“What are they saying?” Iellieth whispered.
“You do not speak Druidic?” Persephonie’s eyes widened once again.
“No, do you?”
“I speak it to some extent.” She shrugged. “I always learn new things when we visit here, and my mother taught me several of the prettiest-sounding phrases. This older woman”—Persephonie pointed to a woman in pale gray leathers with a fox-fur collar—“she is saying that they have not the room for a new person to come in. They are afraid that the danger will follow.” Persephonie returned her attention to the council too quickly to notice Iellieth’s confusion and alarm.
Mara stepped into the center of the circle. “My friends,” she said in Caldaran, “danger is upon us either way. Yvayne has just informed the elders of an attack against our sister conclave across the
