‘Where’ve you been all this time?’ he said, not with-out a hint of the anxious parent in his voice, as he struggled to contain the wriggling felci which was now clambering all over him and chattering noisily.
Dar-volci began an elaborate whistling, apparently in reply. It was so piercing that most of the watchers grimaced and several put their fingers in their ears.
Andawyr frowned in exasperation and, over-balancing under the impact of Dar-volci’s attentions, flopped down into his chair again.
‘Dar, you’re talking felci,’ he shouted above the noise. ‘And loud enough to send to Riddin. Talk properly.’
The felci stopped wriggling abruptly and the whis-tling sank through a brief glissando into a dying fall. He stood for a moment on Andawyr’s lap, his head cocked on one side.
‘Properly?’ he said. ‘I was talking properly. Only a cloth-eared human would confuse this rumbling cacophony with real speech!’
‘Of course, of course,’ Andawyr conceded hastily and insincerely. ‘You’re right, as always. But where’ve you been?’ he repeated. ‘And what have you been doing?’
He took hold of the felci. ‘You’re thinner,’ he went on, anxiously. ‘And your coat’s a mess.’
Dar-volci began to scratch his stomach vigorously with his forepaws, sending up a cloud of dust, then, balancing precariously, he brought his back leg up to reach more inaccessible places. This sent up more dust, and the vibration of the scratching made Andawyr clutch the edge of his seat. Finally Dar-volci shook himself violently.
‘Off my knee, if you’re going to do that,’ Andawyr said, coughing. He stood up and dumped his friend unceremoniously on the floor.
‘Dar-volci, you’re so thin. Where’ve you been?’ The felci mocked Andawyr’s anxious tone reproachfully.
Andawyr glowered at him as he beat the dust off his robe.
‘You’re so inconsistent, you humans,’ Dar-volci went on, with the infuriating manner of a teacher yet again repeating an old lesson to a particularly obtuse pupil. ‘Always have been. One minute you’re all fuss and concern. The next-boom-you’re dropping us on the floor.’
‘Which is where you belong, you furry dustheap,’ Andawyr snapped, still generating a fair cloud from his robe.
Dar-volci sneezed, then blew a loud raspberry.
‘I like this rat,’ Gavor whispered in Hawklan’s ear.
‘That’s the last time you call me that, crow,’ said Dar-volci, levelling a menacing clawed forepaw at his flatterer.
Hawklan felt the impatient tap of Gavor’s wooden leg. Sensing the beginning of an acid and acrimonious exchange, he cleared his throat conspicuously.
‘My friends,’ he said loudly. ‘This is Dar-volci, the brave felci… ’-he nudged Gavor with his head-‘who gave us much needed assistance at the Gretmearc. I’ve thanked him once, but I’m happy to thank him again, in front of you all. Welcome to our conference, pack leader.’
The felci sidled over to Hawklan and, placing his forepaws on Hawklan’s knees, stared at him intently.
‘Thank you,’ he said simply, after a moment. Then he looked at Gavor, who craned his neck forward and met his stare like a jousting knight.
‘Truce… raven,’ the felci said, with a significant hesitation.
Gavor’s eyes narrowed, then he said. ‘Truce… felci,’ in like vein.
‘Come here, creature.’ Gulda’s voice interrupted the uncertain peace-making. Her face was screwed up in puzzlement and she was beckoning the felci. Dar-volci dropped down on to all fours to sidle over to her, then sat up on his haunches and examined her as he had examined Hawklan and Gavor.
‘Where do you come from?’ Gulda asked eventually.
Dar-volci laughed a deep and rumbling laugh. ‘From long ago and far away,’ he said with a lilt. ‘Just like you, old one, only more so… much more so.’
Gulda started slightly but she made no attempt to pursue her question. Instead, she reached out and stroked him. ‘You are a mess,’ she said.
Dar-volci shrugged. ‘Nothing that a good scratch and shake won’t deal with. When I can have one without interruption,’ he added, looking significantly at Andawyr.
