Chapter 7

The festival was over. The crowds dispersed as people solemnly returned to their homes. The companions accompanied the Regent back to the castle, Raavan and Alatar in the carriage and the others riding on their ponies alongside. When they passed within the outer wall of the castle their steeds were taken by servants to the stables where they were reunited with Windaris and Hyarmare.
      Now they entered the castle itself, and the Elflings found it every bit as impressive as they had imagined. Upon discovering that the Elflings had never seen the inside of a real castle Cenedain offered to give them a brief tour, which they graciously accepted. They saw the throne room, the great hall, the main towers (just the lower storeys), and the chapel. On the morrow they would have a chance to mount the ramparts and enjoy a view of the beautiful city below.
      The castle itself was laid out in a sprawling fashion, with many of the buildings appearing to have been added after the original construction, owing to the differences in their style and in the composition of their stonework. All of the structures appeared to be quite old, even ancient, though the main areas were obviously kept quite clean and well maintained. It was apparent however from the size of the fortress that there was much the Elflings did not see during their hasty tour.
      Afterward they all were served red wine in a library-like chamber of considerable size which adjoined Cenedain’s private rooms. The Regent entertained the guests for a time with accounts of Arnedia’s history, and that of Greycastle in particular. They heard of the founding of Greycastle by King Eilimistéar, high king of Arnedia in ancient times and said to have been descended from the Earl of Anderslie himself. They heard of the exploits of Sirs Uineer and Ingolin against the Landrakes of the north, which in times past had been known to irrupt into northeastern Arnedia where they wreaked havoc on farmers and other rural inhabitants of that region.
      Now he moved on to King Dortherein, who successfully repulsed a great wave of invaders from Mornea. Through all these stories the Elflings were completely enthralled, fascinated by the details of the tale and overjoyed to be hearing them from one whose station placed him very near to the level of a prince or a king.
      Raavan had by now taken to examining the various artefacts which were on display in this room, many of them in protective glass cases and others just sitting out on shelves. There were scrolls and ancient tomes; there were suits of armour standing fully assembled in proud poses; there were tapestries and busts, portraits and maps; and there was all manner of weaponry, most of it truly ancient by all appearances. Dannadar had joined Raavan at one particular case where an old, broken sword lay next to several more polished blades.
      Raavan interrupted the Regent in mid-sentence. ‘Good gracious, Cenedain! Is this what I think it is?’
      ‘What mayest that be, friend Raavan?’ replied the Regent.
      Gently opening the glass case the wizard removed the shards of the broken sword and held them up for all the company to see. Alatar slowly drew Noromendor from its sheath at his side and standing next to Raavan held the distinguished blade up for comparison with the broken weapon. They were nearly identical.
      Raavan looked at the Regent. ‘Cenedain, this is Nifredir: Sword of the West. You have one of the swords of power.’
      ‘And it is broken,’ added Dannadar.
       
       
      That night they slept in the castle, and they found the accommodations very much to their liking. They were all very tired, especially the Dwarf and the Elflings, and as the beds were very comfortable they found no difficulty in falling fast asleep.
      In the morning they breakfasted in the same chamber where they had been joined by Cenedain the night before and where Raavan had discovered the broken remains of Nifredir. The Regent was not present, however, as he had risen rather earlier and was already attending to important business of state.
      After breakfast Raavan asked Burak to look over the damaged sword of power. Long he examined the blade, with many soft sighs and reflective grunts. He tapped, hefted, banged and clanged the two pieces of the noble sword, and still his analysis went on. He made known that he would require a tub of water in which he could submerge the blade in order to determine its density, for though he had once been apprenticed to a sword maker in the Belling Hills his knowledge of the making of these particular swords was incomplete and he needed to determine the exact composition of metals used in its manufacture.
      ‘Can it be repaired?’ asked Dannadar.
      ‘That is what Burak is trying to determine,’ replied Raavan.
      ‘How did it break in the first place?’ asked the Elfling.
