Beau was counting on his fingers. "Huah! That leaves two thousand, right enough, of the ten thousand they started with."

"What about our own casualties?" asked Tip.

Vail shook her head, sudden tears springing into her eyes. "We came away not unscathed. Fully two hundred fifty or so of our own will ne'er answer the bugle again."

"Two hundred fifty Dylvana?" blurted Beau. "But that's fully-"

Vail pushed out a hand. "Nay, not Dylvana only, but Drimma and Baeron and Daelsmen as well."

"Still, it is a lot to lose," said Tip.

"Aye," replied Vail, tears streaming. "And one was Andal… his death rede… it came to me. I did not even know he loved-" Vail choked back a sob.

Tipperton reached out and took her hand, almost as small as his own.

They sat in silence for a while as Vail regained her composure, and finally Beau looked about the common room of the Red Goose and said, "Tip, why don't you play and sing a song."

Tip looked at Vail-her features drawn, her eyes glistering. She smiled wanly. "Something gay, if thou wouldst."

The next morning dawned to a grey overcast, the skies threatening snow, while below, in the streets of Bridgeton, riders assembled in the morn. Prancing they came, and plodding as well, mounted warriors with eyes deadly grim: Dylvana and Daelsmen on swift horses, Baeron on massive steeds, Dwarves on ponies.

Throughout the night rumors had flown that Prince Brandt and his guard had ridden away in the dark, heading for the ruins of Dael, yet Brandt came riding in among his kinsmen, putting the lie to such.

Tip and Beau, Loric and Phais and Bekki, they all stood on the stoop of the Red Goose and watched as the Allies assembled, and Vail rode to the porch and said good-bye to them all, dismounting long enough to embrace Tipperton and wish him well.

Melor, too, came to the stoop, especially to bid Beau good-bye. Yet even as he did so, bugles blew, and the column, like a ponderous multilegged beast of great length, surged into motion and slowly drew away, heading for the eastern gate of Bridgeton. And Tipperton could see at the back of the train the heavy wains of the Baeron coming last, with Wagonleader Bwen standing on the seat of her wain and bellowing some command in her native tongue at the drivers of the wagons behind. She turned about and plopped down in time to wave a cheery farewell to the Warrows and Lian and Bekki the Dwarf, and then she, too, was past and away.

"Come," said Beau. And he led Tip running along the column and to the gate and up a ramp to the top of the beringing city wall, Phais and Loric and Bekki following after. And they all watched as the column and train emerged from the east gate to clop and rumble across the bridge spanning the Ironwater River, each of the five feeling somewhat guilty for not riding with the Allies to war. Yet Tipperton had his own mission to follow, the others to ride with him as well. And so they watched as Dylvana and Daelsmen and Dwarves and Baeron rode out from the city and into the land beyond.

Long they stood in the chill winter air as the column drew away. And finally, when the last wain rumbled 'round a far turn, Beau said, "Well, that's that." Even so they remained where they were, watching and watching still. And as they did a flutter of flakes began drifting down in the day. It was Year's Start Day, the first day of January, the first day of the two thousand one hundred ninety-sixth year of the Second Era of Mithgar as Tip and Beau and Phais and Loric and Bekki stood on the Bridgeton walls. It was, as well, the very first day of the second year of a great and terrible war.

The rest of that day and all the next, Tip and Beau, Phais and Loric, and Bekki took advantage of the services of the Red Goose Inn, enjoying hot baths and hot meals and cool ale and rich red wine… and sleeping on soft feather beds. And they sang sad and sweet and rousing songs in the common room of the inn, to the delight of the townsfolk and guests alike, for although a force of Dylvana had been ensconced in Bridgeton for several days and had sung in the taverns and inns, still the townsfolk never got enough of Elves and their singing, for they were the best bards of all… or so it was said. Yet here not only were the Lian singing, but one of the Volksklein as well-"… Him with his silver stringed lute and his high, sweet voice, and the other wee Volksklein dancing a jig now and then. And would you believe it, one of the Dwergvolk sometimes bursts forth with one of those Dwergish chants, his own voice sounding much like a load of gravel sliding from a wheelbarrow, I'd say. And you can't understand a word he utters-pah! that language of theirs. Even so, I must admit it truly stirs the blood. And at times when the Dwerg sings, that little Waldan, the one who dances, he marches about with his chest stuck out and mug of ale in hand, and sometimes the crowd follows after. And occasionally that Lian Guardian, Elven lord that he is, he joins right in, and don't you wonder how an Elven voice can wrap itself around that tongue? But best of all is when the Elven lady sings and the lute-playing Waldan sings harmony and the Elven lord sings counterpoint."

Needless to say the common room was packed to overflowing when the news spread that "A Waldan and a Dwarf and two Lian were singing in the Red Goose, and another Waldan danced to their tunes."

And for two days, two Waldans, two Elves, and a Dwerg sang and chanted simple songs, tragic songs, glad songs, and songs of derring-do, of ships on the sea and Dragons in the air, of lost loves and loves found, of storms and rainbows and treasures vast, of hewing stone and harvesting grain, and of Silverlarks and Draega-the great Silver Wolves of Adonar, large as ponies and deadly foe of the Vulgs-and other such creatures of legend. And more, much more, did they sing and chant and march and dance, and all the peoples of Bridgeton, it seems, came to the Red Goose Inn.

Over those same two days as well, the comrades tended and cared for their animals, feeding them good grain and sweet water and giving them rest. The five also replenished their diminished supplies, Beau especially making certain that there was enough tea to last all the way to Dendor. "It's going to be cold, bucco," he said to Tip, "and hot drink will come in handy, right enough, morning and evening both. -Nighttime, too."

"Assuming we can build fires," replied Tip.

"Oh, Tip, do you think the whole of the way will be rife with Rucks and such?"

Tip threw an arm over his friend's shoulders. "Surely not, yet regardless, we'll take all the tea with us."

And so, for two days the companions relaxed and sang and danced and drank and ate… and made ready to resume their quest, a journey ahead of them still, for on a thong about a small neck there rested a plain pewter coin, a coin that one of them had promised to deliver and fulfill the wish of a long-dead man.

On the third morning after the Allies had gone from Bridgeton, Tip, Beau, Phais, Loric, and Bekki rode forth as well, faring eastward across the stone bridge above the Ironwater River, frozen in winter's cold. They followed the Landover Road, and intended to stay on this route until they reached the gap where Riamon ended and Garia began; then they would turn almost due north and after some days cross the Crystal River to come at last into Aven. Even then, it was some leagues more they would have to travel through that land to reach King Agron's court. Altogether it would be a journey of some five hundred twenty-five miles from the walls of Bridgeton in Riamon to the walls of Dendor in Aven.

Beau moaned when he heard of the distance they yet had to go, but gestured behind and said to Tipperton, "Well, bucco, at least we got our hot bath and mulled wine, and, oh, but wasn't the singing fun?"