The Herald and Companion slowly paced the immaculately raked grounds of the refurbished Waystation. The unconscious unison of their steps bespoke the length and depth of their bond.

::It looks better than I expected.:: There was deep approval in the Companion's mind voice.

"The Guard did an excellent job," Herald Ansen Danner didn't stint on the acknowledgement. "All this in just over a month."

::Selenay told you to request whatever you felt was necessary. I don't think you over did it.::

Set deep into the craggy mountains of The Comb, the Waystation had formerly been the standard, one-room design – a sturdy, weathertight cottage with adjoining storage shed and stabling for pack animals.

Ansen's design had expanded the single building into two rooms. The builders had salvaged the stone from the outbuildings to create the additional room and added two sturdy wooden sheds to provide temporary storage for the displaced goods. All the mortar had been re-pointed and the entire structure gleamed with whitewash. Although the outbuildings were clearly new, the entire area had been cleaned of construction detritus and tidied to provide the best possible impression.

Ansen pushed gently on the door, new made and freshly sealed in dark stain. It obligingly swung silently open on well-oiled hinges. Kandrel followed the Herald inside to inspect the remade space.

Like all Waystations, the interior was spartan and practical. Where normally the walls would have been rough stone, these were paneled halfway up with sanded pine boards. The remaining stonework had been sealed with smooth plaster and painted with the ubiquitous whitewash. Dark trim around the doors and window broke up the expanse of white.

::I have a feeling they put the paneling up because if they whitewashed the whole thing and put a Herald and Companion in here, a person, would go snow blind.::

"I have a feeling you're right." Ansen turned in place slowly. He nodded to himself in approval of what he saw. Although bare, the space was immaculate, every surface gleaming and every article in meticulous order. A standing screen separated the main room from the sleeping area and he poked his head around the edge. He nodded again in satisfaction. His nose told him that the grasses in the mattress were fresh and whoever had done the job hadn't stinted on thickness. A wardrobe – out of place in a Waystation – already held all his gear.

"The trunks are all here, thank heavens." Ansen quickly checked each to make sure the contents had arrived intact.

::Good. Myste said she was sending some additional material that you might need. There should be a list somewhere.::

Ansen fished out the pages. "Here they are…" his voice trailed off as he read.

:You found something.:: It wasn't a question. After so many years together, each knew the other's moods without asking.

"I think so. Maybe. Remind me please to read up on water rights, will you?"

::Water rights? Hmm. Interesting, considering this dispute is about lands, gold and a proposed alliance-marriage.::

"Isn't it just? Let's see how the meeting room turned out."

The new room could be accessed by a stout door from the Herald's quarters, but Ansen was determined to avoid using it if possible. The Herald lifted the lever through a quarter turn, noting how the simple system of gears let the four heavy bolts pivot smoothly from where they had been driven deep into the stone. Ansen gave an experimental tug, eyebrows climbing in surprise at how easily the heavy door moved on its hinges.

::Oak panels over an iron core, just as you requested.:: Kandrel's mindvoice was dubious. ::Are you sure you didn't overdo it on this part? I checked the window – it's built to the same specification.::

Ansen grimaced. "You may be right. In fact, I hope you're right. But this feud has been settled for less than a generation and now, with this proposed marriage, has flared up again. There's already been substantial property damage and people have been hurt. If tempers get out of hand, I want to know there is someplace secure where no-one is going to chop their way through the door in a hurry.

"Besides, this Bell's Valley. The mines seem to attract everyone who thinks that stealing gold is less work than digging it out of the ground. I'm sure the circuit Herald will sleep better with the extra security."

::I can see your point. Securing the mines is the reason the local landowners have permission from the crown to keep additional armed retainers. Unfortunately, it also means additional armed retainers when disputes get out of hand.::

"Exactly. And unlike many retainers, whose work consists mostly of practicing, enforcing the peace and handling the occasional landless vagabond, these retainers get plenty of combat experience fending off bandits who want to get their hands on a gold shipment. And all those bandits seem to put 'Get rid of the Herald' at the top of their master plan."

Kandrel nudged the door open and stepped into the newly built room. Finished in plaster and pine like the Herald's side, this room was equally simple. An iron stove, encased in stone to maintain and radiate heat in even the coldest weather, took up one corner. To Ansen's right, the end wall contained an exterior door, the only other opening in the room. A keen eye would have noticed that the opening was somewhat wider than usual. This door too sported the same heavy construction and locking mechanism.

