Chapter 5

Early morning found the companions leaving the Chateau Kilarroch behind. No sign was seen of the druids as they vacated their room, so they helped themselves to some bread which they found in the kitchen and then mounted their steeds and rode down to the river. This they followed toward the west.
      Along the north bank of the Nientile they rode for nearly five miles, till they came to a ford, then across the river they went in order to continue westerly along the southern bank. It was at this very ford that Raavan had originally meant to meet the Nientile, but a slight miscalculation had brought them instead to Kilarroch and into the dubious hospitality of the Ministry of Lumenya.
      ‘Why do they live in such poverty?’ asked Talen as they rode along. ‘This land seems fertile enough. Surely their fields must yield enough crops to feed their modest population.’
      Raavan answered, ‘Because the druids send the majority of their crops downriver, ostensibly to pay exorbitant taxes levied by the high king in Aglathrad, but in reality it appears the goods are in fact sold at an appreciable profit to merchants in Aglathrad for export to Mornea or elsewhere.’
      ‘Why would they do that?’ asked Talen.
      ‘Because gold is the real god of the Ministry of Lumenya,’ replied Raavan.
      ‘Not Úvar?’ asked Falco.
      ‘Úvarism is a new development at Kilarroch,’ answered Raavan. ‘I am sure the druids are not true Úvarians. To them religion is merely a tool. They use it to keep the people on their side by telling them that at some future time their god will deliver them from the cruelties of the distant king. But last I heard those druids were Angwëans. Exactly how Úvar got into their liturgy is an interesting question, but one that will have to wait till another time.’
      Now they picked up the pace a bit. They followed the Nientile a few miles more before finding that it was time to leave its southern bank, for while the river turned suddenly toward the north, their route pointed slightly south of west, and it was this way that they now rode.
      Though the land became somewhat swampy after that, it was not treacherously so, and they were not unduly slowed by it. In time their path took them into higher lands and then they rode over bushy hills and through wide fields dotted with the occasional stand of elm or ash. The odd apple tree provided them and their steeds with an excuse to halt for a moment and snack on the newly ripe fruits.
      Coming down from the hills they began to pass small farming villages, and these appeared far more prosperous than those they had observed closer to Kilarroch. In one such hamlet they stopped and purchased grain for the two horses and the ponies and enquired with the local inhabitants as to their route. They were yet some forty miles from Stonecastle, a city situated along a southern arc of the Nientile and their immediate destination.
      On they went past countless villages and small farming towns, and now they were on a major road that led more or less straight toward Stonecastle. In the late afternoon they decided to give their steeds a respite as it had been a very hot day and they estimated that they now were closing on their destination such that their arrival before nightfall was almost assured.
      The land began to fall somewhat as far ahead they saw a haze which they guessed to be moisture from the river. Now ahead they saw that the land became once again marshy. Along the road an occasional snag stood like some obsolete signpost. They almost did not notice upon reaching one of these that leaning wearily against the barren trunk was a most haggard looking warrior dressed in full armour and with a shield slung over his shoulder and a mighty sword depending at his side.
      ‘Greetings,’ said the man.
      ‘Hello,’ returned the party.
      ‘Go ye to Stonecastle?’ he asked.
      Raavan replied, ‘Yes. And you are bound for that place yourself, I would surmise.’
      ‘Indeed,’ replied the man, who appeared to be not only very tired, but also of a slightly sour disposition.
      ‘I am Andirian,’ he said, extending a gloved hand toward Raavan.
      Raavan leant over to shake his hand and replied in turn, ‘I am Raavan.’
      The man shook his hand, then looked more closely at the aged rider.
      ‘Thou art not Raavan the wizard, surely,’ said the man with some apprehension.
      ‘I am,’ replied Raavan, ‘and these are my companions: Alatar, Talen, Burak, Dannadar, and Falco.’ The man did not appear entirely comfortable with this introduction.
      He replied after wiping the sweat from his brow, ‘Then I welcome you to the kingdom of Stonecastle, though I cannot promise you the warmest reception when ye arrive at our capital city.’
      ‘Why is that?’ asked Raavan.
      ‘Prithee, have ye any water?’ asked the man after scowling at the hot sun which now fell toward the horizon. ‘Many miles have I travelled these past days, and with little sustenance.’
      They gave the man some water and also some of the smoked antelope which they had brought from Telesse. These he hungrily devoured, and many thanks he gave them for their charity.
      ‘Whence comest thou?’ he asked Raavan when he had finished chewing the meat and had accepted another draught of water.
