“He must be mad-absolutely mad!” the angered Southlander stormed. “What does he think this is? We’re besieged by an invading army, and he turns out the troops for a dress parade!”

“Menion, be careful what you say to him. We must be patient if we are to be of any use to Balinor.” Shirl gripped his shoulder and faced him for a moment, smiling quickly in warning. “Remember as well that he loves me, misguided though he may be. He was a good man once, and he is Balinor’s brother still.”

Impatient and impulsive as always, Menion nevertheless realized that she was right. There was nothing to be gained by showing he was angered with the foolish pageant, and he was well advised to go along with the Prince’s whims until Balinor was located and freed. He sat quietly back in the coach as it entered the palace gates, passing in slow review before the rows of expressionless soldiers that formed the elite of the King’s personal guard. The fanfares continued to roll from all sides, and a small squad of cavalry wheeled in precise formation about the courtyard for the benefit of the new arrivals. Then the carriage came to a gentle halt, and the big figure of the new ruler of Callahorn appeared at the coach door, the broad face smiling in nervous delight.

“Shirl-Shirl, I thought I would never see you again!” He reached into the coach and helped the slim girl from the small enclosure, holding her close to him for a moment and stepping away to view her once more. “I… I really thought I had lost you.”

Burning quietly, an impassive Menion helped himself from the carriage, stepping down beside them, smiling faintly as Palance turned to greet him.

“Prince of Leah, you are indeed welcome in my kingdom,” the big man greeted the lean highlander, reaching warmly for his hand. “You have done me… a very great service. Anything I have is yours-anything. We shall be great friends, you and I! Great friends! It has been… so long since…”

He trailed off sharply, looking intensely at the highlander, suddenly lost in thought. His speech was stilted and nervous, almost as if he weren’t quite sure of what he was swing at any one point. If he weren’t completely mad a ready, Menion thought quickly, he was certainly very ill.

“I’m very pleased to be in Tyrsis,” he responded, “although I wish the circumstances could have been more pleasant for all concerned.”

“You mean my brother, of course?” The question shot out as the other snapped awake again, his face flushed. Menion started momentarily in surprise.

“Palance, he means the invasion of the Northlanders, the burning of Kern,” Shirl interposed quickly.

“Yes. Kern…” Again he trailed off, this time looking anxiously about as if someone were missing. Menion glanced about uneasily, realizing that the mystic Stenmin was strangely absent. According to Shirl and Janus Senpre, the Prince never went anywhere without his adviser. Quickly he caught Shirl’s watchful eye.