and Maerad of Pellinor demands the noon meal!" he said. "Mistress Maerad, you must be more used to peril than some of us." He bowed flamboyantly, and Maerad found herself smiling. "I confess, I have no appetite at all."
"Maerad is a seasoned warrior indeed, Camphis," said Cadvan. "And like all old soldiers, thinks chiefly about a comfortable bed and a good meal. It is not long after noon, Maerad. I'm sure there'll be food up here somewhere. This is Innail, after all..."
Camphis took some smoked fish, cheese, bread, and fruit from a cupboard, and spread them on a table with a flask of wine. "Will this do?" he asked. "I assume you have your own knife."
"I lost mine," said Maerad, feeling a little foolish.
"You can borrow mine, then." Camphis handed over a wooden-handled clasp knife, and Maerad smiled her thanks, sat down, and set to. She was ravenous: the morning's ride, the scramble back to Innail, and the charm casting had given her a keen appetite. Cadvan joined her, and Camphis picked at some dried plums to keep them company, chatting idly. Maerad could see that, underneath his lightness, he was very frightened, and admired how he hid it. It seemed that he had but lately become a Major Bard, and was one of Silvia's students.
"My true interest is herblore, not swordcraft," he said, regarding his armor with distaste. "Although of course I know how to use weapons; Indik bullies us all into some kind of competence. I'd die for Innail. I only hope I don't have to." He smiled a little crookedly, and Cadvan patted his shoulder.
"We all hope that," he said. "Never fear, we have Maerad on our side. One never knows what she might do. She could turn all the enemies into rabbits."
Camphis looked his astonishment, and began to laugh again.
"She did it once to a Hull, you know," said Cadvan, enjoying himself as Maerad blushed next to him. "She even sang a lullaby to a stormdog."
"These are strange tales," Camphis said. "I hope one day you will have the time to tell me them in full."
"The strangest thing about them is that they are true," said Cadvan. He winked at Maerad. "She is perilous company, to be sure, but you can't say she's dull."
"Is it true that you take the form of a white wolf?" Camphis asked, fascinated.
Maerad looked over at Cadvan before she nodded. Clearly there was no point in hiding her presence in Innail now.
"And other forms as well?"
"I don't know. I haven't tried."
Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of wild yelling. It sounded uncomfortably close and the Bards started up, feeling for their swords. Almost immediately, Indik strode into the room.
"It has begun," he said. "The outriders are at our gates. And already we have beaten back two attacks on the eastern walls."
Maerad saw Camphis turn white, although his mouth was set and hard. He was much more frightened, she realized, than she was. And the Light knows, she thought, that I am afraid enough...
"Maerad," said Indik. "Can you tell if the Landrost is close to us, or not? So far we face mountain men and some wers, but it is hard to tell precisely what assails us."
"I do not think he is at the gate," said Maerad, unwillingly dragging herself back to consciousness of the shadow that oppressed her mind. "He seems a little distant to me. Though I could be wrong..."
Cadvan glanced at Indik, his face serious. "What will you have of us?" he asked.
"At present, I want Maerad to stay in mindtouch with me." Indik looked across at her. "If you could tell me the moment you feel any change, any tensing—as if he prepares to leap— you know the kind of thing. Cadvan, Camphis, I could do with some help with any wers. Malgorn, are there any other Bards to spare?"
"No," said Malgorn. He paused and listened intently for a few moments. "Silvia is asking for more hands as well. We are spread thin as it is. I've placed all the Bards as evenly as possible around the walls. There is no sign of wers within Innail. Either they fled when the charm was
"Maerad is a seasoned warrior indeed, Camphis," said Cadvan. "And like all old soldiers, thinks chiefly about a comfortable bed and a good meal. It is not long after noon, Maerad. I'm sure there'll be food up here somewhere. This is Innail, after all..."
Camphis took some smoked fish, cheese, bread, and fruit from a cupboard, and spread them on a table with a flask of wine. "Will this do?" he asked. "I assume you have your own knife."
"I lost mine," said Maerad, feeling a little foolish.
"You can borrow mine, then." Camphis handed over a wooden-handled clasp knife, and Maerad smiled her thanks, sat down, and set to. She was ravenous: the morning's ride, the scramble back to Innail, and the charm casting had given her a keen appetite. Cadvan joined her, and Camphis picked at some dried plums to keep them company, chatting idly. Maerad could see that, underneath his lightness, he was very frightened, and admired how he hid it. It seemed that he had but lately become a Major Bard, and was one of Silvia's students.
"My true interest is herblore, not swordcraft," he said, regarding his armor with distaste. "Although of course I know how to use weapons; Indik bullies us all into some kind of competence. I'd die for Innail. I only hope I don't have to." He smiled a little crookedly, and Cadvan patted his shoulder.
"We all hope that," he said. "Never fear, we have Maerad on our side. One never knows what she might do. She could turn all the enemies into rabbits."
Camphis looked his astonishment, and began to laugh again.
"She did it once to a Hull, you know," said Cadvan, enjoying himself as Maerad blushed next to him. "She even sang a lullaby to a stormdog."
"These are strange tales," Camphis said. "I hope one day you will have the time to tell me them in full."
"The strangest thing about them is that they are true," said Cadvan. He winked at Maerad. "She is perilous company, to be sure, but you can't say she's dull."
"Is it true that you take the form of a white wolf?" Camphis asked, fascinated.
Maerad looked over at Cadvan before she nodded. Clearly there was no point in hiding her presence in Innail now.
"And other forms as well?"
"I don't know. I haven't tried."
Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of wild yelling. It sounded uncomfortably close and the Bards started up, feeling for their swords. Almost immediately, Indik strode into the room.
"It has begun," he said. "The outriders are at our gates. And already we have beaten back two attacks on the eastern walls."
Maerad saw Camphis turn white, although his mouth was set and hard. He was much more frightened, she realized, than she was. And the Light knows, she thought, that I am afraid enough...
"Maerad," said Indik. "Can you tell if the Landrost is close to us, or not? So far we face mountain men and some wers, but it is hard to tell precisely what assails us."
"I do not think he is at the gate," said Maerad, unwillingly dragging herself back to consciousness of the shadow that oppressed her mind. "He seems a little distant to me. Though I could be wrong..."
Cadvan glanced at Indik, his face serious. "What will you have of us?" he asked.
"At present, I want Maerad to stay in mindtouch with me." Indik looked across at her. "If you could tell me the moment you feel any change, any tensing—as if he prepares to leap— you know the kind of thing. Cadvan, Camphis, I could do with some help with any wers. Malgorn, are there any other Bards to spare?"
"No," said Malgorn. He paused and listened intently for a few moments. "Silvia is asking for more hands as well. We are spread thin as it is. I've placed all the Bards as evenly as possible around the walls. There is no sign of wers within Innail. Either they fled when the charm was
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