      ‘As you’ll recall from last night, Cenedain said the last wielder of the sword had been King Ecthelian, who died in battle wielding it,’ said the wizard. ‘I would presume it broke during that engagement, and that that explains how the King died. He was in fact the last king to rule Greycastle, for after his death a regent was appointed the task of running the kingdom, and since that time a line of regents has succeeded the original steward in that station.’
      ‘But is not Nifredir a sword of power?’ asked Talen. ‘I would not have expected such a weapon to be capable of breaking.’
      ‘It surprises even me,’ replied Raavan, ‘but perhaps it should not. As I recall, Ecthelian was a rather corrupt king.’
      ‘I don’t understand,’ said Talen.
      ‘If I recall correctly, Ecthelian battled constantly with Stonecastle over possession of the Earlstone,’ explained Raavan. ‘He lusted after it to no end. The swords of power were not meant to be used for the subjugation of men by men, but rather for their liberation from evil forces. If Nifredir was broken in a battle that Ecthelian was waging against Stonecastle, then the blade may very well have broken intentionally. By design, I mean.’
      ‘That is interesting,’ said Falco.
      ‘Yes, well, it may even be that Ecthelian was not the chosen wielder of Nifredir,’ went on Raavan. ‘The blade may not have responded to him, and he may simply have insisted on using it anyway, blindly thinking that it would give him some advantage over his adversaries in the ongoing war of the Earlstone. It has long been said that any but the rightful wielder of such a sword could use the blade only at his own peril. His and that of the sword, it would seem. But this is all speculation. I was involved in other matters at the time and was not present in Arnedia during these events. There may well have been yet other relevant circumstances of which none of us are aware. Yet at the current time the overriding concern for us is whether the blade can be mended.’
      ‘I believe it can,’ replied Burak, still staring at the blade with the greatest fascination.
      ‘That is good,’ said Raavan.
      ‘But it will take some time,’ added the Dwarf.
      ‘How much time?’ asked Raavan.
      ‘That depends on how easily we can get the resources together that I will need,’ answered Burak. ‘Ideally, if it is to be reforged, it should be done in the place were it was made—Ilimath, in this case—but obviously we are not going to attempt such an undertaking as that.’
      ‘You are quite right in that assessment,’ said Raavan. ‘Please go on.’
      ‘Failing that I would recommend doing the work at the Hills, or at Ihm-ennar,’ said the Dwarf, ‘where all the materials and equipment would be readily at hand, not to mention the expertise resident in those places.’
      ‘Cannot the job be accomplished here in Arnedia?’ asked Alatar. ‘Surely, there must be smithies of some renown even here in Greycastle; certainly in Aglathrad, I would think.’
      ‘Alatar is right,’ said Raavan. ‘It would be best if the work could be completed in Arnedia, and especially if it could occur somewhere along our planned route. I am loathe to incur an additional delay, even for so worthy a task as the reforging of Nifredir.’
      The Dwarf thought hard about this, his brow wrinkling into great furrows with the effort. Finally he replied, ‘It is possible. But we will at least need to send for the necessary supplies, and I will need to choose from among the very best smithies in the immediate vicinity. It will be a matter of days at the very least, and all this is just aimed at repairing the structure of the blade. More than that I cannot promise you.’
      Raavan considered the Dwarf’s words carefully. Burak placed the shards of Nifredir on the table as the wizard gazed at a map on the wall of Arnedia and lands to the east. Finally he replied, ‘Very well. I will speak with Cenedain at once. At my recommendation I think he will furnish you with all the resources you will need to accomplish this task. It is imperative that you begin immediately.’
      With that the wizard and the Dwarf left the room to seek out the Regent while Alatar went to the stables to check on the steeds. The Elflings remained behind.
      ‘Well, it looks like we’ll be here for a few more days at least,’ said Falco, eyeing the map on the wall.
      ‘That will give us a chance to explore this castle,’ said Dannadar as he began to examine some of the artefacts around the room. Talen joined him.
