prince showed true gratitude in his determined nod of response.
The meeting broke up then, with all heading off to make their preparations. Pony spent a few moments whispering assurances to Prince Midalis, then caught up to Bradwarden and Andacanavar in the corridor outside.
"Words wonderfully placed, milady," the ranger said, and he took up Pony's hand and gave it a kiss. "As was your quick thinking in going right out to Pireth Dancard, as you did. It is no puzzle to me that this young Aydrian is as strong as he is, though a bit misguided."
"More than a bit," Bradwarden put in.
"From Jilseponie's womb, with Elbryan as sire... has there ever been one in all the world of better breeding?" Andacanavar went on.
"A trio of rangers, that family," Bradwarden agreed, but his words brought a scowl to Pony's face.
"Bah, but you are a ranger, woman, though 'twas never formally proclaimed," Andacanavar said against her frown. "And Lady Dasslerond was all the more a fool to treat you otherwise, and to deny you the knowledge and love of your son."
Pony accepted the compliment gracefully, placing her free hand over Andacanavar's as he still held her other. "We will repair the errors of Dasslerond," she assured the man.
"I know all that you have done already in your young life, good woman,"
Andacanavar replied. "I've not a doubt."
They sailed and rowed out on the heels of the storm, for Pony had used the gemstones and scouted far to the west and found nothing but clear weather. Al'u'met's Saudi Jacintha led the way, carrying many of the leaders, Pony, Bradwarden, and Midalis included. Behind came a line of Alpinadoran longboats, low in the water but with their high, decorated prows standing tall. Fifteen oars lined either side of each sleek vessel and a single mast was set in the center of each. They were not as swift as the Saudi Jacintha, except when the strong crews bent their backs over the oars. But they were seaworthy, incredibly so, and they bobbed along the constant wintry swells with ease.
On the second day out from Pireth Vanguard, Pony again fell into her soul stone and spirit-walked out to the west, roving far in search of brewing bad weather. Her report that no storms were in sight assured Al'u'met that they would make the fortress, at least, and begin their turn back to the north.
"We should make secondary plans," Prince Midalis said to Pony later that same day, Saudi ]acintha's sails full of wind, the sleek cutter speeding along. "If we arrive at the fortress and find that a storm will catch us before we can get back to Vanguard's sheltered docks, then we'll do better by taking the island and mooring there."
"You'll have a difficult fight on your hand," Pony replied.
"Better that we lose men to battle than to a storm," said Midalis. "If those who lose friends and family know that their loved ones died battling the scourge Aydrian, then they will hold more patience for the long war that we must endure."
The callousness of the words struck Pony hard, but only for a moment. She understood the truth of war and knew that her friend had to be thinking like a warrior. His words were unsympathetic because he had to be callous, to a degree, if they were going to have any chance of mounting a full-fledged war with Aydrian.
"You have no desire for any of this," she said. "Yet you surely have the belly for it."
Now it was Midalis' turn to look curiously at his friend. "The belly fork?"
"When Elbryan and I had to turn our fight from goblins and the monstrous minions of the demon dactyl to the human minions of Father Abbot Markwart, it nearly broke us," the woman admitted. "There is such a profound difference between battling a creature you know to be evil and one that you understand is without true choice. I have little heart to kill a man, and yet, I know that is precisely what I will likely find myself doing, if I am to ride beside you."
"But you do so, as do I," the prince remarked. "Because we both understand that the end result will be less tragic for the people than avoidance of the battle."
"That is my sustaining hope," Pony said quietly, and she stared out at the rolling dark waters of the wintry Mirianic. "In a strange way, I think Aydrian feels the same."
"By stealing the throne?"
"By claiming what he erroneously believes to be his