“This here is Tensári, and then Idernon, Carodel, Galdith, Galadan. Finally, Ramien, our Wall of Stone,” said Llyniel with a fond smile. Hamon stepped forward, gave a toothy smile.
“Well ain’t it nice ‘aving a fellow wall o’ stone.”
Ramien smiled back and then Bredja was ushering them to the table.
“Mister Pansa. Pull up those chairs and get yeselves around the table. Got some nice, wholesome stew an’ man baps.”
“Man baps?” asked Gor’sadén.
“Bread stuffed with leftovers from a haunch,” explained Llyniel. Gor’sadén’s eyes were instantly on the round pieces of bread and the meat that oozed out of one side. Hamon placed a heavy pot at the centre of the table, steam floating over the sides. The heavy pottery bowls clinked as they were placed before them. Bredja ladled broth into their bowls and then sat.
“Well, it’s not every day that a simple ‘ealer gets to share a table with princes and lords.”
A loud slurp and then a gasp of delight was her only answer, and Llyniel laughed while Bredja elbowed her husband. “Mind ya manners, ya wazzock.”
“Wazzock?” repeated Carodel, half-turning to Llyniel.
“Idiot,” she said.
“It’s just a question,” said Carodel with a dark scowl.
“‘Wazzock’ means ‘idiot’, you twit.”
Galdith laughed and then sunk his teeth into a man bap. Closing his eyes, he chewed slowly and almost seemed to growl.
“Oh ‘e likes it.” Bredja smiled, pointing to Galdith with her spoon.
Fel’annár watched the humans as he ate. He caught Llyniel’s gaze as she chewed. He smiled, she mirrored it, and Bredja nudged her husband in secret delight.
The following morning, there were fewer sitting at Bredja’s table. Galadan had taken Galdith, Ramien and Carodel and made for the harbour in search of a ship to take them to Port Helia. Fel’annár had boldly sat next to Llyniel, well aware of Bredja’s knowing eyes. There were so few moments for them to be together. His left hand stroked her thigh under the table while he ate. Llyniel smiled as she sipped on her tea.
Hamon was staring thoughtfully at Fel’annár while Bredja laid out their breakfast. And then, just like that, the morning’s news tumbled from his mouth.
“The people talk of a great battle in Tar’eastór. A Deviant army led by some monster thing they’re calling a Niwan,” said Hamon excitedly, eyes glancing over the commanders, princes and then back to Thargodén’s strange son. “They say it rode a Gas Lizard. I told you, Bredja. Jiman was right. He did see one, no mistake.”
“Someone saw a Gas Lizard? When was this?” asked Gor’sadén, knife frozen before his mouth.
“Months ago. Reckons he saw one slippin’ inte sea.”
Fel’annár scowled, his rhythmic movements over Llyniel’s thigh stopping. “Can Gas Lizards swim?” he asked.
“Apparently,” muttered Pan’assár.
“Everyone thought ‘e was bonkers. Anyways, this monster thing was attacked by the trees—”
“Oh, don’t be a twat, Hamon,” said Bredja, swiping her hand in the air. “Idle tittle-tattle. Trees can’t move.”
“That’s not what they’re sayin’, Bredja. And they’re sayin’ ‘e moved ‘em.” Hamon pointed with his finger at Fel’annár. “They reckon ‘e stood with The Compny—six warriors, mind—before a massive ‘orde o’ rotters. They’re callin’ ‘im The Silvan.”
“’Rotters’?” asked Carodel.
“Deviants,” whispered Llyniel.
“Oh ho hoo!” shouted Bredja in mirth. “Eez no wizzer, Hamon. Look at ‘im, all bitty nice. No beard, no pointy ‘at. What kinda wizzer do that make ‘im?”
“I’m just sayin’,” said Hamon, slow and a little pedantic, “that’s what’s out there on the streets.” Hamon shook his head. “I’m not inventin’ it. Anyways, Mista Pansa ‘ere got gassed, din’ ‘e? And Mista Gorseidn got skewered in the leg. Tellem I’m right, commander sir,” asked the wide-eyed human. Hamon knew he was right. Gor’sadén had a limp.
“He is right, Bredja,” said Gor’sadén, unsure as to whether he should be alarmed or amused. Pan’assár was listening carefully.
“So then, ‘e comes along and ‘e only kills it, dun’ee?”
“What?” asked Bredja.
“The Niwan. They left it to rot in the trees.”
“How did it get in the trees?”
“I dunno. I’m just repeating what they’re sayin’.”
“You believe anything that comes over the mountain. You’re such a pim ‘ed.”
Carodel turned to Llyniel. “What’s a ‘pim ’ed’?”
“’Pim’ means ‘swollen’. Swollen head.”
He snorted and then smothered it, but Hamon hadn’t finished.
“So, they won the battle, right, then they all got medals. They’re friggin’ ‘eroes, Bredja.”
“You didn’t tell anyone we’re here, did you?” asked Pan’assár carefully.
“I did not, Mister Pansa.”
Pan’assár nodded.
“I’ll wait till yev gone.”
The commander looked up at him with a scowl. He sighed. “Hamon. We are very grateful for your help, but there is a reason we have not revealed ourselves. The political situation in Ea Uaré is dangerous. There are those who scheme in the dark, elves who would do us harm should we be seen. They know we come for them and they will do anything to avoid that. We must get on that ship unnoticed, stay out of sight for as long as we can.”
“There are some shifty ones out there and no mistake. It’s only gettin’ worse, but I haven’t seen much of the Alpine warriors yet.”
“And you won’t for a while, Bredja,” said Gor’sadén. “We are still recovering from the battle. There are priorities for Tar’eastór now.”
She nodded, eyes glancing over Fel’annár. “I ‘eard Milly talkin’ about a new trade route, from Prairie to the Forest. She says there’s lush money to be ‘ad.”
Pan’assár frowned. “There are no established trade routes between Prairie and Ea Uaré. We have all we need from the Great Forest and Tar’eastór.”
“Gone for a while then, Commander? They say the Great Forest is closed. They say the natives won’t let the Alpines pass, that they attack the merchants and confiscate their wares.”
“Aria,” muttered Pan’assár as he glanced Handir’s way.
Handir’s jaw twitched. He knew what that meant. The situation was far worse than they had imagined. It was no longer solely about Fel’annár and his appearance at the king’s court. It was no longer about Band’orán and his move on the throne, or the evidence they carried that would discredit him for good. Their entire nation had been tossed into turmoil, pushed to the brink of chaos. The question was, what was the point of no return?