her vows." He lets the smile fade, and shakes his head. "This is a lesson for us all, that the penalty for breaking a vow, however good the reason, is always great, and will be borne by the innocent as well as the oathbreaker. A hard lesson, my brother. Has it been learned?"
"Had you attended your duties here, you might know what we all learned the hard way, which is that rule by fear, intimidation, and murder are not effective in keeping people from following the will of the Goddess. Had Grandmother been able to practice the methods she attempted, peace would never have left the isles. Had she followed the methods you advocate, she would be dead."
He smiles and bows to the Prince. "His highness Prince Bran did not invite us here to exchange hostilities, I expect. For all that we want peace, it seems, your highness, that we are not willing to do so without assigning blame." He looks at Vere. "Unless we are, and our disagreeableness can be put behind us, as our priestesses have agreed not to wage war upon each other."
"And so we should," Vere agrees. He gives a nod of his head to Bran. "My apologies, your highness, if I seemed argumentative. I agree fully that the only way for us to move forward is to embrace one another, and put the past behind us." He holds out his right arm to Hartwell. "Will you take my hand, brother?" he asks.
Hartwell's arm comes out and grasps Vere's forearm, his hand closes with Vere's on his own wrist. This is an old-fashioned, very practical hand-clasp. Hartwell knows Vere doesn't have a weapon up his right sleeve and Vere can make a similar inspection of his old brother.
Vere's left arm goes behind Hartwell's back and pulls him into a full embrace, their clasped right arms between them. As he embraces him he whispers in Hartwell's ear, "I mean this true, brother. The war of gods has broken the land, and we must put all behind us and work as one to save what we can. The brotherhood must be remade, to serve as an exemplar to all others."
Hartwell nods. "The priestesses have warned us that this might be. Our brothers follow their sisters, mothers, and grandmothers. By tradition, training, and choice, they are simple men who fight when told and who hold no hate for the enemy in their hearts. If you can repair the breach between their sisters, then you will find they can reforge old bonds, albeit differently. You may find that we have grown strange, by your lights, in our travels."
Vere releases Hartwell from the embrace, and steps back. He nods, and answers, "It may be we must all grow strange to what we were to survive what is to come, brother." He looks to Bran. "Your Highness, let us have wine, and drink to brotherhood between we three."
Prince Bran looks at the two of [them]. "That was easier than I expected." He walks to a cabinet and opens it, pulling out a strange-looking flask. He pours three small glasses.
"Icewine, from the north."
"Drink it carefully, brother," adds Hartwell.
Bran toasts. "To survival."
Vere raises his glass. "To wisdom among all our peoples," he says.
The other princes drink, and Bran looks over at Avis and the priest. "I know when we must leave. How? And how many can we take with us?"
Vere sips the icewine thoughtfully and looks at Hartwell. "When the Lady Robin and I spoke with the Witchqueens, they spoke in such wise that I was led to believe they had foreknowledge of the coming cataclysm. Have they, or the Chancellor, shared that knowledge with you?"
Hartwell smiles. "They find it so easy to suggest in hindsight that they had foreknowledge that it is difficult to tell, My Brother. We, for the most part, ignored their talk about the end of the world." He sips his beverage, considering. "I admit I paid little attention to theology before the schism, and saw no advantage in changing that strategy, so I might have missed it."
Prince Bran laughs and claps Hartwell on the back. "Lucky man. Our Mage-Priests continually wanted my father to understand what they told him, when he just wanted to know what they advised."
Vere smiles thinly. "It is a common attitude among the men of the Isles," he says. "In any case, to answer your questions, Prince Bran, my sister and I shall lead all who will follow away from this world, even as the Goddesses led our people here in the ancient days. We will need to send runners out to tell everyone to begin marching towards us, and I will lead the people from here in a great spiral, meeting all who will join us as we march. As long as they remain in contact with others, they will not be lost between the worlds."
