Mecora paid no attention as they jumped from tree, to tree, to tree, to tree. Instead, her conscience filled her with guilt, the feeling that she ought to be with her family. But another string voice inside told her it was better to be with Spreak. Better to be free. And he supported her, comforted her, loved her.
Mecora stopped at the end of a branch net. Where on earth had that thought come from?!
Spreak had already leapt down to the next branch net. “Mecora! What’s wrong?”
She peered over the edge of the net. “Spreak? Do you love me?”
“Love you? Why are you asking that now?”
“I dunno, I just thought of it.” She paused for an answer, but didn’t get one. “Well, do you?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Just answer the question!”
“Okay, fine. I love you. So, can we continue now?”
It was hardly a heartfelt response, but she asked, “You think we’re still in danger?”
“I thought you wanted to get well away from there.”
“I do.”
“Well, We’re not yet where we’re going.”
“Oh.” Carefully, she jumped to the branch Spreak was on, and their travel continued.
Finally, Spreak opened a tree tunnel to a branch to nowhere. Below, there was only water. They had returned to the lake.
“I thought we might stay here for a while. You seemed to like it,” he explained.
“Yeah, I did. I do.” She went out on the branch, about as far as she dared without a net. “It’s even more beautiful from up here.”
“And we can watch sunrises every morning.”
“That sounds romantic, Spreak.”
“Oh, cut that out,” he replied, but he had a big nervous grin on his face.
“I wanna go swimming again.”
“Sounds like a good idea.”

That night, after another rabbit dinner, they settled into their tree hole for the night. She lay to his left as she always did. But instead of falling asleep, Mecora’s thoughts kept her awake, still thinking of her family. She was glad of the darkness as tears rolled down her cheeks. Sniff.
Spreak took her left hand, and held it. That one gesture seemed to open up a floodgate, and with a sob, she rolled to hug him tightly.
She cried herself to sleep.

Light diffused into the room as Mecora woke. She took a deep breath, and smiled as the smell of flatcakes filled her nose. She didn’t waste much time getting up and going to the front room. “Mmm, good morning.”
Her mom glanced over at her. “Did you sleep well?”
“Yes. I haven’t slept like that in so long.... It’s hard to sleep in a tree, you know. Can’t lie flat.” And then, with a pang, she thought of Spreak. Would he be worried about her? Suddenly the flatcakes didn’t seem as tempting... but not long, as her mother got out the fruit syrup.
She decided to give in to temptation and sit down.
“Boys? Breakfast is ready!” she called.
A half beat and the two came out. As they came around the stove, their eyes brightened. “Mecora!” they chorused, running over to hug her.
Awkwardly she held onto both and put down her utensil at the same time. “Did you two actually miss me?”
“Yeah!”
With all the trouble she’d given them? Dumb kids... And yet, “It’s nice to see you, too. Now go on, you’d better sit down and eat.”
They heartily obeyed, and Mecora went back to enjoying her own breakfast. Soon, her mother joined them. It was quiet at the table, except for the smacking sounds and clacking of wood on wood the two boys made. It seemed there was nothing to say. Anything about the weather or events in town seemed so contrite.
But curiosity forced Mecora to try anyway. “Wasn’t there an election of elders recently?”
“Yes. Linna is the new elder.”
“No one got voted out.”
“Of course not.”
“No, of course not.” It would take something pretty awful to get an elder voted out, Mecora reflected.
“You were hoping for a more friendly environment to bring Spreak into,” her mother accused.
“The thought had crossed my mind. He’d like to live in a real house with a kitchen and a sleeping room, even if it isn’t really home.”
“Well, not this house. I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, I’m sure you are.” Mecora could feel the anger rising.
“Well, I am! I’ve told you-”
Suddenly, the clank of metal on metal, a strange, sharp thunder, shouting, horns, a rhythmic thwunking and elfmen screaming made its way in from outside. They all went to the window, in time to see a flaming arrow rise over the platform and hit their door. Their door was aflame! Panic froze them.
And then Spreak was there. “Come on! You have to get out of here!”
“Spreak!” Mecora tore from the huddled group and went to hug him. But her family just stood there at the window.
“It’s your army, here to rescue you, isn’t it?” asked Mecora’s mother.
“No, it’s not. It’s a human force. And they’re going to kill everybody here if we don’t get out now!”
“And you expect me to trust you? You who twisted my daughter?”
A look of dark desperation crossed Spreak’s face, a look Mecora had never seen on him before. “Fine. Good luck.” He sang one, single, awful note, shattering the front wall. Then, he turned and went back to the hole in the back room wall...
...leaving Mecora to decide. With Spreak, she would be safer, she knew. And she also knew there would be no way to convince her mother. Another flaming arrow flew through the hole in the wall and hit the opposite wall. Their time was up; her mother ducked outside.
And she went to Spreak’s hole in the back.

