And now that the whole thing was over, all she wanted to do was rest. The energy that had sus-tained her all this time was gone.
'Are there any' she heard Stefansen cry at last, his voice breaking a little, 'who would deny that true justice has been dispensed this day?'
The thunderous NO that followed his question satisfied even Tarma.
* * *
Quite a little family party, Tarma thought wryly, surveying the motley individuals draped in various postures of relaxation around the shabby-comfortable library of Stefansen's private suite.
Stefansen had been officially crowned two days ago, and Roald had arrived as Valdemar's official representative, complete with silver coronet on his blond head -- and with a full entourage, as well. The time between the night of the rebellion and the day of the coronation had been so hectic that no one had had a chance to hear the full story of the rebellion from either Tarma, Kethry or Jadrek. So Stefansen had decreed today that he was having a secret Council session, had all but kidnapped his chosen party and locked all of them away. Included in the party were himself and Mertis; and he had taken care that there was a great deal of food and drink and comfortable seats for all. And once everyone was settled in, he had demanded all the tales in their proper order.
The entire 'Council' was mostly Sunhawks or ex-Hawks; Sewen and Tresti; Justin and Ikan; Kyra, Beaker and Jodi. Tarma herself, and Kethry, of course. Then the 'outsiders' -- Tindel, Jadrek, and Roald.
It had taken a long time to get through the whole story -- and when Kyra had finished the last of the tales, telling in her matter-of-fact way how Idra had ridden out of the cloud of mist and moonlight, you could have heard a mouse sneeze.
'What I don't understand is how you Hawks took that so calmly,' Tindel was saying. 'I was as petrified as Char, I swear -- but you -- it was like she was -- real.'
'Lad,' Beaker said in a kindly tone (to a man at least a decade or two his senior'), 'We've ridden with Idra through things you can't imagine; she's stood by us through fear and flood and Hellfire itself. How could we have been afraid of her? She was only dead. It's the living we fear.'
'And rightly,' Justin rumbled into the somber silence that followed Beaker's words. 'And speaking of the living, you will never guess who sauntered in two days ago, Shin'a'in.'
Tarma shook her head, baffled. She'd been spending most of her free time sleeping.
'Your dear friend Leslac.'
'Oh no!' she choked. 'Justin, if I've ever done you any favors, keep him away from me!'
'Leslac?' Roald said curiously. 'Minstrel, isn't he? Dark hair, swarthy, thin? Popular with women?'
'That's him,' groaned Tarma, hiding her face in her hands.
'What's it worth to you,' he asked, leaning forward, and wearing a slyly humorous expression, 'to get him packed off to Valdemar? Permanently?'
'Choice of Tale'sedrin's herds,' she said quickly, 'Three mares and a stallion, and anything but battlesteeds.'
'Four mares, and one of them sworn to be in-foal.'
'Done, done, done!' she replied, waving her hands frantically.
'Stefan, old friend,' Roald said, turning to the King, 'Is it worth an in-foal Shin'a'in mare to force a swordpoint marriage by royal decree on one motheaten Bard?' Roald's face was sober, but his eyes danced with laughter.
'For that, I'd force a swordpoint marriage on Tindel!' Stefansen chuckled. 'Who's the lucky lady?'
'Countess Reine. She's actually a rather sweet old biddy, unlike her harridan sister, who is -- thank the gods! -- no longer with us. I'm rather fond of her, for all that she hasn't the sense of a new-hatched chick.' Roald shook his head, and sighed. 'A few years back, her sister went mad during a storm and killed herself. Or so it's said, and nobody wants to find out otherwise. I'm supposed to be keeping an eye on her, to keep her out of trouble.'
