Consideration #2
“It succeeded,” Lark said. “Although Rion Palinore is the only survivor.”
There was a murmur from the observers, but the councilwoman’s expression didn't change.
“Thornwood’s message spoke of corruption spreading through the western territories.
Of dark aetheria tainting the land itself.
Of a man called Duskwood who seeks to control all magic in Ianorrah.
” Her eyes fixed on Lark. “She also mentioned that this man has a particular interest in you, Miss Silvertree. That you are the reason he attacked Autumncrown in the first place.”
The murmur grew louder. Lark kept her expression neutral.
“Councilor Thornwood told you the truth.”
“Then you admit you are dangerous to shelter.”
“I admit Duskwood wants me. And I admit his forces took Rion to draw me out, that they attacked Autumncrown because I was there.” She held the councilwoman’s eyes.
“But the corruption spreading through the west won’t stop at Autumncrown’s borders.
It won’t stop at yours. Duskwood doesn’t want territory or resources.
He wants to control every obelisk, every witch, and every thread of aetheria flowing through every enclave. Including Springhope.”
“So Thornwood’s message claimed.” The councilwoman’s tone was cool. “Yet we have seen no evidence of this corruption ourselves. No tainted aetheria creeping up our slopes. No corrupted creatures prowling our borders.”
“Give it time,” Darian said flatly. “By then it will be too late.”
Silence fell over the chamber. The councilors exchanged glances, communicating in the wordless way of people who had worked together for years.
“You come asking us to join a war,” said another councilor, a man with a weathered face and hands that bore the calluses of physical labor. “To abandon centuries of neutrality based on warnings from a lowland enclave and the word of four strangers.”
“We come asking you to prepare,” Pippa said. “To consider the possibility that isolation might not be enough this time.”
“Springhope has been isolated for three hundred years.” The weathered councilor’s voice was not unkind, but neither was it welcoming.
“We have watched empires rise and fall. We have seen wars sweep across Ianorrah and break against our mountains like waves against the cliffs. We have survived by staying apart from conflicts that don’t concern us. ”
“This conflict will concern you eventually,” Lark said. “Whether or not you choose to acknowledge it.”
“May I speak?”
The voice came from the lower tier. Morena had risen to her feet, her hair catching the crystal light, her bearing calm despite the attention suddenly focused on her.
They had spoken only once since Lark arrived in Springhope, a conversation that had left more questions than answers and a tension between them that neither knew how to bridge. She hadn't expected her aunt to be here and had certainly not expected her to speak.
The councilwoman inclined her head. “Healer Silvertree. You have something to add?”
“Only an observation, Councilor Martyn.” Morena’s voice was measured, respectful. “I have been tending the injured man since his arrival. The wounds he carries are not the result of ordinary combat. They are systematic. Deliberate. The work of people who wanted to break him.”
She paused, letting that settle over the assembly.
“Whatever you decide about alliance or neutrality, I would ask you to consider what sort of enemy we are discussing. These are not soldiers seeking tactical advantage. These are people who torture and kill prisoners. Who corrupt the very aetheria that sustains us all.” Her gaze swept the chamber, carefully avoiding Lark.
“Hospitality to the desperate has always been one of Springhope’s virtues.
But perhaps it is time to consider whether virtue alone will be enough to protect us from what's coming.”
A different type of murmur followed her words. Councilor Martyn studied the healer with an unreadable expression.
“Thank you, Healer Silvertree. Your observation is noted.”
Morena inclined her head and sat. She still didn’t look at Lark.
“The council will deliberate,” Councilor Martyn said. “You will wait outside.”
They waited in the corridor for what felt like hours. Pippa paced. Darian stood motionless by the wall, conserving energy. Lark took slow, deep breaths and tried not to think about what would happen if they were turned away.
Partway through their wait, a side door opened and Morena emerged.
She paused when she saw them, a touch of sadness crossing her face.
Lark thought she might speak, might cross the distance between them and say whatever it was that needed saying, but she didn’t.
She nodded once, a small acknowledgment, and walked past without stopping.
Whatever had driven her to speak on their behalf, she apparently was not ready to discuss it.
Lark watched her go and felt a familiar ache, another thing left unresolved.
“That was your aunt,” Pippa said quietly.
“Yes.”
“She spoke well for us.”
“She did.”
Pippa waited, but Lark offered nothing more. Some things were too complicated to explain in a corridor while awaiting judgment.
When the main door finally opened, the functionary’s face gave nothing away.
“The council has reached a decision. You may return.”
They filed back into the chamber. The councilors had not moved from their seats.
“We have considered your request,” Councilor Martyn began.
“The matter of alliance is … complex. Springhope has maintained its neutrality for centuries, and we won't abandon such traditions lightly. However, we are not deaf to the concerns Councilor Thornwood has raised, nor blind to the evidence of suffering your companion carries.”
Lark held her breath.
“We'll take the matter under consideration. We will send our own inquiries to the lowland enclaves, verify what we can of the threat you describe, and discuss among ourselves what role, if any, Springhope should play in the conflict to come.” The councilwoman’s eyes moved across the three of them.
“This is not a promise. It's not a commitment.
It's merely an acknowledgment that the situation warrants further examination.”
A seed of hope bloomed in Lark’s chest.
“In the meantime,” Councilor Martyn continued, “you may remain in Springhope while your injured companion recovers. You will have access to our healing halls, our guesthouse, and the common areas of the enclave. Please remember that you are guests, not residents. You will conduct yourselves accordingly, and you will give the council no reason to regret this hospitality.”
“We understand,” Lark said. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank us yet.” The councilwoman’s expression remained grave. “We've made no decisions. We've only agreed to consider.”
“It’s more than we had this morning,” Darian said quietly.
Councilor Martyn remained stoic. “Then let's hope it remains so. That is all.”
They walked out into the bright mountain sunshine, and for the first time since leaving Autumncrown, Lark felt the faint edge of relief.
“They’re considering it,” Pippa said, a note of wonder in her voice. “They’re actually considering it.”
“Considering isn’t agreeing,” Darian cautioned. “They could still say no.”
“But they could say yes.” Pippa turned to look at them both. “They could actually say yes. That’s more than Thornwood thought we’d get.”
“At least now we have time,” Lark said. “Time for Rion to heal and time to find evidence that might convince them.” She looked back at the council hall, at its stern stone columns and ancient walls. “Let’s not waste it.”