When news came of the sudden death of King Maldan, and the summoning of Vulk and Mariala to the capital, Korwin was torn as to which way to jump. Erol, or Erondal, or whatever he was calling himself these days, had decided to return immediately with the others, and Korwin was inclined to join them, as he wanted to begin some serious arcane projects in his own sanctum.

On the other hand, he, Devrik and Toran had found some recent common ground in their interest in armor and weapons. While Devrik had taken off for parts unknown, he and Toran continued to discuss the possibilities and techniques of creating individualized armor for the whole group. And Toran was staying in Dür a few days longer, to celebrate a major religious observance with the local Khundari masons and artisans working on repairing the keep.

The old apothecary should have finished processing the acid sacs of the giant Death Worm they’d killed back in the spring by now, and that was the key component to the Khundari strengthening techniques. But there wasn’t much he could do without Toran, so… he decided to stay.

The day after the others, including Draik, left was a quiet one, and Korwin and Toran were able to start drafting real plans for the armor they wanted to produce. But the two days after that were the Khundar’en, the dwarves’ most holy celebration, and Toran disappeared with all the other Khundari in town to some subterranean shrine. Outsiders were not welcome, and Korwin grew quickly bored.

Ser Alakor was busy with the defense of the region, and was out on patrols with his men as often as not, Raven had gone with the others to Shalara (not that she was inclined to give him the time of day for some reason, Korwin mused), Black Hawk was taciturn to the point of absurdity, and worst of all he didn’t have anything to read – he’d forgotten to take the Avikoran book out of the joint loot saddlebags before the others left.

Two days of practicing his deep mediation served only to increase his sense of gloom and general malaise. Fortunately, at sundown on the first of Kilta, Toran showed up from whatever hole he’d been in and suggested something that at least had the virtue of being interesting, if also potentially lethal.

“I’ve been thinking,” the Khundari Shadow Warrior explained as he quickly and efficiently began loading his pack. “Neither of us knows how to open a Nitaran Gate, and while the local cleric is willing to do it for us, I’m not inclined to step through a Portal without someone along who can re-open it if we end up in the wrong place.”

“Hard to argue with that,” Korwin agreed. He’d been a trifle nervous about it himself, but hadn’t been going to bring it up first.

“Traveling overland, through lands held by the rebel forces of the false Earl of Yorma, would be slow and possibly fatal – while we should be able pass for simple itinerant travelers, it is the Vortex in control there, and I think the odds of us being recognized are great.”

“Yes, that does seem like a risk not worth taking,” Korwin again agreed, wondering where this was going. “Which leaves..?”

“The river,” Toran answered with a rumbling sigh and a resigned look. Korwin’s eyebrows shot up.

“I thought you hated the water,” he said in surprise. “You claim you sink, not float.”

“True enoguh,” the Dwarf replied, his usual stoic expression sliding back into place. “But I know how to handle a small boat on lake or stream at need, even if I don’t like it. And frankly, I wouldn’t try this without you along, since I know you have extensive experience in matters aquatic.”

True enough, Korwin had spend much of his youth on the streams and rapids of his home island, not to mention the seas around it, and was quite skilled with small boats. He nodded and Toran continued.

“Ser Alakor’s scouts report that the Orthun is running high enough, thanks to the relatively wet summer we’ve had, for a light coracle to make it to the confluence of the Silvari with only two likely portages, and from there it’s navigable all the way to Shalara.”

“Um, isn’t the captured city of Tyendus at the confluence,” Korwin asked, frowning. “Not to mention the Tharkian castle of… um, what was it…”

“Kar Olsepor, on the east bank, yes,” Toran supplied, seemingly unconcerned. “Indeed, those are the main reasons I’m suggesting we do this. I don’t know how much intelligence the Queen-elect and her generals are getting from the captured territories, but I suspect it is fragmented and sporadic.

“I figure we can scout the whole river, from Tyendus and Olsepor to Kar Fensir, and arrive in Shalara in time for the coronation, with useful intelligence in hand.”

“You don’t suppose the Tharkians will have patrols on the river?”

“Of course they will, but I have complete faith in your ability to cloak us, especially at night, with your Avikoran magics.”

Korwin pondered the plan for awhile, but in the end he couldn’t really find a reason not to do it. Anything was better than being stuck in this backwater village another day.

“When do we leave?” he asked with a grin. Toran’s return smile was decidedly shark-like he thought.

“As soon as you’re packed!”

•••

The night time trip down the Orthun River was every bit as unnerving as Korwin had expected. Both moons were just past their darks, and provided nothing in the way of illumination. But between the stars, Toran’s superior Kundari night vision and Korwin’s affintiy for the water, they made it through alive. And with only one portage. They’d missed the second one, and had run a short, but fierce, rapid – that Korwin would not have tried in full sunlight, with a magic boat – screaming in terror the whole way.

They’d survived, to their extreme surprise.

Toran was grateful that Korwin had insisted on casting Power of Utorev on him, making him marvelously buoyant, although it hadn’t proved needful in the end. Just as the dawn was beginning to lighten the eastern sky they passed into the Silvari River, and the walled city of Tyendus came into view on the larger river’s western bank. A great stone bridge arched over the flood, and a massive castle could be seen rising from the early morning mists beyond it,

Hunkering down in the small boat, Korwin cast Klorida’s Shadow Body over them both, and the boat as well. As they turned into shades of gray they became essentially invisible on the water, even in the growing light. They floated at the river’s own pace, past the city and the fortress, under the great bridge, making careful note of all they saw – troops gathered, patrols on bridge and walls, the lack of farmers coming in to market, despite the beginning of harvest season, burned out manors and villages…

By the time the color began to leach back into into them they were well beyond the city, with countryside on either bank, and able to paddle at last. They stayed to the middle of the river until they were certain they’d traveled beyond the southern border of Tharkia, into the lands of Serviar. This still left occupied Nolkior on their righthand side, but at least gave them more freedom of movement.

