"Yes, Lord Seiveril."
"Please invite him to our captains' council, then. He has a sound mind and I know he fought well in Nime-sin's war."Seiveril paused to organize his thoughts. He would have to be careful about asking too many captains to attend his councils, but it would be difficult to limit his invitations without offending any who weren't asked to come.
"How about the individuals?" he asked.
Thilesin grimaced and replied, "It's very hard to get a count, Lord Seiveril. They show up by ones or twos and simply set up a camp wherever they like. I have arranged for my assistants to establish a station where all who come to join can sign up, and give us a name at least. Based on our rolls, which are incomplete, I'd say we have almost three thousand volunteers who aren't a part of any company or society."
"That could be fifteen companies of infantry," Elvath Muirreste observed. "How can we equip them all?"
"More to the point, how do we organize them into companies?" Seiveril asked. "I have no idea what to do with so many."
"Best to divide them among the companies we already have, I think," said Muirreste. "It would seem to be impossible to organize and equip new companies before we march, let alone train them for battle. Any we cannot place with a real company, we should send back home."
"Do not turn away anyone whose heart is full of courage, Seiveril," Jerreda Starcloak said. "Yes, we must do something to put these fellows in order, but they are willing, and they are waiting to be led. Marching and heeding orders can be taught, but determination and courage are harder to teach. If you give them the chance, they will storm a dragon's lair for you."
Seiveril replied, "For many of them, it is simply the passion of youth. They think they are signing on for the adventure — of their age, and they can't stand the thought of missing it."
"Yes, for many of our volunteers that is true," Jerreda said, "but I think you might do well to walk among the camps tonight and see who has answered your call, Lord Seiveril. They come from all over Evermeet. Many are soldiers of the Queen's Guard who resigned their positions to serve in your army. Others are huntsmen of the Silver Hills. We have dozens of noted swordsmen and archers; bladesingers, spellsingers, and spellarchers; and whole Towers full of mages. They might serve to leaven the rest."
"That many?" Seiveril asked. He thought hard. In truth, he wanted to do exactly as Jerreda suggested, and go among the newcomers, greet them, speak with them, find out who might be skilled or experienced enough to serve as a leader for the rest, but he dared not. There were much more dangerous problems demanding his attention. "All right, this is what we will do. Muirreste, Gaerth, I want you to select one third of your officers and sergeants to leave your companies and serve as leadership cadres for five new companies each, to be organized from our unattached volunteers. Make sure you pick some good and capable leaders for this duty. You will be promoting them, after all. Have the cadre commanders figure out how to build their new companies from our volunteers. In the meantime, you may go among the volunteers and see if any of them would serve to replace the captains and officers you will be losing."
"Lord Seiveril, I don't know if I can spare that many good officers," Knight-Commander Gaerth said.
"Lord Gaerth, you and Muirreste have the largest, most well organized contingents here. If anyone can spare seasoned commanders, it's the Silver Guard and the Knights of the Golden Star." Seiveril offered a stern smile and added, "I don't want to leave anyone behind who wants to go, and I can't have them organize their own companies. You will have to help them."
"We will do our best," the sun elf knight capitulated with a grimace.
"My thanks," Seiveril replied. He glanced at each of his principal officers again, and offered a rueful smile. "I know it is difficult, but time is pressing. Since we were not permitted to bring Evermeet's army to aid our kinsfolk in Faerun, we must build the best force we can in the shortest time. I want to send at least some of our strength through the elfgates to Evereska in two days' time. Now, do we have any other pressing business?"
"I fear so," said the mage Jorildyn. "Tell me, Lord Seiveril, have you decided which elfgates you wish to use to move the army to Faerun?"
"There's a gate to Evereska about ten miles from here," Seiveril replied. "I understand it can be held open for several hours at a time, long enough for quite a few troops to march through."
"I think we should put it under a strong guard."
Seiveril looked sharply at the mage and asked, "Why?"
"It occurs to me that your crusade could be easily defeated or delayed if it proved impossible to move to Faerun when you would like. If you were forced to use a gate that led to some place hundreds of miles from the fight, you might conclude that you could never get there in time. There are powerful families on the council who feel that you flouted their will by arranging your voluntary crusade. They might be willing to return the favor by denying you the means to leave the isle where and when you wish."
"You think matters are that serious?" Seiveril asked with a frown.
The heavy-shouldered mage replied, "Are you confident they are not, Lord Seiveril?"
The nobleman studied his chief mage, conscious of the eyes of the other captains on him.
"Lord Gaerth,' he said, "have your troops provide a guard over the elfgates we intend to use. Mage Jorildyn, assign a few of your spellcasters to assist him. We may have no cause for such measures, but perhaps it would be better to deter any trouble of this sort than to find out we were wrong."
CHAPTER 10
16 Ches, the Year of Lightning Storms
The floors above the iron golem's chamber were in dismal condition, damaged by long exposure to rain and rot. The beams supporting the wooden floors sagged noticeably, and the staircase that had once ascended the tower in a circle following the outer wall was unsafe at best, and simply missing in other places. Araevin finally resorted to casting a flying-spell on Grayth so that the heavily armored human would not have to chance a general collapse of the stairs or the floor. Grayth then helped the others ascend to the floors above, simply carrying them up through the gaping holes where the stairs had formerly climbed.
The second floor above the golem's chamber seemed to have been the personal chamber of the tower's builder. The mildewed remnants of an old canopy bed and several large chests of drawers still stood in the room.
"That's a human bed," Ilsevele observed. "Elves don't use anything like that for Reverie. Are you sure the telkiira is here?"
"Yes," said Araevin. He rummaged through one of the old chests, finding nothing but a couple of mildewed blankets. "Who was this fellow, I wonder? And how did an elven loregem come to be in his hands?"
"He might have stolen it," Maresa said. She was searching slowly and carefully along the walls for any sign of a hidden door or compartment. "Or maybe he bought it from someone who stole it from its true owner. For that matter, he might have just bought it from an elf or traded for it, with no duplicity or theft at all-though what's the fun of that? It's not much of a mystery, and it's one we can't solve anyway, so why bother with it?"
"She has a point," said Grayth.
Araevin shrugged. It probably didn't matter, but it might have shed some light on how Philaerin had come into possession of the first stone.
They climbed carefully to the next level, and found it divided into two rooms: a small library full of sodden, illegible books, and a conjury with an old silver circle for the summoning of extraplanar beings inlaid in the floor. Again, wind and weather had worked slow destruction on the room's contents. The ceiling above was mostly gone, showing the interior of the pointed roof, with large holes gaping in the shakes and rafters. Broad windows allowed slanting shafts of light into the room, showing green forest outside. Whatever shutters the windows might once have had were long gone. Ilsevele leaned out and looked down.