She waited. The resentful sun rose slowly, throwing off a sulky light; the air seemed dank and stale. The sky held the feel of a storm, though not a cloud was to be seen. Such days did often betoken ill, thought Esme, and hoped that its end would not leave her with cause for regret.

Into the stillness of the morning came once more the jingling refrain she had heard before. This time it was closer and more distinct. Listening very hard, she thought she could hear the thump of the horses’ hooves as the party, not large, moved along. Presently Esme saw the ruddy glint of a blade or helm as it caught the sun for a brief instant Then, jouncing into view below her came two knights, three more following close behind.

Though she watched them for awhile as they jogged along, Esme knew at once that she had nothing to fear from these men. They were not of the destroying horde she had twice encountered. And from her secret perch she could barely make out the blazon of one knight’s shield as it hung beside him on his horse’s flank-the twisting red dragon of the Dragon King.

When the company of knights had drawn even with her hiding place, Esme urged Riv out gingerly and hastened down to meet them in the road. One of the knights saw her streaking toward them, said something to his companions and then broke away, galloping to intercept her. He did not speak as he joined her, but eyed her cautiously as he conducted her to where the others had stopped and were now waiting to receive them.

There was an awkward moment of silence when she finally reached them. The two foremost knights exchanged glances quickly. It was clear they did not know what to make of her, a young lady riding out of the hills alone.

“I am Ronsard, Lord High Marshall of Mensandor. I am at your service, my lady.” It was the knight whose blazon she had recognized.

The young woman spoke up without hesitation. “I am Esme-" she began, but was interrupted by the second knight, a man of dark aspect whom she thought seemed somehow familiar.

“I used to know an Esme,” he said, “though she was but a slip of a girl and shy as a young deer.”

“It is a common name, sir,” she said guardedly. Who was this man? She was certain she had seen him before.

“Of course, you are right. This Esme I knew lived away in Elsendor and was never fond of horses, as I see you must be to ride as you do.” A secretive smile played at the edges of the knight’s mouth. Was he laughing at her, Esme wondered.

“Elsendor is a realm of some size,” she said. “Perhaps you would remember whose house it was wherein you saw the girl that bears my name.”

“Well I remember it,” laughed the knight. “Often it was that I found lodging there and hospitality of a most royal kind.” He lingered on the word royal and gave it a peculiar emphasis.

Ronsard looked from one to the other of them curiously. “It is well that we have naught to do but pass the time wagging our tongues. Or perhaps there is some hidden jest which this dull head does not apprehend.”

“Sir, if it is a jest, it is not mine,” she said, a little confused. “I am on an errand of some importance concerning friends of yours, I think.”

“Then, my lady, I suggest you tell us forthwith what you require of us. We are charged with an errand of importance as well.”

“Now, now, good Ronsard. Be not so hasty with this young lady. For though she is but stranger to you, I think her father is not.”

“You- you know my father?” She peered at him closely. “Your words addle me sir. But there is something about you which seems not altogether unfamiliar.”

“Yes,” said Ronsard growing impatient. “If you think you know something then out with it!”

“Very well,” sighed Theido. “It may be that I am indeed mistaken. Yes, I certainly I am. For any of King Troen’s offspring would know one whom they called Uncle.”

The young lady’s dark eyes opened wide in disbelief. Her head shook dubiously, wagging the sleek braid at the back of her head. “Theido?” A look of happy relief flooded her face as she saw the dark stranger throw back his head and laugh deeply.

Ronsard clucked his tongue and rolled his eyes. “What a meeting is this. It is not to be believed.”

“Believe it, Ronsard. Allow me to present Princess Esme of Elsendor. Far from home she may be, but far from friendless she is.”

“Theido! I do not believe it either, sir,” she said to Ronsard. “Upon my word, he is the last man I would have expected to meet this day.”

“Well might I say the same of you, Lady Esme. You see, Ronsard, I spent much time in the halls of King Troen when that craven Jaspin seized my lands. I was made an outlaw in my own country, but Queen Besmir took me in, though her husband was away in the wars with Eskevar.”

“However did you know me? I scarce but recognize you.”

“You have much of your mother’s look about you, and much of your father’s boldness. The name Esme is not so widely used as you would have us believe. When I saw you, I knew there could only be one.”

The other knights murmured their surprise. Ronsard turned to them and said, “Why do you wonder at this, sirs? You well know that Theido is kith to every family in the realm, be they plowman or prince.”

They all laughed, including Theido who said, “Friends I have many, and it is true few men in Mensandor have not heard of Theido-though that is more my father’s doing than my own.

“But let us be once more on our way. Join us, my Lady, and tell us of your errand while we ride. We are for Askelon at once.”

“That suits, me well-”

“I believe you spoke just now of friends of ours? What news would you bring us of them?” The party started off again.

“Dreadful news, sir. I wish it were not mine to tell. If you be friend to one called Quentin and his servant friend Toli, then you must prepare for the worst.” She glanced fearfully at her two companions. Their faces clouded with worry when she pronounced the names.

“I see I am right.”

“You are. Tell us then what you know.”

“We were riding in search of you, my lords, traveling by night. We saw a fire-they said it was Diem, burning-and we rode to give aid. We were met by a fierce enemy, and Quentin and Toli were taken. I escaped.”

Tight lines appeared around Theido’s mouth, and Ronsard’s jaw bulged. “I marvel at your fortune,” said Ronsard. “And more at the directness of your speech.”

“My father has often said that bitter news does not grow sweeter on the tongue, and ‘twere better said quickly. If I thought that you would have been offended by my manner, I would have spared you.”

“Nay, spare us not. But tell us if we may hope for them.”

“Yesterday I thought not, but I chanced to meet an oracle by a pool. She gave me reason to hope, and reason to try to find you.”

“An oracle, you say?” Theido shrugged his shoulders. “Where need is great any hand will serve, I guess. But we must not linger one moment longer; I fear my idle jesting has caused too much delay already. We will pick up the trail at Diem. We will have to wait for the rest of your story, my Lady. I do not wonder but that it is most remarkable.”

“We ride for Diem!” shouted Ronsard to his knights. Reins snapped and spurs bit into flanks, and the horses raced off into the hills toward the burned and blackened ring that had once been Diem.