“First, there is the matter of Sir Gerard uth Mondar. I will now see the letter from the elf king, Sir Knight.”
Gerard produced the letter, somewhat crumpled, but quite legible.
“I am not familiar with the elf king’s signature,” said Lord Tasgall, reading the letter, “but I recognize the royal seal of Qualinesti. Alas,” he added quietly, “I fear there is little we can do to help them in their hour of need.”
Gerard bowed his head. He might have argued, but the presence of enemy troops camped outside Solanthus would render any argument he might make ineffective.
“He may have a letter from an elf,” said Lord Nigel, Knight of the Crown, “but he was still apprehended in company with a dragon of evil. I cannot easily reconcile the two.”
Lord Nigel was in his forties, one of those people who do not want to make a decision until he has ruminated on it long and hard and looked at every fact three times over from all possible angles.
“I believe his story,” said Odila in her forthright manner. “I saw him and heard him in the cave with the First Master. He had the chance to leave, and he didn’t take it. He heard the horns, knew we were under attack, and came back to help defend the city.”
“Or betray it,” said Lord Nigel, glowering.
“Gerard told me that if you would not let him wear his sword, as a true Knight, he would do anything he could to help, from fighting fires to tending the wounded,” Odila returned heatedly. “His quick thinking saved both our lives. He should be honored, not castigated.”
“I agree,” said Lord Tasgall. “I think we are all in agreement?” He looked at the other two. Lord Ulrich nodded at once and gave Gerard a grin and a wink. Lord Nigel frowned, but he had great respect for Lord Tasgall and so agreed to abide by his ruling.
Lord Tasgall smiled. “Sir Gerard uth Mondar, all charges against you are formally dropped. I regret that we have no time to publicly clear your name, but I will issue an edict to the effect that all may know of your innocence.”
Odila rewarded Gerard with a grin and kicked his leg underneath the table, reminding him that he owed her one. This matter now dispensed with, the Knights could turn their attention to the problem of the enemy. Despite the information they had received about the ridiculously small numbers of the enemy army currently besieging their city, the Solamnics did not take the situation lightly. Not after what Gerard told them about the expected reinforcements.
“Perhaps she means an enemy army marching out of Palanthas, my lord,” Gerard suggested deferentially.
“No,” said Lord Tasgall, shaking his head. “We have spies in Palanthas. They would have reported any massive troop movement, and there has been none. We have scouts watching the roads, and they have seen nothing.”
“Begging your pardon, my lord,” said Gerard, “but you didn’t see this army coming.”
“There was sorcery at work,” said Lord Nigel grimly. “A magical sleep affected everyone in the city and its environs. The patrols reported that they were overcome with this fey sleep that affected man and beast alike. We thought the sleep had been cast upon us by the First Master Goldmoon, but Starmaster Mikelis has assured us that she could not possibly cast such a powerful spell.”
He looked uneasily at Odila. Her words about the mind of God had brought a disquieting notion. “He tells us that no mortal could. Yet, we all slept.”
I did not sleep, Gerard thought. Neither did the kender or the gnome. Goldmoon caused the iron bars to melt as if they were wax. What was it she said? I don’t know how I have the power to do what I do. I know only that whatever I want I am given.
Who is the giver? Gerard glanced at Odila, troubled. None of the other Knights spoke. They were all sharing the same unwelcome thoughts, and no one wanted to give them voice. To go there was to walk the edge of a precipice blindfolded.
“Sir Gerard, Lady Odila, I thank you for your patience,” Lord Tasgall said, rising to his feet. “We have information enough on which to act. If we have further need of you, we will summon you.”
They were being dismissed. Gerard rose, saluted, thanked each Knight in turn. Odila waited for him, walked out with him. Looking back, Gerard saw the Knights already deep in discussion.
“It’s not as if they have much choice,” Odila said, shaking her head.
“We can’t just sit here and wait for them to bring in reinforcements. We’ll have to attack.”
“Damn strange way to run a siege,” Gerard reflected. “I could understand it, their leader being hardly out of her baby clothes, but that captain looked to me to be a savvy officer. Why do they go along with her?”
“Perhaps she has touched their minds, as well,” Odila muttered.
“What?” Gerard asked. She had spoken so softly he didn’t think he’d heard right.
She shook her head glumly, and kept walking. “Never mind. It was a stupid thought.”
“We’ll be riding to battle soon,” Gerard predicted, hoping to cheer her up.
“It can’t be too soon for me. I’d like to meet that red-haired vixen with a sword in my hand. What about a drink?” she asked abruptly. “Or two or six or thirty?”
An odd tone in her voice caused Gerard to look at her sharply.
“What?” she demanded, defensive. “I want to drink that blasted God out of my mind, that’s all. Come on. I’ll buy.”
“Not for me,” he said. “I’m for my bed. Sleep. You should be, too.”
“I don’t know how you expect me to sleep with those eyes staring at me. Go to bed, then, if you’re so tired.”
He started to ask, “What eyes?” but Odila walked off, heading for a tavern whose signboard was a picture of a hunting dog holding a limp duck in its mouth.
Too exhausted to care, Gerard headed for a well-earned rest. Gerard slept through the daylight and far into the night. He woke to the sounds of someone pounding on the door.
“Turn out! Turn out!” a voice called softly. “Muster in the courtyard in one hour. No lights, and keep the noise down.”
Gerard sat up. The room was bright, but it was the white, eerie brightness of moonlight, not sunlight. Outside his door came the muffled sounds of Knights, their pages, squires, and servants up and about. So it was to be an attack by night. A surprise attack.
No noise. No lights. No drums calling the troops to muster. Nothing to give away the fact that the army of Solanthus was preparing to ride out and break the siege. Gerard approved. An excellent idea. They would catch the enemy asleep. With luck, perhaps they’d catch them sleeping off a night of carousing.
He had gone to bed in his clothes, so he had no need to dress, only to pull on his boots. Hastening down stairs crowded with servants and squires dashing about on errands for their masters, he shoved his way through the mob, pausing only to ask directions to the armory. The streets were eerily silent, for most of the city was deep in slumber. Gerard found the armorer and his assistants scantily clad, for they had been yanked out of their beds at a moment’s notice. The armorer was distraught that he could not outfit Gerard in proper Solamnic armor. There was no time to make any.
“Just give me the stuff you use in training,” Gerard said.
The armorer was appalled. He couldn’t think of sending a Knight to battle in armor that was dented, ill fitting, and scratched. Gerard would look like a scarecrow. Gerard didn’t care. He was riding to his first battle, and he would have gone stark naked and not minded. He had his sword, the sword given to him by Marshal Medan, and that was what counted. The armorer protested, but Gerard was firm, and eventually the man brought what was required. His assistants—two pimple-faced, thirteen-year-old boys—were wild with excitement and bemoaned the fact that they could not ride out to fight. They acted as Gerard’s squires. He went from the armory to the stables where grooms were frantically saddling horses, trying to quiet the animals, excited by the unusual commotion. The stable master eyed Gerard dubiously in his borrowed armor, but Gerard gave the man to know in no uncertain terms that he intended to steal a horse if he wasn’t provided one. The stable master still might not have gone along with Gerard’s demand, but Lord Ulrich entered at that moment, and although he laughed uproariously at the sight of Gerard’s shabby accouterments, he vouchsafed Gerard’s credentials, giving orders that he was to be treated with the consideration due a Knight.