The townsfolk cheered and shouted Harlingar! and Vana-durin! and rushed to and fro and called out for any news of their kindred, and the warriors broke into great smiles and called back answers, though for the most part they knew nought of the sons and daughters of Jallorby.

Beau tugged at Tip's sleeve and pointed. Rumbling toward them came one of the two-wheeled chariots: drawn by four horses abreast, the war wagon carried two warrior maidens-one driving, one bearing a spear and buckler. The wagon itself seemed made of wood and covered with a hide-armor of sorts. The wheels were large, the iron rims wide, the better to run over rough ground, and wicked blades turned on the hubs, glittering and slashing and deadly. A cluster of spears-perhaps ten or twelve in all- stood to the right side and rear, and the buccen could see a readied bow racked on the right-side handrail.

As the chariot neared, Tip turned his attention away from the wagon itself and to the warrior maidens within. Tall and fair they were, with coppery hair curling down. Steel helms they wore, dark and glintless, one sporting a long, trailing gaud of white horsehair, the other bearing raven's wings flaring. Fleece vests covered chain-link shirts, and long cloaks draped from their shoulders to ward away the icy chill of the wintry late-March air.

"Lor'," breathed Beau, "but don't they look formidable?"

Tip frowned. "Formidable?"

"Aye, what with that red hair blazing," replied Beau, "and fire in their eyes."

"But they're smiling, Beau."

"Yar. Now. But I was imagining what they'd look like thundering across the plains and bearing down on some hapless foe, the blades on the wheels flashing deadly. Lethal, wouldn't you say?"

Tip shrugged. "Um, I suppose so. But for now they just look happy to me."

As the chariot rumbled past, the spear wielder's eyes widened and she elbowed the driver in the ribs and pointed at Tip and Beau and both warrior maidens smiled at the Warrows and waved, the buccen making low sweeping bows in return.

"Dediana," she said above the babble of the crowd jammed inside the White Horse.

"Wull, I'm Beau Darby, and this is Tipperton Thistledown," shouted Beau.

Dediana smiled and gestured toward her companion, who was at that moment quaffing a hot cup of spiced wine. "Linde."

"What?"

Dediana leaned across the table. "Her name is Linde."

"Oh," said Beau.

Tip bobbed his head. "We are most pleased to meet you, Dediana, Linde, but pray tell, how goes the war?"

A dark look swept over Dediana's face. "Not well. The fordomlig maskfolk drove all the way to Jordkeep ere we got them turned. They left a trail of ruination behind: slaughter, pillage, burnings-"

"Horses slain for meat," interjected Linde, slamming her empty cup to the table.

Dediana nodded fiercely and clenched a fist. "Just as we thought the keep fallen, the Fjordlanders attacked from the rear. Now the Svarm has been driven north and east, toward Kath and Naud. Those two nations have been reluctant to join in the fight, but now they will have no choice."

"North and east?" Tip frowned. "Hmm. Rumors in Den-dor had it that Lady Ryla said you would push the Foul Folk back into the Boreal Sea, and that would be west, now, wouldn't it?"

"Would that we could push them west, Sir Tipperton, for should they return to the ocean they will discover that the Fjordlanders burnt all their ships, and into the sea we would drive them to perish in those cold waters. But that does not seem fated to be, for they fight a running battle in a different direction altogether."

Beau canted his head sideways. "Running battle? Say, wouldn't that favor Jord, being on horses, that is?"

"Aye," said Dediana, "though they have Guula on Helsteeds. Still, we strike and withdraw, strike and withdraw, hitting them at their weakest as they flee across our realm to escape."

Dediana paused to quaff from her cup, and Linde said, "Of course, the Naudrons and Kathians will blame Jord for turning the Svarm north and east and driving them toward those lands. It will serve to fuel old hatreds which burn between Jord and those two forbannad realms… all started by many dark deeds done by them long past." She smacked a fist into open palm, fire burning in her eyes.

"Pardon, my lady," said Tip, "but if the fight yet rages in the north and east, then I ask what is your regiment doing here in Jallorby, south and west and yet in Jord but as far from the battle as one can get?"

"Argh," growled Linde and shook her head, but Dediana said, "We were among the wounded, all of us in this regiment. King Ranor came unto us and said that as soon as enough were healed, we were to form a regiment and to head for Caer Pendwyr. King Ranor felt the need to send some aid to High King Blaine, and this is that contingent, a token force to show support and to fight by the High King's side until the rest of Jord can come."

"But as far as I know," said Tip, "King Blaine's whereabouts are uncertain. Didn't Lady Ryla convey that message?"

Dediana nodded. "King Ranor said King Blaine might not be in Pellar, but surely he will come there soon or late."

"Fordomlig taggspjut!" Linde peeled up her mail shirt and the padding 'neath and the silken undershirt beyond and looked at a long, pink scar running across her stomach. "If it weren't for that blasted Guul, I'd be with the Vana-durin right now."

Dediana frowned and gestured about. "Linde, you are with the Vanadurin."

Linde dropped her shirt. "You know what I mean, Dediana. If I hadn't taken the wound, I'd be fighting up north."

"Hoy, now," protested Beau. "It's no disgrace to take a wound. I've seen plenty of them, and on the toughest of fighters, too: Dwarves, Baeron, Elves, Humans, Warrows- well, one Warrow, Tipperton here who took a Vulg bite. Show 'em your scars, Tip. Stitched up plenty of them, too. I'm a healer, you know."

"You took a Varg bite and lived?" Dediana asked Tip.

"Of course he did," said Beau. "Show 'em your scars, Tip, show 'em your scars."

Reluctantly, Tip slid up his left sleeve, exposing the furrows made by fangs.

"What of the Varg?" asked Linde, peering at the wound.

"He's dead," said Beau. "Tip stabbed him with an arrow."

Dediana looked at Tip. "Slew a Varg with nought but a hand-held arrow?"

"Actually," said Tip, "I had the arrow in my right hand when the Vulg leaped at me. I fell backwards, my left arm in his mouth; the nock of the arrow jammed against the ground and the Vulg managed to impale himself as he came down atop me."

Dediana shook her head. "Fortune certainly smiled down upon you, Tipperton Thistledown, for had She not then the arrow would not have been straight on dead center and would have simply snapped and you would have been his meal."

"What of the gift?" asked Linde.

"Gift?"

"Um…" Linde searched for the word in the common tongue. Then she turned to Dediana. "Um, vad ar gift pa den gemensam tunga?"

"Venom," supplied Dediana. "Poison."

Linde looked at Tip and raised her eyebrows.

"Oh well, I happened to have some gwynthyme with me. It did the work of countering the poison, but Vulg mouths are befouled and an infection set in and… well, Beau came along and healed me."

Again Linde turned to Dediana. "Vad ar gwynthyme?"

Dediana shrugged, then looked at the buccen. "What is gwynthyme?"

Beau reached into his pocket and pulled out the small silver case given to him by Aris back in Arden Vale. He snapped it open, saying, "I've more in my medical bag." Once again the small metal container held sprigs of mint.

"Ah," said Dediana. "Guldgul mynta."

Linde nodded and said to Tipperton, "Again Lady Fortune smiled your way."