“Goodness, I did not know that,” said the woman. “Nor did I know of. . what do you call yourselves? Warrows? Yes, Warrows. I don’t believe we have any Warrows in the city of Lindor on the Isles of Gelen.”
“Not many of us travel beyond the bounds of the Boskydells,” said Pipper.
“Nor beyond the fringes of the Weiunwood,” added Binkton.
The matron frowned. “The Weiunwood?”
“Over by Stonehill,” said Binkton, gesturing to the east. “A shaggy old forest caught between the realm of Rian to the north and the land of Harth to the south.”
“I say,” said the man who had come to their defense, “I’m Raileigh Bains, a historian, and I’m travelling to the libraries in Caer Pendwyr to write a definitive account of the Dragonstone War. If you don’t mind, perhaps you could supply me with some details about the Warrows who served under the High King during that terrible time.”
“Wull, we all serve under the High King,” said Binkton, “but I suppose you mean the Company of the King.”
“Cousin Trissa was the captain of that company,” said Pipper. “Forty-three Warrows, archers all, who rode to the High King when summoned. What would you like to know?”
The man pulled a case out from under the seat and opened it. It contained a great number of blank sheets of parchment, and to one side a stoppered inkwell sat snugly in a small partition affixed to a corner, and along the other side in their own partition rested a number of sharpened quills. Raileigh took up parchments and flipped down a writing board and un-stoppered the ink and dipped a quill and said, “I’m ready when you are.”
Pipper turned to Binkton. “Where should we begin? The Gjeenian penny?”
Binkton shook his head. “No, that starts back in the Great War of the Ban, when Tipperton Thistledown helped the dying prince.”
“Then how about when Tuck and Danner and Patrel first got the armor?”
“Oh, I know,” said Binkton, “we’ll start when the specter of Aurion Redeye appeared to Trissa and Kipley and Danby.”
“That’s Trissa Buckthorn and Kipley Larkspur and Danby Candle-wood,” said Pipper to Raileigh.
“Who’s telling this tale,” flared Binkton, “you or me?”
“Why, you are, Bink. I’m just trying to help.”
Before Binkton could reply, with her eyes wide in trepidation the matron leaned forward and asked, “Did you say the specter of Aurion Redeye, the High King of ancient days? His ghost appeared? His true ghost?”
“Indeed,” said Binkton, glaring at Pipper, who himself had begun to answer.
As Pipper fell silent the woman gasped, “Oh, my,” and, seemingly to stave off a swoon, she fell back in her seat and fanned herself with her fingers.
Binkton turned to the historian and said, “You’ll recall that Aurion Redeye was the High King at the start of the Winter War, a thousand years ago. And some seven years back his ghost appeared to Trissa and Kipley and Danby, for he was redeeming a pledge made long past. . ”
Raileigh Bains’ pen scratched across the parchment, while Binkton and Pipper took turns telling the tale of the Warrow Company of the King: how it was first formed, how Tuck and Danner and Patrel came to be wearing, respectively, the silver, black, and gold armor, and the terms of the loan of that armor Aurion Redeye made. Then the buccen told of Redeye’s shade’s visitation a thousand years later to redeem that loan, and how, to retrieve the black armor, Trissa and Kipley and Danby travelled to the distant tombs out before the dreaded Iron Tower in the fearful land of Gron. Following that, they told of the trio returning to the Bosky to take command of the Company of the King, and then on to the Argon Ferry, where they and the High King’s Host were defeated in the battle at that place.
The passengers were held spellbound, for both Binkton and Pipper knew the story well, and as they told of the retreat and the coming of the Dragons, the Red Coach continued to rumble on toward the distant ford across the River Spindle.
Some ten leagues south of Rood the coach made a stop at a way station to change teams, and then some ten leagues after that and late in the evening they stopped at the Wayside Inn for an overnight stay, the inn located at the junction where the spur road to Thimble meets the Tineway. The Warrow-run establishment on the Red Coach line had rooms suitable for travellers of all sizes, and was as well the place where the coach would again change teams.
