"I believe their ambassadors are already en route. Two troops were dispatched to escort them, as we were to escort you."
"Ambassadors?" Gawain sighed, "Do they not send crowns?"
"I know not. Ambassadors was the information imparted to me. Do you think they are in danger?"
Gawain nodded. "It would be sensible to assume the worst, Captain. Perhaps you would inform your commander of that, when we arrive tomorrow."
"Aye."
It was a worried-looking Captain that rode off to the van, and ordered his men to extend the radius of their escort and check every bush and thicket along the route before them.
"Do you truly think the town may fall under attack?" Allazar asked quietly.
Gawain shrugged. "Probably not. It would be a pointless assault, unless all the crowned heads were assembled there. I suspect the Morlochmen may have sent a number of their patrols, as we encountered, in an attempt to prevent a Council. I cannot believe they were intended solely for us alone. I'm only glad that Meeya and Valin left Threlland when they did, before that whitebeard bastard Joyen could send word to his master. Otherwise they might not have reached Elvendere at all."
"Yet they are safely home, miheth." Elayeen said. "And all Elvendere now knows Threlland is frith."
"Knowing it is one thing, my Lady, believing it is another. I can well imagine the confusion that must reign in your homeland. But it is well that the dreary town of Ferdan is to a degree fortified. Decent archers could hold it against a small force."
"Then," Elayeen said quietly, "I hope my brother can persuade Thal-Hak to attend. He would not leave the trees without a hundred thalangard around him. The nobles would insist."
"It would certainly be reassuring." Allazar grunted.
It was mid morning when they arrived at the fortress town of Ferdan, and in truth Gawain was relieved to see it still standing, and still spectacularly lacklustre. He half expected to see the same indolent guardsman slouched on his bench when they rode through the wide open gates, but he was pleasantly surprised.
Troops were resplendent in new uniforms, and artisans were hurriedly attempting to brighten up the buildings with fresh paint. The air was filled with the smell of it, and fresh-sawn wood, and new buildings had sprung up here and there. Barracks, Captain Byrne explained, and quarters suitable for royal visitors.
They were met by the officer commanding the town, a dour-looking cavalry General Officer called Bek, who grunted through the requisite pleasantries until Captain Byrne made his report. Then the swarthy General was suddenly on home territory, and began issuing orders to extend patrols and man the pallisades.
Gawain, Elayeen, and Allazar were shown to a new building, and though everything had about it the same fresh smell, the rooms they were given were comfortable and adequate. Allazar promptly sent for a healer to attend upon Elayeen.
"You doubt my needlework?" Gawain asked, archly.
"A second opinion is often wise." Allazar replied, and Elayeen smiled.
"I am sure you have done a fine job, mithroth, but I cannot spend the rest of this wound's life smelling like a Jurian tavern."
"The brandy is effective at keeping the wound free from infection." Gawain explained.
"And confers upon your Lady an unfortunate reputation if the odour is not soon removed." Allazar pointed out.
Gawain sighed, and helped Elayeen settle on their bed. He stared deep into her eyes, and she smiled, and he felt a wave of warmth wash over him.
"You would benefit from bathing too, husband." She teased.
"Thank you. At least I reek of honest sweat, and not like a taverner."
A polite knock on the door admitted not one but three healers, who all bowed low and promptly but politely eased Gawain aside. Allazar grinned, and took Gawain's arm.
"We should take your Lady's advice, and bathe while these experts assess your skill with the needle."
With a final smile for Elayeen, Gawain and Allazar left the apartments for the baths.
"When do you expect Brock and Willam will arrive?" Gawain sighed, revelling in the hot water as he soaked.
"In a very few days. I believe that cavalry officer dispatched riders south with the news of your arrival."
"Good. I only hope another Morloch raiding party is not laying in wait for them."
"As do I."
Gawain paused, his eyes closed. Then he opened them, and stared at Allazar for a moment.
"What ails you, Longsword?" the wizard asked, soaping himself.
"You did well, Allazar. On the battlefield."
The wizard looked suddenly embarrassed. "I did what I could. I wish I could have done more. But Joyen was right. I am D'ith pat, and my powers are limited."
"They were enough, when called upon. Who could ask for more?"
"I could." Allazar sighed. "I would that I had the power to cast my own Breath upon Morloch's vile head. And all his kind."
"I hope that time never comes." Gawain scowled. "No wizard should have such power."
"I would gladly give it up, after the deed had been done."
"Ah."
Allazar smiled sadly. "Perhaps you're right. Such power is indeed temptation. Yet, I would advise you, Longsword?"
"Aye?"
"Take care, when Council is formed. The wizards there will be D'ith Sek, as Joyen was. It would not be wise to anger them."
"You forget, Allazar. I vex Morloch himself. What is one of your D'ith Sek compared with him?"
Allazar sighed. "I am to the First Order what a Ramoth mercenary was to you. Feeble. If one of the high-order brethren turns his ire upon you, I do not think my futile powers could shield you for a moment."
"I think you underestimate yourself, wizard. And me. There are hearts that yet beat, and would not but for your intervention."
"Thank you."
"And my thanks, Allazar, for my Lady's life. Speaking of whom, I think I am clean enough not to offend her nose with my presence."
Allazar smiled. "A word of advice?"
"Of course." Gawain grunted, towelling himself dry.
"Do not be surprised should the floodgates of her tears burst open, later."
"Her tears?"
"Aye." Allazar said softly. "For you, the battle on the plains was but one of many episodes. For your Lady, it was her first. She has carried herself well for you, Longsword. But in private moments, alone and shielded from public gaze…"
Gawain nodded, remembering distant events. The look of horror in ladies' eyes, so long ago, before he wielded the sword of justice against the Ramoth.
Alone in their room, later, as Gawain held Elayeen and caressed her hair, she shuddered, and buried her head in his chest.
"We are alone, my love." Gawain said softly, and as Allazar had predicted, she wept.
44. Ferdan
Gawain stood on the decking outside the apartments they occupied, Elayeen by his side, and watched as honour-guards streamed through the main gates. Jurian, and Callodonian, their uniforms bright yet showing signs of travel.
Once the van had peeled away to flank the entrance to the courtyard, Gawain said softly:
"That is Brock of Callodon, with the beard and unruly hair. Beside him is Willam of Juria, though he looks considerably healthier than when last I saw him."
"And the Lady? She notices you."
"That is Juria's daughter, Hellin."
"She is pretty."
Gawain smiled in the sunshine. "I had not noticed. When last I saw her, she was distraught. You recall my telling you?"
"I do. I am not teasing you, mihoth. I am simply saying that she is pretty, and that she has noticed you."
"I suspect it is you she notices, my Lady. It has been a long time, I think, since Jurian crowns have seen royal elves."