      ‘From the north,’ replied Raavan. ‘Through Telesse and Druadaneth we have come on our way from Tath.’
      Now the man appeared gravely upset. ‘Druadaneth?’ he asked intently.
      ‘Aye,’ replied the wizard.
      ‘By some chance I come thence from the Dark Forest myself,’ replied the haggard warrior, ‘though, on no mere jaunt was I engaged.’
      ‘No doubt,’ said the wizard. ‘Our own journey through that darksome place nearly cost some of us our lives. Yet, I would hear your tale before I speak of our mishaps in that place, for I sense that yours is an account of some gravity.’
      The man took a small step back and rested his hand gently on the hilt of his scabbarded sword. ‘Very well,’ he said cautiously, ‘yet, assurest me thou of this: that thou and thy companions are in no wise aligned with the one who calleth himself Magorath.’
      ‘I can easily assure you of that,’ said Raavan, ‘for I have never heard that name before.’
      ‘Also,’ added the man, ‘that thou dost not worship Úvar, nor art thou in league with the Dark God.’
      ‘Of that you can be absolutely certain,’ said Raavan forcefully, and the others emphatically agreed.
      The man looked at them very shrewdly for a moment, then relaxed somewhat and motioned the party forward. ‘Then I will briefly recount the events of my journey as we continue together toward Stonecastle, for I must return there without further delay.’
      And so they rode slowly on with the grim warrior walking in their midst, the companions listening attentively to his every word. From Andirian they learned that an Úvarian sect had clandestinely begun to establish itself at Stonecastle, much to the dismay of the authorities. People began to disappear as the cultists took to offering human sacrifices to their new god.
      ‘Then they murdered the Bastard,’ continued Andirian.
      ‘Bendoch?’ said Raavan with surprise.
      ‘Aye,’ confirmed Andirian.
      ‘Ahem,’ said Dannadar, ‘they killed whom?’
      ‘A nobleman of considerable influence in Stonecastle,’ explained Raavan. ‘They called him the Bastard of Bendoch in honour of his father, who was killed just weeks before he was born—in the defence of the royal family as I recall.’
      ‘Aye,’ confirmed the Stonecastler.
      ‘Some honour,’ mused Dannadar.
      Andirian went on to explain that the rise of Úvarism at Stonecastle had been attributed to the influence of a strange cleric of rather questionable character named Magorath who was suspected of inciting the people against the royal authority. Later it was discovered that he was a sorcerer of considerable power and furthermore that he was behind the assassination of the Bastard of Bendoch. Yet, this sorcerer came to Stonecastle only at night, and at irregular intervals, so that they could not easily apprehend him.
      ‘Determine, we did, through divers means, that this villain dwelt in a tower amidst the ruins of an ancient city in north-east Arnedia, which place is called Gôl Certhad,’ said Andirian.
      At this a sharp hiss escaped through the clenched teeth of several of the companions.
      Andirian went on: ‘A company of men including myself thereupon did travel thither with the express intent of apprehending this miscreant and relieving him of his head. But the malefactor could not then be touched, for he withdreweth into his tower warded by a ferocious Landrake from the north.
      ‘Thus, we designed to make pretence of a frustrated retreat, yet under cover of night we did infiltrate the woods about the tower and awaited in eagerness for the ruffian to emerge. When ventureth forth he did, we sprang our trap. Yet, slippeth through our net he did, and compelled we were to give chase.
      ‘O’er the wide lands of Telesse did we prosecute the churlish villain, yet no hand could we lay on his hide, for wily was he on horse. Into western Druadaneth did we pursue him, though we would not as lief have entered the darkling wood, for it is reputed to be a place most fell. Yet, nothing would keep us from our quarry, and deep into the wood we did venture in search of our elusive prey.
      ‘Ere long we struck a major thoroughfare through the wood which at length did bring our company to a most remarkable place: a massive, rocky spire thrusting high out of the earth, and ringed about with a circle of treeless hills fully moled with caves.’
      ‘Mâg Tuor,’ said Raavan knowingly. Andirian continued without pause.
      ‘Into one of these had our cowardly quarry fled, though afore we could pursue him further we were sore beset by Goblyns and other monsters of divers natures which to my knowledge have no name and are indeed not known to exist. Methinks it were best that verily these things did not exist in the world, for they cast a chill upon my very soul. Hacked nearly to pieces some of them could be before dying.
