“There was no need for that!” Ilsevele said with a smile, and kissed her father on the cheek. “I am well enough, as you can see.”
Fflar swung down from his horse and took a deep breath. Seiveril and I need to have a long talk about Ilsevele, he reminded himself. In the right and proper course of things he would have asked the elflord for his permission before courting Ilsevele, but somehow events had conspired against that sort of formality, hadn’t they? And what if Seiveril decided that he did not approve? What were he and Ilsevele to do then?
All of the sudden, Fflar found that he was not as relieved to be back with the Crusade as he had thought he would. Do it soon, he told himself. The sooner the better.
“Starbrow! You are up and about.” Seiveril grasped Fflar’s hand and squeezed his shoulder. “We heard that you were injured. I am glad to see you, my friend.”
“A little drow poison. I’m much better off than the fellow who stuck me with it.” Fflar managed an uneasy smile, wondering what to say next, but Ilsevele rescued him.
“Father, this is Lord Miklos Selkirk, son of Overmaster Kendrick Selkirk of Sembia,” she said. “Lord Selkirk, this is my father, Lord Seiveril Miritar of Evermeet.”
The elflord and the Sembian appraised each other. Then Selkirk swept off his hat and bowed. “Lord Miritar. I thank you for receiving me,” he said. “Before we say anything else, I must say this: I deeply apologize for the attempt on your daughter’s life while she was my guest, and I am sorry for the deaths of her guards. I would sooner have died myself than permit harm to come to guests at my table. I beg you to tell me if there is any way in which I can begin to set this right with you.”
“Well said, Lord Selkirk,” Seiveril answered. He reached out and took the Sembian’s hand in the human fashion. “Ilsevele sent word of what happened, and she does not hold you to blame for it. Neither will I. The fault lies with the daemonfey and their assassins, not with you.”
Selkirk held Seiveril’s eyes for a long moment, and nodded. “In that case, please accept my condolences for those who were killed. We will be more vigilant for treachery of that sort in the future.”
“I understand.” Seiveril turned to indicate the others waiting with him. “Allow me some introductions. My daughter you know already, as well as our battle captain Starbrow. This is Lord Theremen Ulath of Deepingdale.”
Selkirk inclined his head to the half-elf Dalesman, who regarded him with a carefully neutral expression. “I have known Lord Ulath for some time.”
“And this is Jorildyn, the leader of our battle-mages. Vesilde Gaerth, my second, could not be here this evening. He is leading our march.”
Selkirk nodded to each of the elves in turn, and introduced his own companions. “My Silver Ravens,” he said with pride. “Like me, they believe that Sembia should be something more than a counting house. Perhaps someday we’ll make it so.”
Seiveril indicated a simple shelter that had been set up in a small grove behind the ruined house. “If you’ll follow me, Lord Selkirk, I think we have much to talk about. I am afraid we did not bring much with us, but we have a little food and drink if you would like refreshment.”
“I am grateful.”
Selkirk, Seiveril, Ilsevele, Theremen, and Fflar adjourned to the shelter. It was simply an open-sided tent arranged over the simplest of furnishings-a pair of old stone benches left from the ruined manor, facing each other around a small table that held plates of bread and sliced fruit along with ewers of cold water and wine. Fflar found that he was more tired than he had thought, and wasted no time in helping himself to some of the food and a deep goblet of clean water. Selkirk and Ilsevele followed suit.
After quenching his thirst, Selkirk held his goblet in his hands and looked up at the elflord. “So your army is marching east. Mine is marching north. In a day or two they’re going to meet somewhere a little south of Essembra. What happens then?”
“I intend to turn toward Myth Drannor,” Seiveril answered. “You have returned my daughter unharmed, and I do not now believe that the attack against her in the Sharburg was any fault of yours. As Ilsevele has told you, I have no wish to fight your army. Sarya Dlardrageth is my foe.”
“As it so happens, I intend to march on Myth Drannor as well,” Selkirk said. “The events of the last few days have convinced me that the daemonfey are simply too dangerous to ignore. I am going to do my best to drive her out of Myth Drannor.”
“It would seem wise to combine your efforts, then,” Ilsevele said.
“So it would,” Selkirk agreed.
Theremen Ulath cleared his throat. “I do not presume to speak for you, Lord Seiveril, but I must say this: Deepingdale will not fight alongside Sembia so long as Sembian soldiers occupy any of the Dales. Mistledale, Battledale, and Shadowdale hold the same opinion.”
“These are your lands the daemonfey are terrorizing,” Miklos Selkirk said sharply. “You will not fight for your own countrymen?”
“We will not fight to deliver our countrymen from one conqueror to another, Lord Selkirk.”
Miklos Selkirk straightened up, and anger flashed in his eyes. Fflar exchanged a quick look with Ilsevele and read his own fears clearly enough in her face: Hope for an alliance against the daemonfey has come down to this. Selkirk gathered himself for a sharp retort but held back, considering his words. He studied Theremen Ulath closely, and after a long moment, he spoke. “I do not like to be compared to the daemonfey, Lord Theremen. But you should know that I will withdraw our armies from the Dales once the daemonfey are dealt with. You have my word on it.”
Theremen frowned, weighing Selkirk’s offer. Fflar held his breath, hoping that the lord of Deepingdale would not find that the right occasion to speculate about whether Selkirk was the sort of man who would honor his word.
Finally, Theremen asked, “Your Ruling Council will allow you to withdraw, Selkirk? They have paid well to hire the army that occupies Tasseldale and Featherdale. I must believe they will insist on a return for their investment.”
“Some will protest,” Selkirk admitted. “But I will not lose the argument, for two reasons. First, Borstag Duncastle was leader of the faction in our Ruling Council advocating a more direct… involvement… in the Dales. As it so happens, he no longer has much to say on the subject.
“Second, and more important, it is apparent to me that the Dales are much more valuable to us as trading partners than troublesome conquests. Sembian policy follows Sembian gold, Lord Ulath. As long as you refrain from throwing Sembian merchants out of the Dales, we’ll refrain from using our soldiers to guarantee their interests.”
“It isn’t likely to be as simple as that,” Theremen said in a low voice.
“I know it,” Selkirk said. “There will be quarrels, differences, difficulties… But I’d much rather deal with Lord Miritar than Sarya Dlardrageth, and Lord Miritar would much rather have me for an ally than an enemy. Keep those two truths close to hand, and we’ll manage.”
“Does that satisfy you, Lord Ulath?” Ilsevele asked.
The lord of Deepingdale looked to Seiveril. “Will the elves stand with us if Lord Selkirk’s countrymen fail to honor his word?”
The Sembian lord scowled, but he kept his silence. Seiveril did not look at him. “We will guarantee the freedom of the Dales,” he told Theremen. “But I am confident that it will not come to that.”
“It won’t,” Selkirk said. “But I must warn you that if you ask each and every Dale if they’re willing to let Sembia help them fight their war, we will spend the rest of the year talking over this table. Now, do we have an enemy in common or don’t we?”
“Remember Mistledale,” Theremen said to Seiveril. “That must be answered too.”
“Mistledale?” Selkirk asked.
“Mercenaries in Sembian employ pillaged portions of the middle Dales. More than a few Dalesfolk were robbed or killed by your sellswords, Lord Selkirk,” Fflar explained. He’d seen the aftermath of the fighting during the retreat to Semberholme.