This had prompted some to suggest that he had pacted with the Shadow, and had brought his relieved family to refer to him as 'Old Ironass'. Now, though, he no longer rode to the wars, and it was often hard for visitors to the Woodward to reconcile the conquering Lord of the Brightwood with the quiet, gentle man who could usually be found training ivy up the Ward's outer wall. 'Father,' Herewiss yelled, 'he's doing it again!' Hearn sat back on his heels in the loose dirt, brushing off his hands, and looked over at his son. 'Who?' 'Here,' said Herewiss, coming up and holding out the parchment, 'read it!' 'My hands are dirty,' Hearn said as Herewiss knelt down beside him. 'Hold it for me.' 'Dirty? It hardly matters if it gets dirty—' But Herewiss held it out. His father rested hands quietly on his knees and read it through. After a moment he snorted. 'As't'raid Arleni, my ass!' That's what I said.' 'Not in front of Hal, I hope.' 'Father, please.' 'So,' Hearn said, 'you're surprised?" Herewiss laughed, a short rueful sound. 'No, not really.' 'And so you're going riding off to get him out of whatever he's gotten himself into.' 'May I?' 'You're asking me?' 'You're the Lord.' Hearn chuckled and took a seedling out of the cup of water beside him. Herewiss noted with amusement that it was one of the ceremonial cups for Opening Night, the rubies flaring in the sunlight and making bright dots of reflection in the mud. 'Could I stop you? Could the Queen of Darthen stop you? Could our Father the Eagle stop you if He showed up? Go on. But when you see the idiot, tell him from me that he'd better not sign himself as King of Arlen unless he's willing to do something about it.' 'I had that in mind.' 'You'd never say it, though, you're too damn kind. You tell him 7 said it. Will you be needing men?'