From an adjacent tree, they watched the terrible scene below. The armies filled every bit of ground, trampling all the undergrowth, as well as their dead comrades. Fires burned in every part of town as Vle ran to and fro, trying to find safety. There wasn’t much to be found. Vle archers shot as many humans as they could, while human soldiers sought the archers to neutralize the overhead threat; and below human archers fired their flaming arrows.
“Those humans aren’t fighting fair! They can’t burn our village like that! The whole forest might burn down!”
“I once read that humans don’t have forests like ours. They cut them down a long time ago to make vast fields for growing grain.”
“How sad.”
“Well, their trees don’t get nearly as big, anyway.”
“It’s still sad. How can they live like that?”
“I imagine they wonder how we can live in the trees all the time.”
“Are you defending them to me?”
Spreak shrugged, and swallowed. “They’re on my side,” he replied quietly.
Hearing him use the word ‘my’ that way surprised her, but she said nothing. Instead, she tried to pick her mother out of the chaos below, but it was impossible.
There was a general movement toward the monastery, and she could see a crowd clamoring to be let onto the platform. As yet, the monastery was untouched by fire, perhaps because the Vle archers had never gotten there in the first place. So the crowd on the narrow stairway grew, then spilled across the connecting bridge.
Meanwhile, the battle moved on. The Vle archers lost their lives, and all the live combatants visible below were human. Most of the houses and shops visible were burned out, and the platforms were dangerous to walk on. Faintly, a human voice announced in halting Vle that all those on the stairs were prisoners of war and were to obey all further commands.
“Spreak, there’s got to be some way to save my mom!”
“I don’t think so.”
“Please?!”
“What would you have us do? Spring out of a hole and drag her away in plain sight of the guards? And you know as well as I do she won’t come with us anyway.”
It hurt, but Mecora had to admit he was right. “Well, let’s just get out of here, then.”
“To where?”
“I don’t care. Just away.”
Spreak nodded, and sang.

Girl

The familiar platforms of Kelwome beckoned below Mecora and Spreak. “What do we do now?”
“I don’t know about you, but I’d like to have some bread, some cooked food...”
“You actually want to me to go down there?”
“Well, no... I mean, if you don’t want to...”
“No. I’m not going down there.”
“So, now what?”
“I dunno.”
“Well, there’s no point in being here if we’re not going to go down there. Let’s go back to the lake.”
The lake? Mecora slowly shook her head, becoming somewhat sure she didn’t really want to go there. No reason why, specifically. She just didn’t want to go.
“Somewhere we haven’t been before, then? We could go west.”
Nah, that wasn’t an attractive idea, either. She shook her head, a bit more sharply this time.
“Mecora, why don’t you see if you can’t talk to your mom?”
“What good would that do? We’ll just get into an argument again.”
“You don’t know that. Just be respectful and don’t let her make you mad. Remember, she just wants what’s right for you.”
“But what she thinks is right is wrong!!”
“So agree to disagree. Just make peace.”
“Do I have to right now?”
“Of course not. But we’re leaving forever if you don’t tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
Spreak sang, and their hole moved down to just above rooftop level. “You can go out when it gets dark.”

