He just hoped that the veteran scout Whyl, on whom he had relied in making that decision, knew what he was talking about when he had assured Pied that there was passage through. It was his country, and he knew it as well as anyone in the Elven command. But in such miserable weather, it was difficult to find your way out of your own backyard. If Whyl was even a little mistaken or had in any way misjudged…
He broke off thinking about it. Doubts would not help them. Whyl was with the patrol and had not seemed confused even in the face of the disorienting weather. Pied had to trust him. He had no one else.
« Captain,” the veteran whispered, standing at his elbow and pointing ahead into the rain.
At first, the whole of the landscape was gray and rain–washed, earth and sky looking very much the same. Pied didn’t see anything. But then a figure appeared, crouched and hesitant.
Troon.
She gave a quick wave of recognition and hurried up to greet them. She was small and compact with unusual gray eyes and impish features. Her clothing was sodden and muddied, and her short–cropped dark hair had flattened against her head like a helmet. She was the best of his Home Guard Trackers, his first choice even before Acrolace had gone down.
« We are almost through,” she whispered as they clustered around her, breaking into a smile in response to theirs.
« You’re sure?» Pied pressed. «No mistaking a skirmish line for the real thing?»
« No mistake. The Federation lines are less than half a mile away. They have surrounded the east plateau on three sides, laying siege to Droshen’s Free–born, but as yet they haven’t broken through. I couldn’t tell about the condition of the airship fleet, I couldn’t get close enough to make certain. But the Free–born still hold the high ground.»
« Then they haven’t gotten theDechtera aloft again so they can use that weapon.» Pied reached out and gripped her shoulder. «Good work. And you also, Whyl,” he added, turning to the veteran scout. «We’re where we want to be, thanks to you.»
« What happens now?» Troon asked. Rain dripped off her face in steady rivulets.
Pied shook his head. He wasn’t sure of that himself. «First, we bring up the army.»
He sent one of the members of his patrol back with the news, then hunkered down to wait. He sat apart from the others, giving himself time and space to think things through. At such times he wished he had Drumundoon with him to act as a sounding board. But his aide was still gone, hopefully in Arborlon, breaking the news of the disaster on the Prekkendorran to Arling and seeking the reinforcements Pied had requested. He wondered how successful Drum had been. Under Kellen Elessedil, such a request would have been granted with barely a second thought. But the King was dead, and Arling was Queen. Arling might not be so eager to commit further Elven forces to a cause she had never believed in, particularly when the request was coming from him.
How things changed.
Once, he could have asked her for anything. He had been close to her in ways that he had never been close to anyone else. He had thought they would be together forever. But Arling had grander plans. When she married Kellen, he had been devastated but had understood her reasons. Marrying the King of the Elves offered a chance for advancement that only a fool would refuse, and Arling was no one’s fool. She had loved Pied, but not well enough to pass up an opportunity of that sort. She was always ambitious that way, she was always smart about her choices. He thought that her marriage to Kellen had lacked the passion of her relationship with him, but he realized that his perception might be mostly the result of wishful thinking. She had left him to marry his cousin, the King, and that made any sort of reasonable perspective difficult.
But she did not abandon him entirely. She had remained his friend, arranging for him to be named Captain of the Home Guard, advancing his career immeasurably. It was a gesture he did not mistake for anything but what it was, but which he appreciated nevertheless. Over the years, she had come to rely on his advice in difficult situations, seeking it surreptitiously, making it clear that Kellen must never know. By doing so, she revealed the lack of confidence she had in her husband’s judgment. It was an attitude Pied shared, though both were loyal to and served him as King. Arling never attempted subterfuge or manipulation of the sort that might threaten the throne, but she was not above blunting Kellen’s more impulsive behavior or reshaping his more ill–conceived plans when it was clear he was courting disaster of one sort or another. In most of those efforts, Pied was her willing ally.
It was a strange relationship the three shared, the product of lives that were so closely intertwined that it was impossible to separate out the different threads. Each understood the personal role that had been allotted to them, each accepted the roles of the others. But the emotional entanglements made it difficult for Pied, if not for Arling or the King. He would have preferred a different ending to the story than the one that had been thrust upon him, but that had never seemed possible.
Until now. Now, he wondered if the ending might be changed. Would Arling see him in a different light now that Kellen was dead? Could she feel about him again as she once had? He could barely make himself think about that without cringing. It felt like a betrayal. Arling might see it that way, as well.
Who was responsible for the safety of the King if not the Captain of the Home Guard?
Ti Auberen appeared out of the haze and crouched down next to him, his tall frame bending close as he brushed the rain from his eyes. «Captain, the army is closing ranks behind us. Another half hour and the rear guard will have caught up and we will be ready to move. What are your orders?»
He glanced up at the big man, his thoughts of Arling scattered into the mist. «Ask Troon to come over.»
The Elven Tracker came at once in response to his summons and dropped down beside him. They had known each other for most of their lives, friends before they were Elven Hunters, before he was her commander.
She gave him another of those quick, engaging smiles, and he smiled back. It was their way of acknowledging the depth of the relationship. «We’re going to have to break through the Federation lines to reach the Free–born on the heights,” he said. «Is there a place we might do that?»
She considered. «Breaking through isn’t the problem, it’s gaining the heights. There is a gate in the Free–born fortifications that wards a drift down off the heights west. That gate offers us our best chance. But Federation soldiers surround it to prevent a breakout.»