The passage ended at some double doors. Lofotan indicated to Treskan, Artyrith, and Mathi that they were to stand on either side of the doors and at his signal, open them simultaneously. When they were in place, Lofotan composed himself, resting his sword against his shoulder.
“Now!”
The doors flew inward with a bang. In they rushed, Lofotan leading with sword leveled.
The room beyond was a large one with a vaulted ceiling. A forest of candelabra brightly burned. Dominating the room was a large ivorywood table. It was set for dinner, but only two were seated: a noble-looking Silvanesti-Dolanath Arkesian, the governor, Mathi recalled-and their missing leader, Balif.
It took all of Lofotan’s control not to exclaim, “My lord!” when he saw the general. Artyrith was not so contained. He muttered one of his famous obscenities. Treskan merely gaped.
“What is the meaning of this?” Dolanath said.
“My journey companions,” Balif said, rising from his chair. “Come in, please.”
“What’s the meaning of overcoming us with magic and throwing us in cells?” Artyrith snapped at the governor. “Most inhospitable, I say!”
Dolanath looked to Balif. “Very unfortunate, I agree,” said the general. “I was on the point of winning your freedom when you burst in.” He could not help but smile. “Seems my companions could not be held, my lord governor.”
A rush of footfalls in the corridor announced the belated arrival of the governor’s guard. They surrounded Balif’s comrades, but Lofotan’s scowl and Artyrith’s expert sweeps of his blade kept them at a respectful distance.
“Peace, everyone,” Balif said. “Weapons are not needed.”
Reluctantly they allowed their swords to be taken away, except for Mathi, who gladly pressed hers on the closest soldier. The guards withdrew, closing the doors behind themselves. Dolanath offered the elves places at his table. Warily, Lofotan complied. Treskan went straight to the nectar urn. Artyrith circled the table, sniffing and tasting the proffered fare. He made faces or nodded, depending on what he thought of the dishes. Mostly he grimaced. Mathi sat at the far end of the table, as far from Dolanath as she could be.
“I beg your forgiveness, gentle elves,” said the governor, not sounding contrite in the slightest. “But the timing of your visit was unfortunate. We had no advance word of your coming, and you arrived in the midst of a siege.”
“Siege?” said Lofotan. “We’re not at war. I saw no army outside.”
“Nevertheless.” Dolanath sat down. “We are besieged and for some weeks now.”
The enemy was not an army or a mob of uncouth human savages. They were a seldom-seen horde of diminutive people, who had the uncanny ability to pass in and out of the fortress at will. Mathi’s ears pricked up: Who else could the governor be talking about but Rufe? Rufe and numerous friends, it seemed.
Vital stores had been looted, civilian traders picked clean, and nothing the governor tried to protect royal property made any difference, the governor explained. Desperate, Dolanath had taken the extraordinary step of detaining every visitor on the weak premise they might be allies of the mysterious invaders. Hence the unexpected seizure of Balif and his party.
Dolanath was an easterner, a minor member of the Hestanthalas clan. While he undoubtedly did know the name of Balif, he had not recognized the general. The governor simply revived Balif first, on the natural premise that he was the leader of his group. After some dinner and conversation masquerading as interrogation, Dolanath became convinced that Balif and his company were indeed on a mission to survey land for future settlement.
“You won’t have an easy time,” he warned. “Beyond the Thon-Tanjan, the land is infested with every sort of barbarian-humans of every size and color, centaurs, and those monstrous little thieves. Our outposts are few. There is no possibility I can protect you out there.”
“I thank you for your concern, my lord. No doubt you have noticed my friends and I can take care of ourselves.”
Artyrith laughed but the governor was not amused.
“Your companions are formidable, Camaxilas, but how will you fare against a thousand nomad cutthroats?”
Balif had fought armies of ten thousand human tribesmen and once even served under the barbarian chief Karada against a notorious band of human marauders. Mounted nomad raiders were not to be trifled with, but the general knew them and understood their ways. As for centaurs, they were mercurial creatures, violent one moment and weepingly sentimental the next. Balif could deal with them too if he must. Avoiding the issue of his experience with the elves’ enemies, Balif asked about the new invaders, the “little thieves” who had Dolanath so frustrated.
“They are the spawn of Hiddukel!” he declared. “They come near and seem innocent of evil purpose. Before you know it, your purse is gone, your food purloined, and your wits confounded. They must use wicked magic to cloud minds and steal with impunity!”
Before the siege began, Dolanath explained, there had been a wooden ramp that allowed travelers to enter and leave Free Winds. Guards posted at the foot of the ramp inspected everyone coming and going to make sure duties were paid and contraband not taken from Free Winds.
“Contraband?” asked Artyrith.
“By decree of the Speaker, it is forbidden to trade metals or weapons to humans,” Balif said. “Go on, governor.”
One of the little persons got into the fortress. He was seen but before anyone could stop him, he was inside. Since then chaos had reigned in Free Winds. No door remained locked. Treasuries were emptied or, more strangely, found intact but moved around. One humble dealer in herbs and roots found his coin box stuffed with gold, while a rich jewel trader had his entire stock vanish in a single night. The gate of the governor’s keep- supposedly the most secure place in Free Winds-was mysteriously opened; then just as unexpectedly, it was shut and locked. The keep was penetrated again then closed again despite a standing watch. Dolanath ordered it barricaded shut in case a storming party tried to enter in the confusion, and by dawn the gate was standing wide open once more with a bulwark of timbers fruitlessly intact behind it.
Mathi almost laughed. Rufe had already proven, to her, his uncanny talent for coming and going as he pleased; that, coupled with a penchant for pilfering, had reduced the governor of Free Winds to impotence. Her odd savior was obviously having a grand time at Dolanath’s expense.
Mathi’s amusement must have shown. Dolanath looked down his nose at the girl and said, “Do you find crime a jest, child?”
She sobered. “No, my lord. It all sounds more like mischief than crime, I would say.”
“You have not endured it. For me, a loyal servant of the Great Speaker, these torments have been like an endless battle. I have no visible opponent, no chance to employ tactics or counterattack. I can only endure losses.”
It was clear that whatever they might find farther east, there were already members of the new race in Free Winds. As long as Rufe and his kind found entertainment around the dreary, elven outpost, they would continue to make the governor’s life unbearable.
Balif pushed back his chair and stood. Thanking Dolanath for his belated hospitality, he excused himself for bed. Lofotan loyally got up, as did Treskan and Mathi. Artyrith lingered over his plate, trying to season the provincial meal with careful dollops of herbs, oil, and vinegar. Lofotan cleared his throat loudly. Artyrith got the message and rose to his feet.
“Ah, where do we retire to?” Treskan asked.
Balif said, “The rooms we were brought to will do.”
“Our cells? I trust the doors won’t be bolted on us again!”
Dolanath colored at the suggestion. It was bad enough that he had locked up civilized travelers from Silvanost. Being reminded of it hardly soothed his conscience.
The male elves returned to the larger room where Artyrith, Treskan, and Lofotan had been held. Mathi went alone to her smaller one. The governor’s servants brought in comfortable beds, an oil lamp to replace the broken luminar, a pitcher of water, and a chamber pot. Worn out from the long day, Mathi crawled into bed. Instead of immediate slumber, she found herself gazing at the ceiling, wondering how far Balif’s expedition would get with every hand in the country seemingly against him …
