by Troy Denning
Much to Galaeron's astonishment, Melegaunt stepped into the water without removing so much as his boots. Dynod and Ehamond also raised their brows, but the high huntsman and his two assistants, who often numbered humans among their worshipers during the monthly Ceremonies, showed no surprise.
Galaeron glanced over at Vala to see if she found the behavior odd, but her expression was one of such total astonishment he could not tell what she was thinking. Her men, however, were staring at Takari with such a look of feral hunger that he began to worry the Hill Elders had misread the humans' reaction during the Taunting. This puzzled him even more than Melegaunt's odd behavior, since the humans had known Takari only as an incoherent battle casualty. Under the circumstances, they could hardly have developed any feelings of love for her, so it was hard for an elf to understand why the mere sight of her naked body should inflame their passions.
Trailing a murky cloud of mud from his trail-worn clothes, Melegaunt waded to the center of the pool and stopped beside Takari. He prodded the sore then looked back to Galaeron.
"The phaerimm did this with its tail, did it not?" Without waiting for a reply, he continued, "Did you see it inject anything?"
"The tail pulsed," said Galaeron. "Later, I saw something small and hot at the bottom of the wound."
Pleufan looked up. "I've tried every poison antidote I know"
Melegaunt shook his head. "Phaerimm don't inject poison," he said. "They inject eggs."
"Eggs?" Takari craned her head around so hard she twisted free of Pleufan's grasp. "What do you mean 'eggs'?"
"Only one at a time," said Melegaunt. He looked to the high hunter. "This is how they reproduce."
"Like caterpillar wasps?" Takari paled to a sickly saffron. "Kill me now! I want nothing eating me from the inside." "It won't come to that." Melegaunt turned to the high hunter. "Cut out the egg and treat her as for an ague. If she rests, she'll be fine in a tenday." Takari did not look convinced. "Easy for you to say-"
"Yes, it is. I've cut out six-and no healer to see me through the fever." Melegaunt patted the scout on the cheek, then nodded to the high hunter and waded back to shore.
"Dynod, you'll see that she does as instructed." Galaeron looked to Takari and added, "Then you are to return to your own people for a year."
"Thank you," Takari said, her eyes turning sad, "but IT! wait until after Kiinyon-"
"No, go as soon as you are able," said Galaeron. "Even if he has not spoken it, Kiinyon has already made his decision. 1 want you gone while the order is mine to give. It has been too long since you walked the High Forest." Takari's eyes grew liquid. "I will-"
Galaeron raised his hand. "We'll talk before you go," he said. "See me when you're able."
Takari nodded then allowed herself to sink back into Pleufan's arms. 'Till next." 'Till next."
Galaeron told the priests to thank the high hunter for him and gave them a gold lion for their goddess, then waited as Melegaunt climbed out of the water. The human rubbed his fingers together, running through the gestures of a minor drying spell, but nothing happened. He frowned and tried it again. His clothes remained as wet as before.
"Allow me," said Galaeron, more than a little puzzled by the wizard's failure. The mythal would turn back the spell of any non-elf attempting harmful magic within Evereska. But a drying spell was hardly harmful, and Melegaunt would have suffered some adverse effect, had he meant to cause injury. Instead, the enchantment had simply failed. "Is there an incantation?" Melegaunt raised his bushy brow but shook his head. Galaeron ran his fingers through the same gestures as the wizard then felt the Weave's magic course through him. There was a sizzle and a small flash, then Melegaunt's clothes were dry and smoking.
Melegaunt patted out a small flame. "Did you copy my spell?"
"It's a small talent I have," said Galaeron, glossing over the long explanation of his enrollment in, then expulsion from the Academy of Magic. "It wasn't as strange as your other spells."
"Amazing," said Melegaunt. "You could learn a little control, but amazing nonetheless."
"Would that you were a master in the Academy of Magic," Galaeron laughed.
He turned and led the humans out of the grove. As they returned to the marble-paved lanes outside, Vala came to his side. "You should have kissed her," she said. Galaeron nearly stumbled. "Takari? Why would I do that?"
"Isn't that what elf lovers do when they part?" asked Vala. "Or do only humans kiss?"
