And so it was a smiling, happy Countess of Whitecrest who greeted Khaavren and Röaana early one afternoon on the terrace overlooking the ocean-sea. Khaavren rose as she appeared, and kissed her hand tenderly as she seated herself. She smiled at their guest, who had fit so well into the household, and said, “A very pleasant day to you both.”
“It is,” said Khaavren. “Though I perceive the sea is troubled below us; no doubt there is a storm to the southwest, beyond the range of our vision.”
Daro said to Röaana, “It is hard to believe that my lord Khaavren was raised far inland, hundreds of leagues from the ocean-sea, for, in the short time he has dwelt here, he has come to know the sea as well as any of us born to it. Indeed, my lord has predicted storms that old, old men could not sense, and I have never known him to be wrong.”
Khaavren smiled. “I must say that I love the ocean-sea as much as if I’d been born to it. It is peaceful, yet never inducing of ennui.”
“Indeed,” said Röaana, “the waves have been dancing for us. I find that I never tire of watching them.”
“It does soothe the heart,” said Daro. “My lord Khaavren and I have spent many a troubled hour staring out at the sea.” Daro gave Röaana a friendly smile as Cook appeared with cool drinks hinting of mint and lime.
Khaavren sipped his, then permitted his gaze to drift eastward for a time. Neither of the others spoke, nor needed to; they were well aware that his thoughts were following his eyes out toward where his son was, wondering, and worried. Daro watched him, and Röaana watched Daro.
Khaavren let his gaze return to the ocean-sea. After a time he said, “My dear, I must tell you that I believe it is at last time to set out. Today I completed the Form of the Six Valleys in the proper time, and, upon completing it, was able to do so again, and then yet a third time, with no greater result than a rapid pulse, a need for deep breaths, and a slight trembling in my fore-arm. I cannot recall a time when I was able to do more with milder effects, therefore I conclude I have reached a state of conditioning that I must deem sufficient.”
Daro nodded slowly, as if she had received a message that she had been dreading, but knew was to come sooner or later. After a moment, she said, “Where you will go, my lord?”
“Arylle,” said Khaavren.
“Of course,” said Daro, nodding, and even managing a smile. “It will be good for you to see your friend.”
“Yes” said Khaavren. “And, of course, he is not far from Dzur Mountain.”
“Yes,” said the Countess. She sighed then. “I wish I could accompany you.”
Khaavren nodded. “I should like that very much.”
“Alas,” she said. “It is impossible. With the breakdown in municipal government, everything must be done by the county, and I am the county.”
Khaavren nodded. “If Piro were here, why, he could require the city to better manage its affairs. But then, if Piro were here, we would not be setting out after him in the first place.”
Daro nodded, struck by the extreme justice of this remark.
“I should very much like to accompany you, sir,” said Röaana.
Khaavren smiled. “Thank you, my dear, but, of course, that is impossible.”
“Is it, my lord?” said the girl. “But—”
“Yes?”
“Why is it impossible? It seems to me that it would be, not only possible, but a matter of the greatest simplicity.”
Khaavren turned to look at her, feeling his eyes become wide. “How, you are serious about this?”
“My lord, you may perceive by my countenance if I am jesting.”
“You wish to accompany me?”
“Yes, my lord. If I may.”
Khaavren continued looking at her. “For what reason?”
Röaana raised her eyebrows. “My lord? You wish to know the reason?”
“Why yes, I do. And the proof is that I asked.”
“Well, that is true. Then I will tell you. The reason, then, is simply the same reason that you, yourself, set out from home when you were very much my age.”
“How, you pretend that I set out from home at your age? And that I did so for a certain reason? How is it you know that?” Khaavren accompanied this question with a look at Daro, who replied to him with the least shrug of her shoulders, as if to say that any such information as the girl might possess had not come from her.
Röaana said, “I did not exactly know, my lord, I merely assumed. Was I correct?”
Khaavren cleared his throat. “Well, in fact, you are not far from wrong.”
“And my lord, if I may ask, did you have a reason?”
Khaavren chuckled as he understood what the young Tiassa was telling him. “I see. But perhaps, if you have understood all of this, you could explain—”
“Yes?”
“—what we are to tell your mother and your father if you decide to have an adventure and manage to get yourself killed in the process.”
“Oh, as to that—?”
“Well?”
“They would understand.”
“How, they would understand?”
“Certainly.”
“I beg leave to doubt that they would understand, my dear girl. On the contrary, I am convinced that they would not understand at all, but, rather, would be entirely displeased with how we had exercised care of the young lady whom they entrusted to us. I believe that, had I a daughter of your age, and sent her somewhere to be safe, I would take it amiss were her guardians to send her off into the wilds in search of exactly the sort of danger from which I had hoped to have her protected. Indeed, I should find myself more than a little annoyed at this behavior. That is my opinion, and if you think it wrong, well, tell me so at once.”
Röaana set her countenance in an expression both unyielding and unhappy, and said nothing, looking at the floor of the terrace. Khaavren looked at the young lady in question, and, when she did not speak, he turned his gaze out to the ocean-sea once more. The Countess, for her part, looked at the girl for some few moments, as if reading her thoughts by the expression on her face.
