Black Hawk sent a runner to inform Draik that the Hand was returned, and request that he wait upon them in Ser Alakor’s solar in the keep. He joined them on the short walk to the town and up the hill to the fortress, filling them in on the recent local happenings, which were few enough.

Though they remained on constant alert, no enemy forces had yet tried the defenses of Dor Dür. The summer had been cooler and rainier than usual, no doubt due to the eruption of Mt. Katai back in the spring. There was some concern that the harvest would be poor this fall, but stores were good… barring a complete disaster at harvest, they should be good through the winter.

Raven and the wee baby Aldari met the group at the gate of the keep, and everyone smiled at the passionate greeting she gave her husband. His son seemed thrilled to see his papa again, reaching chubby hands out to be held and cooing baby garble enthuiastically. Devrik returned his family’s greetings with smiles, hugs and whirling spins around to the sound of infant shrieks of delight, but Mariala thought that he seemed distracted, even so.

Raven also noticed her husbands half-hearted attempts at gaiety, and as the others made their way up to the solar to tell Alakor and his brother all the latest news, she drew Devrik to her own rooms. She had no doubt that she would learn soon enough what was bothering her beloved…

So it was that only Devrik was missing when Draik arrived and the Hand began the long tale the past tenday. With these close friends they spared no detail, including their being tricked into releasing one of the Four Lords of Chaos and the death of Erol. Explaining his resurrection in a Telnori body was the most difficult part of the story… in the end both Alakor and Draik agreed that this part of the tale would best be kept as quiet as possible.

Of course rumors were already flying around the small town and keep, but the return of the Hand of Fortune to Dor Dür was not the biggest news feeding the gossips. That honor went to the exciting events of the recent Battle of Bankir Bridge. Ser Alakor related the tale to the Hand that night during the modest welcoming feast he threw in their honor – a mostly family affair, with only himself, his brother Draik, Raven and her brother Black Hawk, and Marik Canatori, the current captain of the Hand of Vengeance, invited.

“The main Tharkian army, under the command of the usurper “King” Laravad himself,” he began, “made a massive push forward from Dor Fensir on the 17th, taking Tocharn Abbey easily and investing Dor Sholan.”

“Tocharn is the seat of the Kleros of Feradis,” Mariala interjected, frowning. “They didn’t capture the Kleros did they?”

“No, fortunately,” Ser Alakor replied with a wry grin. “Kleros Artelkes is a crafty political beast, like most of his clan. His cousin, the Earl of Burnan, keeps him apprised of events, of course, and he knew he was on the front line – he had his escape contingencies well in hand.

“Even so, it was a close thing. Laravad moved surprisingly swiftly, and the Klersos and his entourage barely kept ahead of the Tharkians. They made it to the relative safety of Dor Sholan and the protection of the Sheriff of Buran, but were then trapped there when the Tharkians besieged the keep. Ser Eris Karondal is a good man, though, and his defenses were well prepared. Without treachery and surprise on his side, Laravad couldn’t take Sholan easily.

“Indeed, the Tharkians barely stopped to invest the keep. The bulk of the army moved on south after only a day or so, to force the crossing of the Sürkil River at Bankir Bridge. The majority of the siege equipment went with him, so it seems obvious that Laravad intended to do his best to take Kar Bankir.

“But the Crown Princess surprised everyone by taking a major part of the Army of the East under her own command, and racing north to bolster the levies of Lord Torad. The Earl’s forces had marched out from Kar Bankir and held the Bridge against the Tharkians all day on the 20th. But they were badly outnumbered, and with boats landing on either side, they were forced to retreat by the early morning of the 21st.

“That is when Princess Miralda and her army arrived, having marched through the night from Dor Norasol. You want your troops as fresh as possible before a battle, or course, but the Princess had realized time was the critical element here – a day later and they’d have been dealing with an entrenched army, a siege, and an enemy with a beachhead on the wrong side of the river!

“Thanks to that foresight her men charged in from either side of the Earl of Burnan’s force, taking the Tharkians by surprise. Miralda led the main charge, with her father’s cadre of Royal Knights around her, and she inspired not only her own tired troops but the exhausted levies of Bankir as well. The sides were more evenly matched now, and the tide turned very quickly – in the space of two hours it turned into a semi-route of the Tharkian army!

“Laravad and perhaps half his army escaped back over the Bankir Bridge, in an unfortunately well done fighting retreat… the Princess and the Earl followed and secured the eastern bridgehead, but they decided their troops were so exhausted that to pursue would be to invite another reversal of fortunes, and this time one not in their favor.

