"I could not begin
—" she started to reply.
"No, you could not," the elf interrupted. "Do you intend to travel back to St.-Mere-Abelle to wage war against nearly a thousand battle-trained and magic-wielding monks? Or will you attack St. Precious and their new abbot, who, according to Master Jojonah, is the finest warrior ever to venture forth from St.-Mere-Abelle? And what of Elbryan?" the elf pressed, following Pony then, for she started to walk away. "How will he feel when he learns that you deserted him, that you could not trust him to join this course you have chosen for yourself?"
"Enough!" Pony snapped, spinning to face him. "I am not deserting Elbryan."
"If you go to wage war privately, then you are."
"You know nothing about it."
"Then tell me." The simple manner in which Juraviel spoke calmed Pony considerably, reminded her that the elf was a friend, a true friend, to be trusted.
"I do not go south to wage war," she explained, "though do not doubt that I intend to repay the Abellican Church for the pain it has brought me."
A shiver coursed Juraviel's spine; he had never heard Pony sound so cold before
—and he did not like it, not one bit.
"But that will wait," Pony went on. "Dundalis is the primary issue for Elbryan and for Roger, if he ever returns to us. And I know that we all must wait to discover what transpired during Baron Bildeborough's meeting with the King. Perhaps my war with the Church will not be so private after all."
"Then why do you look south? " Juraviel asked quietly.
"On the road to St.-Mere-Abelle, when I thought we would meet a dark end or that this issue
—all of it—would be resolved, I seduced Elbryan."
"You are husband and wife, after all," the elf replied with a grin.
"We had made a pact of abstinence," Pony explained, "for we feared
—"
"You are with child," Juraviel realized, his golden eyes opening wide.
Pony, neither with words nor expression, denied it.
"But perhaps you are wrong," Juraviel offered. "That was but a few weeks ago."
"I knew the morning after we made love," Pony assured him. "I know not if it is my work with the gemstones, the soul stone in particular, or perhaps it is merely the miracle of life itself, but I knew. And all that has happened
—or more pointedly, not happened—in the ensuing weeks has shown that I am with child, Belli'mar Juraviel."
Juraviel's smile widened all the more as he considered the potential for this child, born of such parents. That smile dissipated though when Juraviel looked up to consider Pony's frown.
"You should be joyous!" he said to her. "This is an occasion for celebration and not for scowls."
"The war is not nearly at its end," Pony said. "Dundalis has yet to be reclaimed."
"A minor issue," the elf replied. "And forget your wars, Jilseponie Wyndon. Consider that which is within you the most important matter for you and Elbryan."
Pony did manage a smile at the name Jilseponie Wyndon, the first time Juraviel had ever called her that. "You'll not tell Elbryan," she said, "not about my plan to go south, and not about my . ..
our
child."
"He has a right to know," Juraviel started to protest.
"And so he shall know
—by my words and not yours."
Juraviel dipped a respectful bow.
"I will go to Captain Kilronney," Pony explained. "Let us see what these new soldiers have come about." She walked past him, and the elf fell in behind her, to shadow her movements from the forest. If they were wrong about the new soldiers, if these riders had come north in search of two outlaws, then Juraviel would stand beside his friend.
The elf spent a long time considering that notion: his
friend.
What would Lady Dasslerond
—leader of the Touel'alfar—and the others of Caer'alfar think if they understood the depth of that truth within Belli'mar Juraviel's heart? Other elves had befriended Nightbird during his stay in the elven valley, and Tuntun had become close to the man, and to Jilseponie. But always before—when Juraviel decided to go to Mount Aida with the companions to battle the demon dactyl and when afterward the elf chose to lead human refugees to the elven valley; when Dasslerond allowed those pitiful humans in that secret elven place; even when Tuntun chose to follow the expedition to Aida and ultimately to sacrifice her life—the elven choices had been made out of practicality and the prospects for gain to the elves. Now, though, if Elbryan and Pony were to be engaged in a battle, it would be a fight between humans, a fight that had nothing to do with the good of the elven folk, and Juraviel's participation in the matter would not change the outcome.
Yet he would fight with his friends
—and die with his friends, if that came to pass. Indeed, the elf's choice to go to St.-Mere-Abelle to help rescue Bradwarden and Jilseponie's adoptive parents had been based wholly in friendship.
Lady Dasslerond would not approve, Juraviel knew, for this conflict between his friends and the Church was one that must be decided by the humans. Juraviel's actions then and now were not in accord with the general tenets of elven society, which placed the good of the elves above all, believing the life of a single elf worth far more than those of a thousand of another race
—even humans, whom the elves did not dislike.
But Juraviel would follow Pony now, and if a fight came, he would stand and die beside his friend.
As soon as Elbryan left Tomas
—the discussion ended by the tumult as the Palmaris soldiers rumbled through Caer Tinella on their way to find the Kingsmen—he started straight off to find Symphony and ride for the camp. Like Pony, he feared that the arrival of these soldiers might have something to do with the gemstones and the escape of the imprisoned centaur from St.-Mere-Abelle. Also, he assumed Pony was already meeting with Captain Kilronney. The ranger breathed a bit easier as he neared the camp's perimeter and saw no scars of explosive magic: if Pony were there and the soldiers had tried to take her, her magical barrage would likely have leveled half the encampment!
"Greetings, Nightbird!" a sentry called. Another soldier moved to take Symphony's reins, but the ranger waved him away.
"New arrivals?" he asked.
"Palmaris garrison," the soldier explained. "They are in discussion with Captain Kilronney."