The sun set, sending first their hole and then the forest into darkness. Glowworm lanterns lit the platforms as the dark Vle went about their evening pleasures... and Mecora watched it all through the hole. Things were actually hopping. She just sat and watched for a while. The music got louder, the platforms got more crowded, and some of the Vle got drunker. Then, things reversed as they either went home or passed out. Finally, no one was moving, and the glowworms were themselves going to sleep.
In the dwindling wormlight, she squeezed out of the hole onto the roof. As quietly as she could, she hopped down to the platform and headed for her mother’s home.
What on earth was she going to say when she got there?
She reached the apartment, but didn’t go in right away. A beat; two, while she finalized her plan.
Three. She opened the door, hoping with every ounce of her being that it wouldn’t creak. Wider. Wider. Wider.
Her mom was sitting there at the table in the light of a single candle. “Mom!” she gasped.
“How can you make me live like this, Mecora?”
“How can the King make light Vle live without freedom?”
“It’s not our place to say, but it is my place to say how you live. I’m your mother.”
“I know. And I really don’t mean to hurt you.” To her surprise, Mecora realized she truly meant that.
Her mother didn’t reply.
So, what then? They weren’t yelling. Did that mean they’d reconciled, just like that? She opened the door a bit more and actually stepped in.
“So, are you going to stay now?”
“I can’t. Spreak is still out there.”
“How have you been eating?”
“Rabbits, berries, fish... we;’ve actually gotten pretty good at it. We miss bread, though.”
“So, what does he need you for?”
“Companionship.”
Her mother’s face went dark. “What kind of companionship?”
“Mom!” she whined, “not that kind of companionship!”
“So, where is he from?”
“Varmac. He was on vacation with his family when the Proclamation came out, and they were captured and only he got away.”
“How do you know he’s telling the truth?”
“I just know!” Although, to be honest to herself, she’d never actually considered he might not be. On the other hand, why would he lie about that?
“So, if he’s not from Larmania, then he must be from one of the litie countries, and he could just be a spy.”
“Mom! What on earth is there to spy on around here?!” Nothing! She knew she was right about that.
“How am I supposed to know? That’s his job.”
“Mother...” she warned.
“All right, all right. You just never know.”
“What I know is that the Elders get together to judge if someone is guilty, and until then we have to assume they’re innocent.”
Her mother sighed, and went misty-eyed for a moment. “What happened to the party hearty Mecora I once knew?”
“She woke up.” Mecora paused. “You can’t tell me you loved that Mecora more. I know I worried you a lot.”
“Yes, you did, but I knew you. I was familiar with that Mecora. But I’ve never met anyone like you before.”
“Well, I hope we can get to know each other better.”
“So, to ask again, does that mean you’re going to stay?”
“No. I don’t think I can.”
“I didn’t think so—”
“But maybe just tonight.”
Quietly, they went to the back room and resumed the old sleeping arrangement.

