"Do you think they know about Gudrun and are coming to arrest us?" whispered Delon.

Egil shrugged. "Not likely," he responded, yet his hand fell to the axe slipped through his belt.

The kingsguard stepped before them and bowed. "Milady," he said to Arin, "bring you word of the King?"

"Nay, I do not," replied Arin. "I am here to see him instead." As a look of disappointment flickered across the kingsguard's face, Arin added, "I take it by thy question that King Bleys is not in Caer Pendwyr."

"He is not, milady," replied the guard, his gaze flitting to Aiko and back. "Lord Revor presides."

"We have traveled far to see the High King," said Arin, "but if he is not here, then we would seek audience with his steward instead. Our mission is pressing."

The kingsguard shook his head. "I am most sorry, milady, but the lord steward is seeing no one today. He prepares for an urgent journey."

Arin drew herself up to her full four feet eight. "Tell him that a representative of Coron Remar of Darda Erynian is here seeking aid."

The kingsguard swept his hat low in an elaborate bow. "Wait here, milady. I will see what I can do."

They returned to the caer for the afternoon appointment that the kingsguard had arranged. Within a candlemark, a warder escorted them across the bridge and into the walled castle. They passed among corridors and at last emerged through a postern to find themselves crossing a rear courtyard toward a short suspension bridge a hundred or so feet above the rolling sea. The bridge itself spanned from the castle to another sheer-sided pinnacle on which were low stone buildings-lodgings, said their escort, for the King's closest advisors.

"When I was a lad in Gunar," said Delon, peering down at the sheer stone as they crossed the swaying bridge, "my father and I oft climbed rock faces such as this. Those days in the Gunarring are long past."

Looking ahead, they could see a third pinnacle beyond, and another suspension bridge spanning the gulf between this one and that. On the far pinnacle stood the High King's private residence; they did not cross over to the King's spire, but instead were taken to a stone dwelling at hand, where they waited in a foyer for another candlemark or so. Finally, a slight, balding man stepped through a doorway and bowed to Arin. "Milady, I am the Lord Steward Revor," he announced, "and I understand you have urgent business."

"So, milord," said Egil, "King Bleys is not even in Pellar at the moment."

Revor shook his head as he hastily examined papers, stuffing a few into saddlebags and placing others back among the piles upon the desk he stood behind; as he had told them, he would be shortly sailing northward across the bay to deal with a matter of high justice concerning the garrison in the Fian Dunes, but he could spare them a moment. "No. Bleys is to the north. No sooner had he come back from breaking the Rovers' blockade, than word came of the Lian campaign against the Rupt-"

"Campaign?" burst out Arin. "What campaign?"

Revor looked across at her. "It seems that some of the great trees of the Larkenwald were cut down by the Foul Folk, and the Lian took up arms against the tribe of Spaunen that did it." Revor glanced at Arin. "From the message that came, Elven vengeance was swift, milady, utterly without mercy, as it should have been. Chilling examples were made of the axe wielders, and their remains are even now being displayed to the Spaunen kindred in their mountain haunts. At times battle ensues, and the Lian hew down those Rupt who take up arms. That is where High King Bleys is: he rides with the Lian."

"What does the felling of trees have to do with Bleys?" asked Delon.

"Why, eldwood trees are protected by edict of the High King," replied Revor, returning to his task. "Too, King Bleys is not one to stand idly by when there are arms to wield." The steward gestured at the piles of paper and scrolls yet awaiting his scrutiny. "He'd rather leave the administration of the realm to others. In any event, as soon as he returned from breaking the Rovers' blockade, he and Phais and a small warband rode off to join the Lian on their ride through the Grimwall."

"Phais?" asked Egil.

"She is the High King's advisor," replied Revor. "A Lian herself, she was outraged when the word first came." Revor paused in his scrutiny. "Huh, last October it was, a year past. But then Bleys was readying the fleet to sail against the Rovers, and although he gave Phais permission to ride to the Larkenwald, she stayed by him. Now he fares at her side. They rode to join the Lian in late July- three months past."

"Milord, how goes this war?" asked Delon.

The steward shrugged. "Other than the original message, we've no word." Revor stuffed a last paper into his saddlebag and buckled it shut.

He looked across at them. "But here, you did not come to speak of war; it was to see the High King instead." Now he gazed directly at Arin. "You seek aid, Dara Arin of Darda Erynian, the Blackwood, representative of Coron Remar. How may I help you?"

Arin glanced at Egil, then said, "We've come looking for a ferret in the High King's cage."

Revor's eyes widened and he sat down. "And this is your urgent business?" His tone was sharp.

"Aye, 'tis the rede of a prophecy we follow… one thy High King should now know about, given that he has met up with any who rode with me to Black Mountain."

"Prophecy?" Revor took a deep breath and blew it out. "Milady, the High King keeps no ferrets."

"Are there any in Pendwyr?" asked Delon.

The steward shook his head. "None I know of. I am afraid that if your mission calls for the finding of a High King's ferret, you are to be disappointed."

Aiko spoke for the first time. "Has the High King any cages?"

"He kennels dogs," replied Revor, cocking his head at her unfamiliar accent. "Falcons and the like."

"May we examine them?"

Revor blew out his breath again. "I'll arrange for someone to escort you, though you'll find no weasels, stoats, ferrets, mousehounds, or other such within."

"Does Bleys keep cages elsewhere?" asked Egil.

Revor shrugged. "Perhaps some at Challerain Keep, though I would be most surprised if any contained ferrets."

The steward looked from one to another. "Is there aught else you would ask of me?" None replied, and Revor stood and threw on a cloak and hat, and took up his saddlebags. "There is a tale here for the telling and would that I could hear the whole of it, but I, too, have urgent business."

As the steward led them toward the door, Delon said, 'There is one other thing you could do for us, milord."

Revor looked at him and cocked an eyebrow.

Delon said, "You could give us permission to speak to the prisoners in the jail."

"Huah," grunted the steward. "But for a few drunkards, the rest are to be hanged at sundown."

Delon shrugged. "Nevertheless…"

Revor snorted and then his eyes widened. "Oh. I see. It is the High King's cage. Certainly."

Then Lord Revor frowned, as if chasing an elusive thought. But ere he could catch it, a page stepped through the doorway. "Milord, I am to tell you your ship awaits."

Revor waved him away. "Yes, yes, lad. I'll be right there."

"Speaking of ships, milord," added Delon, as they moved outside the lord steward's quarters, "we'd like permission to speak to any prisoners in brigs as well."

The steward shook his head. "The brigs are empty, lad; all are in gaol. Regardless, I'll get you a pass to the prison." Revor called a kingsguard to him and gave him instructions, then bade good-bye to his guests and, shouldering his saddlebags, strode away toward the bridge to the caer.

"Well, Lord Revor was right about one thing," said Delon, "there are no ferrets in any of these cages."