touched down to the map and traced a course. 'South through Rell seems the least of the evil choices ye face. Can ye not pass 'cross Coron Mountain-a mountain some name Stormhelm-then try the way under, through the holt of Drimmen-deeve. If it, too, is blocked'-his finger moved southward-'then there is Gunar Slot and the Gunarring Gap beyond. If the Slot is closed'-again his finger moved, sliding westerly this time-'then Ralo Pass may be open. If that way is barred, then mayhap ye can go farther downchain to where Trellinath meets Gothon'- now Talarin's hand moved to the border between the two, more than a thousand miles west of the pass into Gunar- 'for I seem to recall there is a way through the mountains nigh here, leading into Tugal. Beyond that I cannot say, for if the choices come to such, only ye four will be able to weigh what needs at that time to be done.'
With every one of Talarin's words, Tip's spirits fell, for each of the subsequent choices given seemed to be pushing them farther and farther away from Dendor in Aven, where King Agron ruled. Sighing, Tip touched his breast where the token rested and wondered if his vow to a dying Kings-man would ever be fulfilled.
Two days later, sunrise found Tip and Beau and Phais and Loric in the stables, saddling two horses and lading two others with provisions and a smattering of gear. Soon all was ready, and Phais and Loric each took the reins of two steeds and began leading them from the mews, Tip and Beau following. But even as they did so, they met Aris and Rael and Jaith coming down the passage within, and each bore a small bundle, yet what each held lay concealed within enwrapping cloth.
The three Darai stepped aside to let Phais and Loric and the four steeds pass. Then they beckoned the Waerlinga unto them.
The buccen stepped forward to say their farewells.
'I will miss our days together, Sir Tipperton,' said Jaith,
'for 'twas a joy to play and sing for thee, as well as to tell thee legendary tales.'
Tip smiled. 'I just wish I could have learned the lute, my Lady, to play along as you sang.'
Jaith laughed. 'Fear not, my friend, for thou wilt one day learn. And speaking of lutes, I have for thee a parting gift.' Smiling, Jaith unwrapped her bundle and presented Tipperton with a lute small enough to fit his hands.
Made of light and dark wood it was-blond clasped in ebony-and had silver frets and six silver strings tuned by black wooden pegs set in the head. A grey baldric embellished with a green tree looped from the neck piece to a small peg at the base of the body. 'Oh,' breathed Tipper-ton, taking the lute and handling it as if it were a precious fragile thing. And he fingered a chord and strummed the argent strands, and concordant tones sounded pure and silver.
He looked up at Jaith, tears standing in his eyes. 'Oh, Lady Jaith, I cannot take this where I am going, for it is entirely too precious. You keep it till I return.' And he thrust it toward her.
'Nonsense, Sir Tipperton,' responded Jaith, refusing. 'Bards as thyself oft travel the world, and neither heat, cold, storm, wind, nor wave, neither fair weather nor foul, stay them from their ramble… as neither do peril nor peace. Into hazard thou dost now go, yet song must go with thee as well.'
'But I have nothing to carry it in to protect it from the weather.'
Rael smiled and said, 'Fear not, Sir Tipperton, for we have thought of all.' And she presented to Tipperton a dark velvet bag and one of brown leather as well, saying, 'These will keep thy instrument safe from the elements.'
Tipperton reached out and took the bags, each inscribed identically with Elven runes-one sewn by hand in silver thread, the other branded in gold. And each was affixed with a carrying strap which could be set wide to slip 'round a shoulder or short to carry by hand. As well, there were thongs attached for tying onto saddles or racks.
Tipperton started to slip the lute into the velvet bag, but then stopped and looked at Jaith. 'Do I need loosen the lute strings? I mean, where I go, there will be rain, heat, morning dew-'
Jaith held out a hand to stop his words. 'Nay, Sir Tipperton. 'Tis Elven made, and will not warp. I saw to it myself. Too, the strings should last forever, for silver is mingled with starsilver.'
'You made the lute?'