      ‘Now, these are not Goblyns of which I speak, for we know the Goblyn. These past ten months our outermost villages have endured deadly raids from these creatures, and though they fight with skill, still they can be bested by strength of arms. Yet, even Goblyns, in sufficient numbers, and in concert with other and fouler creatures can overcome even the most gallant company of men. Twenty strong knights had I with me when from out of yon gates we rode. I alone return with news of our defeat.’
      The man fell silent as the company continued its slow but steady advance toward the city of Stonecastle, which even now was emerging from the haze. They had descended to a marshy floodplain bordered by hills to the west and the river to the north. Before reaching the hills the river turned abruptly north toward its further reaches upstream. Extending out a short distance from the hills was a broad swath of higher ground overlooking the marsh below, and on this elevated tract was built a large city enclosed in a high stone wall.
      Through the soggy swamp led the well-maintained road atop a low berm. Now another road could be seen rounding the hills to join this one not far from the city gates, and upon it were several waggons trundling slowly toward the city, only minutes from their destination. Soon the party would themselves arrive, though another mile or so had they still to go. As they drew nearer they saw that the city was very large indeed.
      Now Raavan recounted the tale of their trek through Druadaneth and of their encounters with the Tsaureks in Telesse. Of their exploration of Magorath’s tower and of the purpose of their quest he did not touch upon, as the issues involved were rather deep and there was now little time before they would arrive at the city. Already the sun had slipped below the horizon, and their stomachs were now grumbling for dinner.
      Reaching the city they saw that the outer walls were many feet thick and that they gave the impression of great strength, despite their age. At the gate they were met by four heavily armed guards who required the names and the business of all the companions except Andirian. Their business was to speak with the king regarding urgent matters of state, and it was this message which Andirian agreed to deliver to the king that very evening as the warrior was bound straight for the castle to deliver his own report. In the morning Raavan himself would visit the citadel and request an audience with King Tyalur.
      Passing through the massive doors and beneath the portcullis they finally entered the city. They now set about finding an inn where they could secure both food and rest for themselves and their steeds. As it had been some years since either Raavan or Alatar had sought accommodations in Stonecastle it was necessary for them to wander around a bit in search of suitable lodging.
      As they rode through the streets of the populous city the Elflings marvelled at the size of the place and the sheer number of people that inhabited it. In the busier quarters they found themselves wading through crowded intersections as those who transacted business during the day made their way to their homes and were replaced on the streets by those seeking the entertainments which were afforded by the arrival of night.
      Such entertainment was largely to be had in the inns and taverns that acted as the standard landmarks of the city. Passing these the party could plainly see that within were the makings of an eventful night of carousing and revelry by the city’s more libertine inhabitants. It was not universally agreed among the party that one of these was the establishment they sought. Thus, when they encountered The Frog’s Tongue they passed on by with little debate, and at The Dragon’s Fly they didn’t even bother to slow down.
      Turning down a quieter side street they came then to Bart’s Bar and Tavern, which they found more to their liking. They stabled their ponies and went inside, where they were greeted by Bart himself. At the bar were several elderly men drinking beer and talking quietly amongst themselves.
      The company took a table near the empty fireplace and ordered supper, which consisted of fried salmon and boiled potatoes and went down very nicely with a few mugs of dark beer. After the bland fare at the chateau they found the victuals at Bart’s to be quite satisfying indeed.
      After dinner they saw to their steeds and then retired to their rooms, the Elflings in number fourteen and the others next door in fifteen, both on the second floor with windows facing out over the street. That night they slept soundly, their beds being quite a bit more comfortable than at the chateau and incomparably more so than hard ground. As soon as he had seen his master to bed Airi hopped to the open window and took off for his nocturnal outing.
      In the morning they broke their fast together in the common room of the tavern, where they enjoyed fried eggs, milk, thick toast with strawberry jam, and hot tea. After a morning smoke on the steps outside Raavan gave the Elflings some silver for their lunch, then with Airi made off for the castle, which was on the river side of the city. Alatar and Burak tended again to the steeds and then went out to purchase supplies and to see if they could find a suitable pack animal to lighten the load on the other steeds.
      The Elflings were thus left with nothing to do but to explore the city by themselves, which they were eager to do. There was much to see and most of it was entirely new to them, for there are no cities in Laurelindor, only villages and small farming towns.
