by Mark Anthony
"Tanis!" he whispered, relieved that his friend was finally here. Tanis was breathing hard, and a sheen of sweat slicked his skin. "What in Reorx's name are you doing traipsing in here so late?" he whispered hotly.
"Hush, Flint," Tanis said softly, gesturing toward the rostrum where the Speaker was beginning his address.
"I thank you all for coming here today," the Speaker was saying to the nobles gathered about the rostrum. "I have great news to share with you, news which I hope will give you all cause for joy.
"First, however, I must confess to an ulterior motive in inviting you all here." The Speaker smiled. "You know, of course, that a rapacious beast has been ravaging the countryside around Qualinost. Several people have been lost to the creature, and farmers on the outskirts of the area have reported that increasing numbers of livestock have been missing. My advisers tell me this beast, a tylor, no doubt has built a lair somewhere near one of the trails from Solace. Troops who have been sent out to hunt for the monster have been unable to locate it, but they have seen signs of the beast and believe they have pinned down the general area where the creature . . ." —he paused— "feeds."
The Speaker's features softened as he looked out over the group of courtiers.
"Thus, I am asking for volunteers to join together and seek out the tylor. Because the creature has some magical abilities, Mage Miral has graciously agreed to go along." Miral, standing by a pillar across from Flint, inclined his head, crossed his arms, and slid them far into his sleeves. "And Lord Tyresian has accepted the position as leader of the hunt." Tyresian's tight smile looked more like a grimace than a grin.
"I am hoping that the most skilled of you will consent to accompany this volunteer troop to the area where we believe the tylor's lair is located. Are there volunteers?"
Porthios was the first to speak. "I will go, of course."
The Speaker hesitated as he beheld his elder son. Lord Xenoth, silver robe swishing in his agitation, interjected, "Are you sure it is wise for the heir apparent to be exposed to such danger, Speaker?" Porthios tensed and flushed deeply, and sympathy shone on the Speaker's face.
"My son is about to go through his Kentommen, Lord Xenoth. I believe it would be the gravest of mistakes to refuse him the right to participate with the other men."
Porthios eased his stance and flashed a look of barely disguised thankfulness at his father and an equally strong glare at the adviser.
"Then I will go, too. To protect him," Xenoth rejoined, pulling his frail body into a vengeful stance. Tyresian laughed, joined by several courtiers, and turned away.
Now it was Miral's turn to interrupt. "With all respect, Speaker," the mage said, unfolding his arms from his sleeves, "I think the hunt should be restricted to the young and the strong, not the elderly and infirm."
Flint felt a wave of irritation. As much as he could live without the crotchety, stranger-hating Lord Xenoth, it was unlike the mage to be so cruel in public—especially toward a long-time member of court. Xenoth opened his mouth to protest, but the Speaker silenced his adviser with an imperious look and a quietly spoken, "I will not turn down volunteers, Miral."
Xenoth stared daggers at the mage, who looked impassively back.
Selena poked Ulthen in the side, and that lord volunteered nervously. That prompted Litanas to speak up as well. Soon a half-dozen other courtiers added their names to the list. Suddenly, Hint felt Tanis stir at his side. "And I, Speaker," he called.
"Tanis!" protested Laurana.
"Tanis?" echoed Flint, more quietly.
"What better way to try out my new sword and arrowheads?" Tanis whispered to his friend.
Lord Tyresian, coldness emanating from him like a chill from the marble walls, glowered at the half-elf. "It's bad enough that I must have a useless old man in my troop, but a half-elf?"
That was enough. "And a dwarf, as well, Lord Tyresian," Flint chimed in.
What happened then might have been funny under other circumstances. The elves between Flint and Tyresian parted and drew back, leaving an unbroken stripe of unoccupied floor between them. Elf lord and dwarf engaged in a brief stare-down, until Solostaran's resonant voice drew all eyes back to him. "I accept your offers, Master Fireforge, Tanis." When Tyresian opened his mouth to argue, the Speaker said simply, "I am Speaker still, Lord Tyresian."
"What do you suppose that meant?" Selena asked Ulthen in a stage whisper.
