'Aye.'
Beau stepped to Shimmer and hugged her. 'Farewell, sweet Shimmer, and take care.'
She lapped him with her tongue.
One by one the great 'Wolves came to each of the buc-cen and suffered their touch, all but Greylight, that is, the pack leader standing aloof.
And Tipperton hugged each of them, and Longshank, last in line, gave a single tentative lick to the buccan's cheek. 'Take care, my friend,' whispered Tipperton. 'Perhaps one day we'll share another rabbit.'
Beau stepped up to the porch and helped Tip to stand and then said, 'Farewell, Dalavar, and we thank you for all you have done. And I say, but where has Shifter gotten to? I would tell him good-bye.'
Dalavar smiled and then said, 'Ah, but you already have.' And a gloom gathered about Dalavar, enveloping him, his shape changing, growing large, silvery-grey, with black claws and glistening fangs, the shifting form dropping to all fours, and where Dalavar had been now grinned a Draega, though one somehow darker than the others. And a silveron nugget dangled on a thong around Shifter's neck.
'Oh my!' exclaimed Beau, as Tip gasped in wonder.
Yipping and yammering, the great Silver Wolves milled about, and of a sudden and almost as one they turned and sped from the town.
And in the wee candlemarks of Year's Start Day, the first day of January, the first day of the two thousand one hundred ninety seventh year of the Second Era of Mithgar, the very first day of the third year of a great and terrible war, Tip stood with Beau's support on the porch of the White Horse Inn, the buccen watching as seven Silver Wolves loped away to the west under a sky of cold, crystalline stars.
When they were gone from sight, Beau looked at Tip and said, 'Well, bucco, let's go get that mulled wine.'
Chapter 24
'Seek the aid of those not men,'' intoned Beau, staring into the flames and quoting Dara Rael of Arden, 'and we did, for surely Dalavar and the Silver Wolves were not men-'
'Oh, Beau, you are assuming her rede was meant for us,' replied Tip, 'and there were too many persons of renown in that chamber for it to have been aimed at two insignificant Warrows. Besides, the rede goes on to say, 'to quench the fires of war,' and we certainly didn't do that.'
The buccen sat before the hearth at the White Horse Inn and sipped on flagons of ale. They had been in Jallorby for a month altogether, with Tip growing stronger every day. The swelling in his arm had finally subsided, much to Beau's relief, for he had dreaded the thought of having to sever the limb to save Tipperton's life. Even so, even though Tip seemed well on the way to full recovery, still Beau gauged it would take weeks more ere they would be ready to travel.
'Oh, Tip, I know we didn't quench any fires of war,' protested Beau. 'The point I was trying to make was something I told Farrin on the very first day I met him.'
Tip's eyes widened. 'You met Farrin? Farrin the Mage?'
'Oh yes, didn't I tell you?'
Tip shook his head.
'Well, he came to Dendor about a week before I left. I told him about the rede and that none of us knew who it was meant for. I went on to say that you had gone off with an army of men, and it worried me. He understood my concern and said that especially with 'wild magic' none can ever tell what a rede might mean or who it's intended for. Regardless, there you were, off to Gron, marching with only men and no not-men… and you nearly lost your life because of it.'
Tip growled. 'Beau, yes, I nearly lost my life, but it was not because I was surrounded by men; instead it was because of a not-man.'
Beau looked quizzically across the rim of his mug, and Tip added, 'A not-man Vulg, in fact.'
'Yes, Tip, but contrary to Dara Rael's rede, you most certainly were not seeking that not-man's aid.'
Tip grinned ruefully. 'Ah, bucco, you're right about that.'
A knot of wood popped in the fireplace, and Tip said, 'Rede or no rede, tell me more of Farrin. Did he find the Utruni? Will they help?'
Beau let out a long, low sigh and said, 'Yes, he found them, and, no, they'll not help… at least not the elder Utruni. They consider this war an affair of the surface dwellers-that's us-and not the business of those who dwell within the living stone.'
'What about the Dwarves?' asked Tip. 'They live in the stone; they fight in this war.'
'Exactly what I asked,' said Beau, 'and exactly what Farrin himself asked the Stone Giants. But still they declined… even though the Dwarves are caught up in this war, the Utruni elders refused to join an alliance, although some of the youngers seemed undecided.'
'Oh,' said Tip, dejected. 'I was hoping they would help, for Mage Letha once said that with their over stone mayhap a single Utrun alone could fell an entire mountain.'
'Adon,' said Beau. 'What powerful allies they would be.'
Tip nodded and sighed. After a while he took a swig of his ale and rolled it around in his mouth and then swallowed. At length, he said, 'Tell me more of Farrin.'
Beau shrugged. 'Well, there's not that much more to tell. He was looking forward to finding his friends and completing the circle of seven again. When I told him that Alvaron had been killed, it struck him like a thunderbolt- it seems no one at the castle had said a word. He left the very next day to find the remaining five. But before he did he came to me and told me to wait for Dalavar. -Er, that is, he didn't single out Dalavar by name, but said that someone would come from the east who might help me. Sure enough, it was Dalavar and the Draega… a pack of not-men, you see.'
Tip threw up a hand in surrender. 'All right, Beau. I give up. From now on we'll try to make certain that at least a few not-men are among those we join or aid or ask for aid.'
Beau grinned. 'Even if the not-men are Foul Folk? Rucks and such and Vulgs?'
'No, no,' said Tip, smiling back at his friend, 'those not-men I'd rather thwart.'
Beau looked long at the fire, then turned to Tipperton. 'I say. Tip, just where will we go when you are back up to full strength? I mean, look, for a year or more we had a mission: we carried a coin, trying to deliver it. And so we did. And when that was done, well, there was the plague to deal with, and so you went after gwynthyme while I tended the ill. Then you took on the mission of scouting for King Agron and I came as soon as I could. But now, Tip, with the coin delivered, the plague put down, and King Agron's army no more, well, I feel like a buccan without a purpose, like I'm on the fringes instead of where I should be. I mean, here we are in Jallorby sipping ale, while across the face of Mithgar a terrible war rages. It just doesn't seem right that we're not helping out.'
'You're right. Beau: we shouldn't be sitting on the margins, what with a war to be fought, an evil to be stopped. And we can't just sit in Jallorby and wait till all's done.'
Beau took a pull on his mug. Then wiping the foam from his mouth he said, 'Right, then. So I ask again, what shall we do, where shall we go, when you are up to full strength?'
Tip sighed and flexed his fingers, yet somewhat stiff from long disuse. 'When do you think that'll be, Beau?'
Beau frowned. 'By the spring thaw, I would gauge. Certainly by the time Jailor Pass is clear, if we go south, that is. But that begs the question I asked: where next? To Caer Pendwyr in Pellar? That's where Phais and Loric headed. Like them, should we try to find the High King, wherever he may be? Or how about we go to Darda Galion? I mean, if Drimmen-deeve is still under siege, well we could help out there. Then there's always the Wilderland where we started, though that's a long trip. On the other hand, I suppose we could go to Jordkeep and help out the Jordians… I mean, we are already in Jord. So what say, bucco? Where next? -I mean as soon as you are fit.'
Tip shrugged, then said, 'How about we go to Darda Erynian?'
Beau sucked in air between his teeth. 'Blackwood? But why?'
Tip paused and took a sip from his mug. Then he glanced at Beau and said. 'Look, Beau, but for the Wilderland and Jord, the other places you named-Caer Pendwyr, Pellar, Darda Galion, Drimmen-deeve-lie south of