      Immediately apparent to them was that commerce in the city was brisk. Everywhere it seemed that exchanges were being made and services rendered, as the traffic of goods and their buyers and sellers flowed through the streets of the city according to the natural laws of the urban economy. They looked in at the many shoppes of the tradesmen that drove this orderly system of exchange: the blacksmiths, locksmiths, carpenters, and wainwrights; the tailors, seamstresses, cobblers, and haberdashers. There were butchers, bakers, grocers, and brewers; lawyers, artists, ministers, and doctors.
      Outside the shoppes there were others who pursued their business in the streets. Knights and guards, fully armed and mounted, maintained the visible presence of law and order while deliverymen and couriers, labourers and coachmen toiled about ceaselessly. There were ladies fair and tramps uncomely, and quite a good mix of gentlemen and drunkards and loafers.
      When the trio felt they had accomplished enough sight-seeing for the present they went in search of an outfitter who could supply them with iron or steel arrowheads, for many shafts had they which were fully fletched but lacking tips. When they had procured the necessary items they saw that it was quickly approaching the noontide, and that meant lunch was in order.
      At a pleasant outdoor market they encountered some delicious-looking golden apples which soon were had at a bargain price. To these they added a piping hot loaf of bread and a generous pat of butter from a bakery near the tavern, and then they were ready to dine. On the front steps of Bart’s Bar and Tavern the Elflings consumed their victuals to the sounds of a lutist across the way.
      ‘Who would ever have thought that we would be doing this now?’ mused Dannadar between mouthfuls.
      ‘What do you mean?’ mumbled Falco as he chewed intently on an apple.
      ‘I mean, sitting here in the midst of a great city halfway round the world, eating hot bread with butter while entertained by a strumming minstrel,’ replied Dannadar.
      ‘O, right,’ acknowledged Falco as he finished gnawing at his core.
      ‘But don’t forget the part about our wizard friend consorting with kings in an attempt to save Entira from certain destruction,’ insisted Talen.
      ‘Or the part about an heir to kings who wields a legendary sword of power,’ added Dannadar.
      ‘Right,’ agreed Falco. ‘And you also left out the apples. The bread and butter were excellent, but don’t forget the delicious apples.’
      ‘Yes,’ laughed the others, ‘the apples were tasty indeed!’
      They listened a while in silence to the melodies drifting on the summer breeze.
      ‘What do you suppose Andirian could have meant about us not receiving a friendly welcome in Stonecastle?’ asked Talen. ‘Almost all the people we’ve met this morning have been exceptionally polite.’
      ‘They have been very nice,’ agreed Falco, ‘but they’ve probably just never seen an Elfling before. The Big People that we’ve seen before have tended to take a liking to us pretty easily.’
      ‘But I just wonder why Andirian felt compelled to warn us as he did,’ persisted Talen.
      ‘I would guess that he probably meant Raavan specifically, not any of the rest of us,’ Falco conjectured. ‘Maybe it’s because he’s a wizard, and they’ve had some bad experiences with that Magorath character. They might just be extra wary now of magicians of any sort.’
      ‘O, I suppose that could be it,’ agreed Talen.
      ‘Or perhaps the king isn’t very fond of him, for some other reason,’ continued Falco. ‘Raavan seems to have been here before on important business, by the sound of it. Maybe he stirred things up a bit last time he was here. He has had somewhat of a reputation for doing that.’
      ‘I wish he would have taken us along to the castle,’ said Dannadar. ‘I should like to have seen the king, and his court.’
      ‘Would you settle for a bullfrog?’ asked Falco. ‘Come! Let us go investigate that lovely swamp out there.’
      ‘Good idea!’ said the others.
       
       
      They passed through the front gate, greeting the guards there with a friendly ‘Hello,’ and receiving a respectful nod in return. Once outside the city they breathed the fresh air and realised only then that the city had been somewhat stifling within. They rather preferred it outside. Down the road they slowly wandered, stopping here and there to watch a bee or a dragonfly, or a frog poking its eyes and nostrils up out of the water.
      ‘Who is that out there?’ asked Talen as he pointed to several figures who had ventured a short way out into the wetland.
      ‘I don’t know,’ replied Dannadar. ‘Let’s go find out.’
      With that they began carefully to pick their way out toward where the figures stood. As they neared the strangers they saw that they were in fact children of roughly Elfling size—three of them, all boys—but dressed up as knights complete with shining plate armour and with swords hanging at their sides. Over their armour they wore a short, sleeveless white robe emblazoned with a heraldic device, one for the nearest of the three and a different one for the other two.
      ‘Thou approachest not with raised fist,’ said the boy in front as the Elflings neared them.
      ‘Pardon?’ asked Dannadar.