Tyresian was quick to back down. "Very well, Speaker. You know best, of course."
When no other voices were forthcoming, Tyresian told the volunteers to meet at the palace stable one hour after dawn the next day. Then he turned and faced the Speaker, and the rest of the courtiers followed his lead.
It appeared that the moment had arrived for the major announcement.
"All of you know, of course, my daughter, Lauralanthalasa Kanan," Solostaran said. "And you know, as well, that the time when she will no longer be a child is not so far off. It is right then, that her future should be made clear, to her and to all of us, and so I've chosen this day to make that so."
He held out his hand, and Laurana stepped to his side, her green dress whispering as she drifted across the floor, her hair shimmering like molten gold in the sunlight as she came to a halt before the rostrum. She curtsied gracefully to her father, and then to the courtiers. Laurana gazed out over the crowd and located the half-elf, a questioning look in her green eyes. Flint felt Tanis shrug beside him, and he wondered what was afoot.
Turning slightly so he could see Tanis's face, Flint noticed Tanis watching Laurana intently. He looked troubled and fidgeted with some small object in one of his hands, but Flint couldn't see exactly what it was. Laurana appeared as much in the dark about what exactly was going on as the rest of the courtiers did. Tyresian alone seemed confident; Xenoth's wrinkled features looked unrelievedly disgruntled.
The Speaker smiled at his daughter, but it seemed a sorrowful expression, then he turned his gaze back toward the courtiers. "It has been the longstanding honor and joy of my family to count among its closest friends the Third House of Qualinost. Indeed, it was the Lord of the Third House who lent me the strength of his hand in the dark years following the upheaval of the Cataclysm, and so helped me assure the continuance of the peace we cherish here in our homeland." The courtiers nodded; they knew that.
"At that time, the Lord of the Third House—whose name I may hold only in memory, now that he has stepped beyond the edges of this world—had a young son, and in my gratitude to him, I promised a great gift for that son. The son of the Lord of the Third House stands among us today, and you know him now as the lord of that honored house himself: Lord Tyresian."
The tall, handsome elf lord, resplendent in a tunic the color of dark red wine, bowed deeply to the Speaker. Too deeply, Hint thought to himself, if there could be such a thing. It was only that the gesture had seemed more of a show, rather than an act of sincerity.
"Speaker, I thank you for calling me forward on this joyous day," Tyresian said. He cast a sideways look at Laurana, but the elf woman seemed hardly to have noticed him. Her eyes were on Tanis.
The Speaker nodded at Tyresian and then lifted his arms, as if he were encompassing both the elf lord and his daughter. "I give to you, then, an occasion for celebration," he said in a voice as clear as a trumpet's call. "For on this day, it is my duty and pleasure to announce the great gift that was granted Lord Tyresian long ago. Let all the people of Qualinost know that, from this day forward, the hand of my beloved daughter, Lauralanthalasa, is betrothed to Lord Tyresian of the Third House, until such day as the two be joined as husband and wife."
A whispered gasp ran about the chamber, followed by scattered applause that gained rapidly in strength and volume. Tyresian seemed to glow before the courtiers, but Flint saw that the Speaker seemed exhausted. Miral had stepped onto the podium—an action against protocol—and he appeared to be surreptitiously supporting the Speaker, preventing him from stumbling. The mage cast a dark glance at Tyresian.
<
br /> Flint cast a hurried look at Tanis, but the half-elf seemed hardly to be marking the furor around him. He only stared glassily forward, clutching the small object, the one he had been fidgeting with, tightly in one of his fists.
"But. . ." Laurana said, and stopped. Her need to express herself clearly battled with her deference to court decorum and her love for her father. "Why didn't you tell. . . ?" She faltered and grew silent. The applause ended abruptly, and a tenseness descended over the Tower.
"I thought . . ." Laurana tried again and looked desperately toward Tanis. "But we made a promise long ago . . ."
The courtiers, some looking shocked, others pleased, still others merely fascinated by the turn of events, began to swivel to gaze at the uneasy half-elf.
