“Is the tale of the dead elf true?”
“Yes. The newly fallen elf was the late Elf King, Queen Aglaranna’s husband. I was but a boy then, thirty years ago, but I remember it. I was with the hunting party when the accident happened, and I met the priest.”
Garret said nothing, and Martin picked up his weapon and resumed his journey.
They soon came to the edge of Elvandar. Martin stopped while Garret stood enraptured by the sight of the great trees. The late-afternoon sun cast long shadows through the forest, but the high boughs were already glimmering with their own fairy light.
Martin took Garret by the elbow and gently guided the gawking tracker along to the Queen’s court. He reached the council ring and entered, saluting the Queen.
Aglaranna smiled at sight of him. “Welcome, Martin Longbow. It has been too long since you last came to us.”
Martin introduced Garret, who bowed awkwardly before the Queen. Then another figure entered the court, from where he had stood in the shadows.
Martin had grown alongside elven children and was as able as any man in hiding his emotions when need be, but the sight of Tomas rocked him to the point of nearly exclaiming. Biting back a comment, he forced himself not to stare and heard Garret’s indrawn breath of amazement. They had heard of the changes in Tomas, but nothing had prepared either Martin or Garret for the sight of the towering man before him. Alien eyes regarded them. There was little remaining of the happy, grinning boy who had once followed Martin through the woods begging for tales of the elves, or played barrel ball with Garret. Without cordiality Tomas stepped forward and said, “What word from Crydee?”
Martin leaned upon his bow. “Prince Arutha sends his greetings,” he said to the Queen, “and his affections, as well as his hope for your good health.” Turning to Tomas, who had obviously usurped some position of command within the Queen’s council, he said, “Arutha sends the following news: Black Guy, Duke of Bas-Tyra, now rules in Krondor, so no help will be forthcoming to the Far Coast. Also, the Prince has good cause to believe the outworlders plan to mount a major offensive soon, whether against Crydee, Elvandar, or the Duke’s army he cannot tell. However, the southern enclaves are not being reinforced through the dwarven mines, though they are strongly dug in. My trackers have had some signs of northward movement, but nothing on a large scale. It is Arutha’s guess the most likely offensive will be against his father and Brucal’s army.” Then he said, “And I bring word that Arutha’s Squire has been slain.” He observed the elven avoidance of naming the dead.
Tomas’s eyes betrayed a glint of emotion at the news of Roland’s death, but all he said was, “In war men die.”
Calin realized the exchange was something of a personal matter between Longbow and Tomas. No one else in the court had known Roland well, though Calin remembered him from the dinner that night so many years ago in Crydee. Martin was troubled by Tomas’s reaction to the news of his boyhood friend’s death. Returning to the business of the war, the Elf Prince said, “It is a logical thing. Should the Kingdom army in the West be broken, the outworlders could then turn their full attention on the other fronts, gaining the Free Cities and Crydee quickly. Within a year, two at the most, all of what once was Keshian Bosania would be under their banners. Then they could march easily upon Yabon. In time they could march to the gates of Krondor.”
Tomas faced Calin, as if to speak, his eyes narrow. A flash of communication passed between the Queen and Tomas, and he stepped back into his place in the council circle. Calin continued, “If the outworlders are not staging to the west of the mountains, then we should be joined by the dwarves soon. We’ve had sorties across the river from the outworlders, but no sign of major attacks to come. I think Arutha is correct in his surmise, and should the dukes call, we should try to aid them.”
Tomas turned upon the Elf Prince. “Leave Elvandar unprotected!” His face showed outrage. Martin was startled by the ferocity of Tomas’s barely checked anger “Without stripping the elven forests of defenders, we could not mount enough numbers to matter in such a battle.”