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Stormaway Treemaster extracted a small message from the leg of his favourite wood pigeon. He gave her a few grass seeds and tickled the back of her neck before turning his attention to the tiny parchment held between his forefinger and thumb. Stormaway, part woodman, part sorcerer, was an experienced wizard and needed little concentration to murmur the words that would reconstitute the parchment to its original size. As he waited for the parchment to stabilise, he gazed abstractedly at the sorcerer prince who was now generally accepted as liege, albeit with a sense of wry bemusement, by the egalitarian woodfolk.
Tarkyn was sitting under a tree on the edge of a clearing, his long black hair partly obscuring his face as he bent forward, deep in conversation with Harkell, ex-Captain of Pr
