Dar shrugged. “Life intervened. Besides, it hasn’t been that long.”
“Long enough. Tell me, how is Zia? I’m still hoping to meet her before I get too old to appreciate the experience.”
An awkward moment of silence followed, then Dar said, “Zia’s dead, Brec. Killed more than a week ago. Can we take this somewhere a little more private? I’m here because I need your help.”
The Elven prince flushed bright red and quickly nodded. “I’m so sorry. Come inside.”
Brecon steered him through the gates and along the pathway that led to his cottage. For long moments, neither spoke.
“I wish I’d known about Zia earlier,” Brecon said finally, giving Dar a wary look. “I feel stupid not knowing.”
Dar shook his head. “Don’t. It just happened, and I couldn’t get word to you until now.”
“Well, try not to let me make a fool of myself again. And I am truly sorry about Zia.”
“Zia’s death is part of what brought me here.”
“Whatever it was that brought you here, it will have to wait. You need to eat a good meal, take a hot bath, and sleep for about twelve hours. You look all done in.”
They passed through the front door of the cottage and into the main living space. It was neat and orderly and filled with baskets of flowers. Tapestries hung from the walls, and area rugs were scattered about the wooden floors. It was very much Brecon’s dwelling, and it gave Dar an instant sense of peace.
“I don’t know that it can wait,” he began, but Brecon was already shaking his head.
And his friend was right. Dar was completely exhausted from the events of the past few days and not much ready to do anything further in his present condition. So he ate the meal Brecon served him, took a bath, and let himself be put to bed in a corner room with the drapes drawn and the silence deep and welcoming.
“Sleep as long as you can. We’ll talk when you wake.”
Brecon went out the door and closed it behind him. By then, Dar was already drifting away.
* * *
—
When he woke, Dar had no idea what time it was. The room was shadowy and still, but there were cracks of light through the drapes that told him it was daytime. He rose immediately and went to the windows to peer out. The sun was directly overhead. Midday. He had slept a whole day.
Way too long!
Hurriedly, he washed his face and hands, dressed, and went into the living area. Brecon was nowhere to be found, so he went out the door and walked toward the palace, thinking to find him there. But he was only halfway to his destination when Brecon appeared on the path ahead.
On seeing Dar, he glanced around as if looking for someone and rushed over. “You should have waited at the cottage. How are you feeling? Better?”
“After an entire day’s rest? I would guess so.”
Brecon grinned. “Almost two days. You never woke once.”
Dar couldn’t believe it. Now he really was worried. Too much time had passed to allow for any further delay. “Has word arrived about what’s happened at Paranor?”
“So it’s true?” Brecon asked. “The Skaar found a way into Paranor? The Druid order was wiped out? The Keep is gone?”
Dar stared at him. “I wasn’t sure the Elves would have heard about it yet. Who brought word?”
Brecon did not answer, his blond head lowered, his blue eyes intense as he studied the path in front of him. “Hold that thought,” he said finally. “Follow me.”
They walked over to the palace, detouring to the far end where the reception rooms were located. Once there, Brecon led the way inside, his long stride lengthening as they drew closer to the building’s south wing, nodding to the guards as they passed but saying nothing. At one point, Dar heard voices from down the hallway, and Brecon put a finger to his lips at once. Moving more quickly now, he took Dar into a room at the end of a hallway and from there into another room beyond, each time pausing to close and lock the doors behind them. Dar was looking around guardedly now, sensing that something was wrong.
“Not to worry,” Brecon reassured him as he secured the second door and motioned to a grouping of chairs. Together they seated themselves, facing each other across a small, round table. Brecon glanced at a sideboard. “Let me get you something to drink. Is a glass of ale all right?”
Without waiting for a response, he filled glasses from a cask concealed in a cold box and carried them back to the table. There was a furtiveness about him, an uneasiness that told Dar something was definitely not right. But he held his tongue and waited for his friend to reveal it in his own time.
When Brecon was seated again, he raised his glass. “Health and good fortune.” They drank deeply and returned their glasses to the table. “Are they all gone?” Brecon asked, then. “All of the Druids? Everyone who lived at Paranor but you?”
“Almost.” Dar leaned forward. “I’ll explain everything, but first tell me how you know so much about this.”
The Elven prince made a face. “I was helping my father earlier this morning when he learned of it. Not an hour ago, while he was preparing for the morning Council meeting. My brothers were elsewhere. I was the only one present when word arrived.”
“But who delivered it?”
Brecon hesitated. “Well, that part is a little strange. She says she is a princess of something called the Skaar.”
Dar stared in disbelief. “You mean Ajin d’Amphere? She brought word herself?”
“Walked right in and told my father. Said she wanted us to hear it first from her.”
Dar could not believe it—but then it was exactly the sort of impulsive, reckless chance she would take, confident that she could somehow walk into the lion’s den and not be harmed.
“I couldn’t believe it, either,” Brecon agreed, seeing the look on his friend’s face. “And she’s with him now, addressing the High Council.”
* * *
—
Not quite two hundred yards away, in a building that sat apart from the royal palace, the members of the Elven High Council were gathered in their assembly listening to Ajin d’Amphere explain what her people had done to the Druids and to Paranor. Gerrendren Elessedil, the Elven king, sat at the head of an oval table with five members of the Council seated to his right and five to his left.
And the looks of mingled shock and wariness mirrored on their faces were both priceless and gratifying.
Ajin was dressed in full Skaar regalia—white silk robes and scarlet accessories. Her weapons and armor had been abandoned, and she stood with her back straight and her head lifted as she spoke. She had appeared before foreign dignitaries and their councils many times before, and she knew that the secret to success lay in showing no concern for her safety and no hesitation in admitting her purpose. She knew she must convince them from the start that she was in command of the situation and its outcome, keeping her explanations spare and to the point, careful not to overemphasize or understate. She must never threaten or attempt to intimidate, but lay out her reasons with care.