Not a great many people were invited to the feast; the old time Raiders, the crew from The Ranch and several others whom James doesn’t know. He wishes Lord Pytherian had remained but he and his men had left shortly after Illan agreed to take over the southern defenses. He and his men were needed in the west to finish the job there.

Upon entering the hall, Illan who’s dressed in regular clothes waves them over. Off to one side are the three musicians, though they look the part of scruffy old soldiers more, who fill the hall with music.

When they take their seats, he leans forward to better be heard over the musicians. “Word came that another force is on its way up from the south,” he tells them. “Should be here in a day or two.”

“How many?” asks Jiron.

“Not enough to cause us any problems,” Illan assures him. “It may be a delegation to discuss the cessation of hostilities.”

“That would be welcome news indeed,” nods James. “Are they going to want their fort back?”

Illan laughs, “Probably. But they’re not going to get it. Reports say that they stripped their southern territories of soldiers in anticipation of the summer’s campaign in Madoc. Most of those have been slaughtered since our first attack at Lythylla.”

Just then Delia comes in from one of the side entrances, with her hand resting on Shorty’s arm. When they join them, Shorty has a big smile on his face and Jiron arcs an eyebrow at Delia.

“Oh stop what you’re thinking right now,” she says, a slight blush coming to her face. “It’s nothing like that.”

James glances questioningly to Shorty who grins and says, “I asked her if she would like an escort and she said yes.”

“Escort,” snorts Jiron.

Shorty pulls out her chair for her and holds it while she sits down.