The Druid Queen - Douglas Niles [47]
"No… I'll never forget," Finellen said sincerely. "But there's a case where the Darkwalker and its minions threatened all of us!"
"Didn't you hear Danrak say that human farmsteads have been ravaged by these beasts? Those are King Tristan's subjects. He would come out of duty to them even if Cambro still stood safe and snug! You'll not relinquish any sense of honor by waiting for him. Instead, you'll ensure that you earn the vengeance you so richly deserve!" And take away from the chance you'll lead your warriors into another tragedy, she added silently.
Finellen turned away to ponder for a moment. Finally she made her decision and faced the queen again, her expression skeptical but not unfriendly.
"I'll have to follow the trail… keep them in sight," she explained. "But I suppose I could hold off on the attack for a week or so, at least so long as it doesn't look like they're getting away."
How the giant-kin could "get away" on an island the size of Gwynneth eluded Robyn at the moment, but she was grateful for the dwarfwoman's concession.
"Very well," Robyn replied. "I'll start back to Corwell immediately. The king will be on the march shortly after I arrive, I'm certain!"
"A week," Finellen said grudgingly. "After that, I don't think I'll be able to hold back."
* * * * *
"Come in, my child… It's good to see you walking about." It's good to see you period, the Exalted Inquisitor addended silently as Deirdre entered the anteroom of his apartments.
Indeed, the raven-haired princess of Callidyrr was a stunning beauty, with her ice-white skin, high cheekbones, and lush black hair. Her blue eyes, of a hue so dark it sometimes seemed like black, burned with an intensity that dissolved any thoughts of chilly arrogance within her proud, aloof body.
"I'm beginning to feel… alive again," Deirdre admitted, sinking to a low bench with a sigh. Even a short walk about the keep still exhausted her. Nevertheless, this was a considerable improvement from her nearly comatose state of a week earlier.
She had awakened several days before to find the patriarch of Helm at her side, holding her small hand in both of his large ones. Immediately she had felt a sense of trust toward the man, and as they had conversed-for a few minutes at first; later for hour after stimulating hour-she learned that here was a person who understood her!
This made him unique among her currently present family and friends. Deirdre found that the priest was a very devout man, absolutely subject to the will of his god, but the will of his god as Hyath himself interpreted it. The princess had been quick to grasp the fact that this gave him a certain amount of leeway in the pursuit of his doctrine.
And yet Helm did not seem displeased. She sensed an aura of godhood around the man, an indisputable fullness of power that bespoke more than mortal, or even magical, vitality. It was a strength unique from, and seemingly superior to, the druidic faith of her mother.
When Hyath spoke to her, his deep voice rumbled soothingly. He talked, not of his god, but of gods. Once again Deirdre found him clarifying things that she had never fully grasped before. The full pantheon of gods worshiped by all the peoples of the Realms she saw as a good thing, a strengthening by diversity that for many centuries had been unknown in the Moonshaes.
It was an outlook that differed fundamentally from her mother's interpretation of immortal will, as personified by the goddess Earthmother. Deirdre had heard often enough the central tenet of her mother's faith: According to Robyn, the Moonshaes were uniquely enchanted because of the purity of their goddess. If other deities-the druids called them "New Gods," though Deirdre knew this was a preposterous misstatement-exercised equal power in the isles, then the goddess must inevitably fade.
But for the first time, Deirdre examined this situation in a somewhat dispassionate light. What was such an