Tyresian looked annoyed but unworried. Porthios narrowed his eyes and glared at the half-elf. The Speaker's face held a worried expression; little is as important to an elf as honor. Laurana continued to watch Tanis beseechingly.
Tanis suddenly blinked, as if startled. "Oh, no," he said, so softly that only Flint could hear.
"Is this so, Tanis?" the Speaker asked. "Are the two of you promised, without my knowledge or approval?"
The half-elf looked around wildly. Only Flint's eyes held any sympathy. "I. . ." he said. "Yes, but. . .It was long ago . . ."
Flint edged closer and caught his friend's elbow with one strong hand. "Gather your thoughts, lad," he hissed. "Or be silent."
But Tanis stammered, "We were children . . . not serious. I thought so, anyway."
Laurana gasped, then slipped quickly from the chamber, not meeting anyone's eyes, her slippers tapping against the floor. Tyresian followed.
Court, needless to say, quickly came to an end.
Chapter 14
The Aftermath
"I trust you'll be able to take care of this little . . . problem, Speaker," Tyresian said smoothly. He calmly refilled his wine glass from a crystal decanter and smiled absently. He swirled the ruby-clear liquid around so that it glowed like a dark gem in the light of the sunset that spilled through the glass walls of the Speaker's private office.
The Speaker nodded wearily. "Of course, Tyresian. Indeed, there is no problem." The Speaker's own glass stood untouched on the table before him, but though his face seemed haggard, his green eyes were as clear as ever, his shoulders as straight and square.
Tanis watched anxiously from a position as near the door as he could get without looking as if he were about to flee. After the chaos following Laurana's outburst had subsided—due largely to Xenoth's good sense in herding the agitated courtiers from the Tower—the Speaker had bid a private meeting be held in the palace. Only a scant few had been called to attend: Tyresian, of course, since the matter directly concerned him; Miral and Porthios, standing beside the Speaker; and, lastly, Tanis. Solostaran had ordered a servant to fetch Laurana, but the Speaker's daughter was nowhere to be found, the servant reported.
Laurana's actions left Tanis as confused as anybody— probably more so. He sighed and tried not to fidget with the ring concealed in his pocket. It felt as if it were glowing white-hot, about to burn a hole in the cloth of his breeches and fall shimmering to the floor, betraying its presence to everyone.
He desperately wished Flint were here. Flint would have had some gruff words that would make things all right, but the dwarf had not been invited.
"Remember, she is little more than a child, Tyresian," the Speaker went on.
"True. But sometimes childish infatuations are those that linger most strongly, especially when they are denied." Tyresian cast a glance back at Tanis. The half-elf expected a look of malice in the elf lord's eyes, but there was no such darkness in Tyresian's expression, only a look of mild curiosity. That was all, as if somehow he found it puzzling and almost amusing to find Tanis playing the part of a rival—unwilling or no—in all of this.
"Tyresian," the Speaker said then, standing up. "Long ago an agreement was made between our two houses." He moved to the windows and gazed for a moment out into the myriad colors of the dwindling sunset before turning his attention back to the elf lord. The Speaker seemed very much in control now, despite his weariness.
"The word of my house is held important above all else, for without honesty, there is nothing. And in honesty, I must tell you that I would rather my daughter did not have to think of her future while still so young. I would rather she might know the joy of wedding one who has courted her and won her heart rather than one who was chosen for her by two old men before she was born, her betrothed little more than a child himself. Now, I do not mean to belittle what your father did for me—the Lord of the Third House was too great a friend for that—but still, I wish one thing to be clear: There is little in this world that means more to me than my daughter. And while her hand will be yours, her blood will always be mine. Do not forget this. And treat her accordingly."
Tyresian stared for a long moment at the Speaker. A bit of the overbearing pride seemed to have been washed out of him. "Of course, Speaker," he said finally, his voice subdued. "I should not have doubted, but I thank you for your assurances all the same." With a stiff half-bow, the elf lord stepped away from the Speaker, then brushed past Tanis and left the chamber.
"Was that the right thing to do?" the Speaker asked after Tyresian had gone. He seemed to be addressing no one in particular, but Porthios stepped to his side.
