The councilor met the judge's stern eyes with his own. "Thou dost know as much as I, Dryden. Windemere summoned the meeting. I would have ignored his insistence, had I not already been here. Others would have, too. Four meetings in one year are quite enough. We certainly do not relish the thought of being here for a fifth. But Malifora's message . . ." His words softened, and he would not speak.

Hassad finished for the councilor. "I sensed a great fear in her correspondence," he said.

"She hath said nothing while she has been here," Dryden noted.

"Still, she is afraid," said the mage. "Of what, I cannot say. I do not know. And I am certain that, oddly, neither does she. Not yet. But her fear is what brings the councilors together."

"Save for Windemere," Dryden said, not bothering to hide his contempt.

"His ships have arrived, nearly a fleet of them," Felespar said to Blackthorn. "Thy captain, Suturb, shall escort him back to the castle, as per thy instruction. In the meantime, we must prepare. At least, I must, and probably with drink. The heavens only know what tirade Windemere will bring with him this night."

Blackthorn thought of the comets, soon to appear in the approaching dusk. "The heavens, indeed," he whispered to himself.

They rode through a mist of rain, east then northeast along a path barely more than wheel ruts and horse hooves etched in mud. Not far from Britain, they turned onto another path. This they followed until they came to a small ring of white stones. There they dismounted and waited, many a wary eye turned to the sky where Trammel, the first moon, would normally appear if not for the clouds.

Nerves were tense by the ring of stones. "I do not like it here," Dryden commented, hunched over a fire he and several others had built for lack of anything better to do. "Why is it that we travel to Jhelom? The Black Company could have convened in Britain."

"'Twas Suturb's idea," Blackthorn answered, wondering when the Captain would meet up with them. "He sought an escape from the tedium of Britain's politics for a few days. And I agreed." He inhaled deeply. "I, too, needed a breath of Britannia's countryside to clear my thoughts."

"So long as the countryside leaves us alone," Dryden muttered, tightening his cloak about his shoulders. The flames cast his face in a gaunt, orange mask. "We are too out in the open. Too exposed."

The judge might have been right. "Trolls," Suturb said with disgust when he finally appeared. He dropped a crude axe to the ground, blade rusty red. "I found a campfire not far from here, and the remains of a merchant or two. My guess is that the trolls wait to ambush those who come through the gate." At the mention of an ambush outside the moongate, Blackthorn could feel Dryden's gaze pierce him. Still, he did not look up. "'Tis no wonder why trade and travel are so feared these days."

"Didst thou learn anything from the Councilor?" Blackthorn said, quickly changing the subject.

"Windemere was silent, my Lord. He would not speak of the Council's business to me."

"As expected." A glimmer of light caught Blackthorn's eye. "Stand back!" he warned. "Keep away from the stones until the gate materializes."

A line of brilliant light spread within the center of the stones, then rose up in a luminescent, blue curtain no wider than two men abreast, though taller than most. The air within the stones shone brilliantly, and quivered with the portal's hum.

"Moongates," Suturb said. "I do not trust them."