      ‘Thou must raise thy fist in salute when thou approachest me,’ the boy declared.
      ‘Why?’ asked Dannadar.
      ‘Because I am an Angôlite,’ replied the other. ‘Seest thou my coat of arms?’
      ‘So?’ said Dannadar with a negligent shrug of his shoulders.
      ‘So, sayest thou?’ replied the boy indignantly. ‘So indeed! Very well. Teach thee respect for thy superiors I shall. Drawest thou thy weapon, knave! And prayest that mine ire is but short-lived, as I’ve a mind to give thee and thy craven companions a drubbing ye shan’t soon forget!’
      With this the boy drew his sword and brandished it threateningly at the Elflings, who before realising that the boy’s sword was made of wood drew their own steel blades simultaneously and held them at the ready.
      ‘What!’ cried the boy, backing away. ‘Your fathers permit you to play with real blades?’
      ‘I don’t think our fathers could even imagine some of the things that we’ve been doing,’ said Falco.
      ‘Thou art most fortunate,’ said the young aggressor, now returning his wooden weapon to its sheath. ‘Mine own father will scarcely permit me to leave the walls of the city. However, as Bren’s father is on duty at the gate we are afforded some liberty for the present, so long as we do not wander far. Your appearance is strange. Are ye travellers?’
      ‘Yes,’ replied Talen as he and his companions sheathed their weapons. ‘Our homeland is hundreds of miles away—a place called Laurelindor.’
      ‘Is it near Greycastle?’ asked the boy with some concern.
      ‘No,’ replied Talen. ‘It is not even in Arnedia.’
      ‘Then ye are not Arnedians,’ concluded the boy.
      ‘No, we are Elflings,’ replied Talen.
      ‘Ai! Of course!’ exclaimed the other as he smote his forehead. ‘Ye are Elves! I should have seen it in the tilt of your eyes. This Laurelindor must be in Arvalla.’
      ‘No,’ replied Talen, ‘it actually lies between Anyar and Aresse.’
      ‘And we are not Elves,’ said Falco. ‘We’re Elflings.’
      ‘Very well,’ replied the other, losing interest. ‘Thou shalt join our hunt for the Black Mantep. My name is Arment, and these are Bren and Lingil.’
      ‘I am Talen,’ said the Elfling as he stepped forward to shake the boy’s hand. ‘And these are Falco and Dannadar.’ More hands were shaken and then their attention returned to the denizens of the swamp.
      ‘What is a Black Mantep?’ asked Falco.
      ‘It is a large snake,’ answered Arment, ‘which eateth bullfrogs, but if thou seest one, take care that thou approachest not too swiftly, for it will spit out its prey if threatened.’
      Long they searched for the elusive Black Mantep. In time they did find one, though it was only a juvenile and had not yet graduated from its modest diet of tadpoles. Now they set themselves a more ambitious task, namely that of finding a Spotted Oromel, a kind of small crocodile that was generally not a threat to people, though they had been known to occasionally take off a hand or a foot. To their dismay, however, they did not encounter any of these.
      Arment and his friends showed the Elflings many other fascinating things that lived in the marsh. There were frogs that rode on the backs of turtles to evade the snakes swimming about in the shallow water, and to better reach the passing flies on which they fed. The frogs in their elevated position acted in turn as vigilant sentinels that would hop off at the first sight of a larger predator that in many cases would be a threat also to the turtle. Many interesting plants did they see as well, such as flowers that trapped insects overnight to dust them with pollen, or that grew blossoms in the shapes of bees to attract other bees to them. A nearly endless variety of species did they see, all wonderfully adapted to their specific niche in the wetland community.
      When evening approached the Elflings were loathe to quit their investigations, yet they knew they must return to the tavern and consult with Raavan on their next movements. Very likely he would be ready to continue their quest in the morning by setting off for the next city.
      ‘Thou mayest play with us again on the morrow if thou wishest it, Elf Talen,’ said Arment by way of farewell, ‘and thy noble companions as well.’
      ‘That would be nice,’ said Talen in reply. ‘If our business keeps us in Stonecastle for another day we will certainly seek out your company!’
      ‘Fare-thee-well,’ said the boys.
      ‘Goodbye,’ said the Elflings.
       
       
      In the failing light they made their way back to the tavern, arriving only minutes after Raavan had returned. Alatar and Burak had been there for some time and had busied themselves with making minor repairs to their gear.
