Borric said, ‘I had hoped for word by now, but our messengers have not returned, nor have the pigeons they carry.’
Lyam said, ‘Hawks, perhaps. The pigeons are not always reliable, or perhaps the messengers never reached the dwarves.’
Borric turned to Calin. ‘It has been forty years since the siege of Carse, and we have had little traffic with the dwarves since. Who commands the dwarven clans now?’
The Elf Prince said, ‘As then. Stone Mountain is under the banner of Harthorn, of Hogar’s line, at village Delmoria. The Grey Towers rally to the banner of Dolgan, of Tholin’s line, at village Caldara.’
‘Both are known to me, though I was but a boy when they raised the Dark Brothers’ siege at Carse,’ said Borric. ‘They will prove fierce allies if trouble comes.’
Arutha said, ‘What of the Free Cities, and the Prince in Krondor?’
Borric sat back. ‘I must think on that, for there are problems in the East, or so I have word. I will give thought to the matter this night.’ He stood. ‘I thank you all for this counsel. Return to your quarters and avail yourselves of rest and refreshments. I will ask you to consider plans for dealing with the invaders, should they come, and we will meet again tomorrow.’
As the Elf Queen rose, he offered her his arm, then escorted her through the doors that Tomas and Pug held open. The boys were the last to exit. Fannon took Tomas in tow, leading him to the soldiers’ commons, while Kulgan stood outside the hall with Tully and the two elven advisers.
The magician turned to his apprentice. ‘Pug, Prince Calin expressed an interest in your small library of magic books. Would you please show them to him?’
Pug said he would and led the Prince up the stairs to his door and opened it for him. Calin stepped through, and Pug followed. Fantus was asleep and woke with a start. He threw the elf a distrustful look.
Calin slowly crossed over to the drake and spoke a few soft words in a language that Pug didn’t understand. Fantus lost his nervousness and stretched forth his neck to allow the Prince to scratch his head.
After a moment the drake looked expectantly to Pug. Pug said, ‘Yes, dinner is over. The kitchen will be full of scraps.’ Fantus moved to the window with a wolfish grin and used his snout to push it open. With a snap of his wings he was out, gliding toward the kitchen.
Pug offered Calin a stool, but the Prince said, ‘Thank you, but your chairs and stools are of little comfort to my kind. I will just sit on the floor, with your leave. You have a most unusual pet, Squire Pug.’ He gave Pug a small smile. Pug was a little uncomfortable hosting the Elf Prince in his poor room, but the elf’s manner was such that the boy started to relax.
‘Fantus is less a pet than a permanent guest. He has a mind of his own. It is not unusual for him to disappear for weeks at a time, now and again, but mostly he stays here. He must eat outside the kitchen now that Meecham has gone.’
Calin inquired who Meecham was. Pug explained, adding, ‘Kulgan has sent him over the mountains to Bordon, with some of the Duke’s guards, before the North Pass is snowed in. He didn’t say why he was going, Highness.’
Calin looked at one of the boy’s books. ‘I prefer to be called Calin, Pug.’
Pug nodded, pleased. ‘Calin, what do you think the Duke has in mind?’
The elf gave him an enigmatic smile. ‘The Duke will reveal his own plans, I think. My guess is that Meecham is preparing the way should the Duke choose to journey east. You will most probably know on the morrow.’ He held up the book he had glanced at. ‘Did you find this interesting?’
Pug leaned over and read the title. ‘Dorcas’s Treatise on the Animation of Objects? Yes, though it seemed a little unclear.’
‘A fair judgment. Dorcas was an unclear man, or at least I found him so.’
Pug started. ‘But Dorcas died thirty years ago.’
Calin smiled broadly, showing even white teeth. His pale eyes shone in the lantern light. ‘Then you know little of elven lore?’
‘Little,’ Pug agreed. ‘You are the first elf I have ever spoken with, though I may have seen another elf once, when I was very little. I’m not sure.’ Calin tossed aside the book. ‘I know only what Martin Longbow has told me, that you can somehow speak with animals, and some spirits. That you live in Elvandar and the surrounding elven forests, and that you stay among your own kind mostly.’
The elf laughed, a soft, melodic sound. ‘Nearly all true. Knowing friend Longbow, I wager some of the tales were colorful, for while he is not a deceiving man, he has an elf’s humor.’ Pug’s expression showed he did not understand. ‘We live a very long time by your standards. We learn to appreciate the humor in the world, often finding amusement in places where men find little. Or you can call it simply a different way of looking at life. Martin has learned this from us, I think.’