“Instead they rested the army and the levies overnight, and the next morning set out after Laravad, leaving only enough men to secure the bridge. They expected to find the Tharkians thoroughly entrenched around Dor Sholan, but instead that afternoon found them in considerable disarray.

“It seems that Ser Eris had led a sortie out from his keep in the middle of the previous night, destroying most of the siege engines the enemy had been assembling and sowing confusion in their ranks by killing the commanding officer. When Laravad and the remains of the army had arrived a few hours later, he apparently had his hands full trying to stop a full-scale route!”

Alakor laughed at the thought, drained his goblet and motioned for more wine before going on.

“When the Crown Princess and Lord Torad arrived with their army they found the Tharkians barely organized… but not for battle! Apparently Laravad had decided discretion was the better part valor, and was preparing to retreat… I myself think he realized how tenuous his control of his forces was, and knew he could lose it all, then and there, if he allowed it to come to a battle.

“So, despite a numerical superiority, he fought another “tactical advance to the rear,” as they say. Princess Miralda and Lord Torad pressed them hard, but could never bring them to a stand-up fight. By the 23rd the Tharkians had retreated beyond Tocharn Abbey, which was recovered mostly intact, to the great relief of the Kleros, whom they had in tow, and the pursuit was called off.”

The warriors around the table nodded their heads in approval. They all knew the temptation to pursue an enemy just a little further – and how often that could lead to stretching your forces too thin and to your own defeat. It was a wise commander who knew when to stop and consolidate their gains.

“The people have been enthralled by Crown Princess Miralda’s bravery and skill,” Alakor continued. “She’s certainly put to rest any grumblings among the nobles about her being named the Heir. And she really is both strategically and tactically quite brilliant… perhaps more so than even her father, honestly.

“She not only had the foresight to stop the Tharkians at Bankir Bridge, but also to realize that they might be just one prong of an attack. Before she set out from Shalara she ordered a smaller contingent of the army and some of her father’s own Royal Levies to move north to bolster the defense of Dor Belthin and the Belthin Bridge… a move that proved very wise indeed.

“A smaller but stealthier army of Tharkian mercenaries, Urkonis rebels and northern barbarians tried to take the bridge and invest the keep… and were repelled by the royally-reinforced troops of Baron Korathin. Actually, it was the Baron’s twin sons, Ser Corwyn and Ser Merwyn, who led the defense… and in the end they were forced to throw down the bridge. But that might not be so bad in the end, with the rebel forces of Urkonis so close…

In any case, the enemy was defeated, if not quite so decisively as at Bankir. Had both attacks succeeded, Laravad would’ve had twin beachheads on the west side of the river, leaving Shalara open to attack by both land and water. Even one beachhead would have been a disaster, but thanks to our Princess the Sürkil line remains secure.”

“She is a formidable woman,” Vulk agreed, sipping at his own wine. “The Hand got credit for rescuing her, and the other noble ladies, from the clutches of the false Earl of Yorma at Urkonis, but really she rescued herself.

“With your help, of course, Raven,” he added hastily, nodding to Devrik’s wife. She just smiled and switched the wee baby Aldari from her left breast to her right.

“But as impressive as she is, why is she leading troops in the field?” asked Devrik, pulling himself briefly out of the brown study he had been in since their return, and that his hours closeted with his wife had done little to relieve. “What of the King?”

Ser Alakor grimaced and set down his goblet. “That is a more worrisome question. My sources at court tell me he has never been really well since the assassination attempt… as I think you know. For a time he seemed to be recovering, then he seemed to grow weaker and more frail day-by-day.

“He has done his best to hide the worst of it from all but those closest to him, but I fear he expended himself too freely in the struggle to get his daughter named Heir. The physicians and arcanists at court seemed unable to do anything for him, until your friend Master Vetaris came up with a treatment.

“I believe he consulted with you, Draik, yes?” Alakor asked, glancing at his brother.

Draik nodded and took up the story.

“Yes, as I know he told you before he sent you all off into the Blasted March, he had a sudden notion that the King’s malady might be some form of the Corruption itself, something that the Vortex was working on. At his request I provided him with raw Baylorium, and he consulted me occasionally as he worked to craft some new cure.

