Aglaranna came to Tomas’s side, and Martin joined them, to say, “Joy in all things.” Tomas embraced his friend, as did the Queen.
Calin shouted for silence. When the noise had died, he said, “It is time for clear speaking. Let all know that what has been fact for years is now openly acknowledged. Tomas is Warleader of Elvandar, and Prince Consort to the Queen. His words are to be obeyed by all save the Queen. I, Calin, have spoken.”
“And I, too, say this is true,” echoed Tathar. Then the council bowed before the Queen and her husband-to-be.
Martin said, “It is well I shall leave Elvandar as happiness returns.”
Aglaranna said, “You are leaving?”
“I fear I must. There is still a war, and I am still Huntmaster of Crydee. Besides,” he said with a grin, “I fear young Garret is growing overly content to rest and partake of your largess. I must harry him along the trail before he gets fat.”
“You’ll stay for the wedding?” asked Tomas.
As Martin began to apologize, Aglaranna said, “The ceremony can be tomorrow.”
Martin conceded. “One more day? I will be pleased.”
Another shout went up, and Tomas could see Dolgan pushing through the crowd When the dwarf chief stood before them, he said, “We were not invited to the council, but when we heard the shouts, we came.” Behind him Tomas and Aglaranna could see the other dwarves approaching.
Tomas placed his hand upon Dolgan’s shoulder. “Old companion, you are welcome. You have come to a celebration. There is to be a wedding.”
Dolgan fixed them both with a knowing smile. “Aye, and high time.”
The rider spurred his horse past the lines of Tsurani soldiers. He was still discomforted by the sight of so many of them passing to the east, and the recent enemy watched him ride by with guarded expressions as he headed toward Elvandar.
Laurie pulled in his horse near a large outcropping of rock where a Tsurani officer in black-and-orange armor supervised the passing soldiers. From his officer’s plume and insignia, he was a Force Leader, surrounded by his cadre of Strike Leaders and Patrol Leaders. To the Force Leader he said, “Where lies the closest ford across the river?”
The other officers regarded Laurie with suspicion, but if the Force Leader felt any surprise at the barbarian’s nearly perfect Tsurani, he did not show it. He inclined his head back the way his men marched from and said, “A short way from here. Less than an hour’s march. Faster on your beast, I’m sure. It is marked by two large trees on either side of a clearing, above a place where the river falls a short way.”
Laurie had no difficulty identifying the house colors the man wore, as it was one of the Five Great Families, and said, “Thank you, Force Leader. Honor to your house, son of the Minwanabi.”
The Force Leader stood erect. He did not know who this rider was, but he was courteous, and that courtesy must be returned. “Honor to your house, stranger.”
Laurie rode forward past the dispirited Tsurani soldiers plodding along the banks of the river. He found the clearing above the small falls and rode into the water. The river ran swiftly here, but the horse managed to cross without incident Laurie could feel the spray from the falls as the wind blew it back in his direction. It felt cool and refreshing after the hot ride. He had been in the saddle since before daybreak and would not finish his ride until after night had fallen. By then he would be close enough to Elvandar to be intercepted by elven sentries. They would certainly be watching the Tsurani withdrawal with interest, and one could guide him to their Queen.
Laurie had volunteered to carry the message, for it was felt that the messenger would be less likely to encounter trouble if he could speak Tsurani. He had been challenged three times during his ride, and each time he had explained his way past suspicious Tsurani officers. There might be a truce, but there was little trust yet.
When he was clear of the river, Laurie dismounted, for his horse was tired. He walked the animal to cool it off. He pulled the saddle from the mount’s back and was rubbing him down with a brush carried in his saddlebags when a figure stepped out from among the trees. Laurie was startled, for the figure was not an elf. He was a dark-haired man with grey at the temples, dressed in a brown robe, and holding a staff. He approached the minstrel, without hurry and seemingly at ease. He stopped a few feet away and leaned on his staff. “Well met, Laurie of Tyr-Sog.”
The man possessed a strange manner, and Laurie did not remember having met him before. “Do I know you?”
“No, but I have knowledge of you, troubadour.”
Laurie edged closer to his saddle, where his sword lay. The man smiled and waved his hand in the air. Abruptly Laurie was filled with calm, and he stopped moving for his sword. Whoever this man was, he was obviously harmless, he thought.
“What brings you to the elven forest, Laurie?”
Without knowing why, Laurie answered. “I bring messages to the Elf Queen.”