"Of course it was, Father," he said earnestly. "You have kept your word. Beyond that, what else is of importance?"
"Yes," the Speaker said, though it was apparent this was not what he had implied.
"You've assured Tyresian of what he wants, if that's what you mean," Miral said. There was a hardness to his voice that Tanis had never heard before. "He stands closer on the line of ascendancy now."
The Speaker waved his hand, dismissing the statement. "Only through marriage. That matters little. There are those who stand before him." He glanced at Porthios.
"Of course," Miral said, but the Speaker's words hardly seemed to have assuaged his troubles.
"I think I would like to be alone for a time," the Speaker said, and Tanis breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Miral nodded, then he and Porthios joined Tanis at the door, leaving the Speaker to gaze out the windows and into the twilight.
"Tanthalas," the Speaker said softly then, halting Tanis in his tracks. "I'll wish to speak to you before the hunt tomorrow morning." Tanis waited a long heartbeat, but no more words came, and he followed Miral and Porthios, shutting the door behind him.
Miral was already disappearing down the corridor, his stride quick and purposeful, but Porthios was waiting outside the door for Tanis.
"This is all your fault, you know," Porthios said. Shadows darkened his deep-set eyes, and the muscles about his jaw were clenched.
"I didn't know, Porthios," Tanis managed to say, though his tongue felt as stiff as dried leather. "How could I know what Laurana would do?"
Porthios seemed hardly to have heard him. 'The Speaker's pain is on your hands, Tanis. Don't forget that. I certainly won't." He spoke the words so sharply they might have been knives cast, one by one, into Tanis's heart. "I will not allow you to hurt him with your childish games with Laurana." With that, he turned on a heel and walked swiftly down the corridor.
Tanis shook his head. Why was everyone blaming him for something Laurana had done? He didn't want this to happen any more than anyone else did. He sighed, clutching the smooth, delicate ring in his pocket. For a moment, he had the impulse to throw it as hard as he could down the marble corridor, but then the feeling faded, and he shoved it deeper in his pocket as he started down the lonely hallway, wondering where Flint was.
* * * * *
Working at the forge that evening did little to lift the worry that nibbled at Flint's thoughts.
He kept his hands busy, as if he could beat the memories of the day's troubling events from his mind with the ring of his hammer. It was to no avail, however, and he found himself wondering wher
e Tanis was, and how the half-elf was faring.
Ah, things'll settle down soon enough, you worry-wart, Flint told himself. They'll all forget Laurana's outburst, and then folks'll leave Tanis alone. But deep down, he sensed the untruth of those words. Something was changing here in the peaceful elven city where nothing had changed in years and years. Briefly he wondered if the Speaker had erred in allowing trade with outsiders—including Flint himself. Already the dwarf had affected the practices of the elven smiths, who were adopting some of the techniques that Flint had learned from his father. Perhaps there were other, more important, changes that could be traced to his presence. He hoped Tanis would stop by.
* * * * *
The central wing of the palace was the largest of the three wings. The wings focused around the courtyard in the back, with the gardens behind that. In the middle of the central wing, the corridor widened into the palace's Great Hall, and here the ceiling was vaulted in a series of arches. The hall's periphery was lined with smooth stone columns, skillfully carved to resemble trunks of trees, and leaves of silver and gold shimmered in the dimness on the ends of their marble branches. The tree-columns supported a promenade that encircled the Great Hall, and it was here that the nobles of the court stood to watch elaborate ceremonies take place below them: funerals, coronations, or weddings.
In the center of the ceiling was a great stained-glass skylight. It glowed, its colored patterns mysterious. Solinari must be rising, Tanis realized as he stopped to gaze at the skylight for a time. The moon's beams filtered through the sunburst-shaped skylight. He found himself wondering how Laurana was. An image of the bright-haired elf flickered through his mind. Tanis shook his head. This was something that was going to take him a long time to figure out—if he ever would at all. Perhaps the fresh air of the garden would clear his thoughts.
Although it was spring, there was a coolness to the air that reminded Tanis more of the dark months of deep winter, and he wrapped his gray cloak tightly about his shoulders as he walked to the garden.
