“Was this Anaya nobly born?” Nirakina delicately asked.
“Her birth was a mystery, even to her. I suspect she was stolen from her family by the guardian before her, just as she took Mackeli from his parents.”
“I’m not sorry she did so,” Mackeli said staunchly. “Anaya was good to me.”
Kith-Kanan allowed his family to assume Anaya was Silvanesti, like Mackeli. He also kept from them the news of his unborn child. The loss was too recent, and he wanted to keep some memories for himself.
Sithas broke the quiet interlude by commenting on the half-human Voltorno. “It fits with what we already suspect,” he ventured. “The emperor of Ergoth is behind the terror in our western provinces. He not only wants our land, but our timber, too.” Everyone knew that Ergoth had a sizable navy and needed wood for ships. Their own land was relatively poor in trees. Also, unlike elves, humans tended to build houses out of wood.
“At any rate,” the speaker noted, “the emissaries have been here nearly five weeks and nothing’s been accomplished. I was ill for a few days, but since my recovery we’ve made no progress at all.”
“I’d be glad to speak to the ambassadors of the things I saw and heard in the forest,” Kith-Kanan offered. “Men from Ergoth have been landing on our southern coast to plunder the forest. They would have taken Mackeli to Daltigoth as a slave. That’s a fact.”
“That’s probably what the raiders have done with the other captives,” Sithas said darkly. “The wives and children of the Silvanesti settlers.”
Kith-Kanan told of the sacked village he and Mackeli had seen on their way home. Sithel was disturbed to hear that a settlement so close to the capital had been attacked.
“You will come to the tower tomorrow,” the speaker declared. “I want the Ergothians to hear what you have seen!”
Sithel rose. “It is very late,” he said. “The session begins early, so we’d all better take our rest.” Mackeli was already snoring. Hermathya, likewise, was dozing where she sat, curled up in her chair.
Kith-Kanan roused Mackeli with a shake, and the boy sat up.
“Funny dream, Kith. I went to a great city, and people lived inside stone mountains.”
“Not so funny,” Kith-Kanan said, smiling. “Come on, Keli, I can put you in Sithas’s old room. Is that well with you, Brother?” Sithas waved his agreement.
Kith-Kanan kissed his mother’s cheek and said good night. Her face shone with contentment, which made her look decades younger.
“Good night, son,” she said devotedly.
A servant with a candelabrum arrived to conduct Mackeli to his bed. Sithel and Nirakina went out. At last, the brothers stood by the door.
“I’ll leave you to your wife,” Kith-Kanan said, nodding toward the sleeping Hermathya. Rather awkwardly, he added, “I’m sorry I missed the wedding, Sith. I hope you two are happy.”
Sithas stared at his wife’s sleeping form for a few seconds, then said, “It has been no bargain being married to her, Kith.” Kith-Kanan could not conceal his surprise. He asked in a whisper what was wrong.
“Well, you know how willful she is. She takes every opportunity to make herself known to the people. She throws trinkets from the windows of her sedan chair when she goes out. People follow after her, calling her name.” Sithas’s mouth hardened to a thin line. “Do you know what the city wits call us? The Shadow and the Flower! I don’t suppose I need to explain who is who, do I?”
Kith-Kanan suppressed a wry smile. ‘Thya always was chaos in motion.”
“There’s more to it than that. I think —” Sithas cut himself off as a servant came down the corridor toward the open door. The yellow glow of his candles flowed ahead of him like a stolen sunrise.
“Good night, Kith,” Sithas said suddenly. He summoned the servant and told him to guide the prince up the dark stairs to his room. Kith-Kanan regarded his twin curiously.
“I shall see you in the morning,” he said. Sithas nodded and held the hall door. As soon as Kith-Kanan went out, Sithas shut the door firmly.
Inside the hall, Sithas spoke sharply to Hermathya. “It’s very childish, this pretense of sleep.”
She sat up and yawned. “Quite a compliment from the master of pretense.”
“Lady, have you no respect for us or our position?”
Hermathya pushed her heavy chair away from the table. “Respect is all I do have,” she replied calmly. “Heavy, thick, rigid respect.”
