Many other threads of endeavour were woven through the weeks. A messenger was sent to Fyorlund with the news of the safe arrival of Arinndier and the arrival and recovery of Hawklan. A messenger too was sent to Riddin, but he was obliged to return as the snows took possession of the higher peaks and valleys.
Andawyr and Gulda wandered the Castle together, pored over tomes in the library together, and talked and talked.
The Fyordyn joined with Loman and the other Mor-lider veterans in the training of the Orthlundyn army, Dacu and Tel-Mindor taking a considerable interest in the Helyadin. All however, sat at the feet of Agreth to learn about cavalry warfare.
Jaldaric and Tirke were offered the opportunity to train with Athyr in the Helyadin.
Rede Berryn eventually took his stiff leg to Hawklan.
Dacu and Tel-Mindor were impressed by the Helyadin. ‘I’d never have thought it possible to achieve so much in so short a time,’ Dacu said. ‘You’re to be commended, Loman. Your people are remarkable and you yourself must have learned a great deal during your service under Commander Dirfrin.’
Loman grimaced. ‘Not from choice,’ he said. ‘It was learn or die. One doesn’t forget such teaching. And Gulda knows a great deal, though how she came by such knowledge I’m not even going to think about asking.’
The two Goraidin agreed with that sentiment and concentrated on adding their own expertise to that which Loman and Gulda had already taught. They had already bruised themselves badly against Gulda by casually protesting about the physical dangers to the women in training alongside the men, especially in the severe training required of the Helyadin. Hearing their unexpected complaint and being in no position to advise against its utterance, Hawklan and Loman had both developed a sudden deep interest in nearby carvings as Gulda had stopped writing, paused, and then slowly looked up from her desk.
‘The Muster women seem to manage,’ she began. ‘As did those who fought by Ethriss’s side.’
Although her voice was soft, it was withering in its disdain, and her blue eyes defied description. When she had finished, Dacu and Tel-Mindor retreated from the field in disarray to the barely disguised amusement of Hawklan and Loman. Dacu was heard to mutter, ‘Poor Sumeral.’
Apart from minor frictions however, the Fyordyn and the Orthlundyn worked well together and to their considerable mutual benefit. The Goraidin in particular responded to the intuitive flair of the Orthlundyn while they in their turn came to appreciate the Fyordyn’s painstaking thoroughness.
Both Tirke and Jaldaric welcomed the opportunity to join the Helyadin under Athyr’s command. Tirke accepted with enthusiasm, having been much impressed by Dacu on their journey through the mountains and presuming that he in turn could impress Athyr with some of his new-found knowledge. Jaldaric, however, accepted grimly, carrying within him desperate memories of his capture first by Hawklan and then by Aelang, but worst of all, the memory of the impotent witness he had borne to the massacre at Ledvrin.
These initial intentions however, began to change rapidly as the two young men faced the Helyadin’s simple but effective aptitude test. It involved a leap from the edge of a sheer rock face on to a nearby flat-topped spur. The gap was not too wide, but the top of the spur was small and the drop beneath it breathtaking. Roped for safety, but nevertheless terrified, both managed to pass the test, and both grew a little in wisdom.
Rede Berryn, a robust bachelor, was slightly embar-rassed by the presence of Tirilen, but he watched intently as Hawklan carefully examined his knee. It was stiff as a result of a riding accident many years previ-ously and various healers had shaken their heads over it from time to time. He could not avoid a small sense of disappointment however when Hawklan too shook his.
‘Never mind,’ he said philosophically. ‘I’m glad you’ve had a look at it. If you can’t do anything for it, then I doubt anyone can.’
But Hawklan had not finished. ‘I can’t loosen the joint for you, Rede,’ he said. ‘Like you, that’s well set in its ways by now. But Tirilen will show you how to massage it and how to exercise these muscles here’-he prodded dispassionately-‘and here, so that they’ll carry more of your weight. It’ll be a little uncomfortable at first, but it should ease the pain considerably.’
‘Oh, that won’t be necessary… ’ began the Rede with spurious heartiness, but a gentle hand on the chest prevented his attempt at a hasty departure.
Tirilen smiled at the old man’s discomfiture. ‘Come now, Rede,’ she said, rolling up her sleeves. ‘I’ve seen uglier things than your leg.’
Berryn cleared his throat and coloured a little. As Tirilen approached he caught Hawklan’s sleeve and pulled him forward. ‘Perhaps… you… or maybe… the Memsa… ’ he whispered tentatively.
Hawklan sucked in his breath and shook his head, frowning. ‘Different school of medicine, Gulda,’ he whispered back earnestly. ‘Different entirely. Takes no prisoners and dispatches her wounded,’ And with a broad wink he was gone.
‘Come in,’ Andawyr said.
The door to his room opened slowly and Hawklan peered in cautiously.
‘I’m here,’ Andawyr said, striking a small torch into life. ‘I was just relaxing.’
The torch gently illuminated the chaos of books and scrolls that filled the small room Andawyr had chosen for his study, but he himself was not to be seen. Hawklan gazed around uncertainly for a moment until, abruptly, a bushy-haired head appeared above a stack of books. A beckoning hand followed.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you, Andawyr,’ Hawklan said, entering and treading warily around the books and scrolls that littered the floor.
Andawyr shook his head decidedly and beckoned again. Hawklan advanced further, eventually finding the Cadwanwr sitting cosily in the lee of a broken cliff-face of books and other documents illuminated warmly by the small torch and a fire of radiant stones.
Andawyr motioned him to sit down, carefully lifting a mound of papers from one chair to another. As he released them, they slithered gracefully to the floor.
With a small click of irritation, he bent down and gathered them together loosely then, after looking vainly for a blank space on a nearby table, he dropped them unceremoniously on top of another pile of papers. Hawklan watched the small drama with great interest, and could not forbear smiling.
‘You’re a profoundly untidy man, Andawyr, Leader of the Cadwanol,’ he said.
Andawyr shrugged a small concession. ‘But not here,’ he pleaded, tapping his head.
Hawklan eyed the shadowy crags and peaks of the impromptu mountain range of documents that Andawyr had built, and looked conspicuously doubtful.
His doubts however, rolled serenely off Andawyr’s beaming face. ‘You’re a fine and generous host, Hawklan,’ the little man said. ‘And you keep a fine inn here, with rare bedside reading.’
Hawklan nodded graciously. ‘Didn’t there used to be windows in here once?’ he asked.
Andawyr looked vaguely over his shoulder. ‘I’ll put all these back when I’ve finished,’ he said earnestly, like an ingenuous child.
Hawklan waved a dismissive hand. ‘I know,’ he said reassuringly. ‘Gulda looks after the library.’
Andawyr surrendered to this threat of vastly supe-rior force with a chuckle and settled back in his chair.
‘What did you want to talk about?’ he asked.
Hawklan shook his head. ‘Nothing special,’ he re-plied. ‘I thought I’d let you know that a messenger just arrived from Fyorlund to say that Arinndier has been empowered unconditionally by the Geadrol to speak for them in whatever military arrangements we’re making.’