Page 263 of Salt Between the Wolves

"He isn't marching on Ironfang," Soren said.

The room fell quiet, and one elder laughed once. "Then where exactly is he marching?"

Soren looked up, the answer seeming obvious. "Silverwake."

No one spoke. Garrek stared at him, Kael straightened, and the realization arrived slowly around the room.

This was not about territory, conquest, or strategy. It was about Eira.

The silence that followed was heavier, because everyone understood what it meant.

One councilor finally said, "You think he'd risk war over one woman?"

"No," Soren replied calmly. "He'd risk war over losing control."

No one argued, because they had all met Vargan.

Garrek rubbed a hand across his beard. "If you're right, then he'll cross White Pass."

"Yes."

"And if he crosses White Pass..."

"He enters our territory."

The words settled like stone. One elder swore softly, another immediately began discussing defensive positions, and a third suggested reinforcing Ironfang itself as the conversation spread through the chamber.

Soren ignored most of it, because they were solving the wrong problem.

Defending Ironfang assumed Vargan wanted Ironfang, and Soren no longer believed that.

By the time the argument finally exhausted itself, darkness had settled outside and the room gradually fell silent.

Then Garrek looked toward him. "What are you thinking?"

Soren's answer came immediately. "We intercept him."

Several people began objecting at once, citing danger, limited numbers, and uncertainty, but Soren listened to none of it.

"If he reaches White Pass, he chooses the ground."

The objections stopped, because everyone knew he was right. Mountain warfare favored whoever arrived first, and Vargan knew that as well.

Kael crossed his arms. "When do we leave?"

A few councilors looked irritated that he had already accepted the decision, and Soren almost smiled. "At dawn."

Garrek exhaled heavily. "You were going regardless of what we said."

"Yes."

The older man muttered something impolite under his breath, and Soren accepted it as agreement.

The meeting ended shortly afterward, and orders spread through Ironfang before midnight as riders departed east and west, scouts vanished into the mountains, weapons were inspected, and supplies gathered.

The fortress did what it always did when winter threatened—it prepared.

Long after everyone else had left, Soren stood alone on the outer wall, watching the mountains stretch endlessly beneath the moonlight.