Despite his master’s mellow, even exuberant mood, the general was not reassured. “Is that wise, Lord? Maintaining a heightened military status does not require a great deal in the way of additional effort or expenditure. If it will ensure your safety …”
Hymneth waved him off. “I’m telling you, Peregriff: It doesn’t matter. If these individuals exist, and if they manage to reach and cross the border, and if one of them happens to be a sorcerer of some small skill, it does not matter. Even if they succeed in reaching the castle there is no need for concern.” Setting his wine aside and leaning across the small feast that had been provided for the midday meal, he lowered his voice in what the shocked general could only interpret as an intimate manner.
“There is no longer any reason to worry about such matters, Peregriff. Everything is well in hand. More so than you can imagine. Things have changed. Let them come to the castle. I am curious to meet those who would suffer such hardships and travel so far on behalf of the stiff and self-important aristocracy of far Laconda.” Sounding as satisfied as the general had ever heard him, the lord of Ehl-Larimar sat back in his chair and did a most remarkable thing: He put his long legs up on the banister and crossed them contentedly. Rising from the porch, the eromakadi hovered above his feet, shading them from the sun.
To Peregriff’s way of thinking, only one explanation seemed possible. “You have made some unique preparation in expectation of their possible arrival, Lord. Groundwork that you feel sure will counter anything they can do, no matter how unexpected or powerful.”