Elvenborn

fighters; they were fanners, house-servants, herders. But they had applied themselves with will and enthusiasm to his training, and when called on to use that training, they had done so with all the dedication he could have asked for.

He didn't quite know how to reward them; the kind of great feast he usually held for a successful 'campaign' was woefully inadequate as a recompense. And as he shepherded the last of his people through Moth's Portal, he made a mental note to ask his mother her opinion. Of all people, she surely should have some notion.

Finally there were only the three of them left to cross—him­self, Gel, and Rennati. And as he watched the other two waiting patiently for the Portal to clear, with Gel's arm openly and pro­tectively around the apprehensive little dancer, he knew with

considerable amusement that there was at least one person he had had no difficulty in fitting a reward to. There had been a grain of truth in that pompous and incredibly insulting little speech he'd made in front of Lady Triana; he really did hope that Gel would have a son—or several—to train to take the fa­ther's place at Kyrtian's side. No one could have had a better bodyguard—or friend—and Kyrtian was not looking forward to the day when he would have to tell Gel to stand down and let another take his place. But like it or not, the fact was that unless something happened to him, Kyrtian would likely be served by Gel's great-great-great-great-grandchildren. Near- immortality came with its own costs.

He shook off the melancholy thought, and brought his mind back to the present. Lady Lydiell would be very amused, he was sure, when she realized what had happened between Ren-nati and Gel. An inveterate matchmaker, she had been trying to pair Gel off for years. She'd find the current situation entirely to her liking.

She'll have them tucked up in a little cottage or suite of their own in the manor before the two of them get a chance to turn around.

'Go on through, you two,' he said, waving at them. He turned to Moth, as they stepped into the utter blackness within the Portal.

'Are you going to be all right?' he asked. 'Can you keep those idiot children from trying to start the rebellion all over again, or somehow getting caught?'

She laughed. 'The day I can't keep an unruly pack of pup­pies like that under my thumb, now that they've had a good scare, is the day you might as well start planning my funeral-games. You and your boys showed them that everything they'd won against their fathers was due to their incredible good luck, the Wizards' iron, and the Great Lords' incompetence. They're happy enough to be escaping the hounds, and I imagine they'll stay that way for some little while.'

He had to smile at that. 'I should have known better than to ask; I should be asking them if they think they'll be safe from you.'

'Indeed you should.' Moth smiled, and winked. 'Two or three of those lads are rather toothsome, and still young enough to train properly. I'm not too old to remarry.' She grinned as he laughed. 'Now, get on with you. By now, poor Lydiell is prob­ably wondering if the Portal's broken down.'

He embraced her, then stepped across the threshold.

As soon as he recovered from the shock of crossing, which was always disorienting, he saw that his mother had already sorted out the new relationship between Gel and Rennati. And much to Gel's surprise and bemusement, she had taken it all in stride and with considerable aplomb—and from the sound of things, had begun making plans for them without waiting for Kyrtian.

Heh. I wonder if he expected Mother to be shocked or out­raged that Rennati has managed to capture him? He should have known better than that—given all the matchmaking she's done all over the estate! He's just lucky she never seriously took it into her head to find a woman for him, or he 'd have been tied up long before this.

'Our people will expect a wedding-ceremony and a feast, of course,' she was explaining to a bewildered Rennati. 'Our Gel is a person of great importance here, and if we did anything less, people would feel cheated. We'll have to have all of the fighters and their families, of course—I wonder if we could have the whole thing in the open air? I can't think of any build­ing on the estate large enough to fit everyone inside—'

'But—' Rennati said, feebly, looking alarmed.

'Oh, I know you've no idea what to do, child,' Lydiell con­tinued calmly. 'But our people never had their traditions wrenched from them and buried past retrieval. They have their priests and their rituals exactly as they did before we came on the scene. Don't concern yourself with it; they know what to do, and if you can learn a clever dance, you can certainly learn a simple wedding ceremony. Now, this could fit in very nicely with the general homecoming; your wedding can be the start of a week of festivities and—'

'Mother, my love,' Kyrtian interrupted her. 'Don't forget, with all your planning, I have to be off with a select crew on

Lord Kyndreth's Wizard-hunt as soon as may be. This will have to look as if I consider it to be as urgent as he does.'

'So Gel tells me,' Lydiell said serenely. 'All the more reason to have the wedding as soon as possible. I have been planning these homecoming celebrations for a fortnight, and you will be here for at least the first day and night of them! And if Kyndreth gets impatient, I will tell him that you needed the time to select exactly the right group of scouts and hunters.'

Kyrtian bowed to the inevitable. 'Yes, Mother,' he said obe­diently, and beat a hasty retreat to his own suite, leaving Gel and Rennati to face his formidable mother and all her plans alone.

A coward's ploy, and he would surely hear all about it from Gel once the Sargeant got away. But in the meanwhile—

He can take care of himself. At least for a while. Once Ren­nati gets over being dazed, she 'II probably join forces with mother, the females against the poor, helpless male. I've never seen a woman that could resist an opportunity for a celebration and a new gown. Gel won't have a chance.

But oh, the more he thought about it, the more he hoped that his own time to wed wouldn't arrive anytime soon.

I think I'll run off and have Moth take care of everything. I'll hide in her library until the very last moment, so no one can swarm over me.

He pushed open the doors to his own rooms and sighed; it seemed an age since he'd been here, and the sight of his own quarters was very welcome.

But more welcome still was the bathroom, the ready tub, and the smiling servants waiting to help him.

He didn't stop for their help; he threw off his clothes and plunged into the hot water, relaxing completely in the penetrat­ing heat, as he had not been able to do since he left. Much as he loved and trusted Lady Moth, she had all those Young Lords still lurking on her premises, and Lady Triana's unexpected ar­rival only proved that even the formidable Lady Morthena could be surprised by unexpected visitors. Furthermore, she ad­mitted later that she had no notion how many keys to her Portal her late husband had handed about. It could be many, it could

be few, but the fact was they probably existed. And if anyone was likely to ferret those keys out, it would be Kyndreth, Tri-ana, or Aelmarkin. As a result, he had not really been able to re­lax, even while on her estate.

And, of course, while on campaign he'd had no such luxuries as this. Just the thought of all the times he'd gone to bed aching and bruised and bathless made this all the more pleasurable.

It might be a while before I get to enjoy it again. Although his hunt for the non- existent Wizards was by its very nature a wild-goose chase, he would have to conduct it as if it was seri­ous. The bare essentials for camping, no more than six men, and they would have to keep themselves fed off the land as much as possible. There would be no hot, soaking baths out there in the forests.