In the final confrontation with the nomad leader Adala Fahim, Porthios had revealed his identity and the ruin of his face to the world. Word spread through the elf nation and Porthios’s name was secret no longer. He retained his concealing attire to hide his deformities, but Gilthas believed the odd clothing served another purpose. Mask, gloves, bandagelike wrappings, and tattered hooded robe all lent the former Speaker of the Sun an air of mystery and authority he cannily exploited. It was considered ill luck to be long in Porthios’s company or even to meet his eyes, but everyone in Inath-Wakenti was grateful for his miraculous arrival at the head of the griffon riders.

Gilthas lived and held court in a great sprawling tent. A forest of pine poles supported much-patched tarps, with only a few low screens as internal partitions. When Gilthas ducked under the low entrance, he could see the entire covered space. Everywhere there were soldiers-veterans of the ride across Khur still dressed in desert attire and sporting an assortment of Qualinesti and Silvanesti armor-as well as civilians of every age and background who carried out the myriad day-to-day tasks required by the Speaker. Through an opening on one side of the tent, Gilthas could see a blazing forge, where broken swords and dented armor were being restored to lethal service. On the opposite side of the pavilion sat a group of scribes, copying orders and other documents for the Speaker.

Gilthas headed for a camp chair near the scribes. Softened by pillows, the simple chair served as his throne. A few yards away was his sleeping pallet, a mound of blankets and rugs. He answered questions and dictated orders until Kerian arrived; then he called for the food and drink that had been held for his wife. When the meal was assembled and the servers departed, Porthios drew near. Kerian stepped in his way and stared him down, nose to nose, until he backed off. Others might be fearful of meeting his eyes but not the Lioness.