Robyn paused, thinking, before she continued. "You'll have to carry provisions with you. Take no game in Myrloch Vale itself. Do you understand?"
Alicia nodded. The command was no more than what she had already planned.
"Also, we know that you'll face trolls. Be sure to carry a good supply of oil."
Again the princess agreed. She knew that fire was the only way to permanently destroy the regenerating monsters, and the flammable liquid was the best way to incinerate the green-skinned corpses.
The queen continued. "Another thing-Newt's back on Gwynneth, in Myrloch Vale. At least, that's where he was when I flew out there a couple of days ago. Naturally he disappeared when I got to Cambro, and I was in such a hurry to get home that I didn't look for him on the way back."
"That's … news," Alicia said guardedly. She couldn't exactly call it good news. The faerie dragon's pranks and unpredictable, if well-intentioned, illusions had caused them trouble in the past. "Does he know that we're coming?"
"I don't know how much he heard about our plans. In any event, be warned-if the trees start to talk, or the flowers to dance, you might want to look around for our little friend."
"I will," Alicia sighed. In truth, she wouldn't mind Newt's presence that much. The faerie dragon was ever a bright and cheery soul, and despite his pranks, he had also proven to be a useful ally on more than one occasion.
"Will Hanrald and Brigit remain with the dwarves?" asked Keane.
"As far as I know you'll meet them with Finellen," Robyn replied. "And, depending on how Deirdre fares, I'll try to join you near your destination as well."
"I'm faring quite well, mother-thank you!" The younger daughter's voice came from the door of the library. Deirdre entered just then, followed by the looming bulk of the cleric Hyath. "You needn't post yourself at my bedside!"
Robyn's face flushed, though Alicia wasn't sure if it was because of her daughter's impudent tone or the hovering way the patriarch of Helm accompanied her into this family gathering.
"What are you doing here?" she demanded, curtly confronting the priest.
"I have come to offer my advice… and my services. After all, it seems that the High King has embarked on a quest motivated at least in part from his widening grasp of theological reality. Perhaps one, such as myself, who can offer an outside perspective may have useful counsel to offer."
"I agree," said Keane, drawing a surprised look from Robyn. She narrowed her eyes at the magic-user for a moment, and then turned back to the priest.
"Be seated, then," she invited with bare civility. Deirdre had already taken an empty chair when the cleric lowered his bulky form onto a wide couch.
"Now, then-you're discussing the muster of your army, perhaps?" inquired the Exalted Inquisitor. As Robyn's face betrayed her surprise at his timely information, he explained: "Your criers are doing a creditable job of spreading the word. I happened to be in the castle courtyard when the first announcement was made."
"Yes-the king might ride alone, but I intend to send an army as fast as possible on his trail."
"I'm surprised that a spiritual woman such as yourself doesn't put more stock in his chances! After all-Your Majesty-he embarks upon a holy quest!"
" 'Holy' is an altogether subjective term in this matter," Robyn retorted. "I will not disavow the possible connection, but neither am I willing to allow my husband to ride off to his death based on an error in judgment!"
"A sensible attitude," allowed the Exalted Inquisitor. "And one which I wholeheartedly support."
"How?" asked Alicia, frankly skeptical.
"I intend to accompany your army on its march against the giant-kin-that is, given your permission?" he added with a benign smile at the queen.
"I was given to understand that pressing duties called you back to the mainland," the High Queen noted.
"Indeed, Your Majesty-but I cannot absolve myself of this task, now that it has begun. You may recall it was I who first informed him of the menace on your island."
Robyn's jaw tightened. She said nothing.
"I repeat my offer of assistance," said the patriarch.
Robyn wasn't at all sure that her lack of permission would prevent the cleric's involvement in this task. Too, she felt that there was an advantage in having him where Keane and Alicia could keep an eye on his activities. Nevertheless, it galled her to openly allow him to accompany an army of Corwell on business that was rightly a private matter of the kingdom.
"We'll march pretty fast," Alicia objected in the meantime. "The troops answering the muster will be young, and fit-and the terrain won't allow us the luxury of a carriage or wagon."
The priest smiled, amused by Alicia's skeptical glance at his large belly. "I wouldn't worry about that, my princess-these feet have carried me many a mile in the service of my god. No, I won't have any trouble keeping up."
"You have my permission to go," Robyn said suddenly.
"With the clear understanding that the High Princess is the leader of the expedition, and you are subject to her commands in all matters."
"Of course," murmured the priest, with a polite nod toward Alicia.
The queen picked up a small bell on the table and chimed it firmly. In another moment a soft knock sounded at the door, and she called "Enter."
The portal opened to reveal a pair of burly men-at-arms, one mustachioed and bow-legged while the other sported a fully bearded face atop a tall, muscular frame.
"You know, I believe, Sergeants-Major Sands and Parsallas," the queen said as the two men entered and knelt. Alicia and Keane recognized them both as veteran and well-respected members of the garrison.
"Greetings, my queen… and princess, too," said Sands, the bow-legged officer, speaking for his companion as well. "The muster has gone out and we stand ready for your commands."
Robyn turned back to the princess. "These two men are loyal in all respects, solid veterans and wise soldiers. I suggest you give their advice some heed during the march." She turned back to the gruff-looking officers. "The Princess Alicia will command the expedition," she concluded.
"Very good, Your Majesty," said Parsallas, winking at Alicia. She remembered him as a good-humored and avuncular warrior, and the presence of the two veterans she found strongly heartening.
"Now," announced the High Queen, rising and speaking with a tone of finality that clearly ended the meeting. "You'd best start making your preparations. I expect you'll want to march with tomorrow's dawn."
The Princess of Moonshae encountered the storm on the fourth day out from Corwell, as she sailed steadily northward into the Sea of Moonshae. The hulking mass of Oman's Isle, gathered around the crowning summit of the Icepeak, had lain off the starboard horizon for more than a day. To port, though invisible in the distance, lay the northman-populated isle of Norland.
Prior to the gale the weather had been, if anything, exceptionally mild, with sporadic and unpredictable winds that kept the longship tacking for long hours with little forward progress. They had come through the Strait of the Leviathan in short order, but now that the sea had opened they couldn't seem to get a helpful wind. If it hadn't been for Tavish, who had amused the captain and crew with a wide assortment of musical tales, Brandon felt they might have all gone mad from boredom.
The Prince of Gnarhelm had begun to chafe at the delay, longing to see the great lodges of his home and to share the fellowship of his father's great hall. Too, the memory of the green-eyed princess he had left behind caused him constant agitation. Every little delay seemed, to Brandon Olafsson, a matter of damning frustration.