They passed the haunted ruins of Xaranda, and the western locks of the Arakez Canal, in the late afternoon, and an hour before sunset Korwin again cloaked them in Klordia’s Shadow Body. They drifted past the captured keep of Dor Fensir, again noting what they could of troop dispositions and the lay of the land.

By the time the sliver of the greater moon had risen in the east they were out of enemy territory. Cramped and tired from so long in the small coracle, they decided to pull in to shore to spend the night, and beached on the eastern, Serviaran bank, just to be safe.

Shortly after dawn they climbed wearily back into the boat and began paddling southwest. Beyond the confluence of the Sürkil River traffic increased, and by mid-morning they were able to hail a passing sail barge. The ship’s master was happy to take their silver and let them hitch a ride, their little coracle tied on and trailing behind.

By late afternoon they were warping in at the city docks in Shalara, and by sunset they were collapsing on their own beds, in their own homes.

•••

Unfortunately, Toran’s respite was short lived. He had a single day to relax and catch up with his Gyantari friend Ergaboreth before the official delegation from Dürkon arrived. Besides the Legate himself, Undayar Goldfinger, and his wife, there were eight other Khundari staff and servants. Despite knowing this was coming, and having spent the last two months preparing Khundari House for it, Toran found himself dismayed at the sudden loss of privacy.

The Legate was a pleasant enough old man, although his wife seemed haughty and cold, and the other dwarves were courteous and proper in dealing with Toran… but they all looked askance at the giant, and it quickly became clear that they considered Khundari House their domain now.

The coronation of Queen Miralda the First was the next day, however, and there was no time to settle turf disputes as the delegation prepared. As important new allies, the Khundari had a prominent place amongst the great nobles of the realm and the royal officers of the Court, and Legate Goldfinger had no intention of letting down the honor of his prince.

After the ceremony, when all her vassals were swearing fealty to their new monarch and the foreign dignitaries were offering their congratulations, he was gratified when the young Queen, having accepted Goldfingers credentials as official representative of the Principality of Dürkon, called Toran forth from the crowd of Khundari functionaries were he’d been relegated.

She had graciously, but pointedly, made clear her fondness for the Shadow Warrior and her hope that he would continue to be at the forefront of the growing amity between the two realms. Embarrassing as he found the whole episode, it was gratifying to see the thoughtful look on the Legate’s face, and the stoney blankness on his wife’s.

He really should be beyond these petty emotions he reminded himself, fading back into the crowd as Ergaboreth was called forward, sole representative of his people in the kingdom and so perforce an ambassador. It was unworthy of his training. Nonetheless, he smiled all the way home.

•••

Thereafter things at Khundari House settled into a routine. While the formal delegation took over the bulk of the mansion, Toran retained his own suite of rooms as well as the entire basement level, including Ergaboreth’s guest room. Since the forges and workshops were down there as well, this worked out well for his collaboration with Korwin on the armor they planned to create. He somehow failed to mention the secret passage that connected the lower levels with the other homes of the member of the Hand…

The day after the coronation Toran and Korwin, with Ergaboreth along to carry stuff, collected the processed Death Worm acid from the old alchemist, Rezik Khordam, as well as other supplies they would need to make their armor. By the time they retired for the evening the workshop was all set up and ready for action.

Over the next month the two mages saw little of their friends in the Hand, devoting themselves almost exclusively to the creation of several sets of armor. They did come out for Draik’s birthday, of course, and Devrik’s welcome home party. And once the fire mage/warrior was back, they drew him into the creation of his own set of armor.

Korwin also managed to find time to cast a permanent Frost Brand on his cutlass, and imbue a metal sphere Toran created for him with the same spell as it was forged. He hoped this would provide a nice surprise for some enemy down the road.

Since Toran was doing most of the actual forging and metalwork, Korwin found time to brew some beer and, with Ergaboreth’s help, renovate part of his house into an open sleeping loft. He also developed two new spells, based on the knowledge bequeathed him by his recent “possession.”

Despite his heavy schedule of metal working Toran, too, found time to continue his own studies, developing his own new spells from the wealth of information left in his subconscious mind. He also kept up his Shadow Warrior training, of course, and forged several new throwing stars, imbuing them with a certain spell…

By the time Vulk’s birthday rolled around, the friends had completed five sets of armor, one for each of the current members of the Hand. Only Toran himself was without new armor, since his Khundari-made Shadow Warrior kit was as good as anything he could make himself.

Although the sets varied in the number and type of pieces they contained, they all had a similar look – glossy, dark purple-black, with etched patterns of abstract Khundari designs, inlaid with enamels of various colors, different for each person: violet and gold for Vulk, who received his set first, on his birthday; green and gold for Mariala; red and orange for Devrik; blue and white for Korwin; and gray and white for Erol. Toran’s existing black-on-black matched quite well on its own he rather fancied.

By the time the Hand was preparing to move out for the Royal Wedding in Kar Therka, they were all wearing armor that weight about as much as kurbul, but was as effective as something between mail and plate. Not that they wore it to the wedding itself, of course…