Now Loric held a hand out toward the Warrows and said in a voice all could hear, "Alor Talarin e Dara Rael, vi estare Sir Tipperton Thistledown e Sir Beau Darby, Waerlinga en a Wilderland. Lona eiofaenier ivo Dhruousdarda-"

A collective intake of breath swept the chamber, some % gasping Dhruousdarda? while others whispered Lona?

Lord Talarin's eyes widened and he looked at the Waerlinga and said, "This is so? Ye came alone through the Drearwood?"

Mutely, both Tip and Beau nodded.

Talarin's mouth turned up in a grudging smile and he slowly shook his head. "Ye are either brave or desperate or fools or all three."

Tip grinned back. "Well, sir, I don't know about brave, but fools no doubt we were and indeed desperate at times."

Talarin laughed and spread his arms wide to the throng. "Ealle hdl va Waerlinga, Fors avor!"

"Hal!" the throng roared, and they turned smiling faces toward the buccen.

Beau tugged on Loric's sleeve. "What did he say?"

Loric smiled. "All hail these Waerlinga, Fortune favored."

"Oh. Well, then." The center of attention, Beau shuffled his feet in embarrassment.

Now Lady Rael leaned forward. "And what news do ye bring, Sir Tipperton, Sir Beau? Encouraging, I hope."

Tip shook his head. "Nay, Lady, 'tis not. From all the signs that we have seen-loose bands of Foul Folk moving 'cross the Wilderland, Kingsmen slain, a balefire on Bea-contor, and a great Horde on the march-wide war has come unto Mithgar to the woe of all. Yet by whom and against whom I cannot say, though Beau has a flag which may tell."

Beau slipped the banner out from under his jerkin and held it up for all to see-a circle of fire on black.

Talarin reached out and took the flag and stared down at it as he held it draped over both hands, the circle of fire showing. A fell look came over his face. "Modru," he growled, "against High King Blaine."

But Rael shook her head. "Nay, chieran, I think not. Oh, indeed, as we suspected, Modru casts his forces 'gainst Blaine, yet behind it all I ween we see Gyphon's hand."

"Gyphon?" blurted Beau. "Do you really mean Gyphon?"

Rael canted her head.

"B-but Gyphon is a god. What would he have to gain?"

Rael sighed. "The whole of creation, wee one. Crushing dominion o'er all."

"Oh, my," breathed Beau, turning a stricken face to Tip. "Oh, my."

"How will a war on Mithgar give Gyphon dominion over all of creation?" asked Tipperton. "And this Modru-just who or what is he?"

Talarin sat back down. " 'Tis a long tale, Sir Tipperton, Sir Beau, and one best told after ye have had a chance to wash away all travel stains and to take a meal. We sup in four candlemarks. Join us and we will speak of these things afterward. Too, ye can tell us a tale of how ye twain came to pass through Dhruousdarda, through the Drearwood."

"Four candlemarks?" said Beau. "Oh, my, that would be enough time for a full bath-that is, if you have hot water and a bathing room."

Rael laughed, her voice a silver trill. "Oh, yes, Sir Beau, a bath indeed we can furnish, though I'm afraid you'll have to provide thine own fresh clothing, for we have nought sized to fit thee or Sir Tipperton."

Beau's face fell. "Urn, I'm afraid we'll just have to put these back on, m'Lady. All our goods were lost in Drear-wood when- But here, I get ahead of myself. That tale'11 have to wait until we've cleaned up a bit… scraped some, of the dirt off, so to speak."

Rael's brow wrinkled, but then she smiled, saying, "Alor Loric, if thou wilt show our guests the way…"

Loric bowed and murmured, "Aye, crystal seer."

Loric turned and started across the wooden floor, Tip and Beau in his wake. Behind, Dara Rael called out in Sylva to the gathering, and just as the buccen and their Lian escort exited from the hall, Tip looked back to see her whispering urgently to Elfmaidens gathered 'round, while at the same time eyeing the departing trio.

Followed by the Warrows, their breath blowing white in the frigid mountain air, Loric crossed the snow to another long, low building, smoke from chimneys rising into the sky. Stepping inside and past another door, the Warrows found themselves in a warm bathing chamber, where copper tubs filled with water asteam sat on iron plates laid over a raised hearth below which ruddy embers glowed. And Loric and the buccen doffed their garments-gritty clothes which they had worn for weeks without respite-and hung them on hooks, all but their socks, which they draped over their boots. Loric shared out towels from a shelf, along with scrub cloths and soap mildly scented with the fragrance of meadow bluebells. They each eased into the large tubs-Tip and Beau in one, Loric in another-and the water came up to the wee buccen's chins, though only up to Loric's chest.

"Oh, Lor'," groaned Beau, "but this feels wonderful. It seems a lifetime since I've truly been warm."

Tip nodded, adding, "And another lifetime since I've been clean."

Leaning back, Tip and Beau luxuriated in the water, quiescent, not speaking at all, lolling as the grime and sweat of trek and flight and fear and hiding soaked away. Loric, too, slid down into his steaming bath and lazed, for he had been long on patrol.

After a goodly while, Loric said, "A candlemark or so, and they'll be expecting us."

Both Tip and Beau were awakened from a drowse by Loric's words, and they yawned and stretched, and Beau looked at his hands and fingers and said, "Lor', but I'm as wrinkled as a raisin."

Tip looked at his own crinkled hands and laughed, and both buccen ducked completely under, then stood and took up cloths and soap and began liberally lathering themselves. Tip was in the middle of scrubbing his hair when the door opened and an Elfmaiden came into the chamber and "Hoy, now," sputtered Beau, dropping down into the water. "I say, you should knock or give warning or something." Tip remained standing, for his eyes were closed against the soap slathering down from his locks.

The dark-haired Elfmaiden laughed aloud as she stepped to their clothes, and at this sound of femininity Tip gasped and splashed down and under, only to flounder up spluttering and wiping his eyes as he peered over the edge.

Loric grinned and canted his head and simply said, "Dara Elissan."

"Alor Loric," Elissan replied, plucking their clothes from the hooks and gracefully kneeling to take up their socks. Standing, she turned to leave.

"But, wait!" protested Beau. "We're going to need those."

Elissan looked down at the garments and wrinkled her nose in mild aversion. "Oh, I think not, wee one, at least not until they've been thoroughly boiled."

"But what'11 we…?" Beau's question went unanswered as she vanished out the door. He looked at Tip and shrugged, adding, "I suppose we can wrap ourselves up in towels to attend the banquet."

Tip slowly began lathering himself, and he glanced over at Loric. "I say, Loric, do your dammen-er, uh, do your Elfmaidens usually come barging in on bathers? I mean, I stood there naked as a newborn, and yet she, uh…" Tip's words stumbled to a halt, and he turned up his hands.

But Beau chimed in. "I think what Tip's trying to ask is, don't your kind have any manners of modesty?"

Loric barked a laugh. "When ye have lived as long as we, modesty at bathing and such is found for the most to be unnecessary. However, Elissan in her haste simply forgot that others share not this same-"

Loric's words were interrupted by a knock on the door, but before any could answer, Rael and Elissan and three other Elfmaidens came sweeping in.

Once again Tip and Beau plopped down in their tub, though Loric, seated, nonchalantly canted his head, saying, "Darai."

"We have brought ye raiment," said Rael, turning to other of the Elfmaidens. Forward stepped a trio of Darai, each bearing folded garments. As one moved toward Loric, he murmured, "Chier."