Alain came to stand beside them, as did Lord Valeray and Lady Saissa.
And then Lanval at the entry called out, “The Ladies Celeste and Liaze and the Lord Borel.”
But as Celeste and Liaze and Borel saw their sire and dam whole and hale before them, and saw Alain standing in daylight uncursed, all formality dissolved into laughter and tears and hugging and questions flying and answers lost and Scruff’s agitated chirping.
“… and with the resolution of that final riddle, thus were your parents restored.”
Silence fell ’round the great dining table as Camille’s recounting came to the end, and each one there pondered what they had been told, some for the second time. Finally Borel said, “What would you have done Alain, without this girl?”
“Married a Troll, I expect,” said Giles.
Borel looked at the lad in surprise, but then burst into guffaws of laughter, all others joining in.
Yet when it died down, Valeray said, “Thanks to ‘this girl,’ as you called her, Borel, he was spared that hideous fate, as were we all. Nevertheless the question remains, now what are we to do? Stop Hradian, I would say, ere she finds a way to release Orbane.”
Murmurs of agreement circled the dining table, and Celeste said, “Borel, when you last located the witch, it was in the Winterwood, correct?”
Borel nodded. “Aye. There in the cursed part.”
Saissa sighed. “I was so sad when I first heard that a part of your most lovely demesne had fallen under bane.”
Borel nodded and glanced at Camille and said, “Probably cursed by Hradian herself to keep curious eyes away.”
“And on the most direct route unto the mortal world,” said Liaze. Then she added, “Not that anyone ever goes there but our dear brother Alain, and whatever for, I wonder?” Then she grinned at Camille.
“Are you two married yet?” asked Celeste.
“The banns are posted,” said Alain-he glanced at his father-“and a king notified.”
Borel looked from sire to brother, and said, “What say somewhile after the wedding, we three get a warband together and run down the witch?”
“Done!” said Alain
“Done!” said Valeray.
“Done!” said Camille.
All at the table looked at her in startlement, all but Alain that is. Lord Valeray frowned and said, “One moment there, my daughter-to-be, we will be opposing magic, and that’s no place for a girl.”
“Father,” said Alain, a bit sharply, “ne’er were there a braver girl with a truer heart nor a more clever wit, and without her, you and mother and I would all be captives of Olot and his Redcaps on Troll Island, and I would still be cursed as a Bear and be married to Dre’ela, and you would yet know yourselves to be Blanche and Renaud and be slaves to Goblins and Trolls. And as for opposing magic, she has done so, though perhaps not directly. Too, she faced down a Dragon, and battled a monster in the sea, and which of us can say we’ve done the same? Nay, sire, no matter the peril, she is welcome to come, along with her little Scruff too, for did not the Fates so say? Surely, sire, you would not challenge the Ladies Wyrd, Lot, and Doom.”
Lord Valeray took a deep breath and let it out, then shook his head and said, “I would not be so foolish. Welcome to the warband, daughter-to-be. We set out after the wedding.”
Epilogue: Afterthoughts
Thus ends this part of the tale which began long ago upon a winter’s night.
— Oh, and although I am not certain, there is this to ponder: just as Elves and other such Fey can become mortal by living overlong in mortal lands, who’s to say the reverse is not true? Mayhap by living in Faery overlong, Camille herself could become one of the Fey. If so, then she and Alain, if they manage to survive the peril ahead, might have a chance of living quite happily ever after in those places therein that now and again lie east of the sun and west of the moon, or so I have been told.
I was just wondering whose silver tongue or golden pen is telling the tale we find ourselves in.