At Tawn Twillet they encountered another party on the route to Sarris, consisting of Prince Bittern of Pomperol and Prince Chalmes of Montferrone, with their respective escorts. Dhrun, his squire Amery, and Shimrod joined the company and all travelled onward together.
Immediately upon their arrival at Sarris they were conducted to the Great Hall, that they might participate in the reception. They went to stand at the side of the hall, waiting for an opportunity to approach the dais. Dhrun took occasion to study the royal family, whom he had not seen for several years. King Casmir had changed little; he was as Dhrun remembered him: burly, florid; his round blue eyes as cold and secret as if formed of glass. Queen Sollace sat like a great opulent statue, and some what more massive than the image in Dhrun's recollection. Her skin, as before, was as white as lard; her hair, rolled and piled on top of her head, was a billow of pale gold. Prince Cassander had become a swashbuckling young gallant: vain, self-important, perhaps a trifle arrogant. His appearance had changed little; his curls were as brassily yellow as ever; his eyes, like those of King Casmir, were round, an iota too close together, and somewhat minatory, or so it seemed.
And there, at the end of the dais, sat Princess Madouc, bored, aloof, half-sulking and clearly longing to be elsewhere. Dhrun studied her a moment or two, wondering how much she knew in regard to the facts of her birth. Probably nothing, he surmised; who would inform her? Certainly not Casmir. So there sat Madouc, oblivious to the fairy blood which ran in her veins and which so noticeably set her apart from all the others on the dais. Indeed, thought Dhrun, she was a fascinating little creature, and by no means ill-favored.
The press at the royal dais diminished; the three princes went to present themselves to their hosts. Cassander's greeting to Dhrun was crisp but not unfriendly: "Ah, Dhrun, my good fellow! I am pleased to see you here! We must have a good chat before the day is out; certainly before you leave!"
"I will look forward to the occasion," said Dhrun.
King Casmir's manner was more restrained, and even some what sardonic. "I have received reports in regard to your travels. It appears that you have become a diplomat at a very early age."
"Hardly that, Your Majesty! I am no more than the messenger of King Aillas, whose sentiments to you are the same as he has extended to the other sovereigns of the Elder Isles. He wishes you a long reign and continued enjoyment of the peace and prosperity which now comforts us all. He further pledges that if you are wantonly attacked or invaded, and stand in danger, he will come to your aid with the full might of his united realms."
Casmir gave back a curt nod. "The undertaking is generous! Still, has he considered every contingency? Does he not have the slightest qualm that a pledge of such scope might in the end prove too far-reaching, or even dangerous?"
"I believe he feels that when peace-loving rulers stand firmly united against an aggressive threat, they ensure their mutual safety, and that danger lies in any other course. How could it be otherwise?"
"Is it not obvious? There is no predicting the future. King Aillas might someday find himself committed to excursions far more perilous than any he now envisions."
"No doubt that is possible, Your Majesty! I shall report your concern to King Aillas. At the moment we can only hope that the reverse is a more probable event, and that our undertaking will help to keep the peace everywhere across the Elder Isles."
King Casmir said tonelessly: "What is peace? Balance three iron skewers tip to tip, one upon the other; at the summit, emplace an egg, so that it too poises static in mid-air, and there you have the condition of peace in this world of men."
Dhrun bowed once more and moved on to Queen Sollace. She favored him with a vague smile and a languid wave. "In view of your important affairs, we had given up hope of seeing you."
"I did my best to arrive on time, Your Highness. I would not like to miss so happy an occasion."
"You should visit us more often! After all, you and Cassander have much in common."
"That is true, Your Highness. I will try to do as you suggest."
Dhrun bowed and moved aside, and found himself facing Madouc. Her expression, as she looked at him, was blank.
Dhrun spoke reproachfully: "You do not remember me?"
"I do-but I can't remember when or where. Tell me."
"We met at Domreis. I am Dhrun."
Madouc's face came alive with excitement. "Of course! You were younger!"
"And so were you. Noticeably younger."
Madouc turned a quick glance toward Queen Sollace. Leaning back in her throne, she was speaking over her shoulder to Father Umphred.
Madouc said: "We met even before, long ago, in the Forest of Tantrevalles. At that time we were the same age! What do you think of that?"
Dhrun stared dumbfounded. At last, trying to keep his voice light, he said: "That meeting I do not recall."
"I expect not," said Madouc. "It was of very short duration. Probably we no more than looked at each other."
Dhrun grimaced. This was not a topic to be bruited about within the hearing of King Casmir. At last he found his voice. "How did you chance upon this extraordinary notion?"
Madouc grinned, clearly amused by Dhrun's perturbation. "My mother told me. You may rest easy; she also explained that I must keep the secret secure."
Dhrun heaved a sigh. Madouc knew the truth-but how much of the truth? He said: "Whatever the case, we can't discuss it here."
"My mother said that he-" Madouc jerked her head toward Casmir "-would kill you if he knew. Is that your understanding?"
Dhrun turned a furtive glance toward Casmir. "I don't know. We can't talk about it now."
Madouc gave an absent-minded nod. "As you like. Tell me something. Yonder stands a tall gentleman wearing a green cape. Like you he seems familiar, as if I have known him from some where before in my life. But I cannot remember the occasion."
"That is Shimrod the Magician. No doubt you encountered him at Castle Miraldra at the same time you met me."
"He has a most amusing face," said Madouc. "I think that I would like him."
"I am sure of it! He is an excellent fellow." Dhrun looked to the side. "I must move on; others are waiting to speak to you."
"There is still a moment or two," said Madouc. "Will you talk with me later?"
"Whenever you like!"
Madouc darted a glance toward Lady Desdea. "What I would like is not what they want me to do. I am supposed to be on display, and make a good impression, especially upon Prince Bittern and Prince Chalmes and those others who are trying to estimate my value as a spouse." Madouc spoke bitterly and the words came in a rush. "I like none of them! Prince Bittern has the face of a dead mackerel. Prince Chalmes struts and puffs and scratches his fleas. Prince Garcelin's fat belly wags back and forth as he walks. Prince Dildreth of Man has a tiny mouth with big red lips and bad teeth. Prince Morleduc of Ting has sores on his neck, and little narrow eyes; I think he has a bad disposition, but perhaps he has sores elsewhere, which pain him when he sits. Duke Ccnac of Knook Keep is yellow as a Tartar. Duke Femus of Gaiway has a roaring voice and a gray beard and he says he is willing to marry me now." Madouc looked at Dhrun sadly. "You are laughing at me!"
"Are all the persons you meet so distasteful?"
"Not all."
"But Prince Dhrun is the worst?"
Madouc compressed her lips against a smile. "He is not as fat as Garcelin; he is livelier than Bittern; he wears no gray beard like Duke Femus nor does he roar; and his disposition seems better than that of Prince Morleduc."
"That is because I have no sores on my rump."
"Still-taken all with all-Prince Dhrun is not the worst of the lot." From the corner of her eye, Madouc noticed that Queen Sollace had turned her head, and was listening to the conversation with both ears. Father Umphred, standing at her back, beamed and nodded his head, as if in enjoyment of some private joke.