“Several days ago he started the King on a regimen of treatment involving his altered version of Baylorium, and the initial reports I’ve had from my own sources at court are that it seems to be working. King Maldan is reported to have more energy and looks much less wan and haggard. Some of his old force of personality seems to be returning, though his body is still too weak to take to the field. But there does seem to be hope now.”

“To the King’s health,” Ser Alakor cried, raising his goblet. “And to his quick recovery and return to full health!”

“Hear, hear!” the company replied enthusiastically, raising their own goblets and drinking deeply.

Two days later a breathless messenger from Shalara arrived via Gate bearing the news of the death of King Maldan I.

•••

Along with the tragic news of the sudden passing of the King, the messenger bore a Royal Summons for Ser Cantor Vulk Elida and the Lady Mariala Teryn, Margrave of Green Tower to attend at once upon the Queen-elect in Kar Landsar. The rest of the Hand might attend on the Court with them or not, as they pleased, but were in any case invited to the Coronation, which would take place on 6 Kilta, a tenday hence.

Ten days was the minimum time custom permitted between the death of a monarch and the accession of the next. And with the Landsar Succession Council having already affirmed Miralda as the Heir, there was no need to delay further and every reason not to. The war pressed, and there was little time for pomp and ceremony.

The Hand chose to travel as a group back to the capital, taking Raven and the wee baby Aldari with them. Unfortunately, Devrik had departed Dor Dür the day before the royal messenger had arrived, and so knew nothing of recent events.

He had said little to his friends, only that he had to sort things out on his own after recent events, and that he would return.

Raven, of course, knew where he was going and why, and they had argued about her staying in Dür while he was gone. Devrik had pushed for her and their son’s removal to the capital when he had learned that Dame Erila Kalafon, the late King Garinalt’s long-time mistress and mother of his youngest bastard, had joined her son at Dor Lorethal.

The former Lord of the Privy Seal had left Shalara quietly, some said even secretly, and rumors blazed up – she was a knight of Tharkia, however long she had lived and held power in Nolkior… with her hopes for her son’s elevation to the throne now dashed for good, would she seek to influence him to turn traitor and ally with Tharkia?

Ser Tulath Kalafon, Sherfiff of Kinen, was not particularly popular, nor very bright in Devrik’s opinion. The Hand had encountered him briefly during the affair of the false Earl of Yorma, and no one had been impressed. If his mother did suborn him to her nominal ancestral allegiance, would he turn over Dor Lorethal to the Tharkians? If he did, that would place Dor Dür directly on the front line of this shifting war. Devrik was not certain that the man would betray his half-niece the Queen-elect but didn’t intend to risk his family on it.

Knowing that he would never leave them if he thought they were in danger, and also knowing that he desperately needed this vision-quest, Raven eventually agreed to return to their home in Shalara when the Hand left. Neither had expected it to be so soon, however.

Draik decided to leave his apothecary shop in the hands of his cousin/assistant and accompany his old friends to the capital, having received his own invitation to the Coronation. He would also act as his brother’s representative, since the Constable Ser Alakor didn’t feel he could leave his responsibilities at Dor Dür even for a short time.

Early on the morning of 29 Emblio the Hand, minus Devrik but including Draik, Raven and the wee baby Aldari, two saddlebags stuffed full of treasure, and the stais-shrouded corpse of Tarbol, climbed the Elf’s Mound once more and entered the Gate…

•••

On arriving at the Gate in Kar Landsar most of the Hand immediately departed for for their homes in the New District of the city. Only Vulk and Mariala remained behind, with the body of Tarbol, to meet with the Queen-elect and then seek out Master Vetaris. The servant sent to greet them and guide them to Miralda’s presence was slightly taken aback by the sight of the faintly glowing body on the stretcher, but recovered his composure quickly and managed to find both a quite chamber to stash it and two strong footmen to carry it there.

Once they’d seen Tarbol’s body carted off the two friends were guided to a small parlor overlooking the Royal Park, where they waited for over an hour for the Queen-elect. Refreshments were served, naturally, but by the time Miralda finally strode through the door unannounced, they were beginning to nod off in their chairs.

Coming instantly alert, they jumped up and bowed / curtseyed to Her Majesty, who smiled and waved them back to their seats, taking one herself and pouring herself a cup of hot chocolate. No servants attended on her, which greatly surprised them. Obviously this was to be a very private conversation.

“Thank you so much for getting her so quickly,” she began, after graciously accepting the two friends’ condolences on the death of her father. “I have a decision to make, and you two have the last pieces of information I need before I commit to… well, to my proposed course of action.”