      ‘Methinks I can help with that,’ spoke a soft voice. The Elflings wheeled round to see before them a young lady. It was Kalea.
      ‘Kalea!’ said Talen. ‘What are you doing here?’ These thoughts were echoed by the others.
      ‘This is my home,’ replied the young lady. ‘I am the Regent’s daughter.’
      ‘Ah, of course!’ said Talen. ‘Now I see the resemblance. And Maril is your mother?’
      ‘Thou hast a keen eye, Sir Talen,’ she replied.
      ‘But why didn’t you tell us before?’ asked Talen. ‘We would have looked for you.’
      ‘Aye, but ’twas an opportunity to surprise thee which I could not resist,’ Kalea answered with a devilish smile. ‘Canst thou forgive me?’
      The Elflings laughed.
      ‘Of course,’ said Talen with a smile. ‘And indeed, we should also thank you.’
      ‘Wherefore should ye thank me?’ asked she.
      ‘For that fine dramatisation of our archery skills,’ answered Talen. ‘I especially enjoyed the part about our feathering the moon.’
      Now Kalea laughed. ‘There was much improvisation yesternight by the performers in which I had little or no hand. And I am now reminded that ye must meet my sister, Kvelta, before ye depart. Know ye the length of your stay as my father’s guests?’
      ‘Several days at least,’ answered Talen.
      ‘Then ye shall spend a goodly portion of that time telling me all that can be told of the faraway Land of the Elflings,’ declared the young lady.
      ‘Very well,’ they agreed.
      ‘And now, will ye accompany me on my morning promenade?’ asked she. ‘There is a fine view from the castle walls.’
      ‘Most certainly,’ came the eager reply.
       
       
      They ascended the ramparts of the castle, and looking out over the low parapet they saw that the view was indeed quite splendid. All about them were the thatched roofs and treetops of the city below, and to the east the river sparkled brightly in the sunlight. The sky was of a solid blue, except to the south where scanty wisps of cloud floated lazily toward the west.
      Though the Elflings expected to see soldiers patrolling the walls, there were none. Kalea pointed to a tall lookout tower in the north-west corner of the castle and explained that a watch was kept at all times atop its pinnacle.
      As they walked all round the outer walls of the castle Kalea pointed out various landmarks and described life in Greycastle. To the north they could see the marketplace where merchants peddled their wares, and beyond that they could just pick out the north road that led to Grey’s ferry—the most direct way across the Aglathrin. To the east, beyond the river were wide fields interspersed with farmlands and the occasional copse of elm and oak for as far as the eye could see. That way were many of Kalea’s favourite riding places. To the west, past the edge of the city were the orchards and vineyards through which the company had passed on their way into Greycastle. Kalea described how as a child she had spent many fine summers playing at her uncle’s vinery. And to the south they observed from afar the fairgrounds and the work that was now being undertaken to clean up after yesterday’s festival.
      As ten o’clock approached Kalea informed the Elflings that she soon would have to take her leave of them for several hours through midday, as she spent that time each day tutoring the young children of noblemen. Before she departed, however, a knight approached the party. It was captain Palin from the archery range.
      ‘Good morrow, my young friends,’ said the captain. ‘And greetings to you m’lady.’
      ‘Captain Palin,’ returned Kalea with a curtsy.
      ‘I am informed by His Lordship that thy party has plans now to stay in Greycastle for some number of days,’ said the captain. ‘Would ye in light of this reconsider mine offer of a commission as temporary instructors in His Lordship’s military? I have authority to offer you generous payment for this charge, if ye will accept it.’
      The Elflings considered this for a moment, and then Talen replied, ‘I don’t see why not. Though I’m not sure we really require any compensation, seeing as how we will be contributing in the best way we know how to the general cause of the—’
      He was interrupted by Falco. ‘Actually, there is something I would like to ask in return for this.’
      ‘Thou needest only name it, young Sir,’ replied Palin.
