mindful of procedure, though he thought it foolish.
The two kings regarded each other without affection. Turold was in no mood to bandy protocol. 'We sent to you for help. More than one messenger departed and did not return with that aid. Though we have arrived in good health, it is through no thanks to you.'
Eirig did not back down, though his daughter's accusation stuck in the back of his mind. 'Your messengers never reached us. The Slayers spread a tight net, especially at night. Even so, twenty men were dispatched in hopes they might find you.'
'We lost three hundred reaching here!' Turold replied angrily. 'One hopeless rearguard action followed upon another so that we might make the 'safety' of these walls. The land between here and Turold is marked by too many graves. And you sent twenty men to help us.'
'The Slayers are everywhere and this time of year the army of Eirig is more fiction than reality! Most of my fighting men are away bringing in the year's harvest, so that if the Slayers attack they cannot starve us out. 1 have my own people within these walls to worry about. Women and children. I did what I could.' He took a belligerent step forward. 'I did not choose this marriage, Turold.'
'Nor did I, Eirig.'
Colwyn had had about enough. Royal precedent be damned! He slid off his horse, stepped between them.
'I chose it,' he said quietly.
Colwyn was not a big man. He had cousins who stood taller, marshaled more raw strength. But none were as quick. He had a tendency to brood, especially in the presence of persistent stupidity. There were those at the Turoldian court who thought him reckless and a bit too wild to wear the crown.
But none questioned his honesty or courage, and though no scholar, he had a way of penetrating obfuscation that allowed him to go straight to the heart of a problem, a talent most disconcerting to those schooled in the arts of argument and debate. Unlike his relatives, he attracted no crowd of fawning sycophants. Put a query to Colwyn, it was said in Turold, and you will have a straight answer right off, but for your sake it had best be a worthwhile question.
'Your daughter chose it,' he went on, speaking to Eirig. He looked back to his own father, then again at the king who had welcomed them with something less than open arms. 'It will be done. Argue all you wish, fight if it pleases you, but nothing will prevent this marriage. This alliance must be made.
'Now if you will excuse me, I would like to greet my bride.' He turned from them both and inspected the courtyard. After a moment's study he started for the doorway leading into the keep, walking as though the way were well known to him.
Eirig couid not find words to stop him, but neither was he willing to let a mere boy depart their confrontation having the last word. He gestured back at Turold and the two surviving members of the escort.
'And is this the great army you will join with Eirig to lead against the Slayers?'
Colwyn paused partway up the stairs. His voice was firm, assured as he replied. 'Whatever army I have I will lead against them. I brought two warriors with me. If Eirig can provide two as good, then I will have an army of five.
'This I do know. I will not squat cowering behind castle walls, neither here nor in Turold. and wait for the Slavers to come for me the way a pig waits for its butcher. The Slayers are used to being the attackers. Perhaps it will surprise them to be the defenders for a change, no matter what size the force that goes against them. I will fight them, King Eirig, with whatever army I can raise from your land and mine and whichever other might choose to join me.' He resumed his climb, hesitating again at the top of the staircase.
'I will fight them until I have won, or am dead.' He disappeared into the castle.
Eirig stared after him, then turned back to his royal counterpart. 'I do not know if he has your skill at arms, Turold, but the boy surely has inherited your tongue.'
Turold looked past his host, toward the portal that had swallowed up his son. 'There is more to the youth than that, Eirig. Sometimes I do not understand him. Sometimes 1 think he sees with other than his eyes. Even the wise men of my court are in awe of him and not a few are afraid. A most unusual son. On balance I know he is more blessing than curse, but there are moments that give me pause. In truth, there are.'
Eirig digested that, then frowned. It seemed to him that this was not the first time such thoughts had been expressed with respect to a royal offspring.
I hate these damned great castles, Colwyn thought as he made his way into the central hall. He slowed and thought to wipe some of the sweat and grime from his face. Around him brightly colored banners and insignia of territory hung limp from the rafters. Torches flickered on mounted armor. Eirig's kingdom was not particularly rich but it was extensive. Its people were not given to ostentatious displays of wealth. In that respect they had much in common with Turold.
It was not money that he sought from the alliance, but brave men ready to fight for their homes and their world. The wise men at court had tried to show him that such an adventure was doomed from the start. The depredations of the Slayers could not be prevented; even to think of doing so was foolishness. It was best to accept one's fate, much as one did a harsh winter or summer flood.
Colwyn refused to accept the inevitability of disaster that some of the wise men had forecast. There was no fear in him of the Black Fortress, nor of the shadowy master it was home to. It did not terrify him that the Fortress apparently came from another world. Just because this affliction was new and alien did not mean it couldn't be cured.
Slayers could be slain like any man, for all that they possessed horrible weapons and did not fight like men. All that was required was the will to fight them, the will and an army of dedicated warriors. Between them, Eirig and Turold might mount such an army.
He started forward again, stumbled over his own tired feet and caught himself. His gaze darted leftward. There had been the briefest giggle.
His eyes stopped at a half-opened doorway. Even in the dimly lit hall it would have been difficult to pass over that flash of color.
Lyssa did not laugh again. She stepped out into the light Her dress was finely but not elaborately embroidered and she was as clean as Colwyn was sweaty. Their eyes met and all such simple thoughts were instantly put aside.
She's so slight, Colwyn mused. A strong breath could blow her away. Or could it? There was something about her that suggested otherwise. A thin tree can have strong roots, he reminded himself. Slim but strong, then, in mind as well as body. Such was the Lyssa he'd been led to expect. She came toward him.
'I have chosen well,' she said softly, without guile.
It was there, he thought. The power he sensed deep within
her, the same power that had been in her letters. It was in her voice too, every syllable, for all that they were softly uttered. He had thought to greet a much larger woman, but as he continued to stare at her she expanded in his eyes.
'So have I,' he thought to murmur.
'Handsome.' Her inspection was direct. 'I had not counted on that. It would not have made a difference, but I suppose it's good that a wife should find her husband pleasant to look upon.'
'Life is long and full of mornings,' he responded. 'One should not be displeased by the first face one sees every day.' 'You speak of days to come. I see by your appearance that the past ones were not as promising. Your journey was as difficult as it was delayed?'
'But necessary. The land between Eirig and Turold is filled with the misery inflicted by the Slayers. We left as many as we could lying in the fields they had destroyed.' 'You boast of killing?'
'I never boast of killing. There is nothing praiseworthy in making murder.'
She nodded slowly. 'I was told that you were brave but until now did not know what my advisers meant when they kept telling me you were not the usual sort of warrior. You are wise. And handsome as well. A rare combination.' She spread out the folds of her dress and did a little pirouette for him. 'Then, you do find me attractive?'
'These past months I've had to deal with innumerable idiotic questions at court. Do not ask me more of the same.' He grinned slightly.
'I think I like you, master of the indirect compliment.' More seriously she inquired, 'How fares your homeland
