“Ordinarily, yes. But I was already on my way here- as I was telling Theido and Ronsard just now.”

Quentin did not need to ask what had prompted Lord Wertwin’s trip, but he did note its timeliness. They talked a bit longer until a page came out from the tower entrance across the courtyard to ask them to come in and take their places.

They filed into the tower and up a short flight of spiraled stairs to an upper floor. Thin arrow loops cast a dim light in the narrow passage, which gave out onto a great round chamber with a polished wooden floor. Shuttered windows were thrown wide to let in the sunlight giving the chamber an open, airy feeling, though it was hollowed out of massive tower walls sixteen feet thick.

In the center of the room a ring of chairs had been established, one for each member of the council. But there were others among them, and Quentin wondered who would occupy them. Behind each chair a stanchion raised a banner bearing the device and blazon of each participant. Some of the council members were already seated and behind their chairs stood a squire or page ready to do his lord’s bidding. Other council members stood apart with heads together and talked in low tones; the room buzzed with the murmur of their conversation.

Quentin found his chair, marked by his own blazon: a flaming sword over a small dragon emblem. He smiled to himself when he saw it. The only time he ever saw his device was when in Askelon. Next to his chair sat Toli’s, whose device was a white stag running on a field of forest green. He identified Ronsard’s, a mace and a flail crossed and raised in a gauntleted hand. Theido’s was the readily recognizable black hawk with wings outstretched. There were others he had never seen before, and several chairs had no banners.

In all there were fifteen chairs in the ring, but a few more stood along the wall to be added if the need arose. One by one the remaining council members took their places, and the room fell silent in expectation of the King’s entrance.

Presently a side door opening into a private chamber creaked on its iron hinges, and Durwin stepped in without ceremony, followed by the King. How tired he looks, thought Quentin. Not a king to inspire his nobles with a stirring call to arms.

Eskevar took his chair and Durwin the chair beside him, which was unmarked by a banner. The King began at once.

“My noble friends, thank you for coming.” He looked at each one around the circle. “My heart is heavy with the thought of what must be accomplished this day. I am no stranger to war and no coward. Some of you have stood with me in many glorious campaigns, and some where there was no glory for either side.

“Prudent men do not seek war, for it brings nothing good. But men of valor do not shrink from it if called to defend their homeland against a rapacious foe.

“Such is now the case. Mensandor is under invasion. At this moment foreign armies are burning our cities on the southern coast. The people there have no lords to protect them; so they flee to the hills and to the mountains.”

This last statement sent a ripple of surprise and outrage coursing through the assembled nobles. Lord Lupollen, whose lands were in the north, below Woodsend, raised his voice above the others and asked, “What enemy is this? I have heard nothing of an invasion.”

The King answered when all had quieted down once more. “As I bore certain suspicions regarding such activity I sent the Lord High Marshall and the noble Theido, a trusted friend of the crown, to discover the source of my unease. I will let them tell you what they have found.”

Ronsard spoke first, “My lords, with an accompaniment of four knights Theido and I rode out, striking first to the south. We saw nothing unusual until we reached the sea pass below Persch, where we met a band of villagers fleeing to the north by night.

“These villagers told us of an enemy moving northward along the coast. They also said that Halidom had been destroyed completely. We proposed to ride to Halidom to see with our own eyes the veracity of this report. The villagers seemed frightened and given to exaggeration.”

“Was Halidom destroyed?” asked one of the lords.

“Yes, sir. There was nothing left of it but a charred spot on the earth.”

“What? Surely you jest.”

“Not at all, sir.” The voice was Theido’s. “It is as he said. And not only Halidom. Diem is gone as well.”

“But did you not see this enemy?”

“We saw no enemy, and only one survivor of the destruction, who died as we stood over him.”

“This is ridiculous! You ask us to believe-” sputtered Lupollen.

“Believe what you will, sir,” snapped Ronsard. “We say only what our eyes have seen.”

“I must voice my dismay at this news, Sire,” said Lord Ameronis. “It does seem most unlikely. We have been at peace for over ten years, and it has been far longer since an enemy dared set foot on the soil of Mensandor. Are we to think that a raiding party has landed and terrorized the villages? That surely can be dealt with forthrightly, and no Council of War need stand to ratify such a move.”

“Yes,” agreed Lord Rudd, “it sounds very like the time when the Vrothgar came up the Lower Plinn into the Wilderlands. Once opposed, they left readily enough.”

Eskevar held up his hands for silence. “Please, my countrymen, if I thought a stout body of knights would serve against this new menace, I would have dispatched them at once. But I have reason to believe the danger we now face is greater than that of a handful of barbarians raiding our cattle and crops.” He nodded to Lord Wenwin.

“Noble friends, I came here today of my own volition, meeting the King’s courier on the road. I agree with Eskevar-there is something here deserving more serious consideration. For the past half-month or more I have been receiving a steady traffic of refugees into my defenses. Some from as close as Persch and some from as faraway as Dora: villagers, merchants, peasants. They have come begging protection and refuge from a terrible foe which has come against them-though ‘tis true few of them have ever seen him.” Lord Rudd loudly challenged him. “It is not so strange an occurrence to have a few peasants stirred up over nothing at all. That no one seems to have seen this awesome and mysterious enemy is proof enough for me that if he exists at all, he is no more than a band of ruffians to be crushed with a single blow.” When Rudd had finished speaking, there were murmurs of approval and nods of agreement.

“I have seen this enemy!” said Quentin boldly. All eyes turned toward him. “And I can say he is no mere band of ruffians or barbarians seeking meat and seed. Toli and I were captured at Diem on the night that town was sacked and burned.”

He waited for his words to sink in.

“For two days we were held prisoner, escaping only with the help of one of the enemy’s own officials.” He paused to measure his words carefully.

“What we saw in that camp gave us to know that the army of Nin is no thieving tribe of barbarians, nor raiders after spoil. The Ningaal are a highly trained and disciplined army, and they are moving against all Mensandor.”

“I do not believe it!” shouted Lupollen angrily. “If such foe exists we would know it.”

“Obviously he is cunning beyond belief!” snapped Ameronis with cold sarcasm.

“Believe it!” The high-pitched, cutting tone was a woman’s. The assembly turned in their chairs as one to see who dared invade the King’s council chambers.

Quentin saw Esme standing before the door to the inner chamber. She had entered undetered and had heard what had been said.

“Who is this woman, Sire? Send her away! The Council of War is no place for a female.” There were other complaints of a similar nature.

“My lords, she will be heard. I have asked her to join us, and it seems that now we may hear her story. Continue, my Lady, but let me inform this assembly that before them stands Princess Esme, daughter of King Troen of Elsendor.”