Toli, riding beside his master all the way, sat on his horse unmoved and stared at the twinkling jewel across the fair valley.

“What do you say, Toli? We are nearly home.”

Toli did not look at Quentin when he answered, and when he finally spoke his voice was faraway. “It does appear now to be as far as ever it was when we began this journey.”

As usual, Toli was seeing something very different than the others. And Quentin had learned it was no use trying to find out what the Jher meant by these mystical pronouncements.

Ronsard, at the head of the party, urged his mount forward. The others followed him down the gentle slope as the feathery wisps of evening mist began rising in the cool valley. The air was still and silent, a soft sigh upon the land. No one could have described a more perfect picture of peace as they gazed down into the valley growing green with the crops of the peasants, and to the east along the broad expanse of plain already falling into dusk.

From somewhere in the stillness a bird trilled a poignant farewell as it winged homeward to the nest, and all at once a sadness came over the party. To Quentin, it seemed that some final word had been spoken and he was indeed seeing Askelon as it would never appear again.

TWENTY-SIX

“YOU HAVE returned none too soon, my young man.” Durwin scowled as he examined Quentin’s swollen arm. “It appears your arm has been broken and has begun to set.”

“That is good, is it not?” asked Bria anxiously. She held Quentin’s left hand and snuggled close to him as the hermit poked and prodded Quentin’s injured right arm. Quentin’s filthy tunic had been removed and a soft robe draped across his chest. His arm rested on a cushion on a low table which had been pushed up to his couch.

“It will be all right-won’t it, Durwin?” Quentin forced himself to ask the question he feared asking the most. Durwin ignored it and answered Bria’s instead.

“I feel it is not good, my Lady. Ordinarily, yes. But not this time. As it is, the arm will never heal properly.”

“Oh!”

Durwin hastened to reassure them both. “But I have seen this before. The arm will be healed…”-he paused to assess the effect his next words would have-“but I must break it again and reset it correctly.”

Quentin winced, and a tear formed in the corner of Bria’s eye. “It hurts me so to see you in pain, my love,” she said.

“There is but little pain. At first, yes, but not now. I can bear it.”

Durwin bent once more to his examination of the arm and shoulder. “That is what worries me, Quentin. There should be pain-a great deal of pain. I have never known it otherwise. I fear something of greater consequence than a broken bone is involved here. But what it is I cannot say.”

A knock sounded on the chamber door, and Theido stepped into the room, “What say you, Durwin? Will our young warrior’s wing heal to fly again?” Catching Durwin’s troubled frown he added, “If I have misspoken I beg you pardon, sir.”

“No, no. You are right,” Durwin blustered. “I am being a silly old man. Of course the arm will heal. We will reset it at once.”

“At once?” Quentin closed his eyes.

“It would be best.”

“After we dine, at least?” offered Theido. “In the hall the meal is being laid. Better to face it on a full stomach, eh?”

“There is no harm. I had forgotten you all have ridden very far. Yes, there is to be a wonderful meal in honor of your safe return. We can attend to our business after we have eaten.”

“Then let us go directly,” said Theido. “I, for one, stand in need of some rejoicing this night. There will be little enough in the days to come.”

“Meaning what?” asked Durwin.

“Eskevar has announced a Council of War. It begins tomorrow.”

“So soon?”

Theido only nodded gravely and left.

Durwin and Bria helped Quentin to his feet and pulled the robe around him after putting his injured arm in a sling. Then they all made their way to the Dragon King’s Great Hall.

The hall, shimmering in the light of a hundred golden torches, was even larger and more splendid than Quentin remembered. It seemed as if it had been many years since he had been in the hall. Steeped in its own kind of emotion and majestic drama, it was his favorite place in all the castle, and had deeply intrigued him since he had first seen it as a boy.

A crackling fire roared in the massive hearth, and the flames shone on the ranks of black stone columns which marched the entire length of the hall. Long tables had been set down the center of the hall, and these terminated at the dais where the King’s table stood. A royal blue baldachin edged in silver and bearing the King’s blazon arched gracefully above his table.

The Great Hall was filled with people. Servants rushed here and there carrying huge platters of meat-fish, fowl, venison, pork and dozens of roasts on spits. Knights and lords, some with their falcons on their arms, strolled with their ladies. Minstrels wandered through the crowd or played for smaller groups upon request. Maidens with flowers in their hair flirted coyly with passing youths. The hall was a riot of color, a meandering current of gaiety.

Quentin’s heart swelled within him as he beheld the splendor of the Dragon King’s hall.

Two servants carrying a basin came hurrying up as the three entered. The basin was in the shape of a dragon and contained warm water scented with roses. Quentin dipped his good hand, while Bria washed it for him and then dried it on a soft linen cloth offered by one of the servants. Durwin dipped his hands, and the two young servants dashed away to offer the courtesy to other newly-arrived guests.

As they moved into the stream of the jovial guests, trumpets sounded from the far end of the hall.

“Ah,” said Durwin, “we are precisely on time. Let us take our seats.”

He moved at once to the high table, and Quentin and Bria followed. Toli and Esme met them as they ascended the dais to find their places while servants scurried around filling goblets of onyx with wine and ale. Esme fairly glowed in her bejeweled gown. For once, thought Quentin, she looked the Princess she really was.

“This is most wonderful,” she cooed. “You are so kind, Bria, to lend me one of your beautiful gowns. I feel like a woman again, after all those days on the back of a horse.” The two young women laughed; Quentin and Toli looked on smiling.

“Toli has been showing me all over the castle, and I am much impressed. I have long heard stories of Askelon’s wealth, but the stories do not tell half.”

“You are a most welcome guest, Esme,” said Bria warmly. “We must have a talk together soon. I think we may become very good friends.”

“I would like that. I have grown up among my brothers, and my father’s house lacks a woman’s touch. When my business here is at an end, perhaps I will tarry here with you.”

“Please, I can think of nothing better.”

“It seems our two young women are cut of the same cloth, eh Toli?” Quentin had stepped close to his servant while the ladies chattered on happily.

“Our women?” Toli suddenly blushed.

“Bria and Esme, of course. Do you think I do not see the way you look at Esme? I saw that look once before on your silly face-the day we fished her from the sea.”

“It is not your arm that is ailing; it is your head. You begin talking strangely; perhaps I should call Durwin to take you away. This atmosphere has addled your mind.”

“My head is whole, and my eyes are not deceived, my good friend.”

Toli blushed again. The trumpets sounded a final call and Bria said, “Let us all be seated. Toli and Esme, you must sit near us. I will arrange it.”

After a bit of fuss they sat down together. Quentin looked down the table-past the platters of meat and pastries, trenchers of pewter and silver, baskets of breads, and tureens of vegetables-to examine the guests who shared the high table. Ronsard, who sat with Myrmior on one side and Theido on the other, caught his eye and waved; an instant later he was once again deep in conversation with the lanky knight at his side. Durwin sat to the left of Toli and on the right of the King, whose exquisitely carved chair remained empty. The Queen’s chair, smaller but equally handsome, was next to it and empty too.