Both were sufficiently master of their new skills however, to realize that here they would judge and be judged.
‘Any problems on the way back?’ Hawklan asked simply, looking from one to the other. ‘The cold get to any of you? Exhaustion, frostnip?’
‘No,’ Tybek replied. ‘The sudden snowfall gave us a fright, but we had everything we needed. It was interesting-and very useful for the trainees. They did well. We kept the pursuit going until we ran into… ’ He nodded towards Andawyr and Agreth.
‘I’m afraid we gave them a bit of a fright,’ Jenna said softly, leaning forward a little. ‘Waking them up in the middle of the night, swords drawn. But we just didn’t know what to expect when we saw the tent. Who in the world travels the mountains at this time of year?’ She lowered her voice further. ‘We said we were on an exercise but we didn’t tell them anything about the Alphraan.’ She went on, ‘I think they took our caution in good part once we’d identified ourselves.’
Hawklan nodded and, looking back at Andawyr, smiled. ‘I’m sure they did,’ he said. ‘I should imagine the Riddinwr’s had greater frights than you in the past, and I know Andawyr has. Get yourselves fed and rested and we’ll talk afterwards.’
As the party trooped up the last portion of the road to the Great Gate, Agreth watched Hawklan moving among the trainees who had been with the two Helyadin. He talked and listened and there was a great deal of laughter. In the few minutes it took them to reach the Gate, Agreth knew that Hawklan had won the loyalty of the entire group, himself included. It no longer surprised him that Sylvriss had been so affected by the man even though Hawklan had been uncon-scious.
Just before they came to the Gate, Gulda emerged, her long nose sniffing the cold air like a stalking hound. Immediately she went to Agreth’s horse.
‘Ah, a Muster horse,’ she said, smiling and patting the animal affectionately before she addressed its rider. ‘And a Muster rider too. You’re welcome to Anderras Darion… ’ She paused and glanced at Hawklan for the arrival’s name.
‘Agreth,’ Hawklan said. ‘Adviser to Ffyrst Urthryn.’
Gulda nodded an acknowledgement. ‘You’re wel-come to Anderras Darion, Agreth of the Decmilloith of Riddin, friend of Urthryn and son of the Riddinvolk,’ she said. Agreth was pleasantly surprised. Gulda’s welcome was the formal Riddin greeting to a friendly stranger and, generally, these Orthlundyn generally seemed to be so careless in their forms of address. How they knew who was who in their ordinary lives he couldn’t imagine.
He smiled and bowed, but before he could speak, Gulda had turned her attention to Andawyr.
She looked at the little man narrowly. ‘A Cadwanwr, I see, from your garb and your manner,’ she said. ‘And from your appearance.’ She flicked the end of her nose, apparently casually. ‘You must be Andawyr, the saviour of our healer here and self-styled Leader of the Cad-wanol.’
Andawyr returned her gaze unflinchingly. ‘My brothers call me their leader, Memsa Gulda,’ he replied, equally casually squeezing his own nose. ‘And I do my best to guide them when my advice is sought, but most of the time I follow, really.’
Gulda walked over to him and looked at him even more intensely than before.
‘How is your vision, Cadwanwr?’ she asked.
To Hawklan, it seemed that in some way, two great forces were confronting one another, although Andawyr looked relaxed and comfortable in the cold, grey, wintry light.
For an instant, however, the Cadwanwr’s eyes flashed as if they had seen something strange and bewildering and he frowned.
‘Uncertain,’ he replied after a moment.
Gulda nodded again. ‘You too are welcome to An-derras Darion, Andawyr, Leader of the Cadwanol. Many threads are starting to pull together. Perhaps time and debate may show us a pattern, eh?’ And with a grunt she turned and stumped back into the courtyard.
As the others made to follow her, a sleek brown form scuttled between the legs of the waiting group, and made straight for Andawyr. Reaching him, it began jumping up, chattering excitedly.
Andawyr bent down and it scrambled sinuously up into his arms.
‘Where did you get to?’ he asked it.
Gavor suddenly recognized it, and with a most un-ravenlike squawk, hopped nimbly up on to Hawklan’s head.
‘It’s that rat thing of Dar-volci’s,’ he said, rather hoarsely. ‘You remember-from the Gretmearc… ’ He bent forward. ‘With the teeth,’ he whispered urgently.
The animal, however, seemed to hear the remark and turned to eye Gavor purposefully. Andawyr smiled and laid an affectionate hand on its head.
‘Hawklan, Gavor, this is… ’
‘Still carrying that crow thing about, eh, Hawklan?’ The animal said. Its deep voice was unmistakable.
‘… Dar-volci,’ Andawyr finished. ‘An old and dear friend from the Caves. A felci, Gavor,’ he added, giving the raven a knowing look.
Gavor cleared his throat. ‘Ah,’ he began uncertainly. ‘A slip of the tongue, dear… boy. A slip of the tongue. You startled me. I can see now that you’re not… ’ He cleared his throat again and changed tack. ‘I’ve been looking forward to a chance to thank you for your good offices at the Gretmearc.’
‘And I,’ Hawklan added, sparing Gavor any further embarrassment.
Dar-volci seemed mollified. ‘That was my pleasure entirely,’ he said, wriggling round in Andawyr’s arms and baring his enormous teeth in a terrifying smile that made Gavor tap his wooden leg nervously on Hawklan’s head.
Then the felci was whispering frantically in An-dawyr’s ear and pointing towards the mountains.
Andawyr made a few brief interjections in an at-tempt to slow down the rate of this telling, but to no avail. Finally, Dar-volci nuzzled into Andawyr’s bushy beard, sneezed, and then slithered from his arms to run off down the road at an enormous speed, leaving the Cadwanwr mouthing a vague, ‘But… ’ while everyone else looked on in amazement.
A bubble of excited inquiry welled up out of the group, but Andawyr ignored it and turned to Hawklan.
‘Dar-volci says that there are Alphraan in the moun-tains and that you’ve spoken to them and persuaded them to help us,’ he said.
‘Indeed,’ Hawklan replied. ‘But circumstances and deeds persuaded them as much as anything that was said. Have they alarmed your friend?’
Andawyr shook his head. ‘Quite the contrary,’ he said. ‘But he’ll probably be gone for some time.’ He turned to Gulda, who had returned to investigate the reason for the delay. ‘Many threads… Memsa,’ he said.
Hawklan’s remark that there might be a great deal of talking later proved to be apt, as did Gavor’s that the Fyordyn might have taken charge of it. Though it had to be admitted that the buttressing presence of Gulda generally prevented their having to exercise their authority in the many discussions that took place during the following days as each of the new arrivals told or retold their tales and answered questions about them.
For all her stern presence however, Gulda seemed easier in her manner than she had at any time since her arrival at the Castle. Some days later, sitting with Hawklan and Andawyr in one of the halls, she said, ‘Courage and good fortune have given us a little time in which to think and learn, and to be glad that all our friends are returned unhurt… if not unchanged, though one cannot but grieve for the Fyordyn in their pain. We can be glad too that our enemy stands clearly exposed now for all to see. We must all rest and accept the healing benison of Ethriss’s great castle. It will restore us now, and sustain us in the future.’
Hawklan was less sure. ‘Oklar is safe and armed in Narsindalvak, Creost seemingly threatens Riddin,’ he said. ‘We can’t afford the luxury of dawdling.’