deal about your father from various mercenaries and traders, the same folk who warned me about King Torg's short temper and distrust of anything non-dwarven,' the centaur explained casually.
Alusair swatted away a bug. 'And me?' she asked.
'Bounty hunters spoke of you most frequently,' the chieftain replied. He paused again, then lifted his left hand. Putting his right hand to his mouth, Jad whistled. Alusair started, and two dwarven sentries stationed nearby came running at a trot.
'Oh, dear,' Jad said when he noticed them coming toward him. 'You'd best tell them there's nothing-'
Before the centaur chieftain could finish his sentence, the falcon arced down from the twilight and swooped onto his gloved, outstretched left hand. Alusair said a few words in Dwarvish. The two sentries silently returned to their posts, pushing through the tall grass.
As Jad grabbed the jesses attached to the bird's legs, the falcon tightened its grip on the glove. The centaur deftly snatched the leather straps with his right hand and slid them into the grip of his left. The bird's sharp talons bit into the leather glove, and it squeaked a short, piercing note. 'Yes, yes,' Jad said paternally, moving his face close to the falcon's. 'You've done your job well.' He pulled a small piece of food from his pouch and fed it to the bird.
'He's very beautiful,' Alusair said. She studied the falcon's plumage-its darkly hooded head and yellow legs. 'A peregrine, if I know my hunting birds.'
Jad nodded appreciatively. 'Right again, Princess,' he chimed.
'And you can communicate with him somehow, if he's been spying for you.'
The centaur chieftain held up his right hand. For the first time, Alusair noticed a thin silver bracelet around his wrist. 'A present from a mage my tribe once helped. It has a spell on it that lets me talk to, even see through the eyes of, any bird I choose. With the bracelet and the falcons, I've been watching the dwarves for the last few days.'
Alusair pulled up a thin stalk of grass and twirled it between her thumb and index finger. She watched the hawk's bright, steady eyes and wondered what it was like to see the world soar underneath as you lofted over trees and lakes and armies. 'The freedom must be wonderful,' she said after a while.
Jad only nodded. 'But what of you, Princess?' he asked. 'From the stories I'd heard, I didn't expect to find you going off to fight alongside your father.' When Alusair paused and stopped twirling the grass, the centaur offered an apologetic smile. 'Forgive me,' he said sincerely. 'I shouldn't pry.'
Alusair smiled weakly, but the direct question had shocked her into uneasiness. 'Now I see how you learn so much,' she said, a bit sarcastically. 'You interrogate anyone who'll talk to you.' When she saw the pained expression on the chieftain's face, she added, 'I never expected to be fighting beside my father either.'
Relief spread over Jad's face. He reached into his bag and pulled out a small leather hood, decorated with tiny gems. The precious stones reflected the last rays of the setting sun as the centaur held it out to the princess. 'Could you help me with this?' he asked.
As Alusair carefully hooded the falcon for the night, Jad reached for the long piece of metal. 'And this,' he said when the hood was secure, 'is his perch.' The princess took the rod and bent it into a U. She stuck the ends into the ground, and Jad coaxed the falcon onto the twined area, where its talons could find a comfortable purchase.
The centaur rubbed his arms. 'Much better,' he sighed. 'Now, where were we? Ah, yes, marching off to war.'
Alusair and the chieftain talked casually for over an hour, until even the last, faint traces of the sun had disappeared in the western sky. The moon came out, trailed by the cluster of stars that always hung behind it in the sky. The bright orb of Selune lit up the field, casting a frosty radiance over the lines of tents and the dark outline of the forest. Jad's troops returned with baskets of nuts and berries and even some freshly baked bread. After taking a little for themselves, Jad and Alusair sent the rest of the food to Torg.
As the evening passed, the princess studied the dark-maned centaur chieftain. His friendly, sincere smile and captivatingly dark eyes seemed to reveal him as an honest, kindhearted soul. As they walked slowly around the camp's perimeter, Alusair found herself discussing much about her father and the upcoming battle, though she certainly never intended to do so. Jad, for his part, listened with interest, asking a few questions and relating the little he knew of the Tuigan.