Hartwell frowns. "We cannot sail to safety? Ah, well. As long as you lead us to a land of strong trees and good harbors and fish, the children of Danu will prosper there."
"I would prefer to sail, in all honesty, my brother," Vere answers. "But do all the Isles have enough ships for the rest of the world? I fear not. I will save as many as I can, of all the peoples, and if we must leave our ships behind, do be it. We shall build more in our new home."
There's a certain amount of concern over food, and Prince Bran's sandtable is used to plan routes, Bran will summon his people to the capitol in any case, for his coronation, which all are invited to attend.
Busy weeks pass and preparations begin immediately. Vere's message is echoed by many priests and it seems that cooperation is the order of the day.
Bran's city is full to overflowing with people and his coronation is planned for tomorrow. Both The Lady and The Spider are scheduled to arrive this day. Hartwell continues to be a good leader of armed men; there is little tension between those of his forces that have arrived and those of the isles. The real test will be when priestess of various factions and the Witch Queens are in one room.
Bran's court is a hive of activity. Much planning and gathering of supplies is required merely to feed those who will march with the force that is to move. A local Mage-Priest tells the Prince the state of the evacuation plans.
"Most of the people are rallying to the call, My Prince. Some of the border lords suspect a trick, and will not come until it is too late. The prisoners from the eastern army's march tell us that the were promised a new home and magics to allow them to breathe water, and so it is that some of the crazier mages of the eastern Palisade range plan to stay here and learn this magic themselves. To the west, some feel that they can survive whatever happens by building and living on a fleet of boats. I do not think they understand the importance of trees to their endeavor, but as they reject our help, there is little we can do. The harbormasters have put sandbags in the harbor, because they fear the water is already rising in the ocean. The fish of the Flail River have all died, and the people consider it a sign."
"Thank you, your grace." The cleric bows and departs.
"Anything else, my Princes?"
"I have word from my Grandmother," says Hartwell, looking at Vere. "She suspects that to cement the negotiations, Avis will need to marry. She wishes to know if you wish that honor or if she should promote me for the role of bridegroom." His eyebrows are fully raised.
Vere smiles. "I can see her point," he answers. "An alliance through marriage between the Chancellor's family and the Lady's line would be a powerful political statement. Of course, there is the fact that you are not the only living grandson of Vianis."
"It is a class I hope does not become smaller, my Brother. You, too, are not beyond dynastic schemings. Will you take a mortal wife to complement your goddess?"
"Oh, are you married to the blonde woman you brought here before?" Prince Bran's voice does not betray any emotion. "She was ... most impressive."
"We are betrothed, Prince Bran," Vere answers. He smiles once more, turning back to Hartwell. "And she is not the sort of woman whom I would present with a second wife, unannounced. She has a considerable temper, as you should know, my brother. I am, in fact, pleased that she is not here currently, as I would have been hard pressed to prevent her from taking her vengeance upon you for drugging her. She is not a goddess of forgiveness."
Prince Bran nods. "That would not be my first guess, no. Well, as I do not need to reconcile with the Danu, that leaves you with the need, Prince Hartwell."
"Both personally and for my people, it seems, " says Hartwell. "Brother, your sister may wish to hear the suggestion from you."
"I shall mention it," Vere answers with a nod. "If it comes with Vianis' full support of Avis as successor to our mother The Lady, it will be more favourably received."
"It would, of course, be in her interest to do so, both to separate your extremists who wish war on all terms from your Lady and because you might be able to persuade your fiancee not to kill your future brother-in-law." His tone is a dry as ever. However, before the war he would not have been as politically astute, or at least not openly.
Prince Bran laughs. "It's a good thing men don't rule in your lands, my friends, you're so reasonable that I'd expect you to take over the world in short order if you did."
"Indeed," Vere replies. He regards Hartwell with a steady gaze for a long moment before saying, "You surprise me, my brother. You seem to have come into your own in the past several years."
