were taken to the village long hall, and Tomas was given a room. He was so tired that he fell asleep at once, and even the stout dwarf was fatigued. The dwarves agreed to call the village elders together the next day in council and discuss the latest news to reach the valley.
Tomas awoke feeling ravenous. He stretched as he stood up and was surprised to find no stiffness. He had fallen asleep in the golden mail and should have wakened to protesting joints and muscles. Instead he felt rested and well. He opened the door and stepped into a hall. He saw no one until he came to the central room of the long hall. There were several dwarves seated along the great table, with Dolgan at the head. Tomas saw one was Weylin, Dolgan’s son. Dolgan motioned the boy to a chair and introduced him to the company.
The dwarves all greeted Tomas, who made polite responses. Mostly he stared at the great feast of food on the table.
Dolgan laughed and said, ‘Help yourself, laddie; there is little cause for you to be hungry with the board full.’ Tomas heaped a plate with beef, cheese, and bread and took a flagon of ale, though he had little head for it and it was early in the day. He quickly consumed what was on the platter and helped himself to another portion, looking to see if anyone disapproved. Most of the dwarves were involved in a complicated discussion of an unknown nature to Tomas, having to do with the allocation of winter stores to various villages in the area.
Dolgan called a halt to the discussion and said, ‘Now that Tomas is with us, I think we had best speak of these Tsurani.’
Tomas’s ears pricked up at that, and he turned his attention fully to what was being said. Dolgan continued, ‘Since I left on patrol, we have had runners from Elvandar and Stone Mountain. There have been many sightings of these aliens near the North Pass. They have made camp in the hills south of Stone Mountain.’
One of the dwarves said, ‘That is Stone Mountain’s business, unless they call us to arms.’
Dolgan said, ‘True, Orwin, but there is also the news they have been seen moving in and out of the valley just south of the pass. They have intruded on lands traditionally ours, and that is the business of the Grey Towers.’
The dwarf addressed as Orwin nodded. ‘Indeed it is, but there is naught we can do until spring.’
Dolgan put his feet up on the table, lighting a pipe. ‘And that is true also. But we can be thankful the Tsurani can do naught until spring, as well.’
Tomas put down a joint of beef he was holding. ‘Has the blizzard struck?’
Dolgan looked at him. ‘Aye, laddie, the passes are all solid with snow, for the first winter blizzard came upon us last night. There will be nothing that can move out there, least of all an army.’
Tomas looked at Dolgan. ‘Then …’
‘Aye. You’ll guest with us this winter, for not even our hardiest runner could make his way out of these mountains to Crydee.’
Tomas sat back, for in spite of the comforts of the dwarven long hall, he wished for more familiar surroundings. Still, there was nothing that could be done. He resigned himself to that and returned his attention to his meal.
• CHAPTER ELEVEN •
Sorcerer’s Isle
THE WEARY GROUP TRUDGED INTO BORDON.
Around them rode a company of Natalese Rangers, dressed in their traditional grey tunics, trousers, and cloaks. They had been on patrol, had encountered the travelers a mile out of town, and were now escorting them. Borric was irritated that the rangers had not offered to let the exhausted travelers ride double, but he hid it well. They had little reason to recognize this group of ragamuffins as the Duke of Crydee and his party, and even if he should have arrived in state, there was little warmth between the Free Cities of Natal and the Kingdom.
Pug looked at Bordon with wonder. It was a small city by Kingdom standards, little more than a seaport town, but far larger than Crydee. Everywhere he looked, people were hurrying about on unknown tasks, busy and preoccupied. Little attention was paid the travelers except for an occasional glance from a shopkeeper or a woman at market. Never had the boy seen so many people, horses, mules, and wagons all in one place. It was a confusion of colors and sounds, overwhelming his senses. Barking dogs ran behind the rangers’ horses, nimbly avoiding kicks by the irritated mounts. A few street boys shouted obscenities at the party, all obviously outlanders from their look, and most likely prisoners from the escort. Pug was vaguely troubled by this rudeness, but his attention was quickly distracted by the newness of the city.
Bordon, like the other cities in the area, had no standing army, but instead supported a garrison of Natalese Rangers, descendants of the legendary Imperial Keshian Guides and counted among the best horse soldiers and trackers in the west. They could provide ample warning of approaching trouble and allow the local militia time to turn out. Nominally independent, the rangers were free to dispose of outlaws and renegades on the spot, but after hearing the Duke’s story, and at mention of the name Martin Longbow – whom they knew well – the leader of the patrol decided this matter should be turned over to the local prefects.
They were taken to the office of the local prefect, located in a small building near the city square. The rangers appeared pleased to be shed of the prisoners and return to their patrol as they gave over custody to the prefect.
The prefect was a short, swarthy man given to brightly colored sashes about his ample girth and large golden rings upon his fingers. He smoothed his dark, oiled beard as the ranger captain explained his company’s meeting with the Duke’s party. As the rangers rode off, the prefect greeted Borric coolly. When the Duke made it clear they were expected by Talbott Kilrane, the largest ships’ broker in the city and Borric’s trading agent in the Free Cities, the prefect’s manner changed abruptly. They were taken from the office to the prefect’s private quarters and offered hot, dark coffee. The prefect sent one of his servants with a message to the house of Kilrane and waited quietly, only occasionally making noncommittal small talk with the Duke.
Kulgan leaned over to Pug and said, ‘Our host is the sort who sees which way the wind blows before making up his mind; he waits word from the merchant before deciding if we’re prisoners or guests.’ The magician chuckled. ‘You’ll find as you grow older that minor functionaries are the same the world over.’
An angry storm in the person of Meecham appeared suddenly in the door of the prefect’s home a short time later, one of Kilrane’s senior clerks at his elbow. The clerk quickly made it clear that this was indeed the Duke of Crydee and, yes, he was expected by Talbott Kilrane. The prefect was abjectly apologetic and hopeful the Duke would forgive the inconvenience, but under the present conditions, in these troubled times, he could understand? His manner was fawning and his smile unctuous.
Borric indicated that, yes, he did understand, all too well. Without any further delay, they left the prefect and went outside, where a group of grooms waited with horses. Quickly they mounted up, and Meecham and the clerk led them through the town, toward a hillside community of large, imposing houses.
The house of Talbott Kilrane stood topmost upon the highest hill overlooking the city. From the road Pug could see ships standing at anchor. Dozens of them were sitting with masts removed, obviously out of service during the harsh weather. A few coast-huggers bound for Ylith in the north or the other Free Cities were making their way cautiously in and out of the harbor, but for the most part the harbor was quiet.
They reached the house and entered an open
