Berephan’s house. A guardian showed him to Berephan’s hall, where high narrow windows to the west let in the last of the sun. On the walls were the Guard’s banners and pennants, lit by torches and fading sunlight.
Berephan and his guests were already at table and passing around platters of food. As Turisan entered, they fell silent and turned to look at him, rather more intently than he had expected.
The warden rose from his chair to greet him. Another movement caught his eye: Dirovon, nodding. Turisan smiled back, then clasped the arm offered by his host.
“Good evening, Lord Berephan. I am late and crave your pardon.”
Berephan dismissed it. “The Council have been talking your ears numb, no doubt. Have a seat; we have only begun.”
Turisan took an empty place between Berephan and another he recognized, Captain Hothanen, who commanded a company of the city’s guardians. Hothanen nodded to him and lifted a wine pitcher, offering to fill his cup while Berephan made introductions.
“Lord Turisan, may I make you known to Captains Phaniron and Sivhani?”
Turisan nodded to each of them. “Well met.”
Phaniron, a slender, fine-boned male who sat beside Dirovon, seemed shyly pleased to meet him, but Sivhani looked as if she feared he would do something alarming at any moment. Grow wings, perhaps, Turisan thought, concealing a smile by sipping his wine.
Berephan offered him a platter of meat. “What news from the Council?”
“They spent the day discussing equipments for the army—which realms can contribute weapons, horses, and so on. And they have decided to set up courier relays among the capitals of the realms. Both the Steppes and Eastfæld have pledged horses and riders.”
Hothanen accepted the meat platter in turn and helped himself. “It will take away riders who could serve in the army.”
“The Council thought faster communication would be worth the sacrifice.”
Sivhani spoke up from beyond Hothanen, her tone disbelieving. “Does Lord Jharan really expect to have an army assembled in less than forty days?”
Turisan looked at her, saw her eyes widen with the realization that she was addressing Jharan’s son, and answered patiently. “He holds to that hope. I cannot say what he expects. We must all do our best.”
A moment’s silence was broken by Phaniron. “Your lady is well, I hope, Lord Turisan?”
“Please, do not be formal with me here.” Turisan looked around the table. “Berephan, you do not mind?”
“Of course not. This is not the high court.”
Dirovon chuckled, and Turisan grinned at him before answering Phaniron. “My lady is well, thank you, though a bit tired. They are still riding.”
Phaniron’s face showed surprise. “You have spoken to her today?”
“Several times. We must keep testing our gift. If it is limited, we must know as soon as possible.”
Dirovon picked up a piece of soft flat bread and tore it in half. “What will happen if you lose contact?”
“She will retrace her movements until we can speak again.”
Berephan handed him a platter of roasted root vegetables. “Rather late for them still to be in the saddle.”
“They wish to make all possible speed.” Turisan helped himself, then passed the platter to Dirovon. “How long did you spend working those recruits? They looked promising.”
Dirovon grinned. “We had them out all morning, until the wind began to freeze their wits. The afternoon was spent getting them into barracks.”
“Which are now full.” Berephan poured more wine for himself. “We shall have to begin issuing tents.”
Turisan ate as he listened to the captains discuss the Guard’s ordinary business, which was fast becoming extraordinary as the preparations for war began. The mood at the table grew more relaxed, and soon the discussion turned to the tactics of mounting a defense at Midrange.
Berephan turned to him. “Has the Council discussed High Holding? We shall have to occupy it.”
“I mentioned
Berephan and his guests were already at table and passing around platters of food. As Turisan entered, they fell silent and turned to look at him, rather more intently than he had expected.
The warden rose from his chair to greet him. Another movement caught his eye: Dirovon, nodding. Turisan smiled back, then clasped the arm offered by his host.
“Good evening, Lord Berephan. I am late and crave your pardon.”
Berephan dismissed it. “The Council have been talking your ears numb, no doubt. Have a seat; we have only begun.”
Turisan took an empty place between Berephan and another he recognized, Captain Hothanen, who commanded a company of the city’s guardians. Hothanen nodded to him and lifted a wine pitcher, offering to fill his cup while Berephan made introductions.
“Lord Turisan, may I make you known to Captains Phaniron and Sivhani?”
Turisan nodded to each of them. “Well met.”
Phaniron, a slender, fine-boned male who sat beside Dirovon, seemed shyly pleased to meet him, but Sivhani looked as if she feared he would do something alarming at any moment. Grow wings, perhaps, Turisan thought, concealing a smile by sipping his wine.
Berephan offered him a platter of meat. “What news from the Council?”
“They spent the day discussing equipments for the army—which realms can contribute weapons, horses, and so on. And they have decided to set up courier relays among the capitals of the realms. Both the Steppes and Eastfæld have pledged horses and riders.”
Hothanen accepted the meat platter in turn and helped himself. “It will take away riders who could serve in the army.”
“The Council thought faster communication would be worth the sacrifice.”
Sivhani spoke up from beyond Hothanen, her tone disbelieving. “Does Lord Jharan really expect to have an army assembled in less than forty days?”
Turisan looked at her, saw her eyes widen with the realization that she was addressing Jharan’s son, and answered patiently. “He holds to that hope. I cannot say what he expects. We must all do our best.”
A moment’s silence was broken by Phaniron. “Your lady is well, I hope, Lord Turisan?”
“Please, do not be formal with me here.” Turisan looked around the table. “Berephan, you do not mind?”
“Of course not. This is not the high court.”
Dirovon chuckled, and Turisan grinned at him before answering Phaniron. “My lady is well, thank you, though a bit tired. They are still riding.”
Phaniron’s face showed surprise. “You have spoken to her today?”
“Several times. We must keep testing our gift. If it is limited, we must know as soon as possible.”
Dirovon picked up a piece of soft flat bread and tore it in half. “What will happen if you lose contact?”
“She will retrace her movements until we can speak again.”
Berephan handed him a platter of roasted root vegetables. “Rather late for them still to be in the saddle.”
“They wish to make all possible speed.” Turisan helped himself, then passed the platter to Dirovon. “How long did you spend working those recruits? They looked promising.”
Dirovon grinned. “We had them out all morning, until the wind began to freeze their wits. The afternoon was spent getting them into barracks.”
“Which are now full.” Berephan poured more wine for himself. “We shall have to begin issuing tents.”
Turisan ate as he listened to the captains discuss the Guard’s ordinary business, which was fast becoming extraordinary as the preparations for war began. The mood at the table grew more relaxed, and soon the discussion turned to the tactics of mounting a defense at Midrange.
Berephan turned to him. “Has the Council discussed High Holding? We shall have to occupy it.”
“I mentioned
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