“My cousin would find it amusing that it takes two of you to replace him,” Liam told them with an engaging grin.

His companions laughed heartily, nodding in agreement.

“Can we agree upon this solution then,” Accius asked them. “Rendor for peace, and Roan for war?”

“I will call the roll,” Lara said returning with a tray of nine goblets. Passing them about she took the last cup, and began. “Rendor for peace. Roan for war. Petruso of the Piaras – aye or nay?”

Petruso, who was a mute, nodded vigorously his aye.

Lara called the others in sequence. “Imre of the Tormod?

“Aye!”

“Floren of the Blathma?”

“Aye!”

“Torin of the Gitta?”

“Aye!”

“Liam of the Fiacre?”

“Aye!”

“Accius of the Devyn?”

“Aye!”

“Roan of the Aghy?”

“Aye!”

“Rendor of the Felan?”

“Aye!”

“Then it is settled,” Lara said.

“Not quite,” Rendor told them. “You have not given us your vote, Lara.”

“I am not a member of the council,” Lara replied.

“Nay, you are not,” he agreed, “but you are the founder of this council, and in a matter as important as this one I believe you should have the right to vote.”

The other lords murmured in agreement with Rendor.

Quick tears sprang up behind her eyelids to sting her eyes. Lara nodded her acknowledgment of the honor they were giving her. “In the matter of Roan and Rendor, the founder of the council votes aye,” she said. Then she raised her goblet. “To the Outlands,” she toasted, and they raised their goblets to join her, their voices strongly echoing hers.

“To the Outlands!”

The meeting broke up, the lords going to their sleeping places, but Rendor remained behind to speak with Lara.