Riding at hand, Coron Eiron barked a laugh. At Rynna's inquiring look, he said, "I see that Lord Steward Voren has had the good sense to separate the Fjordlanders from the Jutlanders and from the Gelenders as well."
Rynna looked to where Eiron pointed: a blue-and-white streamer flew at one corner of the camp far to the right; while far to the left and diagonally across the whole of the ground flew a green, orange, and yellow banner; and entirely opposite at the third corner set a red, blue, and white flag.
Eiron shook his head. "Uneasy sits this truce, I would say."
"Truce?"
"Aye, for they are eld enemies but temporarily united against a common foe."
Ruar shook his head. "Humans."
Eiron cocked an eyebrow. "Forget not, Alor, we were once as mad as men."
Ruar reluctantly nodded, as across the encampment they rode.
They came to another wall, this one of stone and high, and once again were permitted entry through a warded gate, beyond which lay the city proper, with its cobblestone ways and buildings of stone and brick and tile, stucco and clay, most of which seemed to be joined to one another, though here and there were stand-alone structures. Narrow streets and alleyways twisted this way and that, the pave stones of variegated color. Shops occupied many first floors, with dwellings above. Glass windows displayed merchandise, the handiwork of crafters and artisans: milliners, coppersmiths, potters, jewelers, weavers, tanners, cobblers, coopers, clothiers, tailors, seamstresses, furniture makers, and the like.
Rynna's gaze widened at the sight of the many and varied shops, and more than one of each kind, for she had not dreamt that such could exist, so different from the village of Springwater. And onward they rode, Rynna's head turning this way and that, marvelling at the plentitude.
Footway traffic was light in the eve, and they saw only one horse-drawn wain trundling through the streets, and this a water wagon. And Eiron said, "Pendwyr is a city without wells, and water is borne from shafts and springs down on the Plains of Pellar."
"Doesn't that make the city vulnerable to siege?" asked Rynna.
Eiron shook his head. "See the tile roofs? They are fitted with gutters and channels cunningly wrought to guide rainwater into cisterns for storing. The water from the plains merely augments the supply."
"It must rain often, then," observed Rynna.
"Aye," said Eiron. "Seldom does the city need rely wholly upon water from the plains."
"What about water needed to quench fires? Have they enough to do so?"
Eiron laughed. "Look about, wee one. This is a city of stone and brick and other such… things which do not burn."
Rynna gazed 'round, and the only wood her eye easily found was that of the brightly painted doors and shutters.
Eiron then said, "After the Chabbains destroyed Gleeds by fire-and were themselves destroyed-High King Rolun moved his court to the fort on this headland. And thinking upon the city just lost, 'Never again,' he declared, and he decreed that all buildings in Pendwyr must be made of stone, of brick, of that which would not burn."
"So it was then; so it is now," said Volki with an air of finality, and on through the city they fared.
Past shops and stores, past restaurants and cafes and tea shops, past inns and taverns, past large dwellings and small squares, past greengrocers and chirurgeons and herbalists they rode. And they crossed through several open-market squares, empty now that the day was done.
Finally they came to another gateway in a high stone wall running the width of the narrow peninsula. Again, Vanidar identified himself to the warders, and again they were permitted ingress. Beyond this wall the character of the buildings changed, for here were located a great courthouse, a tax hall, a large building housing the city guard with a jail above, a firehouse, a library, a census building, a hall of records, a cluster of university buildings, and other such- here was the face of government, the agencies and offices of the realm. Although impressed by the scale of the buildings within this quarter, it seemed cold and cheerless to Rynna and not nearly as marvelous as the city behind.
And as they rode forward, Caer Pendwyr loomed ahead, the citadel tall with castellated walls all 'round and towers at each corner, all enclosing the castle of the High King. When she and the others drew near the caer, Rynna could see that it sat on a freestanding spire of stone towering up from the Avagon Sea below. The fortified pinnacle was connected to the headland by a pivot bridge, a span which could be swivelled aside by a crew in the castle to sever the fortress from the headland.
At the moment the bridge spanned the gulf, guards at either end.
They gave their names to a captain, and he summoned two pages, sending one to fetch Lord Voren to the north turret chamber and the other to guide them on their way.
They were led through corridors and up spiralling stairs to a room high within an outer turret, and although Rynna was thoroughly turned about, Volki declared that indeed they were in the north tower, the one overlooking Hile Bay.
No sooner had they arrived but the page who had been sent to fetch Lord Voren stepped to the door and breathlessly announced the steward's impending arrival. Moments later an elderly man came in-stooped in shoulder, but bright of eye-his head bald but for stray wisps of white hair all 'round.
"Come and sit about the table. No need to stand, eh?
And do my old eyes deceive me? Or is it a Waerling in your midst?"
The old man smiled at Rynna, and he beckoned her to a chair at his side. "Come, come, wee one, I would have you at hand."
"But my lord, I am just a Warrow amid corons and chieftains and a DelfLord and a warleader, and I-"
"Nonsense," snapped the man. "I see Elves and Dwarves and even huge Baeron nearly every day-well, perhaps not every day, but certainly several times a year-but Waer-lings, now, that's a different matter altogether. Besides, the page said you were a commander, and that's certainly good enough for me."
Silverleaf broke out in laughter. "Ah, little Ryn, resist not Lord Voren, for he has the right of it."
"Have you had aught to eat? No?" Voren turned to the page. "Boy, have food sent… and tea. On your way now, hop to."
As the page fled down the hallway, Voren turned to the others and said, "Now, about this army you bring…"
"How did the foe evade getting slaughtered as they came to the Argon?" asked Volki, the Dwarf stroking his black beard shot through with silver.
Voren pointed at the map at the point of the Argon Ferry. "Some were slain fighting a rearguard action, but most escaped. It seems they had floats waiting for them."
"Floats waiting?"
Lord Voren turned up a hand. "Perhaps they made them in anticipation of invading Pellar."
"They had not already done so? -Invaded Pellar, I mean?" asked Rynna.
Voren shook his head. "Oh, they sent token forces, but nothing of real threat." Voren gestured about. "It seems instead of capturing his city, they were more intent on capturing the King himself."
Rynna frowned. "Capturing?"
Voren nodded. "If the High King fell into the hands of Modru, 'twould be a terrible blow. But he outwitted them all and sent the foe fleeing across the Argon."
A scowl on his face, Volki nodded. "And how did the King cross in the teeth of their opposition?"
"They did not oppose him-"
"They made no opposition at the Argon?" interjected Rynna.
"-but fled instead," continued Lord Voren, "abandoning their floats and craft."
"Abandoning? They did not burn them?" Coron Eiron looked 'round at the others, all just as puzzled as he.
"Nay, they did not. King Blaine sent a company of Fjordlanders over and they fetched the floats and used them to ferry the host across. Even so, it took several days to get all to this side, to get all to the Pellarion shore. By then the foe had a good lead, and they fled across the land and over the Ironwater to Garia beyond."