The main area was taken up by a table and seven chairs. An eighth chair was set along the back wall, along with a writing desk. Three lamps hung above the large table and a fourth over the writing desk.

::Are you going to tell them that this space will be converted to stabling when we're finished with it?::

"I think that we have enough problems on our hands without telling the disputants that little bit of information, don't you?"

Kandrel's snort was definitely a snicker.

Inspection complete, the pair exited to resume their inspection of the grounds. Ansen walked the perimeters of the three (!) separate fenced paddocks, ensuring the arrangements of all three were equal and identical. Kandrel was affording the three (well separated) wooden platforms the same scrutiny.

::I'm still not sure about tents instead of something a bit sturdier.::

"I know, and I'm not sure I disagree with you. The Guard wasn't sure they could come up with enough timber for three buildings. And it had to be…"

::Three or none:: Kandrel finished for him.

"Exactly. I also think that the tents will be warmer. It's a cold and blustery spring and I expect a lot of rain. The lined tents will do a better job of keeping out the wind than a bare wood wall will. Besides," the Herald's tone grew pensive, "a tent brings with it expectations of rustic and primitive conditions. Any building we could provide would create an underlying sense of inadequacy and dissatisfaction. They might not be aware of it, but that subconscious discontent would affect the negotiations."

::Fair point.:: Kandrel acknowledged.

Ansen's 'feelings' on certain things had caused much head-scratching during his days as a Trainee. When a group was arguing, Ansen 'knew', in a manner he couldn't explain, which words or issues were significant and which ideas would actually influence the outcome. It didn't tell him what words to use, but he could always tease out what it was that someone actually wanted - or at least would accept. Whether it was instinct or Gift had never been determined although Elcarth had tentatively put it in the 'Gift' column as being an aspect of either Mindspeech or a distant cousin of Empathy or the Bardic Gift. The talent could be blocked – to an extent – but that simply meant that Ansen's accuracy dipped somewhat. Elcarth had decided that blocking removed the Gift aspect of the skill but left the natural instinct intact. Regardless, it had meant that Herald Ansen was one of the Queen's most able diplomats and negotiators.

::The Guard arrives tomorrow. Are you ready? I can't think of anything else for them, can you?::

"No, I think we're ready. The three families are being permitted three retainers only. A manservant, a lady's maid and a groom. All other functions will be handled by the Guard. Meals will be prepared by the Guard and served from common dishes. Security will be provided by the Guard – including sentries on each paddock and all the feed and water. I still haven' decided whether or not to search the wagons and gear. I'll wait and decide if that seems necessary. I'd prefer not to – if one party perceives it as due diligence for security and another feels it's overly intrusive…it will be hard to manage that without starting off on the wrong foot."

Kandrel left off his inspection of the tent sites and wandered back to his Herald. ::Have you decided who gets put in which location?::

"What, and be accused of bias? Good heavens no. I'm leaving it entirely up to the gods." Ansen pulled a small pouch from one pocket, tipping out three painted stones.

The Companion eyed the stones dubiously. ::Orange, purple and grey? You couldn't find any better colours?::

A sigh. "None that weren't already being used in the coat of arms of one of the disputants. The only colour left was yellow – which could stand for cowardice – and wouldn't they just love to insinuate that to one another, or gold – which is the whole reason we're here in the first place. I'm going to toss these in the air and whichever lands closest to them, that's the tent and paddock they get."

::Let's hope the gods are listening and everyone accepts it as a reasonable solution.:: Kandrel's snort indicated what he thought about the likelihood of common sense suddenly breaking out.

Ansen glanced around the clearing once more, mentally ticking things off. Eventually, he sighed. "You're right. It's as ready as it will ever be. It would be easier to do this somewhere else, but a Waystation is crown land. This is the only neutral location in the region – for all its situated firmly within the demesne of Lord and Lady Lisle. It really was the only option." He looked over at his friend. "There's still plenty of daylight left. If you let me grab a blanket, I'll follow you to the meadow down the shore a bit. I can read up on water rights while you eat your dinner."

::Only if you bring some grain with you:: Kandrel was firm on that point.

Ansen chuckled. "Brother, I'll even untack you and after you've had a good after-dinner roll, I'll make sure brush every wisp of grass from your hide."

Kandrel affectionately lipped Ansen's hair. :I think I can accept those terms::