The next morning, the two friends left the City of Unauwen. They had taken their leave of the king and the other people they had met, and rode towards the rising sun. The sky ahead of them blushed purple, pink, red and gold but, as they rode slowly on, they often looked back at the city, wondering when they would see it again. When the city was finally out of sight, they urged on their horses, and the greater the distance from the city became, the faster they rode.
“Now I just want to get home as soon as possible,” Piak remarked.
Tiuri felt exactly the same way. So they rode quickly, even though they were sometimes hit by a pang of longing for what they agreed was the most beautiful city in the world.
They spent the first night of their journey home in the open air and the second at the castle of the White Moon. The day after that, they rode through the Hills of the Moon, this time in sunlight. It was already quite late by the time they reached Ingewel, where they returned the horses to the innkeeper at the Inn of the First Night.
The innkeeper offered them fresh horses to ride to the toll fortress. He seemed to regard them as personal friends of the toll master and important servants of the king.
This time, there were many villagers gathered at the inn. They were not there for the company, but to discuss the shocking news that had just reached Ingewel. Sir Andomar’s death had, of course, hit them particularly hard.
Tiuri and Piak listened to their conversations without joining in but, when the innkeeper told his other guests that the two boys had just arrived from the City of Unauwen, they were bombarded with questions. Was it true that the King of Eviellan himself had killed Sir Andomar? And that the lord of Forèstèrra had also been defeated? What was the latest news from the city? Had they seen the king? Had he said there was going to be a war? Was the crown prince really going to challenge his brother to a duel?
King Unauwen had told Tiuri and Piak that there was no need for them to keep any secrets now. So they answered all of the questions as well as they could but, as if by unspoken agreement, they remained silent about their own role in the events.
The next morning, when they headed outside, where the innkeeper was waiting with their horses, they saw a small procession of riders approaching along the lakeside. They soon drew level with the inn and the villagers stopped what they were doing and stood at the roadside, bowing respectfully. The first rider was around the same age as Tiuri; his expression was sad and grave, but his bearing was brave and proud. He was dressed in grey, as a sign of mourning, and he carried no weapons. A number of men-at-arms followed him. “Andomar of Ingewel,” said the innkeeper, when the procession had passed by and was heading to the west.
“Sir Andomar?” repeated Tiuri, rather surprised.
“His son,” said the innkeeper. “He shares his father’s name and he also resembles him. He is now on his way to the City of Unauwen. I believe the king will knight him, so a new Sir Andomar will soon be lord of Ingewel. You see, when a man dies, there is always another to take his place.”
“Always another to take his place,” repeated Tiuri thoughtfully.
“It’s true, though, isn’t it?” said the innkeeper. “So we must not be too downhearted.”
As the two friends rode through the Forest of Ingewel once again, they were both silent. The flowers were blossoming just as magnificently as before, as though nothing had changed. I so hope, thought Tiuri, that nothing will happen to destroy this beautiful forest. But then he realized that, even if it did, other flowers would come to take their place. These were strange thoughts, ones that had never occurred to him before…
After they left the Forest of Ingewel, it was not far to the Rainbow River.
They rode over the bridge and asked to speak to the toll master. Tiuri had received some money from the king, so that he could pay the toll fee they still owed.
The toll guards didn’t recognize the friends at first; it was only when Warmin came up and greeted them warmly that the other men realized who they were.
“I hadn’t expected you back so soon,” said Warmin. “I must announce your arrival to my master.” He led them into the castle. “I know what you were up to now,” Warmin said to them. “You were taking important news to the king. I haven’t heard the details yet, but my master has recently started new training drills with his guards. He says his castle may soon become a real fortress again, as it was hundreds of years ago. My lord’s spirits are low. In the evening, he stands on the bridge and peers down into the water, without saying a word.”
However, the toll master showed no sign of sadness when he welcomed the two friends. There was indeed sorrow in his eyes, but that seemed to be part of his character. It was the melancholy of a man who knows and understands a great deal, and so cannot be light-hearted. He greeted them warmly and treated them as honoured guests, refusing to accept the money for the toll, as he said it had already been paid. Tiuri suspected the toll master had paid it himself. He asked Tiuri and Piak to tell him the news from the City of Unauwen, although he already knew most of it, including Tiuri’s real identity. After dinner, they sat with him for a long time in the room overlooking the bridge and the river. The toll master asked Tiuri if he was related to Tiuri the Valiant, and Tiuri discovered that the toll master knew the Kingdom of Dagonaut well, as he had been there a number of times, years ago, before he had become toll master. But he knew far more about his own land, of course, and, at the friends’ request, he told them all about the Kingdom of Unauwen. He talked about the different regions, rivers and castles, about King Unauwen and his knights, and about the two princes.
