Thinking that his own proposed plan of action might aid their decision making, Gerard left his fellows, who were still arguing, and went in search of the Lord Knights. He found them closeted in what had once been an old chapel dedicated to the worship of Kiri-Jolith, one of the old gods and one favored by the Solamnic Knights.
Retainers in the service of Lord Ulrich stood guard at the door. Gerard told them he had a matter of urgency to bring before the council and then, having been standing for hours, he sank thankfully onto a bench outside the chapel to await the Lord Knights’ pleasure. While he waited, he went over his plans once more, searching for any flaw. He could find none. Confident and excited, he waited impatiently for the Knights to summon him.
At length, the guard came to him and said that they would see him now. As Gerard entered the old chapel, he realized that the council had already reached a decision. He guessed, by the way Lord Ulrich was smiling, that the decision was to march to Sanction.
Gerard was kept waiting a moment longer while Lord Siegfried conferred in a low voice with Lord Tasgall. Gerard glanced with interest around the old chapel. The walls were made of rough-hewn stone, the floor lined with wooden benches, worn smooth by years of use. The chapel was small, for it was a private chapel, intended for the family and servants. An altar stood at the front. Gerard could just barely make out the symbol of Kiri-Jolith—the head of a buffalo—carved in relief.
Gerard tried to picture in his mind what the chapel had been like all those many years ago, when the Lord Knight and his lady wife and their children, their retinue and their servants, had come to this place to worship their god. The ceiling would have been hung with bright banners. The priest—probably a stern, warrior-type—would have taken his place at the front as he prepared to read from the Measure or relate some tale of Vinas Solamnus, the founder of the Knighthood. The presence of the god would have been felt in this chapel. His people would have been comforted by that presence and would have left to go about their daily lives strengthened and renewed.
His presence was lacking now, when it was sorely needed.
“We will hear you now, Sir Gerard,” said Lord Tasgall with a touch of impatience, and Gerard realized with a start that this was the second time he’d been addressed.
“I beg your pardon, my lords,” said Gerard, bowing.
Receiving an invitation to advance and speak, he did so, outlining his plan. The three Knights listened in silence, giving no hint of their feelings. In conclusion, Gerard stated, “I could provide you with the answer to one question, at least, my lords—whether in truth this Mina does intend to march to Sanction or if that was a ruse to divert us from her true goal. If so, I might be able to discover the nature of that goal.”
“The risk you run is very great,” observed Lord Siegfried, frowning.
“‘The greater the risk, the greater the glory,’” quoted Lord Ulrich, with a smile.
“I would it were so, my lord,” said Gerard with a shrug, “but, in truth, I will not be in all that much danger. I am known to the Dark Knights, you see. They would have little reason to question my story.”
“I do not approve of the use of spies,” stated Lord Siegfried, “much less one of our own Knights acting in such a demeaning capacity. The Measure forbids it.”
“The Measure forbids a lot of things,” said Lord Tasgall dryly. “I for one, tend to choose common sense over rules that have been handed down in the distant past. I do not command you to do this, Sir Gerard, but if you volunteer—”
“I do, my lord,” said Gerard eagerly.
“—then I believe that you can be of inestimable help to us. The council has determined that the Knights will ride to the support of Sanction. I am convinced that this Mina does mean to attack and therefore we cannot delay. However, I would be glad to receive confirmation of this and to learn of any plans she has for the capture of the city. Even with dragons, she will find her way difficult, for there are many underground structures where armies can be safely concealed from attack,”
“Then, too, her own armies may be susceptible to the dragon-fear,” stated Lord Ulrich. “She may use dragons against us, only to watch helplessly as her own troops flee the field in terror.” The dead won’t flee in terror, thought Gerard, but he kept that thought to himself. He knew by their grim expressions and grimmer faces that the Knights understood that as well as he did.
“Good luck to you, Sir Gerard,” said Lord Tasgall, rising to his feet to shake hands. Lord Ulrich also shook hands heartily. Lord Siegfried was stiff and solemn and clearly disapproving, but he made no further argument and actually wished Gerard luck, although he did not shake hands.
“We’ll say nothing of this plan to anyone, gentlemen,” said Lord Tasgall, glancing around at the others.
This agreed to, Gerard was about to take his departure when the retainer entered to say that a messenger had arrived with urgent news.
Since this might have some impact on Gerard’s plan, Lord Tasgall gave a sign that he was to remain. The messenger entered. Gerard was alarmed to recognize a young squire from the household of Lord Warren, commander of the outpost of Solamnic Knights that protected Solace, location of Gerard’s last posting. Gerard tensed, sensing dire news. The young man was mud-spattered, his clothes travel-worn. He strode forward, came to stand in front of Lord Tasgall. Bowing, he held out a sealed scrollcase.
Lord Tasgall opened the scrollcase, drew out the scroll, and began to read. His countenance changed markedly, his eyebrows raised. He looked up, amazed.
“Do you know what this contains?” Lord Tasgall asked.
“Yes, my lord,” answered the squire. “In case the message was lost, I committed it to memory to relate to you.”
“Then do so,” said Lord Tasgall, leaning on the table. “I want these gentlemen to hear. I want to hear myself,” he added in a low voice, “for I can scarce believe what I have read.”
“My lords,” said the squire, facing them, “three weeks ago, the dragon Beryl launched an attack against the elven nation of Qualinesti.”
The Knights nodded. None were surprised. Such an attack had been long foreseen. The messenger paused to draw breath and consider what he would say next. Gerard, in a fever of impatience to hear news of his friends in Qualinesti, was forced to clench his fists to keep from dragging the information out of the man’s throat.
“My lord Warren regrets to report that the city of Qualinost was completely destroyed in the attack. If the reports we have received are to be believed, Qualinost has disappeared off the face of Ansalon. A great body of water covers the city.”
The Knights stared, astounded.
“The elves did manage to take their enemy down with them. The dragon overlord, Beryl, is dead.”
“Excellent news!” said Lord Ulrich.
“Perhaps there is a god, after all,” said Lord Siegfried, making a weak joke at which no one laughed.
Gerard bounded across the room. Grasping the startled messenger by the collar, Gerard nearly lifted the young man off the floor. “What of the elves, damn you? The Queen Mother, the young king? What of them? What has happened to them?”
“Please, sir—” the messenger exclaimed, rattled.
Gerard dropped the gasping young man. “I beg your pardon, sir, my lords,” he said, lowering his strident tones, “but I have recently been in Qualinesti, as you know, and I came to care deeply for these people.”