At the tiny port of Dirian a day later, there was exactly one merchant ship, its mast rising far higher than any structure on land. Out near the horizon were some other, larger ships with a design that was recognizably different even at that distance. Human ships, guessed Hyran; if he was right then the merchant ship would be safe....?
That was, if its captain would be willing to make the trip, and for free. The group could hardly pay for such risk with friendship bracelets.
They went to the ship first, the “Singing Sail”. Though he wasn’t familiar with ships at all, it impressed him. It had been built (not ‘sung, which surprised him; but then trees have to be alive to be ‘sung) of planks, with intricate carvings on the railings and front of the boat. Didn’t the front have a special name...?
After a few unsuccessful attemps at getting someone to appear on deck, they decided to go up to the town. The decks were actually busy, much busier than the other towns had been, which was surprising since the port itself was so empty. A slight majority of those on the deck were human, quite a few of whom were losing the contents of their stomachs over the railing. Flann laughed. “I’m hearing a lot of complaining about heights,” he said. “You can tell the lookouts apart from the crowd!”
The town had five pubs, which were about a third of the ‘business’ district. Hyran wasn’t sure he wanted to know what other services were provided in the other places. And very few of the group were overly willing to enter the pubs to find the captain. “Oh, come now, don’t tell me none of you have been in a pub before.”
“Well, sure,” said Valph, “but we’ve renounced that life now. It’s part of non-loving living. You yourself stopped visiting such places.”
“Sure, but it’s not the place that makes the loving stop, but the living, right? Besides, we’re on a mission! So, you three take the first one we saw, you three the next, and so on. Is that so hard?”
They shrugged their assent. Hyran would have given anything for a verbal response for a change. Sometimes he thought that these Exians followed too well. What had happened to the fire he’d seen when he first met them? He decided to ask Valph later. “We’ll meet back here at this spot. If you find him, send just one of your group to report and bring us to the right place. Now, go.” And they went, moving carefully, lovingly through an unappreciative crowd to their assigned pubs.
The fourth pub they found in town was a place its sign identified as “The Lion’s Barrel.” Or, perhaps “Keg” was a better word, since the Lion was shown pounding in a spigot. The smell of fermented grain tickled his nose as he and two others entered; the place was noisy with the sound of conversation, but it was only mid-afternoon, so there was no entertainment going on. No one paid them any attention as they walked over to the counter. A burly Vlin was tending it, but she didn’t seem nearly as rushed as some of the other employees. “What is it you want to know? Or, maybe you’re looking for something.”
“Are we that obvious?” Hyran said with a wry smile.
“Monks don’t come in for drinks, and neither do you Love freaks. Figure you want something else. But don’t ask me about a human. They all look the same to me.”
“We’re looking for the captain of the “Singing Sail.”
“Monkie, I haven’t seen an Vle captain in weeks. The humans have blockaded the harbor. Ships can leave, but not enter.”
“But the Singing Sail is Vle, isn’t it?”
“Sounds like an Vle name. Look, for all I know, the captain left her behind and went on another ship, or maybe he is still around. Either way, he ain’t been in here.”
“Well, thank you.”
“Sure. Come again when you can stick around and partake.”
“Perhaps so.” Hyran led his companions out onto the deck again. “Well, let’s see if anyone else has had any success.” The group was already reforming at the appointed spot. But Valph and a few others didn’t return. Finally, another of their group approached. “Found him, Hyran. He’s at the Thaleberry Bush.”
“Thank you. Lead on.” Leaving the others behind, Hyran followed the Vle to a relatively upscale pub. The façade was painted a brilliant blue, and inside most of the surfaces had been laminated. Flann and Valph stood at a table by the back wall, discussing- almost pleading, it appeared, with a mid-sized dark Vle with graying hair.
The captain rolled his eyes at Hyran’s approach. “Don’t even waste your breath, I’ve already said no. I swear, as nice as the Humans are, I wish they’d never given us their religion.”
“Captain,” said Hyran, “Are you a religious man?”
“I believe in the Great Master, yes. But my church is out there—” he pointed seaward— “on the Great Blue.”
“Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Hyran, lately of the Kelwome monastery.”
“You were a monk? I thought the vows were for life.”
“Mostly. But I couldn’t live with the political non-interference edict. They kicked me out of my religion because of my mission: I am going to tell the King to reverse his Proclamation, and I need your help to do it.”
The captain raised his brows. “You don’t belong to this Exian cult then, do you?”
“No, we’re just traveling together. They hope to raise a movement against the Proclamation.”
“Pfft! Good luck! What makes you think you even have a chance?”
“Who cares about chances? We have to do what our hearts insist we do.”
“Lots of people live perfectly good lives without following their hearts. Why can’t you?”
“Are you one of those people?”
“No,” the captain admitted, “I’m one of the lucky ones.”
Hyran smiled. “We may call ourselves lucky later, but for the moment we’re just not going to give up. Do you want us to just steal your ship?
The captain exploded in laughter. “That’s the funniest thing I’ve ever heard! So, how many of you are there?”
“Seventeen.”
“I’m gonna need payment, or you’ll at least need to bring more than enough food for your whole group. It’ll be a two day trip.”
Hyran glanced at Valph, who nodded. “We can handle that.”
“Then you’ve got yourselves a deal. You’re now officially guests of Captain Jurik on the Singing Sail.” With that, he lightly punched Hyran’s shoulder.
Hyran was quick to respond likewise. Then, he smiled wryly. “So, do the sails actually sing?”
Jurik puffed up with pride. “If the winds are right, you’ll hear it for yourself, Hyran!”

The breeze was strong off the land, and the choppy water rocked the ship gently. The group of Exians and Hyran spread across the deck, trying to find good places to stand without getting in the way. The rope was untied from the dock, and the sails went up, going taut as they caught the wind. Hyran felt exhilarated, though he tried not to show it lest he seem too much like a treelubber. But the exhilaration won.
“Ah, ha ha! Let the wind fill your sails, you loveydoveys! It’s always great to get out to sea!”
Hyran smiled at the Captain and did as he was commanded with a deep breath of marine air. In three days their trek would begin again; in the meantime, they could relax.
Provided they could all keep their lunch down.