“Tell me, what was your impression of King Dorikon of Arushal, when you met him earlier this year at the treaty negotiations? As a man, not as a king, that is.”

“Well, er, um… that is… well, he is the king, so…” Vulk looked to Mariala for help, but she seemed equally nonplused.

“I know you are a subject of his, Ser Vulk, but I pray you will be honest with your thoughts. It is important to me. And Lady Mariala, I especially want your opinion of the man, as a woman.”

A sudden light went off then in Mariala’s head, and she smiled. Vulk just looked confused.

“Well, Your Majesty, he is certainly well found in the looks department,” she said carefully. “He is still a young man, of course – just past 30 I believe – and physically quite fit, but not in that over-done way of some fighting men. He had a certain quiet charisma that I think went beyond simply being a king… he did seem to me to be rather grave, but of course that might have been the circumstances…”

“Yes,” Vulk interjected, drawn in despite his reservations. “My father has known the king since he was a boy – since the king was a boy, not my father – and says that even as a youth Dorikon had quite a dry sense of humor. He’s very intelligent, everyone agrees on that, and I’d have to concur after watching him in action.”

“They say he is too quick to appease an enemy, and worse, that he is a passive tool of his father, the Earl of Savartim,” Miralda said diffidently, but watching Vulk’s reaction closely.

“No,” the cantor shook his head decisively. “I’ve heard those accusations, of course, but my father says there is little merit in the one, and none at all in the latter.

“It’s true that some, particularly in my part of the country, bordering Darikaz, worry that he settled the Somkari War with the Republic badly, that he gave up too much too quickly, and unnecessarily. Which might be true, who can know for sure?

“But if so, he has certainly learned from it… and, after all, it was a decision made when he was younger and not long come to the throne. In fact, a year younger than you are now, Your Majesty, if I recall correctly.

“Besides, much of that complaint comes from the Baron of Ultorim, the former Earl of Somkari who started the stupid war with Kildora in the first place and lost two-thirds of his holdings as a result – he thinks the king should have plunged the country into a major war, of uncertain outcome, to cover his own sorry ass. Er, excuse my Darikazi, Your Majesty –”

Miralda smilled and waved her hand dismissively. “I have spent some time in the field with the troops, Ser Vulk, I am not easily shocked or offended. Please, go on.”

“Well, as to the suggestion that the king is a puppet of his father,” Vulk continued. “I can myself attest to that being unlikely. Lord Naldaro certainly is an important advisor to his son – how not, being an Earl and former sovereign himself, prior to Zarik’s War? But he wields little more influence than the other Earls, as I witnessed at the recent treaty talks – he rejected more than one of his father’s suggestions, as he did others’. He also accepted some, when they seemed good to him – he seemed to me very much his own man, Your Majesty.”

Miralda nodded thoughtfully, and for the next half hour intently posed various insightful questions to the two friends to complete her picture of Dorikon IV of Arushal through their eyes. At last she sat back with a sigh and a smile.

“Thank you , my friends,” she said, picking up her chocolate then wrinkling her nose when she realized it had gone cold. Setting the cup back down, she looked each of her guests in the eyes, her expression growing serious.

“What I am about to tell you is a state secret, and must not leave this room. You may not tell even your comrades in the Hand of Fortune – do I have your solemn oath on your absolute discretion in this?”

The two friends both swore an official oath, and waited expaectantly. Taking a deep breath Miralda slipped into formal monarch mode.

“We have determined that, in the face of the increasing threats Our realm faces, both from within and from without, that it were best done that We should propose marriage to Dorikon of Arushal, that We might unite our two realms into a greater whole, the better to confound our mutual enemies.”

At Vulk’s shocked look, and Mariala’s knowing nod, the Queen-elect suddenly grinned, and dropped back to her more normal cadences.

“I’ve been thinking about this for awhile… ever since my father first proposed the idea, shortly after his own coronation. At that time, of course, he simply sought to bind the alliance more tightly, not foreseeing his own death so soon.

“But with a war going on, and him the kind of ruler who would not lead from behind, he had no illusions about the possibility of his early death. He was not adverse to the uniting of the two realms that would result, as long as it was done on a basis of equality.

“And joint rulership will be required, if Dorikon and his advisors accept my proposal – each monarch to remain sovereign within their own realm, and consort in the realm of the other. But our eldest child, boy or girl, would inherit a united kingdom!”

