"Why would the magi deign to meet with mere mortals? Andфkai has never honored me with a visit, despite claiming swathes of my kingdom as her own."
"Consider yourself fortunate; it's not for nothing that she's called the Tempestuous." He laughed, then became serious. "The magi rarely show themselves, and they tend to keep out of our affairs, but this is different, I assure you. They know their duty."
Lothaire studied the map, pondering the Perished Land, whose frontier posed no immediate threat to Urgon. "I don't know, Tilogorn. My kingdom is as tranquil as ever."
"But will it stay that way?" Tilogorn replied patiently, doing his best to talk Lothaire round. "I know your lands are easier to defend than the plains of Gauragar or Idoslane, but the Perished Land commands orcs, дlfar, and other foul creatures. Nowhere is safe."
"The beasts shall be thrown from my mountains and drowned in my lakes. Their heavy armor will be the death of them," announced Lothaire with customary haughtiness. "My men are hardened warriors. Every day they seek out trolls in our ranges and put them to the sword. I ride with a single bodyguard, knowing that he will defend me single-handedly against a hundred foes."
"Do not confuse the дlfar with simple-minded trolls. All it takes is a well-aimed arrow and your bodyguard will be dead. The hordes in the north are more numerous than you can imagine; their power is infinite, yours is not." With a sweep of his hand, Tilogorn gestured to the former elven kingdoms. "They insisted on fighting alone and were conquered. Isn't it our duty to learn from their mistake? We must fight like with like: Only a vast army can protect us from the beasts."
"But what of the Perished Land's curse? Those who die on its territory are said to join its ranks."
"I've heard the stories too. We must burn the corpses so none can return as soulless warriors. We shall create a battalion to follow our army and set fire to the dead." Tilogorn sensed that Lothaire was almost persuaded. "Then you'll fight with me, King of Urgon?"
"Our armies shall follow my lead."
"The command will be shared. Our strengths will complement each other." Tilogorn paused. "Besides, my men will never take orders from a ruler younger than themselves." He held out his hand. "Are you with me?"
Lothaire smiled. "Very well. Our army will be the mightiest in the history of Girdlegard, powerful enough to lay waste to Dsфn Balsur and hound the дlfar across the Northern Pass. Although maybe we should kill them and be done with it… Yes," he said excitedly, "we'll destroy them altogether and then we can deal with the orcs. Peace will return to our kingdoms. It's a worthy plan." He shook Tilogorn's outstretched hand; then an anxious look crossed his face. "Er, there's one more thing. You remember Prince Mallen of Ido?"
Tilogorn snorted. "How could I forget the last of the great Idos? He lives in your kingdom, does he not?"
"He heads my army," Lothaire corrected him. "Rest assured, when the time comes to rid your lands of orcs, he will forfeit his command. No one shall accuse Lothaire of Urgon of scheming to plant the last of the Idos on Idoslane's throne."
Tilogorn took little comfort from the speech. "What if he incites rebellion in our troops? He is sure to have supporters among your men."
Lothaire sipped his water. "He's a reasonable man at heart. Perhaps your powers of persuasion will work on him as effectively as they worked on me." Before Tilogorn had a chance to reply, the young king rose and walked to the door. "I'll summon him to you. If you can convince him of our cause, the kings and queens of the other five kingdoms will be no trouble at all." He disappeared into the corridor.
His guest leaned over the table to study the map.
"Greetings, King of Idoslane," a voice said sardonically. "Who would have thought that we would ride to battle side by side? Fate plays games with the best of us, irrespective of rank."
Turning, Tilogorn saw Lothaire reentering the room with the speaker, a man of some thirty cycles, his features nondescript. His finely crafted armor bore the insignia of the Ido and testified to his wealth, although fashions had changed in the meantime.
"Prince Mallen of Ido?" It was less a greeting than an expression of surprise. "I remembered you differently."
"Yet you recognize the coat of arms to which Idoslane rightfully belongs… Are you comfortable on my throne?"
"You need not worry about my comfort, Prince Mallen. You and your coconspirators have not unseated me yet. The people are clearly fonder of my family than they were of yours. You serve Urgon's army, 1 hear?" Tilogorn asked brusquely.
"I am an exile. I have to do something to earn my keep."
"The Idos have a reputation for fighting-especially among themselves. Your bloodthirsty feuds brought suffering on the people and cost you your throne." He bit his lip. Barbed comments were hardly going to help his cause. "Forgive me, I didn't mean to-"
"Oh please, King Tilogorn, spare me the history lesson," Mallen said dismissively. "Tell me something interesting, such as what I can do to aid my country and return a free man."
"If you wish to help your country, bury our quarrel until Girdlegard is safe," Tilogorn entreated. "I'm sorry I spoke so harshly."
"You're sorry." Mallen was as distrustful as ever. "Well, we agree on one thing: An invasion of orcs or дlfar would only harm Idoslane." He glanced at the map. "It may surprise you to learn that I'm in favor of a truce between us. I agree to your proposal, on the condition that I can enter Idoslane at will."
Tilogorn hesitated.
"I miss my country and the few friends loyal to my line," Mallen said evenly. "There'll be no more conspiracies, I swear. May Palandiell be my witness."
This time the king held out his hand. "I can see in your eyes that your concern for Idoslane is genuine. I shall take you at your word."
"Make no mistake," Mallen warned him. "There is no friendship between us. Only the gods know what will become of us once the hordes have been defeated, but let us focus on saving our kingdom for now."
Lothaire, who had been hanging back, stepped in. "Excellent. Good sense has prevailed, it seems. I propose that we inform the other monarchs and make haste to raise our troops." He escorted them through the corridors of his palace.
Tilogorn stole sideways glances at the other two, trying to read their expressions.
Lothaire was visibly excited at the prospect of battle, but Mallen's face was inscrutable, revealing only that he shared Tilogorn's profound anxiety about the future.
Just then, they fell into step, their boots ringing out in unison against the marble floor.
"Hark," said Tilogorn, drawing their attention to the harmony of their stride. "Past cycles have driven a wedge between our dynasties, but now we move as one. If only it didn't take a common enemy to bridge the gulf between neighbors."
"It's no use dwelling on the past," replied the sovereign of Urgon. "Blaze a trail for others to follow, and follow they will. It's the only reasonable thing to do."
"Well spoken, King Lothaire," Tilogorn said approvingly. "I think the two of us"-he nodded at Mallen-"have shown that we are reasonable men."
VI
Kingdom of Gauragar, Girdlegard, Early Summer, 6234tb Solar Cycle Over here, you runt," a voice cried lustily in dwarfish.
"Come here so I can slaughter you!" A squat figure pushed its way between the orc's legs, whipped out two short-hafted axes, and planted them in the orc's vulnerable nether regions.
Oinking derisively, the diminutive warrior jerked the weapons out of his opponent's crotch and launched himself into the air like an acrobat, seemingly unhampered by his heavy mail. On his way down he struck again, hewing the neck of the orc who was doubled up in pain. The axes sliced from both sides, almost meeting in the middle. The beast crumpled to the ground.
"By Beroпn's beard," the warrior scolded Tungdil, "what were you doing dropping your ax?"
"You're a…dwarf!" Tungdil gasped in surprise, scrambling to his feet.