Like his new acquaintances, Taeland was more than happy to leave the clean-up of the successful ambush and massacre of the invading gül-Hovgavui to their wronged, and very grateful, cousins. He set up his tent in their camp outside the colony, nearby but beyond the sights, sounds and smells of the Gramlini victory celebrations.

Sitting around the large bonfire at the center of the circle of tents, they seemed willing to listen to his advice as they discussed their next move. Given what they’d seen recently, it seemed obvious that some human agency was moving amongst the Gülvini of the southern Sarajis Mountains, but who precisely, and with what motivation?

“I have patrolled this region for four years,” Taeland said, taking a deep drink of the quite decent ale the Gramlini had provided the group. He hadn’t been inclined to question how they’d come by it, although he recognized the brewer’s mark on the barrel – a well-known tavern at Noneth Bridge.

“In the last year I have heard more than one rumor of mysterious people, coming into contact with the Gülvini tribes. They stories varied, sometimes it was a man, sometimes a woman, but always they were captured, only to make friends of the beastmen. But I paid scant attention, I’m afreaid, being more concerned with the happenings amongst the Firilani and Ethmoniri – someone, the same people or others, I couldn’t say, have been recruiting amongst the tribes.

“This isn’t unheard of, of course, but I’ve never seen it on this scale. The Firilani are usually too fierce and hostile to outsiders to be worth the risk, and the Ethmoniri generally too peaceful and unwarlike to find many useful recruits save for a few outcasts. Now though, young Firilani males are going south in shocking numbers, given how the Tanarian knights of the Republic are press ing their people so hard. And more amazing, the Ethmoniri, or at least a large faction of them, have rejected their Way of the Sha, and turned violent.

“I’d been fearing an invasion of Tharkia this spring, but by summer it seemed obvious what had happened – Tharkia had made alliance with both tribes to invade Nolkior… an insane plan, although the Prince Regent seems to be making it work…”

“Prince Regent?” Mariala asked, frowning. “We had heard he had deposed his father and taken the crown himslef.”

“No, not exactly,” Taeland sighed. “Apparently he claimed the King had taken a sudden madness, and somehow convinced the Council to confine him – for his own safety, of course – and make Laravad Regent. And within a tenday, he had launched his mad invasion, which must have been long, if secretly, planned. The internal politics in Tharkia right now are… fraught…”

“You seem to know a lot about it,” Devrik commented warily, “for someone who spends his times patrolling the wilderness.”

“I don’t usually spend my winters in the mountsin,” Taeland said, smiling. “I’m usually in Dagarin town or Zurhan for two or three months each year. And I have… connections… both high and low in the kingdom.”

“So you are Tharkian then, by birth?” Vulk asked equally warily.

Taeland smiled again, and leaned back. He’d been expecting this, of course, given the current state of arrairs between Tharkia and Nolkior. Or rather between Tharkia and the new united Kingdom of Ukalus… he rather suspected that the royal rat Laravad hadn’t seen that coming.

“Partially,” he replied easily. “My mother was Tharkian. My father was from Serviar. So you see, I am a man of two countries – and while I rather like King Balen, I’ve no use for his usurping son. If it helps, think of me as Servari – I did spent half my youth there.” And that was all he intended to say on the complicated subject of his birth and upbringing, at least for the moment. But it seemed enough, everyone relaxed, and they picked up the thread of the conversation again.

“Well, I can see you think the tribal recruiting and the Gülvini issue are unrelated,” Mariala said, giving him a smile. “But I’m afraid we can’t rule out a connection. You see, there’s this organization called the Vortex…”

There followed a rather long story about the group’s (they called themselves the Hand of Fortune) violent history with this secret organization. He was surprised to hear that the eruption of Mount Katai back in the spring, had been instigated by this Vortex.

“Well, technically, my infant son was at least partly responsible for the eruption,” Devrik added, looking slightly embarrassed. “But since it prevented the bastards setting off a sting of eruptions up and down the Sarajis Range, I think he can be excused.”

Taeland blinked at this, but didn’t actually disbelieve any of it. He trusted his own well-honed natural ability to sense lies, and while he certainly knew there was much these people weren’t telling him – there were awkward gaps in the stories, for one thing, something left out – he was confident that what they did relate was the truth. And the suspicious timing of the Darikazi civil war, the troubles in Arushal and Nolkior, and Prince Laravad’s almost simultaneous grab for power, made a powerful argument that they were all tied together.

“So where should we be looking next do you think,” Toran, the usually quiet and always watchful Khundari asked, reaching past him to open the tap over his empty mug. “Based on these rumors you’ve been hearing?”

Taeland thought about it for a moment, then replied, “Rekorgo.”

“Rekorgo… that sounds familiar,” Mariala said frowning.

“It should,” Toran said, then paused to drink deep. “It’s the oldest Gülvini colony in the southern Sarajis Mountains. And, because of its proximity to the Salt Route, it’s also one of the most troublesome.

“It was originally called Zhulakim – the site was first settled as a joint Telnori/Khundari settlement during the Co-dominion Period. During the Age of Chaos the area was abandoned by both races, I’m afraid. Sadly, all that remains to be seen from that era is my people’s silver mine.”

“Yes,” agreed Taeland, taking up the tale. “And that mine was eventually rediscovered by the Tarim Umantari as they moved south… for several centuries it was used by them as a source of flint and iron. But it was again abandoned during the years the area was dominated by the Ocean Empire.”

Korwin started to say something, but Toran continued before he could get started on the wonder of the Empire.

“It wasn’t occupied again until the years of the Great War, and this time by gül-Nomai. Deserters from the Necromancer’s armies, legend has it that they avoided his wrath by paying him a generous tribute in both raw iron and finished weapons… at least until he was finally put down at the Battle of Harkathir.”

“Since then they have only grown in size,” Taeland sighed, “been at constant war with the Firalani and the Ethmoniri, and preyed on travelers and caravans along the Salt Route. We think they number around 2,300, which would make them the largest Gülvini colony known in the North.

“What is known for sure is that a swarm from Rekorgo established the colony at Felgoth, as well as two other small colonies that were subsequently destroyed by the Firalani. Other swarms have been exterminated by the Ethmoniri before they could even get established, but no one – not the tribes, not the flower of Nolkiori or Tharkian chivalry, not the Khundari,” he nodded to Toran, who shrugged in agreement, “have been able to destroy Rekorgo itself.”

“Sounds formidable,” Erol said, though he didn’t sound particularly concerned about it. “So why there?”

“Because it is one of the two places most associated with these rumors of human involvement in the colonies… and because the other is Jha-Kusk, the most remote and difficult to reach Gülvini colony in the Savage Mountains. Besides, Rekorgo is closer, and I know the backcountry trails that should get us there unobserved.”

“Us?” Mariala asked, raising an eyebrow slightly, but with a smile. She really was rather attractive, on closer aquaintance. It was the intelligent eyes, he rather thought.

“Yes, assuming you don’t mind the company. The safety and well-being of this wilderness is my concern, and I would see this matter through.”

The others exchanged brief glances, and Vulk nodded, reaching across to shake his hand. “Welcome aboard, my friend! We’ll start out first thing tomorrow morning, if you’re ready.”