      ‘If we provide your men with archery training, can you provide us in return with instruction in the art of swordsmanship?’ asked Falco.
      ‘I certainly can,’ replied Palin. ‘Is this what all ye desire as payment?’
      Talen and Dannadar agreed that Falco’s suggestion was a good one.
      ‘Then we have an accord,’ concluded Palin, shaking their hands.
      ‘When do we begin?’ asked Dannadar.
      ‘Immediately,’ was the reply. ‘I shall take you now to Captain Burk, who will convey you to the training grounds north of the city where ye will begin giving instruction. Your own training can begin this afternoon.’
      With that the Elflings took their leave of Kalea and were soon shown to the training fields by Captain Burk, a burly and rather clumsy fellow, though a good natured one. They spent the remainder of the morning and a considerable portion of the afternoon putting their first-rate archery skills to work, and they found this to be very satisfying. They felt for the first time that they were making a tangible contribution to the effort of organising an effective army against Silgoth.
      In the late afternoon they were met by the Marquis Celais, the kingdom’s finest swordsman and fencer. Their Dwarven short-swords were traded for wooden training blades, and they spent several hours first receiving instruction from this expert swordsman and then applying their lessons in lengthy practise sessions against one another. In the evening they returned to the castle, a bit sore and slightly bruised, but very satisfied with their new arrangements.
      They had dinner that night with the Regent’s family, and Raavan explained to all the significance of the sword Nifredir which had lain in obscurity at the castle for many years and which Burak, with the permission of Cenedain, had now undertaken to repair. The Dwarf had spent the day touring the kingdom’s best smithies and had selected one located amidst a small wood a mile or two upriver on the other side of the Aglathrin. Also, riders had been sent forth to obtain various materials, such as the special oil-soaked woods which were needed in order to sustain a fire of sufficient temperature. The Dwarf explained that the blade was made of éthril , a very light and very rare metal which is generally found only in works of Dwarven make, and which can be effectively worked only in the hottest of fires.
      ‘The problem,’ explained the Dwarf between mouthfuls, ‘is that a small amount of éthril is needed for mending the immediate vicinity of the break. Finding even a small quantity of this precious metal will be very difficult, especially since most people have not the skill even to recognise it when they see it.’
      Talk continued about the various logistics of Burak’s formidable task. After dinner the companions retired to their rooms and Raavan informed them that Alatar would be departing the next morning to ‘collect some information’ from persons in nearby towns and villages. Yet, what sort of information he was after it was not clear, and Raavan would say no more on the matter for the present as he had to go out that very evening and attend to some business in the city.
      The next day the Elflings repeated what would over the next several days become their routine during the remainder of their stay at Greycastle. In the early morning they walked and talked with Kalea on the ramparts and during the greater part of the day they gave and received military instruction. Burak had been spending all of his time at the smithy outside the city, re-aquainting himself with the tools and methods of metallurgy. After the second night he ceased sleeping at the castle, remaining instead at the smithy round the clock.
      Raavan also had become quite scarce, apparently splitting his time between Burak and the sword on the one hand and the Regent on the other, though whether he had his hands in any other business was impossible to tell. But the Elflings continued to sup with Kalea and her sister even when the others were too busy to join them, and in a short time they came to be quite close with the young ladies, especially Kalea.
      On the third night the Elflings found themselves alone after dinner, for the sisters were engaged in preparations for the wedding of a distant cousin. As Dannadar was with relative ease able to convince the others that it was a good night to explore the castle, they soon had embarked upon that task.
      Though the castle was quite large it took them only a little over an hour to explore most of the main structure, or at least those parts which were above ground. What few servants and retainers they encountered during their inquest were exceedingly polite to the little Elf people, from the guards in the tower to the cooks in the kitchen.
