As she severed the Link at the end of the following day’s acrimonious session, Kathryn felt sick, knowing that the next morning there would be only one thing to Translate: the declaration of war—war, which had slain her parents and crippled Jarrikk. And they could do nothing; nothing but Translate—
Or could they? Kathryn’s mouth went dry. The idea that had just come to her, unbidden, would violate her Oath. It could mean expulsion from the Guild, the loss of a second family...
...but it just might stop a war. She touched Jarrikk’s wing before he could leave the dais. He turned his ruby eyes on her, and she sensed his puzzlement. “We need private talk,” she signed. “Where...?”
For a moment he regarded her, puzzlement growing; then he opened and closed his wings, a gesture equivalent to a