*
The Palace of Quinari was sleeping, nearly everyone within it walls exhausted by the homecoming of Kith-Kanan. But in the gallery leading away from the central tower, two figures met in the dark and broke the silence with their whispers.
“He’s come back,” said the female voice.
“So I have heard,” answered the male. “It’s not a problem.”
“But Prince Kith-Kanan is a factor we hadn’t considered.” In her distress the female spoke louder than was necessary-or prudent.
“I considered him,” said the male voice calmly. “If anything, his return will be to our advantage.”
“How?”
“Kith-Kanan enjoys a certain popularity with all those who find his brother cold and uninspiring-elves such as the royal guard, for example. Moreover, my evaluation of the errant prince tells me he is more open and trusting than either his father or brother. And a trusting person is always more useful than a doubter.”
“You are clever. My father chose well when he picked you.” The female voice was once more calm and soft. There was the sound of heavy cloth being crushed and a kiss. “I wish we didn’t have to meet in shadows like this.”
“Von’t you think it’s romantic?” murmured the male voice.
“Yes... but it annoys me that so many think you are harmless.”
“My best weapon. Would you take it away from me?”
“Oh, never....”
There was silence for a while, then the female voice said, “How long till sun-up?”
“An hour or so.”
“I’m worried.”
“What about?” he asked.
“The whole affair is getting too complicated. Sometimes when I’m sitting in the audience hall I want to scream, the tension is so great.”
“I know,” the male voice said soothingly, “but our task is quite simple. We have only to delay and dissemble and keep the elves talking. Daily, our numbers swell. Time is our ally, my darling. Given enough time, the mighty elven nation will fall!”
Their slippered feet made only the slightest whisper on the cool marble floor as the conspirators stole down the gallery to the steps. They had to get back to their rooms before the palace stirred. No one must see them together, not even the members of their own delegation.
24
THE DAY FOLLOWING
THE ENTRANCE OF KITH-KANAN INTO THE TOWER OF THE STARS THE next day created a stir. Gone were Kith-Kanan’s tattered green buckskins. Now he wore smooth white robes and a silver circlet on his head. With great ceremony he was introduced to Lord Dunbarth. The dwarf doffed his floppy hat and said, “It is a great honor to meet you, Prince. I’ve heard much about you.”
“Perhaps we shall be friends anyway,” was the wry reply.
Meeting the human delegation was more forced. Praetor Ulwen sat in his portable chair like a wax image. Only the slight rise and fall of the blanket over his chest testified he was alive. Lady Teralind accepted Kith-Kanan’s hand, holding it for a long minute as she assessed this newest addition to the conference. He noted the dark circles under her eyes. The lady hadn’t slept very well the night before.
Ulvissen saluted, human fashion. Kith-Kanan imitated his gesture.
“Have we met before?” the elf prince asked, looking carefully at the bearded human.
“I don’t think so, noble prince,” Ulvissen replied coolly. “I served most of my military career on ships. Perhaps Your Highness met another human who looked like me. I understand it is hard for elves to distinguish one bea
rded man from another.”
“There is much in what you say.” Kith-Kanan walked away, but the idea that he’d seen Ulvissen before troubled him still. He paused before his father, bowed, and took his old seat on the speaker’s right. A human with a full, red-brown beard-where had he seen him?
“The fifteenth session of the Conference of Three Nations will now begin,” said Sithas, acting as his father’s herald. “Seated for Silvanesti is Prince Kith-Kanan.” The scribes at their tables wrote busily.
Dunbarth stood up-which had the effect of making him shorter, as his chair’s legs were longer than his own. “Great speaker, noble princes, Lord Praetor, Lady Teralind,” he began. “We have been here many days, and the principal obstacle in the way of peace is this question: Who rules the western plains and the forest? The noble speaker and his heir present as proof of their claim ancient treaties and documents. Lady Teralind, on behalf of the emperor of Ergoth, makes her claim from the point of view of the majority, claiming that most of the people who live in the disputed territory are Ergothians.” Dunbarth took a deep breath. “I summarize these positions as I have presented them to my king. I have this day received his reply.”
