The Lady's Man Read Free

have wanted them dead. Dead they were not worth anything. But live elves weren't worth much either. Not to slavers. They were a little weaker than their human counterparts and they did not do well in captivity.
     
    “Hail and welcome to Hammeral friend elf.”
     
    Avenall used the traditional greeting as he approached the nearest driver, unsure quite why. Normally no more than a simple ‘hail' would be required when meeting new elves. But there was still something strange about them, something that made him unsure. And they had been led or protected by a wild heart.
     
    “And greetings to you friend elf, from the traders of family Brial Lon.”
     
    The elf's response was equally traditional and yet the name gave Avenall pause. Brial Lon? It was an elven name for sure, but not one found in the Hammeral province. In fact if memory served, Brial Lon was one of the ruling houses of the Saravaile Forests far to the east. Hundreds of leagues in fact. If they were from there, then they had come a very long way to trade and be attacked by bandits.
     
    “My wife, the Lady Ammelia would have words with you when you are ready.”
     
    Ammelia Brial Lon? The name gave Avenall pause, as he recognised the name from somewhere. He just couldn't quite remember where. Instead of asking though – already the conversation was becoming too formal and he knew he had been politely dismissed until the leader was ready to speak with him – Avenall simply nodded and returned to his soldiers. They were busy setting up the camp, enlarging the wild heart's fire, which he had apparently only used to signal them, and placing a pot of water over it. Tea would be welcome. Others were arranging all the small boulders and flat stones which they could find nearby around the fire, and mats for the children to sit on as well. Helos was already busy preparing the stew, some rabbit and leek left over from the previous night. And with a few more potatoes and some good honey rye bread, Avenall knew there would be enough for them all. That was good. It was nearly midday, and lunch had been well earned.
     
    In short order the camp site was ready and Avenall turned to see the newcomers stepping down from their wagons. The men were first, having tied up the horses and placed feed bags on their heads they were helping their women down, while behind them a small horde of children were clearly itching to follow. Probably they had been cooped up in the wagon for many hours, and the chance to stretch their legs and eat some lunch was pure heaven. He made sure his men paid them careful attention. They would have to be watched closely to make sure none wandered off into the woods and got lost. These woods weren't entirely safe. But it wasn't the children that truly grabbed his attention. It was the woman.
     
    Avenall gasped as he recognised her, and his wasn't the only indrawn breath. Her son or son in law was helping her down from the wagon, even though she clearly didn't need or want his attention. But it was his duty and they both knew that. She was an elder, and a widely renown one at that; the prophetess Annalisse Brial Lon, or as she preferred to be known, just Annalisse. Even if he hadn't seen her when he was but a young child when she'd visited the province on one of her many pilgrimages, he would have known her. Her image was engraved on many temple walls and council chambers, as the truest foreteller of their generation.
     
    Which meant he suddenly realised, that these traders with her, were not traders at all. They were in fact her family. Beside her stood the Lady Ammelia, her eldest daughter and speaker. The others he realised were probably the rest of her children and grandchildren. As a youth Avenall had heard stories of her strange ways and realised that she was no doubt travelling as she had liked to many years before; incognito. For some reason she apparently hated the concept of being treated with the respect she was due – even more so than the