      The latter proved to be a particularly productive zone of enquiry, for the head cook took a liking to the Elflings immediately and soon enough they were sampling all manner of little dainties at his insistence. Indeed, the more they complimented his cooking the more comestibles he brought forth, and soon they found themselves quite eager to escape from his bountiful kitchen lest their stomachs burst from overfullness. Also, they began to feel uncomfortable around one of the subordinate cooks, a swarthy fellow with a big moustache and an unpleasant smell, who shot queer glances at the Elflings whenever he passed by.
      Finally they were ready to venture into the lower levels of the fortress—the dungeons , as Falco put it—a prospect which had Dannadar in a state of gleeful anticipation. Just outside the kitchen they found a stairway leading down into the storage areas below, and down this the Elflings carefully stole when they saw that the way was clear. Though it was pitch black down there they soon had procured a torch from a sconce in the hall above. Thus equipped they once again were in business.
      The first rooms to which they came were storage chambers, primarily for foodstuffs (which held little interest for the Elflings in their present state). There were barrels, crates, baskets and casks; there were sacks, vats, boxes, and chests. Yet, little interest did any of these hold for the companions, for most of these heaped and varied receptacles appeared to contain foodstuffs and other supplies, and also as the Elflings were technically guests in the Regent’s household they thought it would be rather unseemly to go rummaging through any of it.
      From the storage areas there led quite a number of passages, all leading in different directions. The first of these down which they pointed their toes took them only to a dead end at a locked and very sturdy looking door. Likewise, after they had backtracked and chosen another anonymous corridor they soon found themselves again staring at an impassive wooden barrier.
      Once more they retraced their steps, and coming to an unexplored passage they began to investigate. This way appeared rather less used than the others, and after they had followed it for a short distance it became apparent that they were now in a more ancient part of the cellar. The walls and ceiling were completely covered with cobwebs and they began to catch the rare glimpse of tiny fleeing tails at the edge of the advancing torchlight. They began to encounter little nooks and stalls opening briefly on one side or the other, their original purpose long forgotten, and though the main passage continued more or less straight for long stretches between its occasional twistings and turnings, narrow corridors began to branch off randomly to either side. In some places there were crevasses in the floor and in others there were shallow pools of stagnant water. The air was filled with a musty smell that was not altogether pleasant, though also not unexpected.
      They had just passed a corridor on their left and had begun splashing through a relatively deep puddle when Dannadar suddenly tripped, dropping the torch into the water with a splash! and a fizz! Suddenly they were in the dark.
      ‘O, that is just splendid,’ complained Falco when Dannadar had retrieved the sopping torch and returned clumsily to his feet. ‘Not only have you extinguished our only light source, but you’ve also managed to soak it beyond rekindling. Now how do you suppose we are going to find our way out of here again?’
      ‘Well, it’s not my fault there had to be a huge puddle just here,’ replied the younger Elfling. ‘Anyway, Talen probably has his little glowing ball with him. Right, Talen?’
      ‘It’s in my pack, back up in our room,’ replied Talen.
      ‘Wonderful,’ lamented Falco.
      Just as they began wondering in earnest how they were going to find their way back again they saw a faint glow appear in the pitch darkness from the direction they had come. Slowly it grew less faint, outlining a distant corner round which the passage plunged.
      ‘Someone is coming!’ said Talen with surprise.
      ‘Thank goodness!’ said Dannadar.
      ‘Right,’ agreed Falco, and then, ‘Just a minute—what would anybody be coming down here for? There’s nothing down here but rats and spiders.’
      ‘You don’t know that,’ replied Dannadar as the light continued to grow, though it was still some distance away. ‘We don’t know what’s down any of these side passages.’
      Falco remained unconvinced. ‘I find it hard to believe that anyone could have any legitimate business down here. Just look at this place.’
      ‘Maybe they’re looking for us,’ suggested Dannadar as they all watched the distant light.
      ‘Why should anybody be looking for us?’ asked Falco. ‘We haven’t been gone long enough for anyone to miss us, and Raavan isn’t likely to be back yet anyway.’
