He never made it back to the Mountains of Fire and the Walk of Clouds, his beloved home, the monastery of the mystical Jhesta Tu. Pagonel, weary and battered and feeling every bit the four decades of life he had known, had left the northern city of Dharyan-Dharielle in the spring, intending to return to the monastery in the distant southland. He had much to report, after all, given the momentous events that had literally reshaped the region of Behren and To-gai. The Jhesta Tu had a friend now in Brynn, who led the To-gai-ru, and with the often antagonistic Behrenese in disarray, the Walk of Clouds seemed poised to prosper and grow in peace.

But it was precisely that disarray in Behren that quickly turned Pagonel's path. In the reclaimed Behrenese city of Pruda, before he had even reached the halfway point of his journey home, Pagonel had heard rumors of war. All the southern coast of Behren had erupted in battle, with Yatols Peridan and De Hamman resuming their old feud now that the overseeing power of the Chezru Chieftain was no more. That news alone was troubling enough to Pagonel, though certainly not unexpected. But the second rumors of mounting conflict sounded even more ominous.

Apparently, the Yatol of Avrou Eesa, a most unpleasant imperialist named Tohen Bardoh, was gathering strength. At the truce between To-gai and Behren - between Brynn and Yatol Mado Wadon, who spoke for the great Behrenese city of Jacintha - Yatol Bardoh had led the prime opposition.

Bardoh had left the field outside of Dharyan-Dharielle a bitter man, and one whom all the parties involved in the truce agreed might prove to be troublesome.

Rumors now seemed to support that very speculation. If Bardoh was indeed gathering a great army, then likely they would soon be fighting for the city of Jacintha, for the heart of Behren itself, and the fate of the Jhesta Tu and of Brynn and her To-gai-ru kinsmen was surely involved.

Yatol Mado Wadon, the logical successor to the dead Chezru Chieftain as Yatol of Jacintha, might soon be challenged, forcefully so, by Yatol Tohen Bardoh.

Bardoh hated the Jhesta Tu, and more than anything in the entire world, Yatol Bardoh hated Brynn Dharielle, known as the Dragon of To-gai. In her journey to free To-gai, she had conquered his city of Avrou Eesa, and had made the man look like a fool in the process, not once, but twice.

Pagonel had no doubt that if Bardoh won the struggle and seized control of Jacintha, his friend in Dhaiyan-Dharielle would soon find herself once more at war -  and this time with an enemy far more determined to see her end.

Pagonel owed it to Brynn to learn more about these troubling reports, and to determine if she and her legions should join in the fighting before the issue of Jacintha was decided. She had made something of a pact with Yatol Mado Wadon, after all, forcing him to agree to her keeping Dharyan as her own by using the threat of Bardoh against him. If she had not held the city, then Bardoh would surely have taken it, thereby strengthening his already considerable position among the remaining Behrenese leadership. Better for Yatol Wadon that she kept the city, she had reasoned effectively to the man, and when she had symbolically named the conquered and held city Dharyan-Dharielle, adding her To-gai-ru name to its previous Behrenese name, she had done so with the intent that this city would serve as a bridge between the two peoples.

If in control of Behren, Yatol Bardoh would only cross that bridge with a conquering army at his back.

The Jhesta Tu mystic, wearing his traditional red-and-orange robes, drew quite a few stares as he crossed through the Dahdah Oasis to the west of Jacintha. In the centuries of the reign of the Yatols, few Jhesta Tu walked the lands of Behren, but now Pagonel wore his robes openly so that he could gauge the reaction and thus, the significance of the recent changes.

There were no soldiers in the oasis this day, which surprised the mystic, given that much of the army was in the process of returning from the battle-scarred areas to the west. He had wondered if he would encounter the majority of the Jacintha garrison here, a logical stopping place on the road back to the east.

All that he found were merchants, though, their caravans clustered in various sections about the watering pond.

"A fair day to you," Pagonel greeted one man, a farrier, as he worked on the infected foot of a hobbled horse.

The man looked up at him, his jaw dropping open despite his obvious attempts to remain calm and controlled.

"Ah, be you de man who made de peace?" the farrier answered in his heavily accented voice, a dialect that Pagonel knew to be from the Cosinnida region of southeastern Behren.