"I am not a difficult man to understand, my brother. A decade of travel, flight, war, and constant calculation has changed many of us, and the old me would not have been useful to send to Prince Bran. Who knows what of who we were in our sheltered isles will survive the grand journey you lead us on unchanged? Our children's children may know nothing of our divisions and debates here."
After a moment, Hartwell shrugs. "Those of us who could not adapt and live by our wits died for their lack. I chose not to do so."
Prince Bran looks to Vere, obviously content to let this discussion continue uniterrupted.
"It is a hard thing to lose the world of our ancestors," Vere says quietly. "But perhaps our people," he looks at Bran, "All our peoples. Perhaps they could grow no further in this world, and the exodus is necessary for our spiritual good, as well as our physical survival. I consider the ancient tales, of how our people were led here from another world, and I wonder where that world was, and if it is ready for our return." He shrugs then. "Well, that is a matter for us to discuss during the coming meeting. What sort of world we shall seek out for our future." He tilts his head to one side and regards Hartwell.
"Will you be joining in the talks, my brother? Or will you be returning to a man's accustomed place? How deeply do the Witch Queens view the changes to the way of things to be?"
"I will take whatever role my Grandmother requires, my brother. I expect that she will use me as an expert on our logistics and capability to move, as she has in the past. What of you?"
Out of the corner of his eye, Vere notices that Avis has concluded her discussion and is returning to join the men on this side of the room.
"Sister," Vere says, turning and nodding his head to Avis. "You will remember my brother of the Order, of course."
"Of course, " she says, smiling. "You are here to advise the Chancellor on matters related to your armed forced?"
Hartwell nods. "I am. And I suppose I am here as a pawn as well, sister of my brother."
"We are all pawns in the hands of the higher powers, are we not?" She turns to Prince Bran. "Your Majesty, we will want to introduce your Mage-Priests to our Priestesses very slowly. I'm afraid they have rather radical ideas."
"Really?" asks Bran. "And I'd always thought they were our bedrock.
"Princes, Princess, I think I will propose that we have different law for each of our, for lack of a better word, 'tribes', during our trek at least. Those of our clans will answer to me in ways we are used to, and we should meet amongst ourselves to deal with matters between the tribes."
Hartwell nods. "That will require careful negotiation between our elders, Prince Bran. They are just coming to grips with the idea of cooperation. What think you, brother?" He turns to Vere.
Vere nods thoughtfully. "It would give people something familiar to cling to, which is important. One can hope that the leaders among all the factions can see the dreadful responsibility that discord could cause. If any group leaves the trek, or is forced from it, they will be lost among the worlds. I would hope fear of that would serve to moderate the extremists among all of the factions. To become lost, or to force someone else to become lost, are equally weighty."
Avis nods. "It is not unlike our ways, in which each family is the responsibility of the woman who heads it, and she must answer for them and maintain discipline and peace just as our leaders will do the same with our tribes."
She looks at her brother. "Vere, what do you know of the new home the Goddess directs us to?"
"Rebma is an undersea realm," he answers her. "My warriors, the Children of Llyr, come from there. Whether we go directly to Rebma itself, or a world that is a close neighbor of Rebma, is still an open question. Rebma is ruled by Queen Moire, who is a queen somewhat alike to Mother in nature, though with much of the Spider in her nature as well."
Prince Bran laughs. "This will be an undersea realm ere too long."
None of the other three find this funny.
The corner of Vere's mouth might had quirked up a milimeter. Or it might have been an illusion cast by a shadow.
After some time Hartwell leaves for the harbor to meet his grandmother's ship and Prince Bran is called off by his own duties. Vere and Avis are given the run of the palace, and Avis suggests they look around. The main halls are high galleries, hung floor-to-ceiling with portraits. If they are all Bran's ancestors, he has a very large family, indeed.
