In the High Palace of Tener'ixal, War Room
If there were two things Un'adrubin despised, they were being thwarted in having his way and having to admit that someone False--someone not Dark Elven--had made a salient point. However, he masked his emotions carefully, as he always did. A natural consequence of the Dark Elves' being able to tell innately if someone was lying was that they were far better than most races at hiding what they themselves thought. The Lord of the Hunt answered:
"Agreed. I will not risk our people, or our Forest, to inadequate preparation when the Purge reaches Tener'ixal. Send your contact to me immediately." He slid a roll of parchment toward Akeirra and Tegan. "To the Auris..." For a warrior, and Tener'ixal's Captain of the Guard, he was a remarkably good artist. His depiction of the route to the tributary that led to the Auris River was as accurate as if the finest cartographers in Paryer had drawn it. Un'adrubin explained the landmarks and convoluted forest trails carefully.
Suddenly, the High Palace itself began to tremble. Was it an earthquake?
Un'adrubin didn't think so. "Our Mother stirs," he said slowly.