Ilse Witch

Panax nodded matter-of-factly. a?omeone has to bear the blame for a Kinga? death, even when therea? no blame to be found. Keeps everyone thinking something usefula? been done.a?He spat into the dark. a?o, Ard Patrinell, you look a seasoned sort. Have you fought on the Prekkendorran?a?/p>

Again, the Elf shook his head. a? fought in the Federation Wars, but not there. I was at Klepach and Barrengrote fifteen years ago, when I was still an Elven Hunter, not yet a Home Guard.a?If Patrinell was irritated by the Dwarfa? questions, he didna? show it.

For his part, Bek was wondering how a failed Captain of the Home Guard could end up being given responsibility for the security and safety of Walkera? expedition. Was his removal only ceremonial, made necessary because of the Kinga? death? Or was something else at work?

There was an enormous calm in Ard Patrinella? face, as if nothing could shake his confidence or disrupt his thinking. He had the look of someone who had seen and weathered a great deal and understood that loss of control was a soldiera? worst enemy. If he had failed the King, he did not carry the burden of that failure openly. Bek judged him a man who understood better than most the value of patience and endurance.

a?hat remains to be done before we leave?a?Quentin asked suddenly, changing the subject.

a?mpatient to be off, Highlander?a?Hunter Predd chided. a?t wona? be long now. Wea?e got an airship and a Captain and crew to speed us on our way. Wea?e gathering supplies and equipment. Loading is already under way. Our Captain of the Home Guard has selected a dozen Elven Hunters to accompany us.a?/p>

a?ea?e ready then,a?Quentin declared eagerly, his grin broadening with expectation.

a?ot quite.a?The Wing Rider seemed reluctant to continue, but unable to think of a way not to. He glanced out at the encroaching night, as if his explanation might be found somewhere in the gloom. “There’s still a few adjustments to be made to the terms of our going, a couple of small controversies to be resolved.”

Panax frowned. “What might these small controversies be, Hunter Predd?”

The Wing Rider shrugged rather too casually, Bek thought. “For one thing, Walker feels we have too many members assigned to the expedition. Space and supplies won’t support them all. He wants to reduce by as many as four or five the number that will go.”

“Our new King, on the other hand,” Ard Patrinell added softly, “wants to add one more.”

“What you are asking is not only unreasonable, it is impossible,” Walker repeated patiently, stymied by Kylen Elessedil’s intransigence on the matter, but fully aware of its source. “Thirty is all we can carry. The size of the ship will allow for no more. As it is, I have to find a way to cut the number who expect to go.”

“Cut that number to twenty-nine, then add one back in,” the Elven King replied with a shrug. “The problem is solved.”

They stood in what had been Allardon Elessedil’s private study, the one in which he had perused the castaway’s map for the first time, but more to the point the one in which he had conducted business with those with whom he did not want to be seen on matters he did not wish to discuss openly. When the Elven King desired a public audience or a demonstration of authority, he held court in the throne room or the chambers of the Elven High Council. Allardon Elessedil had been a believer in protocol and ceremony, and he had employed each in careful and judicious measure. His son, it appeared, was inclined to do the same. Walker rated courtesy and deference, but only in private and only to the extent to which the old King had obligated his son before dying.