"We kiss-though not as often as humans, judging by how you breed," said Galaeron, "but Vala and l are not lovers."
"I take back the twelve nice words I've said about you," said Vala. "Only a tusker would treat a woman in love so badly." 'Tusker?"
"Ore," explained Melegaunt. "And Vala, it's hardly a guest's place to interrogate her host about such matters."
Vala lowered her eyes at once. "Of course. I apologize." She fell a step behind and allowed Melegaunt to take her place.
Galaeron glanced back, a little troubled by how quickly her spirit vanished at any hint of the wizard's disapproval. He had been trying to puzzle out their relationship since departing the Vyshaan crypt, but whenever he mentioned the Granite Tower or their past, Melegaunt always changed the subject Vala told him to mind his own business.
Deciding the best way to win Vala's confidence was to be open himself, Galaeron said, "There's no need to apologize, Vala, but we have never been lovers." He could tell by the look in her eyes that she knew there was more to the story. "We could have been, but such things always come to bad end between moon elves and Wood elves."
"Really?" It was Melegaunt who asked this. "I wasn't aware of that." "Perhaps because you are not an elf," Galaeron replied.
Ignoring the curious-and sometimes hostile-looks of the pedestrians they passed, Galaeron led the way across the great sunning meadow at the base of Bellcrest Hill and started up Goldmorn Knoll. Apparently sensing the melancholy that had come over him, Melegaunt allowed Galaeron a few minutes of introspection before speaking again. "They're going to get killed, you know."
Galaeron did not need to ask who the wizard meant "It would be a mistake to judge our high mages by my skills." He spoke in a low voice, and even then only when they were near no other elves. "Lord Duirsar was not exaggerating when he told you how old Evereska's magic is."
"Old yes, and powerful as well, I'm sure," said Melegaunt. "But how much do your high mages know of the phaerimm? You didn't even know what they were, and your priest wouldn't have realized what was wrong with Takari until the hatchling ate its way through her entrails."
"And how do you know so much about them?" asked Galaeron.
Without answering the question, Melegaunt said, "The phaerimm have spent the last thousand years starving beneath Anauroch, barely sustaining themselves on the few Bedine their slaves can kidnap or lure through the Sharn Wall. And now we-you and I, Galaeron-have given them a chance to escape. I promise you, they will be quick to seize it"
"Which still does not answer my question. Why do you know so much about them?"
"Because I have spent the last century studying them," said Melegaunt. When Galaeron remained silent, he added, "That's all you need know."
"And all you need know is that I won't break my word to Lord Duirsar," said Galaeron. "Not on your say-so. Not on my own life." "It is not your life I'm worried about."
"Then tell me why," said Galaeron. "If I'm convinced, we will speak again with the Hill Elders-"
"Who would rather see Evereska fall than accept help from a human."
"Who have dealt with enough humans to know their help is never free," said Galaeron. "I'm not a fifth their age, and I have learned that for myself."
They rounded the corner and came to the granite bank of Dawnsglory Pond, where two dozen laughing elves were availing themselves of the morning light to bathe and play in the steaming waters. Galaeron led his companions along to a quiet corner, where a pair of winsome Sun elf sisters were washing the tangles from their hair.<
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The eldest, a stunning beauty with violet flecks in her eyes, looked up. "Glad homeagain, Galaeron. We heard about Louenghris and your silvers. He will be missed."
Galaeron winced at how fast the news was spreading. It would arrive at his father's before he did. "As will they all, Zharilee." He gestured behind him, where he could almost feel the heat rising off the humans at the sight of the naked sisters. "These are in my care until the Hill Elders decide their fate, and I'm sorry to say they have need of a bath before I take them to my father's."
The youngest wrinkled her nose. "Keep a close watch on them." She rolled onto her back and started toward the center of the pool. "I don't like how that crooked nosed one looks at me."
There was the sound of a heavy blow, then Vala growled, "Close 'em or lose 'em, Kuhl."
Galaeron gave the sisters a moment to retreat, then waved his guests into the pool. "If you please." He glanced toward Melegaunt and added, "It's customary to remove your clothes."
