Terry Brooks - The Sword of Shannara

«He must be mad — absolutely mad!» the angered Southlander stormed. «What does he think this is? We’re besieged by an invading army, and he turns out the troops for a dress parade!»

«Menion, be careful what you say to him. We must be patient if we are to be of any use to Balinor.» Shirl gripped his shoulder and faced him for a moment, smiling quickly in warning. «Remember as well that he loves me, misguided though he may be. He was a good man once, and he is Balinor’s brother still.»

Impatient and impulsive as always, Menion nevertheless realized that she was right. There was nothing to be gained by showing he was angered with the foolish pageant, and he was well advised to go along with the Prince’s whims until Balinor was located and freed. He sat quietly back in the coach as it entered the palace gates, passing in slow review before the rows of expressionless soldiers that formed the elite of the King’s personal guard. The fanfares continued to roll from all sides, and a small squad of cavalry wheeled in precise formation about the courtyard for the benefit of the new arrivals. Then the carriage came to a gentle halt, and the big figure of the new ruler of Callahorn appeared at the coach door, the broad face smiling in nervous delight.

«Shirl — Shirl, I thought I would never see you again!» He reached into the coach and helped the slim girl from the small enclosure, holding her close to him for a moment and stepping away to view her once more. «I… I really thought I had lost you.»

Burning quietly, an impassive Menion helped himself from the carriage, stepping down beside them, smiling faintly as Palance turned to greet him.

«Prince of Leah, you are indeed welcome in my kingdom,” the big man greeted the lean highlander, reaching warmly for his hand. «You have done me… a very great service. Anything I have is yours — anything. We shall be great friends, you and I! Great friends! It has been… so long since…»

He trailed off sharply, looking intensely at the highlander, suddenly lost in thought. His speech was stilted and nervous, almost as if he weren’t quite sure of what he was swing at any one point. If he weren’t completely mad a ready, Menion thought quickly, he was certainly very ill.

«I’m very pleased to be in Tyrsis,” he responded, «although I wish the circumstances could have been more pleasant for all concerned.»

«You mean my brother, of course?» The question shot out as the other snapped awake again, his face flushed. Menion started momentarily in surprise.

«Palance, he means the invasion of the Northlanders, the burning of Kern,” Shirl interposed quickly.

«Yes. Kern…» Again he trailed off, this time looking anxiously about as if someone were missing. Menion glanced about uneasily, realizing that the mystic Stenmin was strangely absent. According to Shirl and Janus Senpre, the Prince never went anywhere without his adviser. Quickly he caught Shirl’s watchful eye.

«Is there something wrong, my Lord?» Menion used the formal address to catch the other’s instant attention, smiling quickly in reassurance that he was a concerned friend prepared to help. The deception brought unexpected results.

«You can help me… and this kingdom, Menion Leah,” Palance responded quickly. «My brother seeks to be King in my place. He would have me killed. My adviser Stenmin has saved me from this — but there are other enemies… all around! You and I must be friends. We must stand together against those who seek to take my throne — to bring harm to this lovely woman whom you have returned to me. I… I cannot talk with Stenmin… the way I would talk with a friend. But you, I could talk with you!»

Like a small child, he gazed eagerly at the amazed Menion Leah, awaiting his reply. A sudden feeling of pity for this son of Ruhl Buckhannah swept over the highlander, and he duly wished there was something he could do to help the unfortunate man. Smiling sadly, he nodded his agreement.

«I knew you would stand with me!» the other exclaimed excitedly, laughing in delight. «We are both men of royal blood, and that… binds us closely. You and I shall be great friends, Menion. But now… you must rest.»

He seemed to recall suddenly that his palace corps were still standing stiffly at parade attention, waiting patiently for the Prince to give the order for dismissal. With a sharp wave of his hand, the new ruler of Callahorn led his two guests toward the Buckhannah home, nodding to the commander of his personal guard as they passed to signal that his soldiers could be dispersed for regular duty. The trio passed into the entryway of the ancient home, where a number of servants stood waiting to escort the guests to their rooms. Pausing briefly once more, the host turned to his guests, bending close to whisper.

«My brother is locked in the dungeons beneath us. You need not be afraid.» He stared meaningfully at them for a moment, glancing quickly at the curious servants who waited respectfully in the background. «He has friends everywhere, you know.»

Both Menion and Shirl nodded, because it was expected of them.

«He won’t escape from the dungeons then?» Menion pursued the matter a bit further.

«He tried last night… with his friends.» Palance smiled with satisfaction. «But we caught them and trapped them… trapped them in the dungeon forever. Stenmin is there now… you must meet him…»

Again he straightened up with the thought left unspoken, his attention given over to the servants, several of whom he beckoned to his side. He crisply directed them to escort his friends to their quarters where they could bathe themselves and don fresh clothing before joining him for breakfast. It was still only about an hour after dawn and the refugees from Kern had not eaten since the previous night. Menion needed medical treatment for his hastily bandaged wounds, and the house physician stood ready to change the dressings and apply fresh medicines. He needed rest, too, but that could wait. The small party started down one long hallway when suddenly a distracted voice called after Shirl, and the new ruler of Callahorn came after them, approaching the wondering girl with hesitant steps, finally stopping before her and quickly embracing her. Menion kept his face averted, but their words were clear.

«You must not go away from me again, Shirl.» It was a command, not a request, though the words were softly spoken. «Your new home must be in Tyrsis — as my wife.»

There was a long moment of silence.

«Palance, I think we…»Shirl’s voice shook as she tried to interpose a quiet explanation.

«No — say nothing. No discussion is necessary now… not now,” Palance interrupted quickly. «Later… when we are alone, when you are rested… there will be time. You know I love you… I always have. And you have loved me, I know.»

Again the long moment of silence, and then Shirl was walking quickly past Menion, forcing the servants to dash ahead in order to lead the way to the guest quarters. The highlander quickly came up beside the beautiful girl, not daring to reach for her while his host stood silently watching them move down the hallway. Shirl’s face was lowered, shaded by the long red hair, the slim, bronzed hands clasped tightly before her. Neither spoke as the servants led them down the wide corridor to their rooms in the west wing of the ancient home. They separated briefly while Menion allowed the persistent physician to treat his wounds and wrap them in fresh bandages. Clean clothing lay on the huge, four–posted bed, and a hot bath stood waiting, but a distraught Menion ignored them both. Quickly he slipped from his room into the empty hallway; he knocked softly, pushed open the door to Shirl’s room, and entered. She rose slowly from the bed as he closed the heavy wooden door, then ran quickly to him, her arms encircling and holding him tightly to her.