‘What have you been doing all this time?’ Gulda asked.
Dar-volci’s excitement returned. ‘Meeting the Al-phraan again. Singing, playing, telling the old tales, but mainly clearing their lesser ways. You think I’m a mess, you should have seen those! But all will sing to all again soon. And their Heartplace… ’ His voice tailed off into a series of ecstatic flutings.
‘What do you mean, lesser ways, all singing to all?’ Hawklan asked, remembering the remarks the Alphraan had made as they had talked during their journey from Fyorlund.
‘It’s beyond your understanding, Hawklan,’ Dar-volci said, though not unkindly. ‘Suffice it to say that the scattered families are coming together again, re-born and full of hope. Their song is echoing from here to the Caves of Cadwanen, healer, and they are eternally in your debt for your guidance and the epic slaying that freed their Heartplace.’
Hawklan frowned. ‘I want no heroic songs about that,’ he said coldly. ‘I slew that creature by good fortune and out of grim need. And it was old and beyond its time.’
‘It would have seen all of you off without any diffi-culty,’ Dar-volci said defensively.
‘That’s why I killed it,’ Hawklan said, an edge to his voice. ‘But make no songs and legends of it. It’s not a matter for pride. How are the wolf cubs.’
Dar-volci’s look became sly. ‘They’re well-very well,’ he replied. ‘Remarkable creatures.’
Then he chattered to himself for a moment uncer-tainly. ‘Songs and legends make themselves, warrior,’ he said. ‘Consider yourself fortunate if they come anywhere near the truth.’
Hawklan did not reply.
‘What did you mean, Dar, the ways are open as far as the Caves?’ Andawyr said, apparently satisfied with the state of his robe, and holding out his hands again.
The felci clambered back up on to the Cadwanwr’s lap and, circling twice, curled up into a relaxed bundle.
‘What I said,’ he murmured. ‘And I’m worn out. It’s a long way. Still, the others are here now so they can carry on. I’m going to sleep for a week.’ Then he yawned massively and brought his head down wearily on to his forepaws. ‘But carry on talking,’ he said, faintly. ‘I’ll be listening.’
Hawklan looked at Andawyr who shrugged help-lessly.
‘He’ll tell us when he’s ready,’ he said, stroking the sleeping felci. ‘But he has been working very hard. He’s thin and exhausted.’
Hawklan nodded, then, on an impulse, looked around and said, ‘Are you ready to join our conference also, Alphraan?’
A soft, elusive, sound filled the hall like a myriad tiny bells, and at its heart a voice said, ‘Thank you, Hawklan, you have brought us from the darkness, and we are yours to command. We wish to serve until He is no more.’
Arinndier, Jaldaric and Tirke, looked round in amazement, as did some of the Orthlundyn elders. Hawklan smiled. ‘I doubt you’ll see anything,’ he said. ‘For some reason they’re reluctant to show themselves.’ Then, looking around again in spite of himself, he said, ‘Won’t you join us in person now that we’re friends and allies?’
‘No,’ came the simple and immediate reply. There was no animosity in it, but the word was surrounded by subtle shades of meaning that conveyed an absoluteness to the answer which placed it quite beyond debate. There would be no explanation of their conduct.
Hawklan bowed. ‘As you wish,’ he said. ‘Neverthe-less you are at all times welcome to come and go through Anderras Darion as you please, and to listen and speak at our debates.’
‘Thank you,’ said the voice.
An awkward silence descended on the hall as the Alphraan’s voice faded, but a sudden explosive snore from Dar-volci ended it abruptly.
‘Let us return to our debate, then,’ Hawklan said, laughing. ‘Has anyone else anything to add to the remarks already made about the problems of billeting a large army in Fyorlund for any length of time?’
‘Without some idea of when an attack might occur, nothing can be determined, however much we talk,’ Dacu said.
‘Is it possible for the Goraidin to move into Narsin-dal and perhaps get some idea of what’s happening?’ Athyr asked.