The men's expressions changed from hungry to nervous, and they looked to Vala for instruction. Vala shrugged and said, "Why not?"
She unbuckled her sword belt, then sat down and began to unlace her high boots. Her men reluctantly followed her example, and ten minutes later they were splashing in the water like pup otters. The men all looked like rothe, with thick tangles of dark hair across their massive backs and huge barrel chests. Vala was stout but much smaller, with rounder curves than an elf woman and-thankfully-only small tufts of hair growing in the appropriate places, but her idea of sport was as rough as that of her men. When they began to play keep-away with one of her boots, she did not hesitate to yank things most elves would have considered it impolite for even good friends to touch. The men responded in kind, grabbing whatever they could in order to keep her at bay. They even tried to include Galaeron in their games, tossing her boot-and Vala herself-at him. So surprised was he to see her eyeing him with the same hungry look he had noticed in the men that he forgot to defend himself and let her hand dart past his guard-and he was even more surprised by what she grabbed. She bowled him over backward and, burying his face in her soft chest, snatched her boot from his grasp.
Galaeron came up coughing, and found Vala holding her boot coyly in one hand. "What's the matter, elf?" She gave him one of those hungry human smiles, then tossed the boot on the bank. "Still too dirty?"
"Not at all." Suddenly feeling very self-conscious, Galaeron turned toward the bank. "My house is not far. We'll break our fast and see to cleaning your clothes and armor later."
They all climbed out of the water and bundled their armor inside their cloaks. Without their clothes, the humans looked a lot less intimidating and drew far fewer sneers, and it was not long before they reached the summit of Goldmorn Knoll. Located well into the interior of Evereska, the knoll was not as high as the Three Sisters nor as large, but it was home to a sizable grove of rare sycamore trees that had left Cormyr during the Time of Troubles and sought refuge in Evereska. Galaeron could not help smiling when he recalled the sight of that endless line of trees marching past his camp along the Desert Border and vanishing into the Sharaedim. He came to the base of Starmeadow Tower-before the sycamores arrived, it had stood in the heart of a favorite meadow for stargazing-and pointed at a hole-shaped doorway seventy feet above.
"There is my home. If you are ever lost in the city, ask for Treetop in Starmeadow, and you will be returned here."
Treetop," repeated Dexon. The burly human craned his neck, watching a pair of elves crawl past the doorway head-down. "Where's the ladder?"
Galaeron smiled. "There is no need for ladders in Evereska."
He tucked his armor under one arm, then pressed one palm and the sole of the opposite foot to the wall. Thanks to the magic of the mythal, they held fast to the stone, and he began to climb. "Always use bare skin. Never wear gloves or shoes."
Vala and the others watched him warily for a few moments, then finally pressed their own palms to the wall and started to follow. They were even more delighted than at the pond, and it was not long before they were embarrassing Galaeron with excited whoops and yodels.
Only Melegaunt, who in truth looked like he needed to use more muscle and less magic, did not seem to relish the experience. He stood on the ground for several moments trying to cast a flying spell, which failed as utterly as had his drying magic, then he finally gave up and clambered up the wall. By the time he joined Galaeron and the others beside the door, he was huffing and puffing so heavily he could hardly speak. Galaeron showed the humans the safest way to enter and leave a door hole, which was to approach it from the side rather than clamber over the bottom, and entered.
Inside Treetop was airy and light, all smooth curves and softly glowing walls. A staircase swirled down from the upper floors, rounded a corner in the foyer before them, and flowed into the lower house. Along the walls sat benches of white marble and tables of translucent alabaster, often with a delicately embossed vase or ethereal statuette placed carefully on top.
Galaeron's youngest sister, eighty-year-old Keya, appeared in the doorway.
"Galaeron!" She rushed across the room in a streak of long blue hair and gold-threaded gown and embraced him. "Glad homeagain! This past year has seemed a tenwinter!"
Happy for a change to hear nothing about his lost patrol or how his chances with the tomb master are better than he thinks, Galaeron dropped his armor and hugged her to his chest.
"Keya! More the lady each time I see you." He held the embrace for a moment, then disengaged himself and turned to present his companions. "The Hill Elders have asked me to care for these guests."