Pug nodded. ‘Mocking eyes.’
Calin raised an eyebrow in question. Pug explained, ‘Many people here find Martin difficult to be with. Different, somehow. I once heard a soldier say he had mocking eyes.’
Calin sighed. ‘Life has been difficult for Martin. He was left on his own at an early age. The Monks of Silban are good, kindly men, but ill equipped to raise a boy. Martin lived in the woods like a wild thing when he could flee his tutors. I found him one day, fighting with two of our children – we are not very much different from men when very young. Over the years he has grown to be one of the few humans who is free to come to Elvandar at will. He is a valued friend. But I think he bears a special burden of loneliness, not being fully in the world of elves nor of men, but partially in both.’
Pug saw Martin in a new light and resolved to attempt to know the Huntmaster better. Returning to the original topic, he said, ‘Is what he said true?’
Calin nodded. ‘In some respects. We can speak to animals only as men do, in tones to make them easy, though we are better at it than most humans, for we read the moods of wild things more readily. Martin has some of this knack. We do not, however, speak with spirits. There are creatures we know whom humans consider spirits – dryads, sprites, pixies – but they are natural beings who live near our magic.’
Pug’s interest was piqued. ‘Your magic?’
‘Ours is a magic that is part of our being, strongest in Elvandar. It is a heritage ages old, allowing us to live at peace within our forests. There we work as others do, hunting, tending our gardens, celebrating our joys, teaching our young. Time passes slowly in Elvandar, for it is an ageless place. That is why I can remember speaking with Dorcas, for in spite of my youthful appearance, I am over a hundred years old.’
‘A hundred …’ Pug shook his head. ‘Poor Tomas, he was distressed to hear you were the Queen’s son. Now he will be desolate.’
Calin inclined his head, a half-smile playing across his face. ‘The lad who was with us in the council hall?’
Pug nodded. Calin said, ‘It is not the first time my Mother-Queen has had such an effect upon a human, though older men can mask the effect with more ease.’
‘You don’t mind?’ asked Pug, feeling protective toward his friend.
‘No, Pug, of course not. All in Elvandar love the Queen, and it is acknowledged her beauty is unsurpassed. I find it not surprising your friend is smitten. Since my Father-King passed, more than one bold noble of your race has come to press his suit for Aglaranna’s hand. Now her mourning is at an end, and she may take another should she wish. That it would be one of your race is unlikely, for while a few such marriages have been made, they are very rare, and tend to be sad things at the end for our kind. She will live many more human life spans, the gods willing.’
Calin looked around the room, then added, ‘It is likely our friend Tomas will outgrow his feelings for the great lady of the elves. Much as your Princess will change her feelings toward you, I would think.’
Pug felt embarrassed. He had been curious as to what Carline and the Elf Prince had spoken about during dinner, but had been uncomfortable asking. ‘I noticed you spoke with her at great length.’
‘I had expected to meet a hero of seven feet in height, with lightning dancing around his shoulders. It seems you slew a score of trolls with a cast of your hand.’
Pug blushed. ‘It was only two, and mostly by accident.’
Calin’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Even two is an accomplishment. I had thought the girl guilty of a flight of fancy. I would like to hear the story.’
Pug told him what had happened. When he was done, Calin said, ‘It is an unusual tale, Pug. I know little of human magic, but I do know enough to think that what you did was as strange as Kulgan said. Elf magic is far different from human, but we understand ours better than you understand your own. Never have I heard of such an occurrence, but I can share this with you. Occasionally, at times of great need, an inner call can be made, bringing forth powers that lay dormant, deep within.’
Pug said, ‘I have thought as much, though it would be nice to understand a little better what happened.’
‘That may come in time.’
Pug looked at his guest and sighed deeply. ‘I wish I could understand Carline, as well.’
Calin shrugged and smiled. ‘Who can understand another’s mind? I think for some time to come you will be the object of her attention. Then, it may be, another will distract her, perhaps young Squire Roland. He seems held in thrall by her.’
Pug snorted. ‘Roland! That … bother.’
Calin smiled appreciatively. ‘Then you are fond of the Princess?’
Pug looked upward, as if seeking guidance from some higher source. ‘I do like her,’ he admitted with a heavy sigh. ‘But I don’t know if I care for her that special way. Sometimes I think I do –especially when I see Roland fawning over her – but other times I don’t. She makes it very hard for me to think clearly, and I always seem to say the wrong things to her.’
‘Unlike Squire Roland,’ prompted Calin.