Monk

The peninsula narrowed as the raucous group headed north, and in the litter, Hyran had time to ponder. How far had the humans gotten? Were their forces on the mainland yet? Would the Exians be allowed through the front lines?
They began to see more and more troops— on the horizon, on the road, moving across fields, breaking camp. Finally, they were stopped at a checkpoint.
Valph’s friend— was Flann his name?— greeted the 4 soldiers in Human, and their faces registered what Hyran figured was surprise. All the Vle looked expectantly at the soldiers; no one provided a translation. A Human of higher rank joined the two, and then dismissed the lesser. The conversation seemed respectful enough, in a tone that reminded Hyran of his conversations with his mentor. But the jarring sounds of the Human language shattered that pleasant memory quickly.
Then the tone changed, as did the Human’s stance. He directed questions, the Vle delivered answers, as if in a quiz. After ten such exchanges, the Human fell silent. And, finally, he said in passable elvish: “Vrry will, yo c’n gau.”
That one sentence energized the troupe. Hyran’s carriers handed him to two others and they went on by.... with one of the humans tagging along. A few broke out into song, and others hummed totally different tunes.
But Hyran felt he had to know just what all was said. “So, what was that all about?” he asked Flann when he was near enough.
“Well, at first we were just bantering— I was trying to convince him to let us through, considering who we were, and our mission, and our wounded—” the Vle indicated Hyran— “and how peaceful we were and that we would take vows of honor not to tell the military there anything the Humans did... And he countered with some very good reasons why he shouldn’t— couldn’t— let us go. But finally, he quizzed me on Exian theology. I passed his test.”
“Why are we so lucky that we should keep running into Exian captains?”
“This Human was a lieutenant.”
“Whatever.”
“I don’t know. It’s a mystery.”
“Well, I for one see the Great Master’s hand at work here.”
Flann didn’t reply. Inwardly, Hyran smiled as the young Vle chewed that one over in his mind. As peaceful and wonderful this Exian thing may be, it fell short in answering some of life’s mysteries. Without a Creator or Great Master, who was there to credit for the hand dealt by fate?
Hyran looked over at the Human, whose face was hard, eyes pointed straight down the road. “Is he Exian?”
“There’s no way of knowing. Soldiers are not allowed to show their religion, except maybe in diplomatic situations. Have you noticed that neither the captain nor the lieutenant crossed themselves even when I did?”
With a little surprise, Hyran realized that Flann was right.
“In either case, it doesn’t matter. The soldier has his orders. He’ll convey the lieutenant’s guarantee of free passage off the peninsula as long as we don’t meet an soldier of higher rank.”
“Is ‘Lieutenant’ a high rank?” Hyran’s mouth almost refused to wrap itself around the odd word.
“I don’t think so— He didn’t have very much decoration on his uniform. Anyway, the Lieutenant we met assured me that the guarantee will at least get us through to a Human of higher rank.”
“Hmm.” Hyran didn’t feel very reassured, but it was another step in the right direction.

For two days they walked, staying in quiet, inactive towns. The Humans, the group found, provided the townspeople with a lot; and the people themselves didn’t seem to feel much like working, other than what absolutely had to be done.
Hyran had never seen a more depressing peace. In fact, he’d never dreamed that peace could be depressing.
Finally, they were stopped by a roving patrol on horseback on the road. Their soldier companion spoke with them in a conversational tone, and one of the patrol members pointed along a slightly different path. Then, he rode at a gallop in the same direction.
Their companion spoke to Flann, who translated: “The road ahead is closed. Ahead lies a battlefield, where intense fighting continues. The only possible way through would be with a phalanx of protection, and the Lieutenant Colonel is not likely to grant such a dubious maneuver. Nonetheless, we are invited to meet him personally at his tent headquarters.”
“And then what?” asked a Vle.
Flynn had a look that said ‘don’t ask me’; Valph seemed to be about to say something, but remained silent.
[TRUST...]
“The Great Master will provide,” said Hyran. He knew the others would not accept such a pronouncement as true, but he himself felt it was true, and that was what mattered.
Valph eyed him. “I hope you’re right, Hyran. By Love, I hope you’re right.”