“It’s so strange,” said Piak, thinking aloud, “that the two brothers are enemies. Twins should love each other all the more.”
“I agree,” said the toll master. “And it could have been so different. King Unauwen also had a brother, who was born on the same day and who was just like him. But that prince never laid claim to the throne. He even rejected his royal title and set out to explore the world instead. Later he withdrew to the mountains and became a hermit.”
“A hermit?” repeated Piak, staring at him with wide eyes.
Tiuri too was surprised. He couldn’t help but think of Menaures, the hermit at the source of the Blue River.
“Is the brother… the hermit still alive?” asked Piak.
“Yes, he’s still alive,” replied the toll master.
“And what is his name?”
“When he renounced his royal title, he also took on a new name,” said the toll master, “and I am not sure if I should say what it is. He lives on the other side of the Great Mountains and has not been here for many years. But knights and pilgrims have often passed through here on their way to visit him in the mountains. Perhaps you have met him yourself; after all, you come from the mountains, don’t you?” He smiled and looked at Piak.
“Yes, yes,” Piak replied. “Perhaps I have…”
Later, when the friends were in bed, Piak said to Tiuri, “What do you think? Do you think Menaures could be King Unauwen’s brother?”
“It’s possible,” said Tiuri.
“Possible?! He has to be! Never in my wildest dreams… And yet somehow it’s not such a surprise. Didn’t I say that Menaures and the king were alike?”
Although the friends had had a late night, they got up early the next morning, because they wanted to reach Dangria the same day. After a warm farewell from the toll master, they rode away on the horses he had loaned them. Warmin and another man rode out with them. They were to accompany Tiuri and Piak to Dangria and then return with the horses.
As they looked back at the bridge for the last time, Piak said suddenly, “Oh, there’s something we forgot to do!”
“What’s that?” asked Tiuri.
“I wanted to go and have a word with Ferman about that boat of his.”
Tiuri laughed. Piak still seemed rather upset about his soaking in the Rainbow River.
Warmin laughed as well. “So I was right. It was that wreck of Ferman’s!” he said. “Thank goodness the thing’s finally sunk.”
That afternoon, they were back in Dangria’s marketplace. It looked just as it had before, packed with colourful stalls, merchants and customers.
“It’s like we never left,” said Piak, as they stood looking at the town hall.
“And yet so much has changed,” said a voice behind them. It was Iruwen, of course. He smiled and continued, “There have been so many changes! Master Dirwin is now mayor. As soon as the permission comes from the king, he will be officially installed.” He walked over to stand between Tiuri and Piak and added in a hushed voice, “They asked me first if I wanted to be mayor. But I didn’t fancy the idea. I want time to wander around the city and to keep my eyes and ears open. And Master Dirwin really will be a good mayor. But,” he continued, “I haven’t even asked yet if you had a good journey. In any case, I can see just by looking at you that you have done what you set out to do. I am keen to hear the stories you have to tell.” He pointed at the town hall. “Perhaps you’d like to say hello to Master Dirwin first?” he said. “He is the mayor, after all.”
“Yes,” said Tiuri. “King Unauwen told us to convey his greetings to Master Dirwin and to pass on the news.”
“Ah,” said Iruwen. “We have heard about the death of the good knights, and of our poor scribe. Messengers from the capital have already been here. But more news is always welcome. I always said that Eviellan was our enemy, in spite of their request for peace.”
Iruwen accompanied the two friends as far as the steps to the town hall.
“Will you come to the White Swan later?” he asked. “Ardoc will be there too. He happens to be in town today, which is fortunate. I shall go and tell the innkeeper that you’re coming. See you later!”
The friends did as Iruwen had asked, and after their visit to Master Dirwin they went to the White Swan, where they found Iruwen, Ardoc, Doalwen, and some other acquaintances. They ate dinner together and exchanged news. It was indeed fortunate that Ardoc was in the city, as he said they could ride with him next morning to his house in the shadow of the Great Mountains.