"I am a man dedicated to peace, yes," Pagonel answered, dipping a slight bow.

"Den you be in de bad place now!" the farrier replied with a toothy grin and a burst of laughter.

Pagonel looked around at the many caravans, at the quiet, slightly rippling pond. "I see no armies drawing their lines of battle."

"Not yet, but soon," the farrier explained. "That Yatol Bardoh, he be very very angry. We see many soldiers returning to Jacintha, but many more do not. Or when they do, it will be in line with Yatol Bardoh, we hear, to take de place from Yatol Mado Wadon. It be very very bad, I tell you."

Pagonel was more than a bit surprised that the man was being so forthcoming with him. Obviously, Behren was in flux here, an uncertain time where information gained and given would be crucial to the well- being of all. As he stood there with the farrier, others drew closer, listening with more than a passing interest.

"We be going to this new city," the farrier said, and Pagonel noticed a few other merchants nodding.

"Dharyan-Dharielle," the mystic said.

"You know de place, yes?"

"I do, and can promise you all that the woman sitting as governess there will welcome you with open arms," Pagonel told them with complete confidence. "It is the desire of Brynn Dharielle that her city serve as a bridge between the Behrenese and the To-gai-ru, and that it remain an open city, exchanging goods and exchanging ideas. You will find your journey well worth your time, I assure you."

That brought a lot of hopeful nods from the men and women, all of whom were so obviously on edge from the mounting tension within Behren.

"You break de bread with me this night," the farrier said.

"And with me!" a merchant chimed in.

"And me!" said another, and so on down the line.

Pagonel readily agreed, knowing that the insights he gathered from these nomadic merchants would likely provide a greater understanding of the true goings-on within Behren than anything the leading Yatols might tell him.

"The events in Behren are of great importance to the new king of Honce- the-Bear," Master Mackaront of St. Bondabruce, the longtime emissary of Abbot Olin to the Chezru Chieftain, told the new leader of the Yatols within Jacintha.

"I would think that your new King Aydrian has problems of his own," Yatol Mado Wadon replied with obvious skepticism.

Mackaront spent a long while studying the man, his posture, and his movements. Mado Wadon was an old man, older than Mackaront's fifty years, and the very foundation of Wadon's world, the religion and spirituality that had guided his entire life, had just been stripped out from under him. He was frightened, obviously, and likely doubting the decision that had led him to dispose of Chezru Chieftain Yakim Douan. The pressure was growing on him, clearly, as more and more reports of the gathering strength of Yatol Tohen Bardoh filtered into Chom Deiru, the Yatol palace in Jacintha. Mackaront understood his fears to be justified, given the many territorial disputes that had erupted throughout the fracturing kingdom, particularly those just to the south, where Yatol Peridan seemed to be taking advantage of the fact that many of his neighbor's soldiers had been pressed into service during the war in the west against the To- gai-ru and had not yet returned.

"You must understand that our new King Aydrian was guided on his ascent by none other than my master, Abbot Olin," Mackaront said, a statement that he had offered several times already during this important meeting.

"Olin, who befriended Chezru Douan," Mado Wadon remarked.

"Abbot Olin, who loves Behren," Mackaront was quick to correct. "My master befriended Chezru Douan because Chezru Douan spoke for Behren. He holds no anger over the events that led to his friend's downfall, though he is certainly saddened by news of Douan's death."

"A most pragmatic man." There was no mistaking the sarcasm in Yatol Wadon's voice.

"As he was saddened in learning that the Yatols chose not to look more deeply into this joining of beliefs, Abellican and Chezru, that seemed exemplified by the actions of Yakim Douan," Mackaront said, and Mado Wadon's eyes popped open wide.

"Douan was a fraud, and a murderer!" the Yatol cried. "He used the evil gemstone to steal the bodies from unborn children, claiming them as his own in his pursuit of physical immortality! Do not for one moment try to justify such a heinous act as that!"

"I do not," Mackaront said, shaking his head slowly throughout Wadon's tirade. "But do not deny that the discovery of Yakim Douan's actions have shaken your religion to its very foundations. Perhaps it is time to explore the possibilities of a middle ground here, between - "

"No."