Murmurs of interest rose. Dunbarth unfolded a heavy piece of parchment. The golden wax seal of the king of Thorbardin was visible.
“Ahem,” said the dwarf. The muttering subsided. “To my right trusty and well-loved cousin, Dunbarth of Dunbarth, greetings: I hope the elves are feeding you well, cousin; you know how meager their eating habits are... “The emissary peered over the parchment at the speaker and winked. Kith-Kanan covered his mouth with one hand to hide his smile.
Dunbarth continued: “I charge you, Dunbarth of Dunbarth, to deliver to the Speaker of the Stars and the praetor of Ergoth this proposal-that the territory lying on each side of the Kharolis Mountains, seventy-five miles east and west, be entrusted to the Kingdom of Thorbardin, to be governed and administered by us as a buffer zone between the empires of Ergoth and Silvanesti.”
There was a moment of crystalline silence as everyone in the tower took in the message.
“Absolutely preposterous!” Teralind exploded.
“Not an acceptable proposal,” said Sithas, albeit more calmly.
“It’s only a preliminary idea,” Dunbarth protested. “His Majesty offers concessions, here —”
“Totally unacceptable!” Teralind was on her feet. “I ask the speaker, what do you think of this outlandish notion?”
All eyes turned to Sithel. He leaned back against his throne, his mask of composed command perfect. “The idea has some merit,” he said slowly. “Let us discuss it.” Ehmbarth beamed. Teralind’s face got very white, and Ulvissen was suddenly at her elbow, warning her to stay calm.
At that moment Kith-Kanan felt a flash of recognition; he remembered where he’d seen Ulvissen before. It had been the day he’d rescued Mackeli from Voltorno. When the half-human had fallen after their duel, a crowd of humans from his ship had raced up the hillside. The tallest human there had had a full, red-brown beard like Ulvissen’s. And since the human had already admitted that he’d spent most of his career aboard ships.. The prince started as his twin’s voice interrupted his thoughts.
Sithas was asking the speaker what merit he had found in the dwarves’ suggestion.
Sithel paused a moment before replying, considering his words carefully. “It is not King Voldrin’s offer to rule the troublesome region that I favor,” he said. “It is the idea of a buffer zone, independent of not just our rule and the emperor’s, but of Thorbardin’s as well.”
“Are you proposing we create a new country?” Teralind said curiously.
“Not a sovereign state, a buffer state,” replied the speaker.
Ulvissen tugged on his mistress’s sleeve urgently. Feeling harassed, Teralind turned her back to Sithel for a moment to speak with the seneschal. She then asked the company for a brief adjournment. Dunbarth sat down, carefully tucking the crinkly parchment letter from his king into his brocade vest. Despite the opposition to his king’s proposal, he was quite pleased with himself.
Kith-Kanan watched all this with barely contained agitation. He could hardly denounce Ulvissen during a diplomatic meeting-not when such an accusation would violate the law of good behavior in the Tower of the Stars on his first day back in Silvanost! Moreover, could he be certain Ulvissen was the man he’d seen with Voltorno? Bearded humans did tend to look alike. In any event, the elaborate manners and elliptical conversations of the ambassadors struck him as silly and wasteful of time.
“My king suggests a division of rights among the three nations,” Dunbarth resumed when Teralind signaled herself ready. “Ergoth to have grazing rights, Silvanesti to have growing rights, and Thorbardin to have the mineral rights.”
“Any proposal that puts the territory under any one nation’s control is unacceptable,” Teralind said shrilly. A strand of dark brown hair had come loose from its confining clasp. She absently looped it behind one ear. “Unless Ergothian rights are guaranteed,” she added curtly.
The delegations, mingled as they were behind the chairs of their respective leaders, began to debate among themselves the merits of a joint administration of the disputed land. Their voices got louder and louder. After a moment, Kith-Kanan couldn’t stand it any longer. He jumped to his feet.
Sithel raised a hand for quiet. “My son Kith-Kanan would speak,” he said. The faintest trace of a smile crossed his lips.
