The cursed towers 235
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So drink up, laddies, drink,
an' see ye do no' spill,
for if ye do, we'll all drink two,
for that be the drunkard's rule!"
The soldiers cheered and laughed, singing along with the chorus. Lilanthe sat with her chin on her knees,
her bare feet tucked under the hem of her gown, watching him. All round her weary soldiers sat, singing
and drinking their weak ale. Many were bandaged and bruised, for Tomas's strength had been reserved
for those hundreds of soldiers maimed by the cannon fire. Those men were now unmarked and strong,
for Tomas's healing powers were more potent than ever. The restored soldiers worked to bury the dead
and sort through the ashes of the town, now a smoldering heap on its hill, while those with minor injuries
sat and rested and recuperated then-strength with ale and song.
Lilanthe sat in the midge-buzzing dusk and wondered what she was to do now the faeries of her army
had returned to their forest home. Strangely she did not feel apprehensive of the future. What Ed wills
will be, she thought. She accepted a mug of ale with a shy smile and watched as shadows flowed over
the serene landscape.
She smelled the strong odor of bear and turned her head as Niall came up the curve of the river, his
familiar lumbering along behind. The soldiers made room for him by the fire and he sat, his arm in a sling,
his head bandaged. The bear lay down beside him, moaning to herself as she licked her wounded paw.
Lilanthe smiled at them.
"Ursa has decided to stay?" she whispered.
Niall nodded, teeth flashing through the darkness of his beard as he reached out to pat the bear's
massive, woolly shoulder. "Aye, though I told her she was free to go with the others. For some reason
she wants to stay."
"I thought she would," Lilanthe answered.
Niall bent forward and looked at her intently. "Ye stay also?"
She nodded. "Though I hope to dance with the tree-changers again," she replied softly.
"Happen we'll see the Summer Tree bloom once more," he said, rather sadly.
"Happen."
They sat in silence for a while. Dide got to his feet and began to walk around the fires, strumming his
guitar and singing.
"Och if my love was a bonny red rose,
Growing upon some barren wall
And I myself a drop o' dew,
