"There is a tool-a bargaining chip-that has come into my hands," he informed his avatar, "that will prove an even greater asset than the mirror! It is for this purpose I have summoned you!"
Talos sent Coss-Axell-Sinioth back to the Realms, for he needed the avatar to carry word of that asset back to the Ffolk. Talos wanted them to suffer-very much indeed.
2
The fields and moors around Corwell teemed with tents, makeshift pastures, and practice yards. Riders galloped here and there, and dozens of banners, denoting all the major lords of the Ffolk, streamed from the peaks of the grandest of the tents.
Many of the nobles themselves had been given lodgings in Caer Corwell, or located accommodations in the many inns of the town, all of which charged top price for the several weeks of this unprecedented midsummer court. But teeming Ffolk quickly overran the relatively small community, and thus the sprawling tent city had soon claimed Corwell's environs.
The Ffolk came from all across Gwynneth, and many ships had arrived from the islands of Snowdown, Moray, and of course Alaron. Several tall galleons and a number of tublike curraghs bobbed in the harbor, although the Coho was the only longship present.
Jousts and tourneys occurred daily throughout the gathering. Even now, in the morning, both male and female warriors trained vigorously in dozens of impromptu practice yards. Minstrels plied the crowds, while bakers and brewers did a season's worth of business daily. An occasional thief slipped his way among the populace, slicing a purse string here or picking a pocket there, but the Ffolk were an alert and frugal people, not prone to carelessness with their precious coins. Those dishonest rogues unfortunate or careless enough to be apprehended were divested of their belongings and locked up until they could be placed aboard a ship departing for the Sword Coast. Repeat offenders were hanged.
All the festivity had been building for a week as more and more of the Ffolk reached this small town. Not in the lifetime of any human present had Corwell hosted such a gathering. It brought a warmth and pride to thousands of hearts, for the relatively isolated kingdom had always held an important place in the heritage of the Moonshae people. This had been the home of Cymrych Hugh in centuries past, and now, in their own lifetimes, it had given them Tristan Kendrick and unity.
The High Queen arrived dramatically in late morning. She soared in the guise of a great eagle, a huge bird of the purest white. Circling the high tower of the castle three times in an ever-tightening spiral, she drew the eyes of everyone on the fields and in the town or castle. Then, as her talons touched the rim of the parapet, her form quickly shifted back to the human woman who was so adored by her Ffolk. Robyn's black hair, unbound this time, trailed in the breeze as she waved to her people.
Their cheers erupted spontaneously and continued for many minutes, long after the queen had disappeared into the humble castle that had been her home for the first eighteen years of her life.
The grand court would not open until the morrow. On this, the day preceding the formal council, the heralds announced that the queen would host a feast for all of her subjects, to be served on the great commons below the castle.
Word of the impending celebration spread rapidly, and when the queen and her elder daughter emerged from the castle in late afternoon, a cheering crowd shouted their devotion along the raised roadway that led down to the field.
"It is like coming home again," Robyn said to Alicia wistfully. "But then, at the same time, it isn't."
"There are memories of Father everywhere around here," Alicia agreed. "It always seemed that, when the family stayed at Corwell, he had more time for us-he took the time for us."
Robyn smiled, though the tears began to veil her eyes. "He must have remembered his own father when we were here. He always vowed that he would show his children more affection than King Bryan showed to him."
Alicia looked at the sea of faces spread across the fields below them. She had always enjoyed the attention awarded her rank, and never before had she beheld such a throng. Yet today the sensation was pale, even insignificant. "How can we feel lonely when so many shout their affection for us?"
"Because we've lost the one we really desire to hear it from," Robyn replied. Alicia saw, with surprise, that her mother's face had hardened. The queen smiled at her subjects, a frozen, formal expression, and the crowd fell in behind them as they approached the commons, already covered with cloths, tables, and benches for the feast.
"The Earl of Corwell has done a commendable job," observed the princess, beholding an array of canopied tables and great firepits where several massive oxen rotated on huge spits.
"Lord Randolph has ever been an able administrator," Robyn replied, fondly remembering the young captain to whom Tristan had entrusted his home realm when the High King and Queen first embarked for Callidyrr.
Now all the young Ffolk of the town, it seemed, had turned out to serve the meal, and swiftly the nobles and esteemed citizens were seated. The rest of the Ffolk would eat where they could. Keane, Tavish, Prince Brandon, Pawldo of Lowhill, and the Earl of Fairheight all joined Lord Randolph and the two noblewomen at the head table.
Crusty loaves of bread, hot from the oven, appeared on the tables before them. Wheels of cheese, mild and sharp and all ranges between, complemented the bread, and pitchers of wine and ale overflowed onto the tables. Cooks bustled about, trimming and slicing from the steers and pigs that now entered the final stage of the daylong cooking process.
"Does the lady bard have a song for the occasion?" inquired Robyn, smiling at Tavish.
"There's a tune I've been trying out," the harpist allowed, her eyes twinkling with pleasure. She slung her lute from her shoulder with a casual flip. "It's in the early stages, mind you. I've been planning to put some work into it when I can find the time."
The others watched as she tuned a few recalcitrant strings and then strummed a bright chord. "This is a song about Corwell-in the distant past," Tavish explained as her fingers deftly walked across the strings. "A time when there were as many elves as humans in the isles-more, perhaps. The first verses tell of the birth of the kingdom of Corwell.
"This part of Gwynneth was ruled by King Deric, a good man, brave and heroic. His people lived in peace with the Llewyrr, the elves of Moonshae. Still, the two didn't mix much."
She started to sing the verse then, and her listeners saw the proud King Deric of the Ffolk, astride his white charger. The steed pranced on the beach as his piratical enemies fled from the scene of a disastrous battle. The warriors of Gwynneth had just defeated the greatest invasion ever to menace their shores. King Deric was victorious and triumphant, and he used his prestige to forge all the cantrevs of southern Gwynneth into the fledgling kingdom of Corwell.
The strains of the song floated across the field, compelling the attention of all who could hear. Time passed swiftly as the bard wove her tale.
Deric was a good king, and Corwell flourished beyond any other kingdom in the isles. He was a leader just and wise, decisive and merciful. Even the elves made peace with Deric of Corwell. This was in the age when the numbers of elves and humans on Gwynneth were roughly equal, thus the forging of the peace was no small accomplishment.
Many times Deric journeyed to the elven capital of Chrysalis, there to meet with Kaminas, monarch of the elves.
Yet as the years of Deric's adulthood began to pass, his people worried that he took no wife, left no heir. All the maidens-and a good many of the dames-in his kingdom sought his attention, but he paid them no heed. Unsavory rumors circulated, and the king's loyal companions slew many a gossiper in late-night tavern duels.