“As you know, I have only just returned to Silvanost,” the prince said, speaking quickly and nervously. “For some time I have been living in the wildwood, far to the south, where I came to know all sorts of people. Some, like my friend Mackeli, called the forest home. Others saw it as a place to be plundered. Ships from Ergoth have been lying off the coast while their crews steal inland to cut timber.”
“This is outrageous!” Teralind exploded. “What has this to do with the current question? Worse, these charges have no proof behind them!”
For once Sithel cast aside his assumed air of impartiality. “What my son tells you is true,” he said icily. “Believe it.” The force in his words stifled Teralind’s reply, and the speaker bade Kith-Kanan continue.
“The heart of the matter is that while kings and emperors wrestle over problems off national pride and prestige, people-innocent elves and humans-are dying. The gods alone know where the true blame lies, but now we have a chance to put an end to the suffering.”
“Tell us how!” said Teralind sarcastically.
“First, by admitting that peace is what we all want. I don’t have to be a soothsayer to know there are many in Daltigoth and Silvanost who think war is inevitable. So I ask you, is war the answer?” He turned to Lord Dunbarth. “You, my, lord. Is war the answer?”
“That’s not a proper diplomatic question,” countered the dwarf uncomfortably.
Kith-Kanan would not be put off. “Yes or no?” he insisted.
The entire company was looking at Dunbarth. He shifted in his chair. “War is never the answer, where people of good will —”
“Just answer the question!” snapped Teralind. Dunbarth arched one bushy eyebrow.
“No,” he said firmly. “War is not the answer.”
Kith-Kanan turned to the silent, crippled praetor and his wife. “Does Ergoth think war is the answer?”
The praetor’s head jerked slightly. As usual, his wife answered for him. “No,” Teralind replied. “Not when peace is cheaper.”
He turned at last to his father. “What do you say, great speaker?”
“You’re being impudent,” Sithas warned.
“No,” his father said simply, “it’s only right he ask us all. I don’t want war. I never have.”
Kith-Kanan nodded and looked around at the entire group. “Then, can’t some way be found to rule the land jointly, elves, humans, and dwarves?”
“I don’t see what the dwarves have to do with this,” said Teralind sulkily. “Hardly any of them live in
the disputed land.”
“Yes, but we’re speaking of our entire land border,” Dunbarth reminded her. “Naturally, we are concerned with who is on the other side of it.”
Sunlight filtered into the hall through the hundreds of window slits up the walls of the tower; a mild breeze flowed in through the doorway. The day beckoned them out of the stuffy debate. Sithel rubbed his hands together and announced, “This is a good time to pause, not only for reflection on the question of peace, but also to take bread and meat, and stroll in the sunshine.”
“As ever, Your Highness is the wisest of us all,” said Dunbarth with a tired smile.
Teralind started to object, but the speaker declared the meeting adjourned for lunch. The hall rapidly emptied, leaving Teralind, Praetor Ulwen, and Ulvissen by themselves. Wordlessly, Ulvissen gathered the frail praetor in his strong arms and carried him out. Teralind worked to master her anger, tearing one of her lace handkerchiefs to bits.
*
It was a fine day, and the delegations spilled out the huge front doors into the garden that surrounded the mighty tower. Servants from the palace arrived bearing tables on their shoulders. In short order the processional walkway at the tower’s main entrance was filled with tables. Snow-white linen was spread on the tables, and a pleasant array of fruit and meats was set out for the speaker’s guests. A cask of blush nectar was rolled to the site, its staves making booming noises like summer thunder as the barrel rolled.
The ambassadors and their delegations crowded around the tables. Dunbarth took a brimming cup of nectar. He tasted the vintage, found it good, and wandered over to inspect the food. From there he spied Kith-Kanan standing at the edge of the garden by himself. Food in hand, the dwarf strolled over to him.
“May I join you, noble prince?” he asked.
“As a guest you may stand where you want,” Kith-Kanan replied genially.
“An interesting session this morning, don’t you think?” Dunbarth pulled apart a capon and gnawed at a leg. “This is the most progress we’ve made since we first convened.”
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