“My lord husband,” said Daro with a slight smile. “I must admit that there is, I believe, something that you have not considered.”
“Well,” said Khaavren, “if there is something I have not considered, then tell me what it is, and, well, I will consider it.”
“I ask for nothing more,” said Daro.
“And then?”
“It is this: Our guest’s mother and father—that is, Röaanac and Malypon—will be displeased to learn that their daughter has been held in chains.”
“How, chains?”
“Assuredly.”
“But, why should she be held in chains?”
“Because,” said Daro at once, “I am convinced she would soon bite or rub through any ropes we could find.”
Khaavren frowned. “And yet,” he said, “I fail to see—”
Daro chuckled. “My lord, I am implying that, unless she is secured, she will certainly set out after you, and it is safer for her to travel with you than on her own, following.”
Khaavren considered this for some few moments, still frowning. Then suddenly he smiled. “You are right, madam, as you usually are.”
Daro smiled back at him.
“But my dear,” said Khaavren. “Should anything happen to her—”
“I will explain to them.”
“But will they understand an explanation? Consider—”
“My lord—”
“Yes?”
“It is difficult to make such a decision, but, yes, I believe they will understand.”
Khaavren nodded slowly, then, at last, he said, “Very well, then, it will be as you say.”
“Which means?” said Röaana, looking up with an expression of one who hardly dares to hope.
“Yes,” said Khaavren. “You may come with me.”
The young Tiassa beamed, and was about to speak when she was interrupted by Cook, who arrived with
a bow and the news that a messenger was at the servant’s entrance.
“Well?” said Daro. “For whom is this famous message? Is it for my lord Khaavren, or is it for me?”
“My lady,” said the cook, “it is for our guest.”
“A message for Röaana?” said Khaavren.
“A message for me?” said Röaana.
“That is it exactly,” said Cook.
“Well, but then,” said Daro. “Let this messenger come to us here.”
The cook bowed and left, to return in a few moments with a Teckla dressed in the livery of the House of the Dzur. This worthy bowed to all present, and then addressed himself to the youngest of them, saying, “You are, then, my lady, Röaana, of the House of the Tiassa?”
“Well, that is my name,” she said. “And you have a message for me?”
The Teckla bowed once more in sign of assent, saying, “Your Ladyship has understood exactly. I have a message.” With this, he produced a small, rolled-up piece of parchment, tied up with a silver ribbon. The girl at once took the message, untied the ribbon, unrolled the parchment, and said, “Ah! It is from my dear friend, Ibronka, of whom I have told you so much.”
“Yes, indeed,” said Daro. “But, what does she say?”
Röaana laughed. “She says, in fact, that she is nearly dying of ennui, and begs me to find an amusement for her.”
“Is there a reply?” asked the Teckla.
“Oh, a reply?” said the young Tiassa. “Well—” She frowned and looked at Daro, then at Khaavren.
Daro said, “Your friend, as I recall, is a Dzurlord, and is of your own age?”
“Nearly,” said Röaana.
Khaavren and Daro exchanged glances, whereupon Khaavren sighed and said, “Very well, then. She may accompany us as well.”
Röaana smiled.
“Well,” said Daro, smiling. “You will certainly be the envy of all you behold, traveling with such companions.”
“Bah. You are pleased to jest with me,” said Khaavren, smiling in his turn.
“Well.”
“When shall we set out?” said Röaana, betraying an understandable eagerness.
“Early to-morrow morning,” said Khaavren.
“Well then,” said Röaana, addressing the messenger. “Tell my dear friend Ibronka to prepare herself for a long journey, and to be here by first light in the morning. And be certain to tell her not to forget to bring a sword of good length.”
“I will not fail to convey your message,” said the Teckla, bowing first to Roaana, then to the others, after which he took his leave.
After the messenger had left, Khaavren turned to Daro and said, “We must begin preparations at once.”
“Yes,” she said. “I understand this. Where shall we begin?”
“I shall begin at the stables, and attempt to determine which horses to bring, and, in addition, which equipage.”
“Very well,” said Daro. “And I will instruct Cook to prepare such comestibles as are suited for traveling.”
Khaavren nodded, and cast his gaze once more to the reddish ocean-sea before him.
“Are you looking for ships, my lord?” said Daro, smiling.
“I always do, madam,” said Khaavren.
“Someday you will see one.”
“Yes.”
Khaavren stood up and extended his hand. The Countess placed her hand in his, and Khaavren bent over and tenderly kissed her hand; then, with a nod to Röaana, he set off for the stables, leaving Daro smiling fondly after him. Röaana, for her part, blushed in confusion at this display of conjugal affection, and rose in turn, explaining that she would begin her packing.
Ibronka arrived early the next morning, just before dawn, in fact, as Khaavren was completing his preparations for departure, and Daro and Röaana were on the terrace taking klava. Cook announced her arrival, and shortly after she appeared, clad in black traveling garb and carrying a sword in a baldric slung over her shoulder. Röaana stood, and introduced her friend to Daro, who received her with a graciousness that would have done credit to an Issola.