The Lieutenant Colonel showed no emotion on his face, only a steel composure. His voice, however, spoke otherwise, sounding short and clipped. Through Flann, he said, “Your little bunch has provided me with a little dilemma. I’ve got ten thousand men to command here and now you Vle come marching up like a bunch of neophyte troubadours asking to just walk through a battle field and expect to come through unscathed. Lemme tell you people something: The enemy archers can’t see what’s in your hearts, they just see figures walking on a field. So they shoot. Not only that, there’s something spooky going on up there. For the last few days everyone in sight of the battle has been feeling drained, like they haven’t slept for days. I can’t allow anyone to go through that, and I won’t. You’ll just have to wait it out like everyone else.”
That was odd. The soldiers felt drained? “Sir, you said your soldiers felt drained only in sight of the battle?”
The lieutenant turned his steel gaze on Hyran after he heard the translation. “Yes.”
“And the feeling goes away when the person walks behind a hill, or a tree?”
“Somewhat. I find my men have to sleep a day in order to return to normal. Why, do you know something?”
Hyran almost said yes, before he decided he didn’t, after all, want to betray his country. “No, sir, just something I’ve heard about before. But please, you have got to help us get through! I know we can change King Lajot’s mind if we could just get to him.”
“Sorry, mister, you’ll have to come up with something yourself.”
There had to be a way! The Great Master would provide, he’d said so... “What if we took a ship and went around?”
“We’ve tried that, of course. They just shoot at us with stolen cannons. It’s impossible to make a landing anywhere that would make a difference.”
“Well, maybe we can get through on a merchant ship.”
“And where are you going to find a merchant who is willing to put his ship at risk like that?”
Hyran shrugged. He didn’t know, but it didn’t matter. He had a plan, and it was time to put the plan in motion. First step: Getting out of the darn gurney. “Which coast would you say is safer, Sir?”
“The west. The island Vle are eating up big chunks of coast to the east- or at least were, until this draining feeling came along. I hear they’ve got it too, and they have no hills to go behind over there.”
“The west it is then. Shall we, my friends?”
The assent was silent, as if to say, is there anything better?

As they entered the chambers the king went to his desk and leaned his girth against it. Before he could ask the obvious question, Taréz decided to answer it.
“I’m here because Gardric ordered me here.” He wasn’t surprised to see his father’s eybrows shoot up. “His presumption aside, we’ve been winning battles. On my front, their forces were only half-serious. However, all the rest of the divisions are winning against the odds. Frankly, it’s fishy. Rather than arguing with him, I took the opportunity to leave a very unchallenging situation. Now, I think I ought to try to find out what it is that they have that I didn’t.”
“Didn’t?”
His father had caught his use of the past tense. “Reports since my departure indicate that, despite a drastically reduced force—”
“How drastic?”
“They were eight hundred when I left. Gardic sent a new second-in-command, who promptly sent half of them away to the other fronts.”
“Any reduction in the light force?”
“No, but now that I’m gone, my division is winning much more handily. I’m not a bad commander, Father.”
“No, Gardric has always had the greatest praise for you. It seems he’s hiding something, but why? It isn’t like him.”
“I don’t know. Has he reported in recently?”
The king seemed pensive a moment. “No. With all the financial trouble and recent excitement, I hadn’t thought of that. He hasn’t. Get on it, Taréz. If Gardric feels he has to hide something from us, we might have to stop him.”
“Even if it’s winning battles?”
“In a war we shouldn’t be fighting? Definitely. My image is already tarnished for future historians, but I won’t make it any worse.”
“I’m glad you feel that way, Father.”
“Me, too,” the elder Vle sighed.
The pigeonkeeper popped in just then. “Message for you, Sire.”
“You couldn’t just pass it on?” asked Taréz as he went to the door.
“No, Sire, everyone else is busy getting ready for the ball this week.”
“The ball!” exclaimed Taréz. “I’d actually forgotten! That might be a good thing.” He stopped at arm’s length and reached for the scroll in the pigeonkeeper’s outstretched hand. “Thank you, Pigeonkeeper.”
“Thank you, Your Highness.” He turned and left, still leaving a whiff of pigeon in his wake.
“What do you mean, it’s a good thing?”
“Better to concentrate on the government thing, right, and leave the party planning to everyone else?”
“Yes, yes, of course. Still, you know how I look forward to these events. Especially now that things are looking up. What does it say?”
Taréz opened the scroll and read it aloud.

Your Majesty,
This is to report four victories on the eastern front. The Varmacian forces gave ground and the front is now a day’s march east of The Twin Lakes. I now personally will turn my attention to the south. We’re holding against the humans at the Isthmus of Ladelan, but I now believe we can start pushing them back. The Varabians are doing very well against the islander forces and I expect our border there to be restored sometime next week. On that good news, enjoy your ball!
Gardric

“The forces at the isthmus are as thinly stretched as everywhere else, so I think we can assume he’s using his secret weapon there, too,” added Taréz.
“When Gardric finds something that works, he applies it in every way possible. Leave tomorrow.”
“Yes, Father.”

Taréz smoothly swung himself onto the horse. “I can’t say when I’ll be back.”
“Just as long as your father knows where you’re going,” joked the horsemaster. “Just out for some fresh air?”
“No, a bit more than that. Good day, Intret.”
“Good day, Your Highness.”