Her eyes were bright with the vision of the future she saw, and Vulk and Mariala were infected with that tantalizing dream too.

“But as sound as I think this idea is, I wanted a more personal perspective on my proposed mate before committing to it… not that a Queen,or a King for that matter, has much choice in these things. I would go through with it even if Dorikon was fat, ugly and an imbecile, it is my duty… but I’ll be damned if I’ll go into it blind!”

“Well, I don’t think you’ll find you’re making too great a personal sacrifice, Your Majesty,” Mariala said, laughing. “He really is quite handsome, and far from an imbecile.”

Vulk nodded enthusiastically, grinning himself.

“My father and I had been over this with our very closest advisors and the greater nobles of the Realm,” Miralda went on after a moment, turning serious once more. “There will be some struggle to get all the nobility to swallow this, especially now that I am Queen, but the key Earls and the Archkleros are behind it, more or less. We plan to send an embassy immediately after my coronation.

“But how the nobles of Aruhsal will react to this proposal is more of a mystery. That is the other reason I wanted to speak to you, Ser Vulk – tell me what you think the reaction will be in your homeland, please.”

Taking a deep breath and gathering his wits, Vulk leaned forward and began to talk…

•••

Two hours later the exhilaration the two friends had felt during their conversation with the Queen-elect began to fade as they stepped into the room where Tarbol’s body lay. Master Vetaris had send word that he would attend on them shortly, and they weren’t looking forward to this interview at all.

When the silver haired man entered the small chamber a few minutes later, Mariala thought he looked older and a bit haggard. How much of this was due to the news of his nephew’s death or to the recent strain, and failure, of keeping the late king alive, she wasn’t sure.

“My great-nephew, actually,” he said with a sigh in response to their condolences. “My niece’s son. And not all that great, to be honest. How he came to be with you all, I’ve only begun to piece together, but before we get into that, tell me what happened, from your point of view.”

Haltingly, but leaving out no detail, Mariala and Vulk recounted their brief acquaintanceship with Tarbol Arbitar, and the manner of his sudden death. When they were done the Gray Mage sighed again, looking down at his idiot relative’s glowing body.

“Thank you, Cantor Vulk, for preserving the boy’s body,” he said after a moment. “I don’t know if I will be able to revive him, but for my sister and my niece’s sake, I suppose I have to try…

“And I apologize for putting you in this no doubt uncomfortable position. It seems the boy intercepted, not the note you sent me, Mariala, requesting aid for the Telnori druid, but my instructions directing a skilled healer to attend upon you. Cantor Hervador had been called away on an urgent medical matter, unfortunately, and this seems to be what gave Tarbol the idea, and the opportunity, to take his place.

“Over the last couple of years it seems he had learned more that he should have about my association with the Star Council – reading his hidden journals, discovered when he went missing, it seems he was more devious than I’d ever have given him credit for. And, even more surprising, rather intelligent, too – he pieced together hints, clues, obscure references, to come to the correct conclusion that not only did the Star Council exist, but that I was associated with it.”

He smiled then, a wan and regretful smile. “Actually, he seemed to believe that I was a member of the Council, perhaps even its head… the boy was a born romantic, eh?

“In any case, he seemed to think that by absconding with this mission he could gain my respect and trust, and become himself an agent of the Council. He really didn’t seem to understand that what it would really do, had he survived, was get him mind-wiped and relegated to some backwater manor on the edge of the wilds. Indeed, if he is revived, his mind will certainly be relieved of any knowledge of the Council… but perhaps I can find him some better post… although it will be have to be far from his old haunts, lest his memories be reawakened…”

“If it’s any consolation, sir,” Vulk offered after a moment, “his heart really did seem to be in the right place, even if his skills weren’t up to it. He was truly incensed at the idea of Farendol’s body being usurped by another…”

“Thank you, Vulk, yes, it is some consolation,” the older man replied. “Which brings us to the next issue… the possession of this Farendol’s body by our friend Erol. I think this is a more complicated issue than you perhaps realize… and then there is the matter of an Elemental Demon Lord loose in the world again…”

“Er, yes, sir,” Mariala said, grimacing. “But I would like to point out that we managed to keep the Corruptor imprisoned, surely the more dangerous of the two demons…”

With a sardonically raised eyebrow, and a last look at his great-nephew, Vetaris motioned the pair out the door and towards his private rooms, for what promised to be another long meeting… and one less happy than the one with the Queen-elect had been…