      ‘Well, whoever it is, they’re going to round that corner any second now,’ said Talen.
      Just then Falco remembered something. ‘Didn’t we just pass an alley on our left?’
      ‘Yes,’ came the reply.
      ‘Let’s hide round the corner and see who it is when they pass,’ suggested Falco. ‘If it’s anybody we know we can just jump out and make ourselves known.’
      ‘And if not?’ asked Talen.
      ‘Then we follow them,’ replied Falco.
      They commenced the execution of their hastily constructed plan not a second too soon, for as the last of them ducked into the invisible side passage the approacher rounded the corner some ways behind them, his torch shining ever more brightly now. Crouching in the damp darkness they waited. Now they could hear footsteps. As the light grew brighter they inched back further along the corridor, for they began to fear discovery.
      When the figure passed by they got a clear look at him. It was the assistant cook they had seen up in the kitchen—the swarthy one who had been giving them the less-than-friendly looks. They were glad he had not seen them.
      They waited to give him a lead and then they quietly sneaked out into the hall and cautiously followed some distance behind him. He continued down the main passage for some ways, eventually coming to an iron gate barring the way. Stooping to one side he withdrew a key from a narrow crevasse in the wall just beside the gate. Once he had unlocked the gate he replaced the key and continued through without closing the gate behind him. Now they followed ever more cautiously, for as they observed his slinking demeanour they became increasingly convinced that he was up to no good.
      The man continued quite some distance beyond the gate, but without leaving the main passage, till finally he came to a door on the right. This he opened with a creak, and then he entered the room beyond, closing the door behind him all but a crack. Seeing him approach the door the Elflings had ducked into the deeper shadows of the hallway, but now they approached a bit further in order to hide in a wide alcove on the right just a short distance from the door.
      Then they waited. Five minutes went by, then ten, then fifteen. They began to whisper quietly among themselves, again debating their next course of action. Falco was for sneaking up to the door and having a peek, but Talen thought the suggestion too bold, and Dannadar could not make up his mind on the matter one way or the other. In the end it was decided that Falco would go alone. He was just peeking round the corner of the alcove in preparation for sneaking toward the door when he abruptly pulled back, for now another figure approached from the other end of the passage. The tall, black-robed man bore a torch, yet so much of his body was covered that only his white hands were visible in the dim light. As Falco waited hoping he had not been spotted and motioning for the others to remain silent they heard the creak of the door once again, and another quick peek by Falco confirmed that the hooded figure had entered the room with the cook.
      They of course became quite concerned, for it was abundantly clear that some dark mischief was afoot involving secret meetings in dark places by underlings of the castle staff. Moreover, they began to fear somewhat for their own safety, as they had all left their weapons behind, and the possibility of being discovered by the suspicious cook on his return was not inconceivable. Yet, so long and complicated was the way back that they were reluctant to start groping for their way in the dark, especially since they might then be overtaken by the sneaking man once his meeting had finished.
      So they decided that the best thing for it was to stay put until the strangers had adjourned their conference, and that if they could collect any intelligence on the nature of the suspicious dealings that such would be useful and altogether proper. So once again Falco peered round the corner of the alcove and seeing that it was safe he slipped quieter than a mouse to the dim shadows flanking the unclosed door.
      Talen and Dannadar waited some time for their bolder counterpart to return, and a restless, nail-biting time it was for them till he crept again back to their position. Yet upon his return they could get no information from him, for he hushed them with desperate urgency as he turned to watch and listen with straining effort. The wait was very short lived, for soon the creaking of the door was heard again amid the sounds of departing footsteps. They crouched now as low as ever they could in the darkest shadow of the alcove, but the passing cook took no notice of them. With a look of maleficent resolve and determination he made off down the hall in the direction from whence he had come.
      He was some distance away before they could get anything out of Falco. Finally he indicated to the others that they would follow a safe distance behind the long-stepping man, but before they started off he whispered to the others: ‘They are plotting to kill the Regent.’