"And with Jilseponie? "
"To be sure, she has not yet arrived," the soldier replied.
Elbryan directed Symphony into the encampment and was greeted warmly by all he encountered, men and women whose respect he had earned in the last couple of weeks, in the few battles the group had waged against rogue bands of monsters. Captain Kilronney's soldiers had been glad to have Nightbird
—and Jilseponie!—by their side when the fighting began. The ranger, in turn, had come to know and respect these soldiers; if the new arrivals had come with malicious intent in search of him and Pony, the word had not yet spread.
The ranger's relief faded when he dismounted and entered Captain Kilronney's tent. So grave were the expressions of Kilronney and the others that Elbryan's hand went to the hilt of his sword.
"What news?" the ranger asked after a tense moment.
Kilronney eyed him squarely. The captain was taller than Elbryan by two inches, and was solidly built, though nowhere near as heavily muscled as the powerful ranger. His neatly trimmed beard and mustache were strikingly red, as was his bushy hair; and all that added contrast to his intensely blue eyes
—eyes that now showed a profound sadness and anger to perceptive Elbryan.
Shamus Kilronney looked to the leader of the Palmaris contingent, and the ranger tensed, almost expecting an attack. "What news?" Elbryan demanded again.
"Who is this man?" asked the leader of the Palmaris garrison, a solidly built woman, nearer to six feet in height than to five, with hair as fiery red as Kilronney's hanging in thick braids. Her eyes, like the captain's, were sparkling blue. It seemed to Elbryan that these two might even be siblings
—except that her accent was closer to the rural dialect, typical of the underclass, while Shamus Kilronney's diction and enunciation were perfect.
"He is an ally," Kilronney explained, "serving as scout for my garrison."
"A mere scout?" the woman remarked, and she raised her eyebrows as she considered the powerful ranger. Elbryan saw her suspicions etched there and also a bit of curiosity.
"His accomplishments are too many for me even to begin to list them now," Kilronney said impatiently.
The woman nodded.
"Baron Rochefort Bildeborough is dead," Kilronney bluntly explained.
Elbryan's green eyes went wide. His first thought was for Roger, whom he knew was traveling with Bildeborough.
"He got murdered on the road just south o' Palmaris," the woman explained, her voice strong and determined —and hiding great pain, Elbryan realized. "They're sayin' his carriage was attacked by some beast, a great cat most likely."
"On his way back from Ursal?" the ranger asked.
"On his way
to
Ursal," the woman corrected.
"But that was months ago," the ranger protested. What he was thinking was that, if the woman's words were true, he and Pony had passed through Palmaris
after
the murder and yet had heard nothing of it.
"We didn't think to make the trip north a priority," the woman said dryly, "bigger nobles to tell than Captain Shamus Kilronney and his dirty friend."
"What of his companions?" the ranger asked, ignoring the insults and accepting the woman's explanation for the lack of communication.
"All killed," the woman replied.
Elbryan's thoughts whirled.
"They'd set their camp," another soldier offered. "Seems they were caught unawares. The Baron tried to get back into his carriage, but the cat followed him in and tore him up."
From the few words the soldier had offered, Elbryan had great doubts concerning the nature of this beast. In his years with the Touel'alfar, he had been taught the ways of animals, hunter and hunted. There were great cats about, though very few remained in the civilized lands between Palmaris and Ursal. But such creatures would not normally attack and slaughter a group of men. A hunting cat might take a lone person for food, might even stay with its victim and fight off any others who tried to take the prize from it, but the telling clue here was the pursuit of the Baron into his carriage.
"I seen it meself," another soldier offered. "All of 'em, torn up and lying in a pond o' blood."
"And who was killed first? " the ranger asked.
"Had to be one o' the guards at the fire," the man replied. "One never even got his weapon out afore the cat ripped him dead, and the others got no chance to set any defense."
"So the Baron was the last killed
—in his carriage?"
The man nodded, his lips tight, as if he were choking back pain.
It made little sense to Elbryan, unless some diseased animal had attacked or unless a group of cats
—an unlikely occurrence—had come in together.
"How many were eaten? " he asked the witness.
"They was all ripped," the man said. "Their guts was spillin' out. One of 'em had his heart laying open on his chest! I'm not for knowing how many bites the cat took of each."
"And ye're thinkin' this to be needed?" the woman protested to Captain Kilronney.
Kilronney turned a plaintive look upon Elbryan, but the ranger had his hand up, signaling that he would not press the issue further. He didn't need to. No hungry cat would leave as tempting a morsel as a heart uneaten, and no cat would spend the energy killing fleeing people when there was a fresh kill to be eaten. If the man's description of the scene was accurate, then the Baron had not been killed by any natural beast.
And of course that led Elbryan to even more disturbing thoughts. He had seen the gemstones at work many times, had spoken with Avelyn about them at length, and knew of one that could transform a man's arm into an animal's paw.
"The men about the Baron," the ranger began calmly, "did you know them all?"
"One was a friend," the witness replied. "And I seen the others with him before. The Baron's closest guard, they were!"
The ranger nodded. "I have heard that another
—not a soldier—was traveling with Baron Bildeborough."
"The little fellow," the woman remarked. "Yeah, we heared o' him."
"And was his body at the camp?"
"Didn't see 'im," the witness replied.
That gave Elbryan a bit of relief but didn't confirm anything. The cat, if it was a cat, might have dragged Roger away to eat. Even more plausibly, the monk, if it was a monk, might have taken Roger prisoner, seeking information about Elbryan and Pony.
"What is your course? " he asked the Palmaris leader.