When Denby Willowdell saw Binkton and Pipper enter his establishment, he welcomed them warmly, for oft had these two performed at the Wayside Inn, and he asked if they’d come for a stint.
“Ar,” said Binkton in response, “we’d like to stay and put on a show, but you see we’re expected at the Black Dog down at Junction Town two days hence.”
“Beyond the Thornwall?”
“Aye,” said Pipper. “Uncle Arley arranged it with Mr. Graden Finster.”
“You’ll like Graden,” said Denby. “He’s a good sort and honest as the day is long.”
Pipper grinned. “What about at night?”
Denby laughed and said, “Oh, he’s fair the night long, too.”
“Well, then,” said Pipper, “there’s also dawn and twilight to consider, for they are neither day nor night.”
All three Warrows broke into laughter, and Denby threw an arm about each and said, “Ah, me, but I’ve missed you two buccoes, and I’m sorry you’ll not be staying a day or so. But be that as it may, come on, let me buy you a drink.”
Two evenings later found Pipper and Binkton thirty-three leagues farther along their route. They were ensconced at the Tineway Inn in the village of Stickle, there near the Thornwall.
Looking about, Raileigh asked, “And this is where the Company of the King assembled and waited for the Gjeenian penny?”
Pipper nodded. “Yup. And it came on First Yule.”
“What’s all this business about a Gjeenian penny?” asked the matron, Mrs. Harper. “I thought Gjeenian money was nearly worthless, and a Gjeenian penny the most worthless coin of all.”
“Well, you see, back in the Great War of the Ban,” said Binkton, “Tipperton Thistledown took on a mission from a wounded prince to deliver a Gjeenian penny to Agron. He didn’t know who or what Agron was, and his only instruction was to go east. But the prince died before he could tell Tipperton more.”
“It turned out,” said Pipper, “the Gjeenian penny represented a pledge made from one king to another that each would come to the aid of the other with an army and whatever else it would take, and all it would cost was-”
“A Gjeenian penny!” burst out Mrs. Harper. “Oh, how utterly droll.”
“Wull, I wouldn’t exactly call it ‘droll,’ ma’am,” said Binkton. “I mean, the sight of that penny meant that many good people would die, most likely at the hands of the Foul Folk.”
Mrs. Harper’s face fell into dismay. “Oh, I see,” she said, her manner now subdued at the thought of the consequences attached to the coin.
“Anyway,” said Pipper, “at the end of the War of the Ban, the Warrows and the High King made that same pledge to one another, and should we ever be in dire straits, all we need do is send a Gjeenian penny to the King, and all he needs do is the same.”
“How many showed up again?” asked Raileigh, scribbling.
Binkton said, “We didn’t see one for some four thousand years after the Great War of the Ban, but then a penny came in the Winter War. And we didn’t see another one until a thousand years after that, when the Kutsun Yong’s Golden Horde threatened Mithgar.”
“That was the Dragonstone War, some six or seven years past,” said Pipper.
Binkton nodded. “As foretold by the ghost of Redeye when he came to recall the armor into service.”
Pipper laughed. “I’ll never forget the day we heard of the recall of the Company of the King. Bink and I went to see the Thornwalker captain in Rood to join up. ‘Sorry, buccoes, but you’re just striplings,’ he said. ‘What are you, about ten summers old?’ As I gaped, dumbfounded, Bink sputtered and yelled, “What? What? Ten summers? I’ll have you know Pip here is thirteen summers, and I am a full three moons older.’ And the captain said, ‘Well, then, you’ve got seven summers to wait, ’cause to be a Thornwalker you’ve got to be a young buccan.’ And Binkton shouted, ‘What Ruck-loving, rat-eating idiot made that rule?’ Well, for some reason the captain got all huffy, and