Jaith nodded, adding, 'And drew and wrapped the strings.'
Again tears welled in Tip's eyes, but he swiped at his eyes with his sleeve and then gently slipped the lute into the velvet bag and pulled the drawstring secure and then in turn slid that bag into the leather one and cinched the thong at the opening tight and wrapped it 'round the neck and knotted it. As he did so, he asked, 'What say the runes, my Lady?'
'Why, 'tis thy name, Tipperton Thistledown, scribed in Sylva.'
Tipperton grinned, then adjusted the buckle and slung the strap 'cross his shoulder and chest, and settled the lute at his back.
Now Aris stepped to Beau's side. 'Much have I enjoyed our talks, my friend, and much I have learned from thy red-bound book and from thy lore as well.'
'Not one whit as much as I,' replied Beau. 'Ignorant was I when I came into this glen, and ignorant am I still, yet much less so, thanks to you, my Lady. I just wish that I could stay here longer, then maybe I'd know even more. But Modru has seen to that, eh? For now I must go.'
Aris nodded solemnly. 'And where thou goest is into peril, and I would have ye take this to have at hand should the need arise.' And she unwrapped the cloth she held and took from it a small silver case and gave it over to Beau.
His eyes wide, Beau slipped the catch and opened the case; inside he found pressed leaves of a golden mint. 'Gwynthyme!' he breathed, then looked up at Aris. 'Oh, but you will have more need of this than I, what with Vulgs in Drearwood nearby.'
Aris shook her head. 'Vulgs might lie along thy path as well, Sir Beau, and shouldst thou or thy companions be bitten, then this will counter the venom. Thou knowest the way of its use. Husband it well, for 'tis but six doses in all.'
Carefully he closed the silver box and slipped it into the left breast pocket of his jacket, saying, 'I thank you for this gift, my Lady, more precious by far than gold. Close to my heart will I keep it ever to remind me of you.' Then he made a sweeping bow to Aris, and she smiled in return.
Then did Rael step forward again, and this time she presented the Waerlinga with hooded cloaks sized to fit them-an elusive dun brown on one side, a shadowy grey-green on the other. Dark metal clasps were affixed at the collars. 'Now that ye go into peril, wear these well. Choose which side to mantle inward and which to mantle out depending upon the surround, and hard-pressed will be eyes to see ye, whether they belong to friend or foe.'
Oohing and Ahhing and turning the grey-green side out, the buccen donned the garments, Tipperton setting aside his lute to do so.
Twirling about, Beau said, 'Well then, how do I look?'
'Like a wee Alor, my Lord,' replied Jaith, and then she and the other Darai burst into gay laughter, Tip and Beau joining in.
But then Beau sobered and looked at Tip and said, 'But we have nothing to give in return.'
'That ye go against Modru is enough,' said Rael.
'Speaking of going against Modru,' said Beau, glancing at the open stable doors and the sunshine beyond, 'it looks as if the time has come.'
Catching up his lute and shouldering it, Tip said, 'If we're ever to deliver this coin…'
They turned to go, yet Rael stayed them with her hand, and kneeling, she kissed them both, then said, 'Though we know not what they mean, remember the words of the rede: seek the aid of those not men.'
'Lady Rael, surely your words are not meant for us,' protested Tip, 'but for Eloran instead. He is the one riding to the High King's side, not us. All we have to fulfill is my promise to a Kingsman dead.'
Rael stood and looked down at the two Waerlinga. 'Nevertheless, Sir Tipperton. Sir Beau, ye both were present when those words were said.'
'Yes,' agreed Beau, 'we were there. But so were others:
Eloran, Gildor, Vanidor, Faeon, and Talarin… and yourself, of course, Lady Rael. I agree with Tip: surely those words were meant for someone other than us, for we're nothing but a couple of country bumpkins and totally inconsequential.'
'Nay, Sir Beau, inconsequential thou art not,' said Rael.
Jaith cleared her throat. 'When thou dost get a chance, Sir Tipperton, tell Sir Beau thy sire's tale of the
