Heart of the Exiled by Pati Nagle

unremarkable alone, but his bond with Eliani was wondrous—indeed, he still marveled at it himself.
    “We have not the benefit of their experience, but we have their wisdom and guidance. My lady, Eliani, and I have pledged ourselves to the defense of Southfæld, of Alpinon, and of all ælven lands. We ask that you serve in this effort as well, that you add your devotion to ours.”
    A couple of voices shouted agreement. The guardians stirred.
    “Though Eliani rides north, she is with me in my thoughts and in my heart, and so she is also with you. Both of us have pledged all our strength to opposing the enemies of our people.”
    This time the shouts grew into a cheer that rolled through the company. A strong male voice cut through the noise.
    “All hail Turisan and Eliani!”
    “All hail! All hail!”
    He glanced at Dirovon, whose face was still, though his eyes seemed a bit wide. Turisan doubted he could improve on what he had said. Inside, he was almost inclined to laugh, so unlike a hero he felt. He would not so dishonor the guardians’ admiration, though.
    Summoning his father’s most dignified manner, he clasped arms with Dirovon, relinquishing the company’s attention to him, and returned to his borrowed horse. His escorts bowed to him, and he had to stifle another laugh.
    He mounted, raising a hand to the guardians in farewell. The handfasting ribbon on his arm glinted in the sun, and the guardians’ cheers increased as he turned toward the city.
    He returned his horse to the garrison, bade his escort a friendly and relieved farewell, and pulled his cloak closer as he made his way back to Hallowhall through a flurry of snow. The peaks above the city were already capped with white, the passes already closed by deep drifts. He wondered if storms would affect the kobalen at Midrange. They did not love cold weather and generally migrated to warmer northern regions in winter. He supposed it too much to hope that weather would prevent them from crossing the pass.
    He wished suddenly that he was riding with Eliani. Folly; he must stay here or her journey was for nought.
    Hallowhall’s great front doors stood open, the warmth from the massive fire in its welcoming hearth reaching out into the public circle. Turisan hastened to the council chamber and reached it just as the Council was gathering. He took his place beside his father and soon found himself listening to a lengthy discussion of plans to establish a network of couriers linking all the seats of government of the ælven realms: Glenhallow, Hollirued, Highstone, and Watersmeet.
    And what of Ghlanhras? No mention was made of Fireshore’s greatest city. Until Eliani sent themnews of it, the Council seemed to be ignoring its existence.
    At last, impatient with the lack of progress, Turisan showed his hand to indicate his wish to speak. Jharan acknowledged him, and he stood.
    “I understand the desire to improve our communications, but I believe that High Holding is equally crucial. We must send a force to occupy it in advance of the army and to make it ready to hold.”
    Jharan responded quietly. “That is not in question, but we do not have the resources ready.”
    “There are new recruits pouring into the garrison. Surely a company of guardians and a handful of stonemasons can be spared now.”
    Parishan, Pashani’s son, responded. “The masons, yes, but I question that the guardians can be spared. Perhaps some of the recruits—”
    Turisan shook his head. “To stand in defense of the pass we need experienced guardians. The recruits would be better fit for courier duty.”
    Pashani’s amber eyes flashed. “If you think it is wise to throw them untrained onto horses bred for speed, I wish you joy of the effort!”
    Jharan held out a placating hand. “I am sure that was not Turisan’s meaning.”
    Heeding the warning in his father’s glance, Turisan swallowed his impatience. “No, my lady governor, it was not. I meant only that they would be less at