"Requested?" gasped Sunbright. But that was all he could say, and so he plodded after Greenwillow's stiff back.
They waited on a bench in the council hall for hours as endless piddling business and squabbling went back and forth. Before, Sunbright was able to ignore it; now he could barely endure the bickering, for his head throbbed and he wanted to scream at them to shut up. Greenwillow never said a word, which confused him. Hadn't she stood by him in battle with the wraith, and then nursed him through his sickness with tears in her eyes? Why, then, was she so angry and cold?
Finally a clerk called their names, and they stepped before the council's table. Sunbright, tired and still a bit weak, tried not to sway like some errant drunk.
The speaker for the council barely looked at them before reading from notes chalked on a slate. "Greenwillow. After much deliberation, the council has decided. You may continue your journey to the One King in Tinnainen. We are aware this king may be affronted by your missive from the High Elves of Cormanthyr, yet there is, we calculate, little chance he will unleash his fury at Dalekeva, since you are an elf and not of our city. We will enter our own negotiations with the One King, and so will neither hinder you nor send you succor. We wish you good luck."
Stupefied by this garble of pomposity, dismissal, treachery, and outright cowardice, Sunbright merely stared in openmouthed wonder. Then dust motes swirled in a shaft of sunlight by his side. He was alone. Without a word, Greenwillow had quitted the council hall.
The heavy-footed barbarian caught up as she marched toward the river. "Can you believe that lot?" he jabbered. "Saying they don't care if you go to be skinned alive, that you don't matter because you're an elf? They're negotiating with this butcher to save their own hides. And they won't hinder us, won't prevent us from leaving?"
"What did you expect, country boy?" She neither slowed her stride nor turned to look at him. "That they'd pick up swords and march east, keening battle songs while tripping over their gowns? They're businessmen who believe everything has a price, including freedom and safety. And you don't have to go, just I."
"Yes, I do." Sunbright stumbled over a cobblestone and almost fell. Wilt-legged, he ran to catch up again. He felt like a child striding alongside his father so many years ago, and found himself wishing Greenwillow would be more of a friend, and not such a stern master. "I said I'd accompany you, and I shall."
"Go or stay; I don't care. But don't whine about the ways of the world. It's tiresome."
Stunned, Sunbright stayed silent and followed her meekly.
Grim-lipped, Greenwillow bustled through the marketplace garnering supplies for their journey: rations of meat and dried fruit and hardtack and burlap satchels to carry them in, skins filled with water and wine, long arrows, extra blankets for the highland nights, waxed tinder, a new bow for Sunbright, small coins for the smaller villages. Hurried, she didn't haggle overlong, and the vendors' good fortune made them garrulous and curious. Yet when they asked the travelers' destination and were told, they quieted. One said, "Tinnainen? Where the One King's made his headquarters? You should know patrols of orcs and men scour the countryside east of here. Mixed groups, I mean, men and orcs traveling together!"
Another offered, "Aye, farmers across the river have lost sheep, cows, you name it. 'Course they say there's a red dragon been seen in the eastern skies around sunset."
"There's an ill omen, the worst kind. Or else the dragon was in Tinnainen already, and the One King drove it out. Or else it's struck a deal with him."
Still another said, "And these councilors. They'll sell us all into slavery once the army arrives. Right now they've got clerics and mages up on the top of Crying Tower, slaughtering goats and pigs and what-all in hopes of driving the dragon off or bribing it. I don't know which."
"Some say the council plans to raise taxes on us, maybe sweep the jails and drive the criminals out into the open for dragon fodder."
"We should be mustering an army, and the council's bickering about who to blame. But that's politicians for you."
And so it went. All had something to say… and none of it boded well.
Late that afternoon, Greenwillow stepped off a ferry onto the eastern side of the river. Sunbright, laden, as was the elf, with satchels and weapons, leaned into his burdens and faced east. Past rocky farmland there arose tree-covered hills and a broad flat road, for in better times Dalekeva and Tinnainen had traded mutton and beef and hides and ironware for dried fish and silver and grain. Sunbright looked at the hills and couldn't resist saying, "Perhaps we should camp for the night and think this through. We'll need a strategy for moving through enemy territory if we're to reach Tinnainen alive."
Greenwillow, eyes hot and brows puckered, rounded on him. "Whining again? Know this, mortal man. Perhaps I do go to throw my life away! It's no matter. I've been ordered to go, and I shall-alone, if need be! To cast defiance into the One King's face will teach him that there are those who oppose him, real fighters, not coin-counters!
"As for you," she added, "stop dragging your feet! I remember a man who strode boldly down the roads and disdained all danger. Now I'm saddled with a carping cripple! Obviously the wraith drew more than strength from you; it ripped out your heart as well! If you wish to continue your 'spiritual journey'-as much as humans can have spirits-you'd best get on with it! Hiding behind stone walls will not restore your strength or spunk. Choose that, if you will. Choose to fail! But don't whine at me about your losses! I've lost more than you'll ever have!"
Stunned by this tirade, Sunbright could only stand as the elf marched down the road, nose high. He hadn't whined at all. Had he? And he hadn't suggested they not go. She was being obstinate and heaping blame on him for nothing. With his dizzy thoughts and aching back and clumsy feet, he didn't know what transpired, or even what he was anymore.
Nor did he know what Greenwillow was. She was an elf, which was mystery enough, and a woman, so doubly mysterious.
He could only go on and hope for the best. If he died, then perhaps that's what the gods intended for him. He wouldn't linger, or whine.
He did, however, curse a great deal, and that made him feel somewhat better.
That night, thinking that orcs preferred open reaches, they made a cold camp in the woods. Greenwillow had shot two fat rabbits, but they dared not light a fire, so Sunbright sliced the tough meat very thin, and they chewed it raw.
The elf agreed to take first watch, sitting against a tree, arms across her knees. Sunbright, who was exhausted, folded his blanket, pinned it shut with splinters, and flopped on his back. His throbbing head had whirled the day long, and finally he'd realized he lacked one thing: information. So, fighting fatigue and sleep, he asked quietly as the late sun set, "Greenwillow, why?"
For a long time there was silence. Then a soft sob choked her. Arching his neck, the man saw a tear course down her pale cheek. Sniffing, she whispered, "I was drunk, I'll admit. Elves tend to hold their emotions close, especially around humans. And it works against us sometimes, for too much wine or too much magic or too much fighting can make us lose our heads, go berserk or lust-mad. But I liked you and was lonely, and wanted to share myself with you.
"But in an eye-blink you pushed me away and chased another. I was forgotten, but I shan't forget.