      Raavan arranged with Bart to have supper brought up to room fifteen, and there they dined while Alatar and Burak reported that they had had luck in finding a healthy pack pony and all the needed supplies for the road ahead. After their meal they worked on finishing off the large pot of beer that had been brought by the serving boy, while Raavan lit up his pipe. The wizard insisted on smoking in silence a bit before any account could be drawn out of him of his consultation with the king.
      ‘Well, it was no picnic, I can tell you that,’ began Raavan as he continued to puff great billows of smoke.
      ‘That does not surprise me,’ said Alatar.
      ‘Tyalur was as irascible as ever,’ the wizard went on. ‘He is not a bad king, per se , and I have even known him to act wisely when properly counseled. But these Arnedians have long been an argumentative race. It grates on the nerves sometimes, is all.’
      ‘That I have not noticed,’ said Burak, ‘but all of their thees and thous do get to be a bit much after a while. Sometimes I have difficulty understanding what they’re trying to say.’
      ‘That’s interesting, because that’s exactly what they say about us,’ stated Raavan.
      ‘Hmph!’ snorted the Dwarf.
      ‘What about the barons?’ asked Alatar.
      Raavan replied, ‘Some of them are still desperately in need of an attitude readjustment, I think, but only so much can be accomplished in one day. I think I won over some at least of the more doubtful ones.’
      ‘And what about the others?’ asked Talen.
      ‘You didn’t turn them into snails, did you?’ asked Dannadar.
      ‘No,’ replied the wizard, taking another draw from his pipe. ‘That’s generally frowned upon at court.’
      ‘I shouldn’t wonder,’ mused Talen.
      ‘Anyway,’ continued Raavan, ‘I think I did finally get through to Tyalur, which is the important thing. At first all he wanted to do was to complain to me about his various parochial concerns: Goblyns raids, the Úvarians, petty trade disputes, and so on. But I think Andirian’s report helped my case considerably, because it forced him to at least consider what is going on beyond his own borders. There is obviously an evil presence arising once again at Mâg Tuor, and I described for him the even greater numbers of spawn evidenced by our encounters in Tath and by Alatar’s observations on his earlier mission into that desolate land.
      ‘But I think what really scared him was the revelation of Silgoth’s residence at Hélethrôn. Even Tyalur’s provincial mind knows of that place, and for what it stands. I think he has little doubt now after my lengthy testimony that Silgoth presents much the same threat as did Mythron and Omenaton before him. Even the highland barons seemed troubled by the news.’
      ‘Then hopefully they will set aside their enmity with Greycastle in order to oppose the common enemy,’ said Alatar. ‘This is not the time for internecine strife and resentment.’
      ‘The resentment I can do nothing to dispel,’ replied Raavan, ‘for it is nearly as old as the hills and bred into the very bones of these people. But Tyalur did agree that if Greycastle renews its allegiance to Aglathrad then Stonecastle shall, too. I even got him to agree to cancel the battle with Greycastle which is scheduled for the week after next.’
      ‘They schedule their battles?’ asked Talen incredulously.
      ‘They’ve been doing so for many years,’ replied Raavan. ‘It has something to do with their peculiar notions of civility.’
      ‘Chivalry , I think they call it,’ said Alatar.
      ‘Yes,’ confirmed Raavan. ‘There are certain rules which they believe in following when battling their neighbours and they are very careful always to observe them. They may be a highly disputatious people, but at least they are not barbaric.’
      ‘Amazing,’ said Dannadar. ‘So, exactly what is it that they fight about?’
      ‘Ostensibly, their quarrels are generally over property disputes; in some cases over possession of the Earlstone,’ answered Raavan.
      ‘Which neither of them now have,’ said Burak.
      ‘That’s right,’ said Raavan.
      ‘Did you tell them that we have it?’ asked Dannadar.
      ‘Goodness, no!’ replied the wizard. ‘That would definitely not have helped matters. The Earlstone will remain our secret for the time being, at least until we get to Aglathrad. I may decide to leave it with the high king when we reach the Arnedian capital, but we shall see.’
      ‘So, our business here is finished?’ asked Burak.
      ‘Yes,’ replied Raavan. ‘I informed Tyalur that I hope to convene a council at Valassea in mid autumn and he agreed to send a delegate or two, though he himself will likely stay behind. The exact date will have to be determined later, but for now I told him Harvestmas. So, we have roughly till then to spread the word. Obviously, time is of the essence. We will depart first thing tomorrow morning.’
      ‘Depart for where?’ asked Talen.
      ‘Greycastle,’ came the reply.