Taréz considered heading east, back to the battlefield he’d left, but the lack of cover disqualified that option. So, he headed directly south to the peninsula.
Three days later, he arrived at Ginnel, which was about as close he wanted to be on horseback. The town had very few people left in it, and those who stayed were very reserved. Taréz decided to be just as reserved, lest he draw attention to himself. Some soldiers walked the streets, and he didn’t really care to be recognized.
A coin in a stablehand’s palm helped ensure good care for his horse— the horsemaster wouldn’t have it otherwise. He hefted the pack onto his own back, and headed south once more.
It wasn’t long before the clangs and shouts of war could be heard. That meant that if any scouts were going to see his approach, they would have already. He had no illusions that the camouflage was a guarantee against that.
He unsheathed his sword and continued closer. In the dense undergrowth, there was no telling who he’d run into and when. Somewhere ahead was a secret weapon. Two Larmanian troops charged past him from behind, hardly giving him notice. Then, a human stumbled by. At sight of Taréz, his eyes widened, and he would have fallen if Taréz hadn’t caught him. “Are you wounded?”
“No, no,” the soldier murmured. “Just... very, very tired. Must... go on...”
But it was clear the soldier was not going to go on. Taréz lay him down and moved on. The pattern continued— Vle he met were energetic and fighting with great (verve), but the humans appeared as if they had been fighting constantly for a week.
The forest darkened, and the sounds of war decreased. Now, the troops he saw heade the opposite direction, just as energetic as ever. Taréz relaxed against a small tree, and waited until no more troops came by before pitching his tent and calling it a night.

Morning brought a slightly different scheme. Slightly before dawn, a human poked his head into Taréz’s tent. He met a dark fist for his trouble. Taréz stepped out, sword drawn, and made quick work of the soldiers. But these humans had been different than the ones he met the day before: fresh and ready for battle. Only skill won the moment. As they all lay unconscious around his tent, he considered. Though it was technically his duty to kill them, he didn’t really feel like he was part of the war. After all, he was prince. He could decide that, couldn’t he?
Not that it mattered. Any Larmanian soldier who found them here would end their lives. Still, Taréz gave them a fighting chance, and packed up his camp.
Humans he met later that hour were progressively less energetic, much more quickly than would be expected of normal battle. By the time sunlight could be seen shining through the treetops, the mystery effect had run its course. But the dark Vle he met seemed to be gaining in strength.
Taréz quickened his survey of the battlefield. The answer had to be here, somewhere!

On the third day of the trip, a message from the battlefield he’d left caught up to his carriage. Soon after he’d left, Birg’s new second in command had arrived, an assistant in tow. They carried orders to send one hundred of the soldiers to each of the four other fronts in the kingdom. Nothing else had changed, but the light Vle now seemed to be utterly without spirit. Where before there had been just three or four deaths per encounter, on average, now there were as many as fifty. And that seemed to enrage them, for the attacks were now coming every day.
That struck Taréz as somehow odd.
He arrived at the camp the next day. Yis was there as usual, but not in the overlook. Taréz looked down on the camp, and picked him out easily. Wearing his robes of state (though without the royal thale weave) he stood out even among the colorful clothes of his kin.
“Hello, Sire. You received my message.”
“No, actually, I was just passing through. It looks good.”
“In fact, it’s finished. The camp meets all promises and requirements. Everyone has a roof to sleep under and there is adequate space within the compound.” Taréz could see that Yis had much to be happy about- that is, if anyone could be happy in such a situation. The two story buildings below had shake roofs and closable windows; it was not possible to see the entire perimeter. There was commerce and production going on below, a huge self-sufficient city that was now second only in population to Kezantopil.
“Any food shortages?”
“Right now, no. But we’re not getting a fair trade on our finished goods. If it continues...”
“I’ll get on it.”
“I know you will.”
Usually, such confidence was a source of pride. Not in this case.
“Tell me about daily life here...”