The denial was not unexpected to Mackaront, and he realized that he might be pushing a bit too fast and too hard here. It was not really his place, at this time, to lay the groundwork for Abbot Olin's ascent to the leadership of Jacintha, but rather, to measure the level of desperation within Yatol Mado Wadon and use that desperation to pave the way for the first forays into Behren.

"Perhaps that is a discussion for you and my master on another day,"

Mackaront said.

"Doubtful," came the reply, the tone uncompromising.

Master Mackaront, no novice to the inevitably narrowed viewpoint of long- term clergy, accepted the response with a nod.

"Aside from that, my master is well aware that you are in dire need here," Mackaront said. "He is a friend of Jacintha, first and foremost, and as such, a friend and ally to Yatol Mado Wadon."

The man held fast his skeptical expression, but Mackaront could see the cracks growing in that fagade - cracks wrought of desperation, he knew.

"Abbot Olin is not without resources at this time."

"I would think that King Aydrian would need all of those resources and more, usurping a kingdom as mighty as Honce-the-Bear," said the suspicious Yatol Wadon.

"A nearly bloodless ascent, and one that has only added to Aydrian's considerable strength, I assure you," Mackaront explained. "Entel is secure - more secure than you can imagine - and Abbot Olin's position in the Abellican Church has never shone more brightly. We have resources to spare, and we offer them to you in this, your time of need."

"In exchange for?"

"As a gesture of friendship. The troubles of the Chezru religion are a great source of concern for Abbot Olin, who has always understood that the Abellican and Chezru churches were not as opposed as many believe.

Abbot Olin, who loves Jacintha as he loves Entel, desires stability in Behren, for only in the calm of order might the greater questions concerning the dramatic events within Chezru be properly explored."

"And your master believes that he should have a voice in such discussions?"

"He would be grateful if you and your fellow Yatols included him, of course," said Mackaront. "Abbot Olin is a man of philosophy and education. He is no ideologue locked into a particular focus so strongly that he believes there is nothing left to learn. Inquisition and exploration lead to the truth, though it is a road that may continue for centuries to come."

"Fine words," Yatol Wadon said, with a hint of sarcasm holding in his tone. "But words for another day. Tell me what you offer."

"Yatols Peridan and De Hamman will continue to play out their fighting -  there is little we can do to stop that," Mackaront explained, and Yatol Wadon predictably scowled at the words. It was important to him, after all, to calm the side battles so that Yatols like the two warlords to the south of Jacintha could aid him in his more important cause.

"What we will do is keep the fighting balanced, allowing neither to gain a major advantage," Mackaront went on. "Trust me in this. Events have already been put into motion to secure that end."

"You presume much," Yatol Wadon replied, an edge of unmistakable anger creeping into his voice.

"We understand much," Mackaront corrected, not backing down. "The best scenario for you and for Jacintha is to keep all of the other regions away from your expected personal struggle with Yatol Bardoh."

Wadon's expression showed that he had been thinking in exactly the opposite direction.

"You alone defeat Bardoh and secure Jacintha, and your position will not be questioned by any of the others," Mackaront explained. "And you will defeat Yatol Bardoh, and soundly, because my master is your friend."

He ended with a grinning expression, locking stares with Yatol Wadon. He could see that Wadon wanted to deny his claim, desperately so.

But he could not.

Mackaront recognized clearly that Mado Wadon was not pleased by his announced plans for Peridan and De Hamman, and that the Jacintha leader understood exactly what was going on here. Abbot Olin was forcing his hand and his allegiance. And yet, whatever he thought of that, there was nothing that he could do about it.

That last line, because my master is your friend, was not so veiled a threat. If Mackaront's master was not Wadon's friend, the implication seemed clear enough that Abbot Olin would quickly become Yatol Bardoh's friend.

Master Mackaront excused himself then, ending with a polite and respectful bow. He didn't want to press his advantage too strongly, after all.

The ten thousand Bearmen soldiers crossing the eastern stretches of the Belt-and-Buckle, the tremendous fleet of pirate ships leveling the conflict between Peridan and De Hamman, and the fleet of Honce-the-Bear warships even then assembling in Entel harbor, preparing to deliver soldiers of Aydrian's army to Jacintha, would do that all on their own.

And then Abbot Olin would arrive, the friend of victorious and indebted Yatol Mado Wadon.