Dennis McKiernan - Into the fire

"Beau?"

Tip pointed at the far ridge. "One of my companions."

"And this cure…?"

Tip frowned in concentration. "Silverroot and gwyn-thyme, if I remember correctly."

"Silverroot I've heard of, but gwynthyme?"

"I seem to recall that both have other names: what these may be I have no idea, but Beau can tell us when the siege is broken. All I know is that gwynthyme is a golden mint and proof against poison. It saved Lady Phais from death by envenomed Ruck arrow. Vulg poison they said."

"Vulg poison? Ai, this golden mint must be potent."

Tip nodded. "So I would say."

"Well then, Tipperton, you must go to the healers and tell them what you know."

"Well, I don't exactly know much more than what I just said. It's Beau who knows the cure, if a cure it is."

"Still…"

"Look, we don't even know if this is the same disease Beau told me about," said Tip, hopping down to the banquette. "Regardless, where do I go?"

"To the prison-that's where they quarantine the ill- but you will need a pass. Captain Brad on the west gate can give you one."

"Oh, Brud," said Tip, sighing. "He and I didn't exactly hit it off when first we met."

"Nevertheless, he can give you a pass to the healers. And don't discount him, Tipperton, he is a good warrior, though stern."

"And suspicious," said Tip, then barked a laugh. "I mean, who else would believe one of the so-called Litenfolk to be a Ruptish spy?" Again Tip laughed, and Imongar smiled. Then Tip looked west and north along the banquette toward the distant west gate. "But all right, it's the dark ill we are speaking of and if I can help… -I'll go see him now."

As Tip walked away, Imongar turned and faced south, faced the Swarm, faced into the pulse of the Dread and stood ready to spend years of her youth should the need arise.

"A cure for the scourge, and you would see the healers?" asked Captain Brud, his voice low.

Tip nodded.

The man pulled a drawer open in the table and took out a parchment. As he dipped the nib of the quill into the inkwell, he said, "Take care to whom you speak of this illness, Sir Tipperton, for even the knowledge that pestilence is within Dendor will drive some men to rash acts."

At hand, Alvaron grunted. "Perhaps so, Captain Brud, but if indeed it is the dark plague, then it will not remain a secret long."

Brud nodded grimly and then stood and pointed out a back window of the upper gatehouse and said to Tip, "That grey building, squarish, made of stone, next to the tower, see you it?"

"The one with the wall all 'round?"

"Aye," said Brud. "It is the prison."

"Gaol," said Alvaron.

"Oh my, a jail that big?"

Brud shrugged. "Not all of it is a prison… just the upper floor. The rest is where the town wardens live, or used to."

"Used to?"

"Aye. Instead of warding those walls, now all are warding these."

"As are the former inmates," said Alvaron. "Pardoned by the king if they would but wage war."

Brud grimaced as if at something repugnant, but then said, "Regardless, that's where you'll find the healers."

Tip shook his head and cocked an eyebrow. "Who would have thought it: healers in jail. I wonder what Beau will say when I tell him."

"It is the safest place to take those who have fallen to the"-Brud paused.

"The pestilence," said Alvaron. "Modru's gift to Dendor, I would say."

"Oh."

Brud folded the paper and held it up for Tip to see. "This pass will admit you through the wall gate and to the door, but not inside, for I would not lose you to this dark ill."

Tip looked up at Brud in surprise, and Brud said, "Sir Tipperton, I was wrong about you. Even so, I do not apologize, for you came from the Swarm and asked to see my liege lord, and I beg no pardon for thinking of him first. And now you are one of his scouts, and for that I am glad: anyone who can slip undetected through an entire Swarm is welcome to serve my lord, and I am pleased we now stand together."

Brud smiled and stuck out his hand, and Tip grinned and took it, his own small grip lost in the man's.

"And now, your pass." Brud handed the Warrow the signed parchment.

"Gwynthyme, eh, the rare golden mint. Yes, I know of it, though we call it bladguld-goldleaf. Even so, we have none. But rotensilver-the root of silver-that we have in plenty, though it saves precious few of those stricken."

Tip's face fell. "Oh my, and Beau used the remainder of his gwynthyme to cure Lady Phais, five doses in all."

"Well I'm afraid that it'll take more than five doses, my lad," said the healer through the bars on the door, "for within these walls there are many who have fallen victim to the scourge and many more yet to-" Of a sudden the healer's words jerked to a halt and he looked past the buc-can. Tip turned about, and there behind him and through the warded gate of the prison wall came a white wagon driven by a man in white, white scarf about his face.

"Stand well off," hissed the healer, covering his own face with a white scarf.

As Tip backed aside and away, the wagon circled 'round to come alongside the barred door. And as it turned, in the bed of the wagon Tip could see three people: a man and a woman and a child, all flush with fever and moaning, their lips cracked but not bleeding. And Tip saw dark, pus-running boils on the arms and face of the child.

That evening, Tip stood on the walls and watched as flaming signal arrows were lofted from each and every gate. He momentarily thought'of sending his last red-fletched arrow up from the one in the south, yet did not, for it was the last thing of Rynna's he had, but for memories bittersweet. And so he watched as arrows were sent skyward, and he listened to the jeers of the Spawn all 'round.

The next morning, just ere dawn, a wedge of men mustered within the walls and waited, King Agron at its head, and with their ballista all stood ready while those above watched for a flaming arrow to fly from the south ridge afar. And Tipperton, his Elven bow in hand, stood with them, for he would not be left behind.

There as well were the six Mages, ready to smother the Gargon's fear, and these were among the foremost at the south gate, as was Tipperton.

"Would that Farrin were here," said Ridich. "Of us all, he is the most powerful."

"Farrin?" asked Tip, looking up at the Mage.

"Aye. A year past he was with us in Black Mountain, part of our Circle of Seven. It was there one night he dreamt of the oncoming war. He told Sage Oran of this dream, and the Sage, after long consideration, asked us to come to Dendor for perhaps Farrin had Truedreamed. Far-rin himself set out on a quest of his own: to find the Utruni and entreat them to join the Free Folk against Modru and his master Gyphon. We have not seen him since."

"He is not likely to find the Utruni," said Letha, "deep in the rock as they are."

"Even if he does find them," said Ridich, "they are not likely to join, for even though they are said to ward the Kammerling, Utruni are above the affairs of the world, or in their case, far below."

Letha sighed. "Would that he could persuade them, for with the they hold over stone, mayhap 'tis true a single Utrun alone can fell an entire mountain."

Tip's eyes flew wide. "Can fell an entire mountain? -I say, these Utruni-Dara Aleen mentioned them once, as did Bekki-just what are they?"

"Stone Giants," replied Imongar.

"Stone Giants? But they're just myths. Giants with gem-stones for eyes? Giants that move through the rock deep underfoot?"

"Oh no, wee one," said Alvaron, "they are no more myths than, say, the Hidden Ones."

"Or the Litenfolk," added Veran, sotto voce.

Imongar laughed. "Just ask a Dwarf, Tipperton, they'll tell you it's so. Long past, First Durek was saved by a Stone Giant, or so they do say."