Eventually the strain of the long day's march started to show on Alusair's face. 'Perhaps you should get some rest,' Jad told her after her third yawn in as many minutes.
The princess could only agree. 'We do have a long march ahead of us. The spot on the Golden Way where we're meeting my father is some distance from here.'
Jad tossed his head to again remove an unruly lock of hair from his eyes. 'I have a wonderful idea,' he said brightly. 'I can offer Torg a guide, one who could take you through the forest. There are many more direct routes to your meeting place, and that will cut days off your trek.'
Shaking her head, Alusair frowned slightly. 'I don't think so.' She motioned to the forest. 'Torg won't go through there, with or without a guide. I think it's a fine idea, too, but Torg simply won't see past his mistrust of, well, everything.'
'We'll see about that,' the centaur exclaimed. He trotted off, leaving Alusair to walk briskly in his wake just to catch up. She attempted to stop Jad, but he rushed down the lines of darkened tents toward the open central area. Once there, he easily spotted Torg's tent, larger than the others, with the standard of Earthfast posted at the door.
The guards wouldn't let the centaur enter, but Jad made enough of a racket to draw Torg out. When Alusair finally reached the ironlord's tent, a heated discussion was already underway.
'You're being a fool,' the centaur said sharply. Jad pranced back and forth, towering over the dwarven king and his two guards. 'I can help you.'
Torg pushed the gold-bound black forks of his beard aside and folded his arms across his chest. 'I've tried to be polite about this, centaur. Obviously that doesn't work.' Spreading his feet apart a little, he said, 'Let's try this, then: the dwarves of Earthfast don't need help from creatures like you.'
Jad exhaled sharply, making a sound that reminded Alusair of nothing so much as a horse snorting angrily. She was angry herself as she moved to the centaur's side. 'Why, Torg?' she asked. 'The centaurs can make this journey easier for us, but you-'
'I won't have my troops allying with forest-bound riffraff like him,' the ironlord growled, his face growing red beneath his beard.
Jad looked down at Alusair, then at Torg. 'Race is no guide to character,' he said, trying to subdue his anger. 'I've known dwarves who were intelligent and wise. Nothing like you at all.' Without another word, he reared on his hind legs and headed away from Torg at a canter.
'Wait!' Alusair called. She glanced over her shoulder at Torg. The ironlord was scowling into his beard, muttering something in Dwarvish. Alusair raced after the centaur chieftain.
As she made her way to the edge of the camp, the princess saw the centaur in the bright moonlight. Jad kneeled where he'd set up the falcon's perch. He was struggling with the heavy leather glove when Alusair reached his side.
The centaur turned at her approach. 'That-that-' Bowing his head, he breathed deeply. When Jad looked up again, Alusair saw that some calm was reflected in his eyes. 'He's made me so angry I can't even talk!'
'I'm sorry,' Alusair offered.
'It's not your place to apologize for Torg, Princess.' The centaur glanced back toward the camp, then pulled on the leather hawking glove. 'To be honest, I don't know why your father called on him for assistance.'
'Father has stranger allies than the dwarves of Earthfast,' Alusair mumbled, a little bitterness creeping into her voice.
'The orcs you told me about?' Jad asked as he attempted to nudge the drowsy falcon onto his gloved hand. The hawk cried out irritably, and the centaur paused. 'Perhaps,' he ventured. 'Though I'd be willing to guess the King Azoun I've heard so much about had good reason for accepting their aid.'
Alusair let the subject drop, more for the feeling of guilt that was beginning to plague her than for any disagreement with Jad's observations. This latest, most puzzling display of Torg's narrow-mindedness was weighing upon her heavily. 'I'm just sorry Torg wouldn't allow you to help us,' she said after a moment.
Jad snorted. 'When I offered the guide to him, the buffoon asked why we weren't coming along to fight. I told