“And where?” said Röaana, “is our dear Clari?”
“Outside, awaiting us, and causing another horse to be saddled.”
Ibronka was seated and given klava and warm butterfly rolls with honey. At around this time Khaavren entered to say that all was now ready.
“My lord,” said Röaana, “you know that we are now four?”
“So I have been informed,” said Khaavren. “Quite a pretty troop we will make, too—me and three young girls. As the Countess has said, I shall excite no small amount of envy as we pass.”
He was, we should add, dressed in his old, worn traveling clothes, very like those that he had worn when we first had the honor to bring him to the reader’s attention in the town of Newmarket, nearly eight hundred years before. At his side was a sword that, like himself, was beaten and scarred, but still strong, flexible, and able to give a good cut or two.
Khaavren took a glass of klava and a roll, though he declined the honey because he pretended that it would delay them several hours if he had to wash it off his hands. Daro smiled at this, and adjusted the long, tapering collars of his blouse, as if it were important that he look his best as he set out into the wilderness—an attention to which our friend could not help but respond with an affectionate smile.
He was introduced to Ibronka, to whom he bowed solemnly, then said, “I perceive you have a Nelshet.”
Ibronka frowned and said, “My lord, I do not understand what you have done me the honor to tell me.”
“Your sword,” said Khaavren. “It was made by Nelshet.”
“Ah. That may be. You perceive, I am not familiar with the maker of the weapon.”
“It is good steel that comes from the best iron taken from the northern-most reaches of the Kanefthali Mountains, and smelted by a special process known only to the masters in Krethtown, and then crafted by Nelshet or his offspring. I identified it at once by the curve of the hilt and the heart-shape of the guard, which are always the marks of a Nelshet weapon. You will, moreover, find an ornate ‘N’ on the strong of the blade, very near to the guard. It is one of the very best of blades. I had one myself for a number of years, but lost it during a skirmish before the Three Hands Road campaign, when I was forced to leave it in the possession of an officer in the service of Count Rockway, because I could not afford the time to extract it from his person. I have always regretted the loss, the more-so because this officer had no use for it.”
“This one,” said Ibronka, “was a gift of my mother, and I treasure it for that reason, if no other.”
“Well, but you are Dzur.”
“I am, sir. And then?”
“There is no doubt that, sooner or later, you will come to appreciate its other qualities as well.”
Ibronka bowed.
“And you, Röaana,” continued Khaavren. “I perceive you also have a tolerably long stick with you, and I know well enough that you can play with it. Be certain to check your sheath each time we stop, for the fit of the weapon into it is not perfect. I have known pebbles kicked up from the road to become stuck in a sheath, causing the weapon to be wedged into it, to the embarrassment of the player.”
“I will not fail to do so,” said Röaana.
“That is good, then.” He then turned to Daro and said, “Come, my dear, and embrace me. It is time that we left.”
Daro came into his arms, and, upon being given a glance by Röaana, Ibronka permitted herself to be led from the terrace to permit the Count and Countess a little privacy to say farewell to each other.
“Madam,” said Khaavren, “I am not insensitive to your wish to accompany us.”
“Ah, sir, do you hear me complain?”
“Not in the least.”
“Well then?”
“Nevertheless, I know this is difficult for you. Should it be you leaving on such an errand, and I required to remain, well, I should not care for it.”
/> Daro smiled. “My lord, you must understand that my delight in seeing you active again overcomes any trifling annoyances caused by inaction.”
“And yet, I well know that you are not cut from a fabric suited to looking on while others act.”
“My lord, it has often been remarked that you are unusually reticent for a Tiassa.”
“And then?”
“Then permit me to be unusually patient. My time will come.”
“Then I have nothing more to say. Embrace me, madam.”
“Gladly.”
Khaavren met Ibronka and Röaana near the side door of the manor, and led them out to the stables, where three horses were saddled and ready. Clari was already mounted upon a fourth, and awaiting them. Khaavren looked around, observing the fine weather—warm, but not hot—and nodded, as if satisfied that it would be a satisfactory day for travel. Anyone who knew him well would have seen a certain light come into his eyes—the warrior once more returning to arms after having felt himself useless and finished with life for long years. He set his hand upon the hilt of his sword and his eyes upon the path they were to take, then returned his attention to his companions.
“We will travel light,” said Khaavren. “That is, we are not taking a pack animal. This means that, alas, we will not be eating as well as we should like.”
Both of the ladies indicated that this would not upset them to any great degree. They mounted their horses with the aid of the night-groom, while Khaavren himself used the mounting post. His thoughts as he looked at the manor are impossible to describe. It had been hundreds of years since he had set out on a mission of any sort, or since he had left his home without the expectation of returning to it by nightfall. He bit his lip and frowned, and then, seeing Daro standing in the front door, he raised his gloved hand in a salute to her, then directed his horse’s head away from the manor, lightly touched his spurs to its flanks, and and set out upon the road, the two girls riding knee to knee behind him, Clari coming last.