Yolande and Dothmar departed then, as Onselvon and the tired and worn adventurers once again made appropriate obeisance. The court magic-user then beckoned for the others to follow him, and without further word he turned his back on them and strode from the room, taking a small passage screened by an arras.
"Come on, Gord," Gellor urged the young thief. "You seem to be thunderstruck – what's wrong?" The one-eyed bard grabbed Gord's upper arm and began towing him along.
"She is more beautiful than any other woman I have ever seen…" Gord replied dazedly, "even Evaleigh, and they could be sisters."
"Yes, Lady Evaleigh did show a strain of faerie heritage, but that's magic gone from the wand, if you will. It's our purpose now which is important, so pay attention, understand?" When Gord nodded, Gellor saw his expression and added, "If you must look for substitutes for your lost lady love, don't look at queens, and do it when our quest is complete – Celene is open to you, and the fair damsels of the court will receive you well – provided we triumph."
About then, they came to a rather plain room whose curving wall indicated it was in a tower. The constable, Parseval, met them there and escorted the group to his private quarters. The noble elfs party dress contrasted sharply with the austerity of the furnishings and the martial trappings that adorned the walls, but Parseval seemed unaware of the incongruity of his appearance in these surroundings. Despite his rather foppish garb, his manner was hard and direct. Queen Yolande had told him but little of the matter, so once again the druid and the bard explained – with many additions, this time, by Deirdre. This bothered Gord, for the constable seemed too fine-featured and handsome to him, and Deirdre's participation in the account all too obvious an attempt to flirt with the noble gray elf. How easily, he thought bitterly, women's heads were turned by pretty men.
"We have had some small intelligence of this entire scheme," said Parseval, unrolling a vellum map as he spoke. "A week ago, a distant cousin of mine came seeking information – which I did give to him. Melf, my adventurous kinself, has sworn fealty to the Lord Mordenkainen. He was here to discover the whereabouts of a band of reavers reportedly led by a renegade dwarf – a bandit company that I myself am hunting." The constable paused momentarily to peer intently at the unrolled map of Celene and its bordering territories. Then he went on.
"Here," he said pointing to the edge of the Suss Forest in the southernmost region of Celene. "This is where they first struck. A Royal Patrol spied them, but the villains killed nearly all of its number. These brigands then moved northward. They sacked and burned several small communities and waylaid a caravan too. They were shielded with a powerful dweomer, so our magic-users were unable to locate their whereabouts. Three forces were sent to intercept them, but these murderers somehow slipped between two of them and seemed bent on coming directly for here. Instead, they turned back and went northeast, getting clear and away into the Kron Hills before we knew. Melf is now trying to intercept them, I believe," Parseval concluded.
During his short recounting of these events, the constable had traced the path of the brigand gang on the map. Gellor studied the chart carefully and then asked, "Where do you suppose they are now?"
"Our agents in Hommlet have just informed us that a band of evil-looking men and demi-humans passed through that village three days ago. That is the last we have heard. The problem is now one for Veluna or Furyondy; Celene is no longer concerned." The constable said this last with a great deal of satisfaction in his voice.
"You err!" Gord interjected, allowing his scorn for the effete-seeming elf to show in his tone and expression. "If those outlaws bear what we fear, their escape could mean the end of all goodness and reason – and the fall of your isolated little kingdom, too!"
Parseval flushed and was ready to retort, but Greenleaf spoke first. "The manner of my comrade is wrong, Lord Constable, but his words bear much weight. Not just kingdoms are at stake here; we fight for the world!"
"Say on, druid," Parseval said expressionlessly. "Your queen sent you to us because Celene is in jeopardy. You must aid us immediately, for if we do not intercept that band of brigands, the consequences might be dire."
The constable looked solemnly at the half-elven druid, then shrugged. "Use your power to follow after these outlaws then, just as you did to enter Enstad."
"Each use of spell runs the risk of alerting the enemy – or worse," Onselvon said sternly "It is not to niggle that you were sent here, Lord Constable, but to give assistance as our queen directs."
"Ah-ummm," said Parseval, becoming uneasy under the piercing eyes of the old mage. "I suppose that you are right, Onselvon. The greater the strength of those seeking to foil the machinations of the Lower Planes, the better our chances for a happy result." With that, Parseval indicated the position of Enstad on the old vellum map. "It is some forty leagues from here to Hommlet – three days of hard riding, for much of the way is through the moundy Krons. Mounted on winged steeds, though – steeds such as the Royal Hippogriffs – the journey is one of but hours. Such aerial travel is perilous, of course, but you all seem capable, and time is precious. Agreed?"
There was a murmur of general assent from the eight strangers and a brief nod of approval from Onseivon, so the constable nodded with finality and spoke again. "Do what you must do, then, between now and mid-morning. I will have instructions sent to the staviary, the place which houses the hippogriffs, and all will be ready at the appointed hour. Eight mounts and an escort of a dozen of Her Majesty's Guards will await. You will be taken as far as the northernmost edge of the Kron Hills." Then he added with a note of warning, "No farther will our steeds take you, no deeper will our guards go, for Celene will retain her isolation. Nor will we deal with the men of other kingdoms. It is enough that we take such as you to the very edge of human realms."
"A fair enough arrangement," said Curley Greenleaf, stroking his palm over his bald pate. The gesture emphasized the human side of the druid's heritage, for elves never grew bald. "What of our quarry? Won't they still be beyond our reach?"
"Only two days at worst," Parseval asserted. "See where Hommlet lies?" he added, pointing to the central portion of the hilly region along the northern border of the elven kingdom. "These murderous rogues move erratically and with no great haste. This very night sees them no great distance from Hommlet, I am sure. If they are near Verbobonc, as I am sure they are, tomorrow they will ford the Velverdyva River, or head for the upper reaches of the Gnarley Forest. In either case, you will be here," and again Parseval pointed at the map, indicating the place they would be conveyed to. "Two days swift pursuit will enable you to catch your foes."
"How do we follow these malign reavers?" Gord demanded. "You are leaving us afoot!"
The court mage replied to this. "Never fear, Gord of Grey-hawk, I am doing my part in this too. Friends and good horses will be waiting nearby when you arrive. You will have all the help that Celene, and the elves of Welkwood too, can provide. Although our stout constable still seems somewhat uncertain as to the importance of your quest, I do comprehend its true nature and meaning."
"Enough then," Parseval interjected. "This night is most sacred to Celene and all elfkind, and I must return to the revel. A servant will show you to your quarters… although I suppose, as guests of Queen Yolande, you are entitled to join in our celebration if you choose."
The latter was said in a tone so dark as to discourage ready acceptance of the vague invitation. While the others turned and started to follow the liveried elf who had silently appeared at Parseval's mention of quarters, however^ Deirdre addressed the constable.