“You’re just not going to be helpful, are you.” Sigh. “Can you let me out no– oh, right, I should ask. Iftel wall went down. Is Vkandis...?" 

The Goddess bows her head, and Her silence answers Shavri's question more loudly than any words could. 

Shavri has a weird urge to say 'my condolences' or something equally stupid. She doesn't, though. Among many, many other reasons, it's not like she owes this Goddess anything. 

She would be so tired, if she were capable of emotions right now. 

"Can you let me out now." 

"As you wish." 

And she's alone in the Web-room again, shivering, her head pounding. 

Randi's absence doesn't hurt any less. But there's clearly work that needs to be done. Miles to go, before she can finally rest... 

Shavri picks herself up, moving jerkily, and heads for the Heralds' meeting-room. 

The Heralds are arguing over a just-arrived letter, which Shavri learns - in a very fragmented manner - was dropped off by some sort of creepy bird with Mindspeech. It's waiting for their answer on the windowsill. 

Keiran hunches over her stomach. "I mean, obviously he'd say it wasn't him, right, no matter what - it's not information–"

"It destroyed our Sunlord. I do not care who this man claims to be, he cannot have that power." 

"Wasn't his whole entire plan that he wanted to murder ten million people and make a god to fight the other gods?" 

"He never told Van it'd kill the others," Dara mutters, but mostly under her breath. 

"It wasn't Leareth." 

Heads turn. 

"Shavri! Are you–" 

"Don't you dare." It's the closest thing to a snarl that Savil has ever heard from Shavri's lips. "Don't ask. Ever." 

She stands rigidly for a moment, glaring at everyone, and then moves to pull up her own chair at the table. 

"Wasn't Leareth," she says tonelessly. "Talked to the Goddess. Through the Heartstone. She said it was - from outside." 

"Outside what?" 

Shavri's expression clearly says that she thinks this is a stupid question. "Outside the world, I guess? They - didn't see it coming. It took out Vkandis. She...didn't know. What or how or anything." 

"You spoke to our Goddess." 

Brightstar isn't being very subtle about the envy in his voice at all. 

"I bet She'd talk to you too if you had a go. Don't think there's more to learn that way though. What's our plan." 

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah. Why is everyone LOOKING AT HER. Oh right they don't have a monarch right now. She is literally in charge of this kingdom right now. 

Well. 

Half of it. The half that's left. 

"...Leareth sent a letter," Dara says faintly, after a long pause. "Swearing it wasn't him. He - lost half his people as well. He, er, wants our census-numbers, if we can get them, for...I guess to help come up with theories of what caused this? He doesn't know any more than we do, though. No detectable magic at the time." 

Odd, how in a way it's easier to think when you've already lost everything that matters. 

"We're going to have a lot of chaos," Shavri says flatly. "People will starve - there'll be littles who lost their parents... Can he offer any help. We should ask for it. Tell him he owes it to us, if he wants us - to make nice with him, to work together here. Which he must. Given everything." 

Everyone is staring at Shavri. 

No, wait, they're back to staring at her again now, goddamnit. (Or, more accurately, damn whoever and whatever did this to them, because it clearly wasn't any god Valdemar knows.) 

"He says he wants peace." 

"And so do we, right? Can't see we've got much choice." 

"I do not trust him." 

Dara wishes, desperately, that this job were on LITERALLY ANYONE ELSE.

To add insult to injury, Rolan isn't even being helpful. The loss of somewhat over half the Companion herd - they're overrepresented, since approximately no Companions survived their Heralds' deaths even if they weren't themselves turned to dust - is hitting him hard. 

"We don't need to trust him, and we shouldn't. Just, I agree we'd better ask if he can spare some aid. That, we do need." 

One fortunate thing in this whole disaster, is that the mysterious scourge of death that fell across all of Velgarth - Leareth is pretty sure of that point, now, though he hasn't personally checked the other continent - is that it didn't do anything to the crops already in the fields, or livestock, or the vast stores of grain and other preserved foodstuffs that Leareth has stored in various caches up north. He thought it prudent to store enough to feed his entire force for a year, if necessary. 

Now he has half as many mouths to feed. 

Of course, he also has half the number of Gate-capable mages. And the dice fell especially badly for Valdemar's Herald-Mages; they are absolutely not capable of distributing food aid to their own kingdom, let alone others. 

Leareth's own foreign operations are in shambles. But he built a lot of redundancy into his various spy-networks. He can, albeit at considerable cost, get communications through, and dispatch agents to approach the various governments in the region and open talks. 

Leareth has the resources, in coin and in a dozen more nebulous kinds of capital; he can pay that cost. It doesn't, right now, feel as though it's worth saving anything at all for the future. It's hard to imagine a better time to burn everything he has as fuel to keep a few more people alive through the next winter. 

Messages go back and forth, carried by Leareth's creepy semi-sentient bird creatures. 

Sure, they'll accept aid in the form of excess army rations. And mages, if Leareth is offering, though they need long-range Mindspeakers even more. And Farseers if possible, to help the Heralds triage which towns are in the most desperate straits. Sure, if he has spies with Gate-locations in Haven he's welcome to send them supplies and personnel that way. What other choice can Dara possibly make.