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With every eye on him, he raises his goblet and says, “For Madoc. May her future be better than her past.”

Throughout the hall, glasses are raised as the guests cry out, “For Madoc!”

Once everyone has taken a drink and thus honored the toast, Illan sets his goblet down and says, “Friends and comrades. I for one never thought I would host a dinner here in the fortress of Al-Ziron.” At that several chuckles sound out from various men in the hall.

“Tonight we honor one who more than any other made this happen,” he says. Picking up his goblet once more, he turns to James and says, “To James. Mage and ally of Madoc, without whom Madoc would even now be grinding under the heel of the Empire.”

“To James!” the cry resounds throughout the hall. Jiron glances to his friend and grins. He knows how James hates the spotlight and would rather just sit at the fringe observing.

“Now,” announces Illan, “let the feast begin!”

From the sides of the hall, men bearing platters of food enter and begin sitting them on the tables. Not a great variety, nor are there any specialized treats, this is the best that can be had on short notice.

During the meal, the talk gravitates from the past, to the future then back to the present. All are hoping for a complete and quick halt to the war. Once the feast begins to wind down, Delia takes Shorty by the hand and soon has him out on the floor dancing. Aleya, not one to be outdone, drags Jiron out as well.

The night is spent with feasting, music and friendship. They all try to forget that their group will soon be splitting up as James and those going with him leave on the morrow. At one point the musicians fall silent and are given a break while Jorry and Uther regale those at the feast with a tale of how they got the better of an assassin who was trying to kill Jorry. Seems he besmirched the daughter of a well-to-do merchant who hired the assassin to take care of him. One thing led to another and the assassin was eventually handed over to the town guard and the matter was never again brought up.

When they finished their tale, the listeners responded with a vigorous applause. Scar and Potbelly were about to start in on one of their own when the musicians started up again. Scar glances over to the musicians and was about ready to tell them to stop when he sees Delia standing there next to them. Giving him a glare and shaking her head, she moves to Yern and drags him out to the dance floor. Apparently she wanted to dance more than hear another of his wild tales.

About this time, Miko makes an appearance. Blood soaked clothes and some serious bags under his eyes, he walks through the main doors. James notices in one hand he’s holding a half eaten tart. Where he managed to acquire one of those he has no idea.

Plopping into the seat next to him, Miko stuffs the remainder of the tart in his mouth.

“Where did you get that?” James asks him.

“The cook,” he replies. “One of the men I healed was his brother. He asked me what my favorite food was and I replied ‘Tarts, though I doubt if there are any to be had here.’ Well, two hours later here he comes with a plate containing half a dozen steaming hot tarts.”

“Don’t suppose you have any left?” he inquires.

Looking somewhat guilty, Miko shakes his head. “Sorry, that was the last one.”

James pats him on the shoulder and gives him a grin. “That’s okay,” he says. “After all you’ve done for everyone, you deserve them.”

“Next time I’ll save one for you,” he assures him.

A few minutes later, Brother Willim and the other two priests of Asran enter the hall and make their way toward them. When Brother Willim draws close James indicates the chair recently vacated by Jiron while he’s out dancing with Aleya.

Taking the seat, Brother Willim leans back in the chair and sighs. The other two priests join Derek and the others at their table.

“Tired?” asks James.

“Yes, very,” he replies. Nodding to Miko he adds, “I think between Miko, my brothers, and I many lives were saved. What there is left can be readily dealt with by the healers.