Taréz woke and finished his journey the next morning. There were numerous coaches already at the palace, those of all the King’s advisors. Taréz debated whether or not he ought to join the meeting.
But the answer was no: as he entered the hallway to the council room, the doors opened and all the advisors poured out. They were so intent on their debate that they hardly acknowldged the prince’s presence. He let it pass.
One Vle was left behind as the King headed toward his quarters. “Kreylek, what did you say?” asked the prince.
“I said that we ought to contract with trolls to mine our cobilum.”
“Ah, that would do it. Let me in.”
“Okay. Across the country, mines are still. If the workers are light, they’re in camp; if they are dark, they’re on the battlefield. But we desperately need the miners to get the metal out of the ground.”
“And since the humans and dwarves have attacked us, we have to choose the trolls, is that it?”
“Well, yes, but there’s more.”
“And why cobilum? It just corrodes, doesn’t it?”
“Precisely my point. The trolls have a process to harden it. They use it all the time! And here we have all these reserves just waiting for us to use!”
“But why would the trolls come all the way into Larmania to mine for us?”
“Because, the trolls don’t have enough mines to employ their miners.”
Kreylek had obviously thought this out, but there was one last question. “And how are we supposed to pay them?”
“With the ore they mine. And we’ll send along more to pay for the weapons they make for us.”
“That’s a rather intensive pay. Especially given our cool relations. What guarantee do we have that they won’t use their cobilum to attack us?”
“Gardric. Especially considering his recent success. Besides, they just might attack the dwarves, and occupy them enough for us to regain our losses. Well, I’m no military expert—”
“But what you say makes sense.” Gardric was a deterrent before, and if he won this war, he’s be even more of a deterrent. If only Taréz didn’t have his misgivings. “Is your plan dead? It didn’t see you sold the other advisors on the plan.”
“No, His Majesty didn’t end the meeting. It’s merely adjourned for lunch.”
The sound of a departing carriage made its way through the window, so Taréz went to take a look. “You could be wrong. ‘His Majesty’ is leaving.”
“Oh, dear, maybe I made a larger error than I thought.”
A chuckle came from behind them, and the two Vle turned to see Stecky coming up the steps. “Rest easy, Minister Kreylek. The King received news that the camp is finished, and is headed to take a look.”
It was Taréz’s turn to chuckle. “I just came from there today. It is remarkable." But felt less light as he said, "It will be interesting to see how the historians will remember it.”
No one replied to that.

The advisors returned after the lunch hour, with Taréz joining them. The King was a half hour late, and Taréz absorbed as much of the chatter as he could for his father. He’d want to know what was said in the unstructured chatter, but as decor demanded, they immediately fell silent when he entered the room. Taréz resolved to remember to stop at the door a moment before coming in when he would be King.
“Right then,“ began the King. “Give me a solid, unrefutable, factual reason we should not contract with the trolls.”
There were a few false starts, but most of those who talked realized mid-stream that they were merely repeating prejudices- their dirtiness, their lack of etiquette, their lack of culture...
“Very well. Reasons the trolls would want to deal with us?”
“They need cobilum.”
“They need work.”
“They need weapons.”
“What do they need weapons for? If they have weapons will they start fighting us like the rest of the world?”
“No,” said Taréz, “They’ll start fighting the dwarves.”
His father appeared taken aback. “Taréz! What are you— never mind, we’ll discuss it later. Go on about the dwarves.”
“The dwarves have been taking holdings along their border with the trolls, places where they can hide war machines, and extending the length of their border with us.”
“Have the trolls done anything about it?”
“No. Our intelligence says they are preserving their weapons as much as they can. The locations are hard to attack and not very large.”
“Still, it must bother them.”
“Yes, they want to retaliate, especially while the dwarves are engaged with us.”
Premet cleared his throat. “Excuse me, Your Majesties, but does anyone know just how we’re going to set up the agreement? We may have decided to just ignore centuries of wisdom in dealing with those creatures, but we’re going to have to be careful in making our plans.”
“I’ve already asked the chamberlain— er, acting chamberlain— to find a translator for us,” Kreylek replied. “Through him we can probably find a government official who can handle everything.”
“How do we know we can trust that troll, whoever he may turn out to be?” asked Premet.
“Intelligence, how else?”
Tarez shook his head. “We can send spies anywhere as long as there’s forest, but it’s a totally different matter to disguise someone as a troll!”
The King apparently decided that it was time to be in charge again. “Well, if everyone knows what their part in this will be, we might as well adjourn. Until—”
“E- excuse me, Y-your Majesty?”
“Yes, Kreylek?”
“I thought you might like to hear the good news from the banks.”
“Good news? Go on.”
“The budget in the last month balanced perfectly. We can’t make up the deficit from the last months, but we’re balanced.”
“How?!”
“No miners, no one to pay. Taxes from agriculture have begun to come in, and there are more profits from the camp than there are expenses.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No, Sire. The light Vle have proven very industrious.”
“Well, I guess we can all breathe easier from that news. Does anyone have anything they want to add?”
There was no response, so the King adjourned the meeting for good. “Taréz, let’s go to my chambers.”