"On the one hand, that was a remarkably easy peace to make. On the other, it took the end of the world to do it. What do you think will happen to us in Rebma, Vere? Will they not have their own gods? Your men talk of Lir as if he were The Lady."
"I do not know much of the religion of Rebma, I must confess," Vere answers her. "It was my impression that her gods were distant, if they lived at all. And yet there are such factors as Lir's name, which remains a force in legend, if not among the royal family." He shakes his head. "And I do not know whether the Goddess of the Isles will somehow manage to travel with Her people, or if She will remain here and die with this world. It will be something for you to discover, my sister."
He examines the portraits for a second, then continues, "Hartwell carried his grandmother's terms for her support for your selection as Mother's heir. It is marriage into her family. He is the obvious candidate, unless we can find some way to reconcile Siege with his grandmother, and replace Hartwell in her plans." He watches her reaction.
Avis thinks for a moment before replying. "A political marriage would provide the endeavor with both long-term stability and with hope. There's no advantage in it for me to marry Siege. The message there is one of us taking a hostage, rather than a union.
"While I do not like him for what he's done, I can certainly marry him. It would provide some satisfaction to see him take up husbandly duties and be a member of a proper woman's house.
"And it would assure that I would be selected as Lady, which is no reason to marry except that the alternatives are worse."
Perhaps she is trying to convince herself, or perhaps she is marshalling arguments for her mother. It's unclear.
"It is your decision, Sister," Vere tells her. "I can see the political reasons for it, however I may feel about it personally. But I shall not be remaining to be witness to the eventual outcome of such a marriage, and neither shall out mother." He tilts his head to one side. "And speaking of Mother, we should consider how we will best make political use of her not coming with the exodus. She is not well enough to come with us, but we should not allow that to become known to our once-enemies. Better that her abdication be seen as an offer on our part, rather than a necessity. It raises the question, to my mind, of what you wish done with the Chancellor. Will her advice be valuable enough to you to overlook her treason, or should we suggest she remain behind, to serve the Goddess as the Isles drown?"
Avis flinches a bit at the proposal. "Were the Goddess to tell me it was to be so, then I would endeavor to make it so. Without clear indication of such a will, I would not suggest it."
Vere gives a very small, almost unnoticeable shrug.
She looks across the flowers. "So much beauty here, that we knew nothing of. We will leave it all to be destroyed, soon, and have to find new beauty in our watery home. If I am called to serve the Goddess by making peace, then I will do so. What I desire is to serve, not to please myself.
"This break in the land, is it tied to your father? We have been asked that, and say it is not so, but people see that he comes not to the Isles and that our mother fades and now we say the land itself is wounded and must be sacrificed to the Goddess. What---" Avis stops, turns to Vere, and smiles.
"You must forgive me for asking you such questions as if you were a woman, but so much is broken and I need guidance and for all that you are my brother, I know you have the spark of the goddess in you and are different. Answer what you can and I will divine what I need from it."
Vere is silent for a moment, then answers. "Father is injured, badly injured, but I think the link is not direct from him to the Isles, but rather both his injury and the fate of the Isles are reflections of the destruction of the Great Pattern of Amber. Have you heard of this, Sister? It is a great secret of Amber, and known to very few not of the Blood of Oberon. It holds Order together, and in the war against Chaos the Pattern was broken. Father was injured at the same time the Pattern was broken, and I think it is that breaking which reverberates throughout all the worlds. Yet we know the power of the Pattern is not lost completely, for if it were then Chaos would have swept away all Order and Logic."
He reaches out and lays a hand lightly on his sister's shoulder. "There is another Pattern, in Rebma, and it anchors that realm to Reality. That is one of the reasons I think seeking a new home in Amber or close to it will be best for our people."
"Is that what we are to worship there? I always heard that Amber worshiped trade, but it does not surprise me that there is a secret power behind it."
