day.'
Phais laughed. 'Nay, Sir Beau. Dara Rael does not know the everyday future. Instead she catches rare glimpses of portentous events, or occasionally speaks a rede, and not even she knows at times what they may foreordain.'
'Oh, my,' said Beau, now disappointed. 'I mean, it would have been nice to know how our mission will turn out.'
Phais sighed. 'Would that it were so for all, for then mayhap we could take certain steps to thwart Modru.'
'According to Delon's 'Lay of Arin and Egil One-Eye,' they took steps to prevent a foreseen disaster,' said Tipperton.
At a puzzled frown from Loric, Tip continued: 'What I am leading to is that if Lady Rael has foreseen anything of what is to come, then like Arin and her band, we could take steps to turn aside disaster.'
Loric shook his head. 'Not even Arin Flameseer could tell to what end her venture would lead. Whether or no she averted calamity, none knows.'
'Even after all this time?'
'Even so.'
'Say,' said Beau, 'if she had gotten together with Lady Rael, perhaps together they could have ciphered it out.'
'But they did meet, Sir Beau,' said Loric.
'They did?' exclaimed Tipperton.
'Aye,' said Loric. 'In Darda Galion. An ill-starred day, that, for 'twas when the Nine were felled.'
'Yet well fated, too, for 'twas the same day Dara Rael and Alor Talarin pledged their troth,' added Phais.
'Oh, my,' said Beau. 'Sorrow and joy mixed.'
'Indeed,' said Phais, 'as is oft the case.'
Tip took a deep breath and expelled it, and they finished their meal in silence.
Talarin peered down at the map lying open on the table. At hand, both Tipperton and Beau stood on chairs and gazed at the map as well.
Beau glanced up at Talarin. 'So the southern route is three hundred leagues and some longer? I say, that's a bit over nine hundred miles, eh?'
Talarin nodded, adding, 'Mayhap e'en a thousand.' Then he looked across at Phais. 'Thou art right, Dara. To wait for the thaw and travel directly east proves swifter than to ride south now through the remainder of winter and then angle northerly for Aven.'
'Not if we use enough remounts,' said Loric.
Talarin shook his head. 'Given the state of Modru's gathering, we have none to spare, I fear, for war will be upon us soon.'
Tipperton made a negating gesture. 'Look, even if you could spare the horses, we couldn't use them; they're altogether too big for the likes of us. I mean, simply hoisting a saddle up on one would be a chore, the great, tall things they are.'
'We could stand on stumps,' said Beau.
Tip grinned. 'Oh, right. And I suppose we'd have to camp only where stumps are, eh? That or chop down a tree each night.'
'Perhaps we could carry a ladder,' suggested Beau.
Tip laughed, then sobered. 'I'm sorry, Beau, but I was envisioning one of us on a ladder leaned against the horse, and him shifting 'round to see what this fool was about, and then fool and ladder splatting to the ground. No, my friend, stumps, slopes, rocks, ladders-Warrows learned long past that ponies are for the likes of us.'
Talarin turned to the buccen. 'None of us knows the import of the coin ye intend to convey, yet if that slain band of Kingsmen were taking it unto Agron, it must bear some weight. Hence, this will I do: when the season permits, I will send ye forth on swift horses with an escort.' Now Talarin looked across the table at Loric and Phais. 'I am of a mind to ask ye twain to accompany the Waerlinga unto Dendor.'
Loric glanced briefly at Phais and then asked Talarin, 'E'en in these troubled times, Alor, with Modru at Arden's door?'
'Even so,' replied Talarin.
At these words both Loric and Phais canted their heads, and Phais said, 'It has been awhile since Alor Loric and I rode together in common cause 'gainst the Ruptish foe.'
A grim look came over Talarin's face. 'As did we all.' Then he looked at the buccen. 'Will ye accept our aid?'
Relief crossed both Tip and Beau's faces, and Tip said, 'Oh, yes.' He turned to Loric and Phais and grinned.
'Four horses,' said Loric. 'One for Phais, one for me, and two to hale the Waerlinga after, along with our supplies.'
Beau glanced at Tip and sighed. 'Until we can get some good ponies, I suppose we'll just have to get used to being hauled by Elves across the 'scape on the back of great beasts. Tethered tagalongs, that's what we are.'
Phais laughed and Loric smiled. Talarin, grinning, said, 'Even so, my friends, 'tis better to-' Of a sudden he paused, holding up a hand for silence, his head cocked as if listening.
Tip frowned, wondering just what taa-raa
– there sounded the distant belling of a bugle echoing from the stone canyon walls of Arden Vale and down through the evergreen trees.
Again the bugle sounded.
' 'Tis from the north entry and urgent,' said Loric.
Talarin nodded, stepping across the chamber and taking up a sword and buckling it on. He looked at the Warrows. 'If ye have weaponry, best fetch it now.'
Tip's eyes widened and he turned to Loric and Phais, but they were gone, the door to the chamber swinging shut behind. 'Come on, Beau,' he said, springing for the door, 'my bow and your sling are back in the room.'
Beau groaned but followed on Tipperton's heels.
Out they darted and across the snow to the building housing the guest quarters, as somewhere in the distance a bugle sounded stridently.
Swiftly Tipperton strung his bow and strapped the quiver of arrows to his thigh. Beau rummaged through his pack. 'Barn rats, Tip, I can't find my-! Oh. Here it is. Now bullets, bullets, where in the world-? Ah.' Taking up the pouch, Beau swung 'round just in time to see Tip vanish through the door. 'Hoy! Wait for me!'
Still the bugle sounded.
Beau caught up with Tipperton, that buccan with an arrow nocked and looking about for suitable cover. At hand, Elves, some girted with swords, others bearing spears or bows or long-knives or other such, took places all 'round, their stations seeming at random yet anything but.
Talarin strode by. 'Sir Tipperton, take stance by that tree yon. Sir Beau, there by the boulder where thy sling will do best.'
'Ha,' muttered Beau as he ran to the rock, 'perhaps if we are attacked by a tree…'
Again the bugle sounded, and now they could hear the pounding of a horse. Moments later a rider on a black horse flashed into view, emerging from the pines.
Tip looked hard at the rider-golden hair flying, harnessed sword across his back, a long-knife girted to his thigh, a bugle in his hand. Now Tip stepped away from his cover and called to Beau, 'It's Vanidor.'
'Vanidor? But what's he doing up here?'
Tip shrugged and moved toward Talarin, who had stepped into the open before the gathering hall.
The hard-driven horse thundered across the clearing, snow flying from hooves. Haled up short, the steed skidded to a halt next to Talarin, the rider dismounting at one and the same time.
'Vanidor,' called Beau, grinning and stepping toward the Elf, who glanced with weary eyes briefly at the Waer-ling, his brow creasing in puzzlement. But then Talarin embraced the Elf, saying, 'Alor Gildor.'
'Athir,' replied the Elf, returning the embrace, then stepping back. 'Vi didron iyr velles. '
Talarin glanced down at the Waerlinga, and then said in the common tongue, '111 news, Gildor?'
Now Gildor, haggard, his face drawn, distress lurking deep within his eyes, replied, 'Aye, Father, ill news
