But she saw more as the elven faces hardened to regard her with frank suspicion, even distrust. Old Rallaphan was glaring in open hostility. Perhaps she had miscalculated… perhaps she should have taken more time in describing the threat, before making her plea for action.
Praxian and Cannystrius exchanged nervous glances. After a moment it was the latter who rose, waddled forward, and curtly gestured for Quilene to proceed.
“I am glad my sister sage has brought this matter into the light,” the enchantress said. “For she states the conclusion of all among my Order. We have been striving to come to grips with an array of very dire portents, each seemingly more grim than the last. It is time that we take action.”
“Portents, dangers, threats!” mocked Galewn, standing and planting his hamlike hands on his hips. “Tell me, old woman… what are the portents? Where are the dangers?”
“In the Greens,” Belynda retorted sharply.
She was surprised when the giant bit back the outburst he’d been about to make. “Explain,” he demanded.
“A wild human lives there. He has corrupted elves and centaurs, even giants. He bears a powerful talisman that I believe to be the Stone of Command. This stone was held by the sage-enchantress Caranor, one of those who was killed by fire. It is powerful magic, for it can influence and weaken the will of all who behold it, or even sense its presence. I have spoken with witnesses who saw these outlaws burn a druid who was tied to a stake in the ground.” The blunt description of violence brought the chamber to a stunned silence. “Her death was painful, and horrifying,” Belynda concluded sternly. “And the wild human has declared his intent to bring the same fate right here, into Circle at Center!”
“Who are these witnesses?” demanded Praxian, standing tall and glaring down at Belynda.
She had already decided that she would not mention Ulfgang’s involvement-the haughty elves would immediately disdain the report of even the most educated dog. “Tamarwind Trak, a scout from Argentian. And one Deltan Columbine, a teacher and poet, also of my home realm.
“I don’t believe it!” Cannystrius huffed. “They must be making it up-such an occurence is utterly unthinkable!”
“Outlander lies!” cried Rallaphan, who had presided over his quarter of Circle at Center for nearly a thousand years. “I have heard of this Columbine-a young radical, looking to stir up trouble!”
“It is the truth!” insisted Belynda.
For some reason she looked first to the giant for support, but was chagrined to see Galewn already making his way out of the chamber. Quilene stood in the midst of shouting elves, looking at the sage-ambassador with an expression of mild exasperation. Belynda could only continue, trying to shout over the commotion. “It’s not only true-but we have to do something about it!”
“What?” Praxian bleated plaintively.
“We must organize ourselves, prepare to resist any attack. It will require training and discipline, lead to hard and unpleasant work. But it must be done, or we are doomed!”
“No!” shouted someone from among the elves.
“We need more proof-we cannot disrupt our world based on the word of some rural scout,” Cannystrius declared, the stout speaker addressing the Senate with rare severity. “I, for one, will not hear of it!”
“Nor shall I!” huffed Praxian.
“Listen to her! Listen to Belynda!” shrieked a new voice, and the sage-ambassador was touched to see Nistel standing on his stool, waving his fist at the elves. But his loyal advocacy had no discernible effect. Instead, the elves milled about, chattering and whispering. Several were crying, or casting cold and hostile looks at the sage- ambassador.
“You tried… but what could you expect?” said Quilene, who had somehow whisked herself to Belynda’s side.
“I thought they might listen, might understand the urgency…”
The enchantress shook her head. “They will need the word of more than one witness before they change the way they think… and even then, I don’t think half of these elves would acknowledge trouble if it was coming through the front door.”
Quilene made her farewells, then vanished as quickly as she had arrived. The other delegates trailed out, some pensive and alone, others in tight groups, hunched in quiet, agitated conversation. Finally only Blinker remained. The little gnome was still indignant, his beard bristling angrily as he glared at the empty stools throughout the chamber.
“Fools and idiots!” he snorted. “I’ve seen faeries with more sense!”
“She was right,” Belynda reflected, still thinking about the words of the enchantress.
“What?”
“We need more witnesses, more testimony before the Senate will admit that anything can be wrong. And I intend to get that proof!”
“Who are you going to send?” asked the gnome suspiciously.
“No one. I intend to go and see for myself. When I bring word back, I can stand before them and tell them what I’ve seen-and they will have to believe me!”
“No!” gasped Nistel. “It’ll be too dangerous-you should send someone else!” The gnome gulped and drew a deep breath. “Why, I’ll go…”
“That’s very brave, my friend. But it has to be me. It’s not fair to send another in my place. And besides, the Senate needs to hear from me directly.”
“But… you can’t go alone,” the gnome insisted. He drew a deep, heavy sigh. “I have to go with you.”
Belynda smiled. “I appreciate your loyalty… I really do. But your place is here.”
“Nonsense!” Blinker sounded very firm. “You need protection, and I’m just the person to protect you!”
The sage-ambassador finally had to laugh, and then touched the gnome’s shoulder in gratitude. “Then together we’ll go have a look at the Greens,” she said. “But I must ask you to say nothing of this to Tamarwind or Miradel… I fear that their objections would be as vociferous as yours.”
“I can keep a secret!” Nistel pledged, and the matter was decided.
“T hese are elves of Argentian, come to Circle at Center in response to a summons for help. Will you train them, make them into a company of warriors?”
Belynda asked Natac the question frankly. She had come to the villa this morning, accompanied by a gnome- the first of these Natac had met-and perhaps a hundred young elves. The pair of leaders, Tamarwind and Deltan, had joined them in the villa while the rest of the group had settled into a shady grotto just below the white-walled house.
“Yes,” Natac replied without hesitation. “At least, I will teach them what I knew, and what I have learned since coming here, about the making of war.”
“Tamarwind and Deltan can tell you about the enemy-they have seen him, and his force. His warriors include giants, centaurs, and many hundred elves.”
“Are there more elves willing to fight against him?” Natac wondered.
“I hope there will be, soon… there is a need among some of my people for further proof, which we hope will be forthcoming shortly.” The elfwoman glanced quickly at the gnome, who whistled and looked away.
“Very well. I think we should get started right away.”
“Will you stay here for a while and observe the training?” Miradel asked Belynda, then smiled shyly. “Also, I would enjoy the pleasure of your company, old friend.”
The elfwoman looked strangely uncomfortable. “I would like that but, no. I am afraid there are… other matters demanding my attention.”
“Of course,” Miradel said. “These are becoming busy times in Circle at Center, and across all of Nayve.”
The sage-ambassador and gnome departed on foot, and Natac set about getting his recruits organized. He appointed Tamarwind Trak as captain, and Deltan as his lieutenant. The rest of the day was spent getting the elves-who, to Natac’s surprise, included perhaps twenty-five females among their number-into a comfortable camp.
Three days later, the Tlaxcalan was surprised and impressed by how much progress the whole assemblage had made. Deltan had organized a group who had made many bows and arrows. For now these missiles were tipped with only wooden heads for practice, but Darryn Forgemaster had pledged to provide many steel arrowheads