"You shall have to determine for yourselves what you will worship, Avis," Vere tells her seriously. "And beware of anyone or anything that actively seeks worship."
She looks at Vere. "It is the nature of the gods to offer protection for worship, and the gods made people for it. Should we not do what we were made to do? This, indeed, would cause the Gods to discard us as inconstant and unworthy vessels."
"I merely caution you not to accept the first would-be god of our people to seek your worship, my sister. A people without a god are a temptation for a variety of powers." Vere regards her with a serious expression. "Any god worthy of your worship would appreciate caution, Avis. Do not allow longing for a purpose to lead you to unwisdom."
She nods, although it doesn't seem as if she's convinced. Perhaps she does not consider unwisdom a possible outcome for the Priestesses of the Children of the Goddess Danu. "I shall hope you will return from time to time to look in on us, brother. We were well served when we had both our gods and those who came from Amber amongst us."
"When and as I can, my sister. I am subject to other duties, and am oathbound to turn to other matters as soon as may be." He shakes his head. "It will be as it will be. For now, what else do we need to decide before meeting with the Chancellor and the Witch Queens?"
"I can think of nothing. If we accept Prince Bran's proposal regarding laws, then we have effectively three separate, related tribes marching to new lands. How long will the march be? That will affect planning."
Vere frowns very slightly. "It is uncertain, my sister," he replies. "The more quickly I endeavour to make the journey past, the greater the risk in the journey, and the more likely that some of those on the fringes will become lost. I believe I could make the journey by myself in a day or less. But with this many, it will be much longer than that. Longer still if I concentrate upon journeying only through places where we will find a plenitude of food and provisions, and no hostile animals or native inhabitants."
Avis frowns as well. "Months? Years? Generations? My sisters will want to know if there will be a Goddess to receive the spirits of any who die during the journey."
Vere is silent for a moment, then says, decisively, "It will be weeks, no more than that. I will make it so. Ensure everyone brings enough food and drink for two months of walking, as a safety measure. And see that there are warriors from the various factions on the outskirts. Volunteers who are willing to be lost between worlds in order to stave off attacks on our people. Those two measures will simplify my pathfinding, and speed up the travel."
Avis nods. "It shall be done." It sounds oddly to Vere as if she were addressing Ysabeau or Robin.
Vere's eyes close for a moment, then he opens them again and says, "Well enou for now, then. We shall see what the Witchqueens and the Chancellor have to say."
The plan is
1: Coronation of King Bran
2: Peace Treaty, witnessed by Bran
3: Engagement of Avis and Hartwell
4: Preparation for Departure
5: Leaving for Rebma
6: Death of everyone because you didn't pick up the pocket fluff in scene 1.
[OOC - But I have the thing my aunt gave me that I don't know what it is. Won't that help?]
[OOC: Yes]
[OOC: Well, that's a relief!]
Vere's very much hoping 1 through 5 all come off without a hitch. He's going to be going on watchful mode through a lot of this, looking for any signs that Vianis and/or the witch queens are or are not being honest in their dealings with Avis.
And he's going to be maneuvering the peace treaty to ensure that part of it is an agreement that Avis is recognized as heir to the Lady, and that as part of that deal Corvis agrees to abdicate. And then he's planning on trumping her to Gerard before the exodus begins.
And that's probably something we need to play out.
OK, that's all easy enough to do...
Vianis will accept that if she retains the Chancellery. She suggests that the record show that Corvis has bodily ascended to the home of the Gods to ask for intervention for the people of the land of Dan?. She and her allies seem to think this is both accurate and useful.
So let it be written, so let it be sung.
They're not exactly pushovers in the negotiations, but they seem to go smoothly. Perhaps the threat of the death of the world in water is a spur. Vere gets the feeling that each side expects to have the upper hand in the combined council.
Vere doesn't comment on any of that, letting people think what they want. As long as they're all going along with the plan, that's all he cares about for now.
Last modified: 1 July 2008