He shuffled into one of the towers, led us through a long hallway where the walls were hung all over with weapons, and turned onto a narrow spiral staircase, from which we emerged into a hall where the Wild Hearts, Milord Alistan, and Egrassa were already eating.
“Where’s Mumr?” asked Kli-Kli, sitting down on a bench and pulling a plate toward him.
“Sleeping, he’s not feeling well,” said Hallas, stuffing a piece of sausage into his mouth and chomping on it.
“Is he all right?”
“A slight fever,” said Eel, taking a sip of beer. “He’ll be fine in a couple of days. I’m more worried about Honeycomb.”
“Miralissa will do everything possible to save him,” said Egrassa, without raising his eyes from his plate.
The rest of supper was spent in silence.
When the elfess joined us, Egrassa jumped to his feet and moved up a chair for her. Lady Miralissa nodded gratefully, and it was clear that she was absolutely exhausted. She had dark shadows under her eyes and deep creases running across her forehead; her hair was loose and tangled.
Milord Alistan poured her some dark wine without speaking, but she merely shook her head and smiled sadly.
“Wine and food can wait, I have another job to do. Egrassa?”
“Yes, the men have already made everything ready. We can begin.”
“Have you eaten?” she asked, turning to us.
“We are ready, milady,” Milord Alistan answered for all of us.
Kli-Kli nodded hastily, with his mouth full.
“Let us go,” she said briefly, and stood up. Egrassa dashed to her and supported her by the elbow.
“Lady Miralissa,” Hallas said plaintively. “You haven’t said a word about Honeycomb. Is he all right?”
“Yes, the danger has passed, the warrior will live. He is sleeping now, but I am afraid he will not be able to continue on the journey. It will be two weeks before Honeycomb can get out of bed, and we cannot afford to wait that long. We will leave him in the castle.”
“Where are we going, Kli-Kli?” I asked the goblin, when Miralissa had left the hall.
“They’re going to have Ell’s funeral now, so hurry up, Dancer. And don’t forget to pick the ling up off the table, or someone will think he’s a rat and kill him.”
I grabbed Invincible and set him on my shoulder. I had no idea what I was going to do with him now.
It was completely dark outside, but the gates of the castle were not locked. The detachment of soldiers that we had met on our way here had only just returned. They had four people from Crossroads with them—the only ones who had managed to hide in the forest when the orcs attacked the village.
Miralissa led us out through the gates and down to the river. On the other bank Zagraba rose up as black as an inkblot against the starry sky. A funeral pyre had been built right at the water’s edge. They had been generous with the wood, and the heap was two yards high. Ell’s body lay on the very top, clad in a black silk shirt. His s’kash and bow lay beside him.
We halted at a distance, watching as Miralissa and Egrassa approached our dead comrade.
“And now one more has left us,” said Alistan Markauz.
“Two, milord,” Eel corrected the count. “Tomorrow we shall have to commit Marmot to the earth.”
“I’m afraid we shall not even have time for that; we leave at dawn,” the captain of the guard said with a guilty shake of his head.
“But a funeral—,” the dwarf began. Alistan Markauz interrupted him:
“They will take care of Marmot’s body, Deler.”
Miralissa and Egrassa walked back to us.
“Sleep well, k’lissang. Egrassa and I will take care of your kin,” Miralissa said, and snapped her fingers.
The fire took immediately. The flames roared up to the sky like a red horse that became a red dragon, roaring as it consumed the wood and the body of the dead elf. Reflected in the water, the magical fire strained upward toward the stars, it howled and wailed, bearing the elf’s soul away into the light. The pyre was more than twenty yards away, but we all moved back, because the heat was unbearable.
The flames gave a sudden sob, the burnt-out platform on which Ell was lying collapsed down into the open jaws of the heat, and the pyre tossed a shower of sparks up to the cold stars.
Miralissa began singing in a low, throaty voice, chanting the song that elves sang over a deceased kinsman.
Nobody said a word until the pyre had been reduced to a heap of winking coals radiating heat.
“That is all,” said the elfess. She made several passes with her hands and a sudden gust of wind picked the coals and Ell’s ashes up off the ground and swirled them up into the air, filling the night with hot fireflies, then tossed the remains of the pyre into the river.
The river hissed and snorted in alarm, its calm waters heaved and spat out steam and then swallowed up the remains of our companion.
“Hmm…,” said Deler after a short silence. “I’d like to be buried so…”
“Beautifully,” Hallas concluded for him.
“We have a belief that when an elf dies in battle, a new star lights up in the sky,” said Egrassa. “Foolish, but beautiful. Ell deserved his star.”
“Like all those no longer with us,” Alistan replied. “Let’s go back to the castle, it’s late.”
And the river flowed on as quietly and lazily as ever, with nothing to show that a few minutes earlier it had swallowed up the remains of a funeral pyre.
“Harold, this is yours.” Kli-Kli jabbed one finger at a sack with two shoulder straps that was standing beside my bed.
It was barely dawn outside, but the group was already up. Zagraba was waiting for us, and I had a chilly feeling of anticipation in my belly. But whether what was coming was good or bad, I couldn’t tell.
“What’s in it?” I asked, fastening on my crossbow.
“Your things. Blanket, rations, and a few odds and ends. I took the liberty of transferring all this junk from your saddlebags, plus a few things from the general heap…”
“Who asked you to do that?” I asked in a threatening voice.
“Oh, Harold,” Kli-Kli said dismissively. “No need for gratitude, I got up a lot earlier than you, so it was no bother for me.”
“Kli-Kli, don’t pretend to be more stupid than you really are. Why did you empty the bags?”
“Because you won’t carry them on your back. You’re not a horse, are you? It’s easier to walk through Zagraba with a sack. The trappers and a few hunters who dare to go into the forests take exactly this kind of sack with them.”
“Mmm…,” I began warily. “Kli-Kli, I thought I heard you use the word ‘walk.’ Did I mishear?”
“Not at all, that’s right, I said ‘walk.’ The horses are staying at the castle.”
“What!”
“Harold, I can see that you’ve never gone roaming through a forest before,” Kli-Kli chuckled, tightening the knot on his sack. “Just you try galloping through fallen trees, bogs, and darkness knows what else on a horse. It’s no fun. We’re going on foot. The elfess says that from here to Hrad Spein is exactly seven days’ march. That is, one week. The entrance to the burial chambers is in the Golden Forest. If the gods smile on us, we’ll soon be there.”
It was surprising, but I didn’t want to leave Little Bee. After a month and a half of traveling, I couldn’t imagine how I could get by without my own horse. And now I would have to wear my legs out dragging a massive load around on my back.
I didn’t really believe that Kli-Kli had packed my things properly, so I turned the contents of the sack out onto the bed. It would have been just like the goblin to slip five weighty cobblestones in with my things out of the sheer goodness of his heart. Sagot be praised, there weren’t any cobblestones, but I did find a stack of useless heavy things.
“What are you doing?” Kli-Kli asked, watching skeptically as I set the superfluous things aside.
“Sparing my back unnecessary suffering,” I muttered, tossing away a cast-iron cooking pot.