"I know." Keya took one look at the looming mounds of hairy flesh and said, "I'm sure one of your tunics will fit the woman."
"Vala," said Vala. She offered her free hand and studied Keya as though sizing up an object of prey. "Well met." Keya retreated from the stocky appendage in contusion.
"You're to clasp it," Galaeron explained. "A human gesture of friendship."
Keya looked up at Galaeron, her gold-flecked eyes clearly asking if such a thing were truly necessary.
Galaeron took her hand and placed it in Vala's. "You'll have to forgive Keya," he said, laughing. "I'm afraid my sister has never heard humans called anything but thieves and murderers."
"Sister?" Vala's expression softened, and she pumped Keya's hand warmly. "Don't you believe everything Galaeron says about us. 1 hope you and I will be great friends."
"I'm sure that would be, urn, interesting. I've never had a human friend before."
Keya turned to the men and reluctantly offered her hand to each in turn, looking slightly puzzled as they blushed and struggled to cover themselves. Even Melegaunt seemed embarrassed, though he did a better job of hiding it than most.
"I can probably find a cloak that will fit the plump one, but these others…" Keya shook her head. "I doubt our blankets are large enough to go around their shoulders."
"Their waists will do, I think," said Galaeron. "Is Father here?"
"In the contemplation." Keya gestured through an archway toward the back of the house, then looked to Melegaunt. "He asks you and Melegaunt to attend him at once. A messenger has arrived from Lord Duirsar."
"From Duirsar?" Melegaunt allowed himself a superior smile, then started for the archway. "Come to his senses, no doubt." "If you would be so kind, Keya " Galaeron said.
He motioned to Vala and her men, then went after Melegaunt. He steered the wizard through the circular great room, where the family took its meals on the rare occasions when there were enough of them to fill it, then stepped through a broad archway into the contemplation. His father was standing at the back of the tome-filled chamber, staring over the treetops through a theurglass window. A white snow finch sat on his outstretched finger, chirping and tweeting rapidly-no doubt passing along the latest gossip from Cloudcrown Hill, where the palaces of Lord Duirsar and the great nobles sat scattered among the trees. Galaeron cleared his throat. "
Father? We've arrived."
His father turned at once, a broad grin bringing a little light to his morose eyes. With silver hair and sagging shoulders, he seemed older and smaller than he had the last time Galaeron had been home. "My son. Glad homeagain."
The bird chirped a greeting as well, though Galaeron was not versed in peeptalk and could only return it with a polite bob of his head.
Galaeron gestured to Melegaunt. "Meet Melegaunt Tanthul, a human wizard of strange magic and no small power."
Galaeron's father inclined his head. "Welcome to Treetop, uh, Wizard Tanthul."
"1 am a prince in my own city," said Melegaunt, noting the elder Nihmedu's uncertainty about how to address him. "But in truth I've been away so long I have all but forgotten the fact. Call me Melegaunt." "And 1 am Aubric."
"Well met, Aubric, and my thanks for opening your home to us." Melegaunt peered around the contemplation, his eyes sliding past the Reverie couch and reading stand as he searched for another person. "I was given to understand there is a messenger?"
Galaeron's father raised the snow finch on his finger. "This is Manynests, attendant to Lord Duirsar."
Manynests chipped in greeting, then launched into a long series of tweets and whistles. "Lord Duirsar sends his greetings and salutations," translated Galaeron's father. "He reports that Evereska's wizards-: A peep from Manynests prompted him to correct himself. -that our high mages required over an hour to solve your shadow maze." Melegaunt's eyes widened. "Only an hour?" The bird began twittering again, and Galaeron's father translated, "Lord Duirsar was surprised that it took them that long. He sends his compliments and inquires whether you would be willing to supply them with the passwords for the traps in the dwarven workings. As entertaining as the high mages find your work, there is a certain element of time involved."
"Yes, of course." So shocked was Melegaunt that he dropped onto the Reverie couch, drawing a wince from both Nihmedus as his hairy rear touched the pristine marble. The first is purpledusk, the second darkmorn."
