In fact, the king was in love, and his beloved would have granted a splendid heir to the kingdom, for her blood was royal, too, of a strain that had ruled for far longer than the clan of Corwell. Yet the match was unacceptable to both the Ffolk and her own people.
Deric's beloved was Herene, princess of Synnoria and daughter of Kaminas, the High Elven Lord.
The Synnorian ruler was appalled by his daughter's attraction to the human king. At first, he tried to coax her toward other beaus, but she showed no interest in even the most handsome elves among all the Llewyrr. Later King Kaminas resorted to sending Herene away from the valley when King Deric's visits were anticipated.
But the lovers found ways to circumvent these precautions as well. The man would arrive unannounced, or the princess would cut short her departure. Finally Kaminas faced a drastic action, but one he felt necessary to the survival of his kingdom: He closed Synnoria to humans, barring their presence there for any reason. The wizards and clerics among the Llewyrr, with the help of mighty Corellon Larethian, god of all elves, weaved a pattern of spells around Synnoria, blocking all its borders against human intrusion.
Though he tried many times throughout the remainder of his life, King Deric was never able to find a path into Synnoria. He never saw the elven princess again. Decades later, he died, childless, and a bitter civil war resulted in a series of brutal tyrants holding the throne and wresting it away from each other.
Herene lived for many centuries, and eventually her father compelled her to marriage, yet she, too, perished without an heir. And from that era to this, the bard concluded, the borders of Synnoria remained closed.
On that note, Tavish let the notes of her final chord fade.
The harpist lowered her instrument and caught her breath. Noticing her own hunger, Alicia finally realized that Tavish had been singing for a long time, though the minutes had seemed to pass with a trancelike beauty.
Now the meat was served, and quickly the guests' attention turned to the food. Pitchers were refilled, but the conversation faded away as men and women alike went to work on their plates.
"Where is the young Princess Deirdre?" Randolph inquired after a while, as they dined on beef and pork, with bowls of thick soup and still more loaves of bread before them. "Will she attend the council?"
"She promised me that she would arrive by tomorrow," the High Queen replied in clipped tones, "though I encouraged her to attend the feast today."
"I see." The Earl of Corwell wisely refrained from further conversation on the topic.
"It's a delight to have the queen's presence at our meager Corwellian table," said the rotund Pawldo, reaching for another rib of pork with both of his ring-bejeweled hands. Though he was a mere three feet tall, his appetite was the match of any of the humans'. The halfling had made his fortune as a merchant but was famed more as the courageous adventurer who had accompanied King Kendrick on his rise to the throne. Now the comforts of his wealth and station generally held him to the confines of Corwell Town or the neighboring halfling community of Lowhill.
"Your table is always sumptuous, and never more than now," Robyn disagreed with a laugh.
"Will my lady princess be attending the dance?" inquired Hanrald, blushing furiously as he spoke to Alicia. Keane and Brandon leaned forward.
"I imagine so," Alicia allowed, enjoying the attention as the three of them sought her pledges to dance. For a moment, she felt the light happiness she had known throughout her life, but then the memory of their purpose here came back with renewed poignancy, as if her father had perished only yesterday.
Festive Ffolk sat at tables all around them, gathered in knots of conversation. Harps and lutes, flutes and horns, rang across the broad field, while jugglers and magicians worked through the crowd, entertaining to exclamations of delight and disbelief. It was altogether a scene of considerable commotion.
Thus the party of strangers approached quite close to the head table before anyone there even took note of their arrival. A band of men and women, dressed as elegantly as any group of noble lords and ladies, advanced through the crowd behind a herald bearing a banner of black, white, and red. They numbered more than a dozen, though none of them were armed, and the few pieces of armor worn by the men appeared purely ceremonial in nature, as evidenced by detailed engraving and graceful but impractical shoulder epaulets.
"Who are those people?" Robyn said, abruptly realizing that she didn't recognize the lords or their banner.
"I recall that tricolor symbol," offered Randolph. "A curragh entered the harbor this morning under a sail of the same colors. I assumed they were a clan from one of the outlying islands."
The High Queen shook her head emphatically. "I would know if they were," she stated. Robyn scrutinized the leading lord, an enormously fat individual with multiple chins concealed under a thin beard. He wore a blue velvet cap that flowed like a pancake out to either side of his head.
It was a style that was new to the Moonshaes, Robyn reflected. It should have looked ridiculous, but the huge man somehow gained from it a sense of noble dignity.
The herald dipped the tricolor banner in deference to the great bear of the Ffolk, the pennant that floated above Robyn's table.
"Greetings, stranger," offered the queen, accepting the lord's deep bow with easy grace. "Will you join our feast? There is plenty for all of your party, but first you must introduce yourselves."
"The High Queen's kindness is, as legend claims, ever flowing! " the lord proclaimed with a grand sweep of his arm. "We had but hoped to find meager lodgings in your town, but this invitation overwhelms my humble self!"
Alicia noticed that Keane, seated beside her, had stopped eating. The wizard's eyes were fixed on the visiting lord's face. Keane was not smiling.
"It is the way of the Ffolk to be hospitable," said Robyn, an edge of curtness to her voice. "Especially when they know who their guests are and from whence they come."
"Allow me to present my entourage. We journey here from a place that is far away, but we bear a most important message for my noble queen!"
"And the land, sir? What place is that? And how are you called?" pressed Robyn. The edge of iron in her voice could not be ignored.
"My name? If you insist that I have one, it shall be what you give me," proclaimed the obese figure, his own voice growing more firm.
"Cease your riddles, sir. If you have a message, produce it. I grow tired of your rudeness and prattling." Robyn gestured subtly with her hand, and Keane mumbled a soft word, performing the delicate motions of a spell with his hands concealed beneath the table.
Alicia noticed several files of men-at-arms, bearing cocked and loaded crossbows, working into position on either side of the visitors. For the first time, the princess noticed that Lord Randolph had left the table. The earl must have sensed danger earlier and summoned the company of guardsmen.
"My message, then," said the stranger, with another overly flourishing bow.
One of his attending lords, a foppish fellow in a large yellow hat-this one did look ridiculous, Robyn decided-scampered to the huge man's side, bearing a pouch of smooth leather. The courtier lifted the enclosing flap and held the opened pouch out for his master's inspection.
The round face split into a wide grin, creasing the short beard into the rolls of chin. A plump hand, festooned with rings, reached into the pouch, but then the fellow turned back to the queen, obviously enjoying the suspense.
"This is more than a gift, royal lady. In fact, I return to you something which you have lost. Indeed, I presume it is something you have missed very much."