"Where are you going?" demanded Prince Saratoma.
"I am on the king's business," the runner stated tersely.
"I just left my grandfather in his bed," the prince replied accusingly. "A sleeping man does not issue runners in his name. Where are you going?"
"King Elengal was indeed in his bed," agreed the runner, "but he was not asleep. He instructed me to deliver a message of importance."
"What message?" questioned the prince.
"I do not know," answered the runner. "It is written, and I do not pry into my king's affairs. Neither should you."
The runner's words told the prince that the message would not be revealed, regardless of Saratoma's position in the royal family. Only by force would the prince be able to learn the contents of the message, and he was not about to slay one of his own people to discover its contents.
"That is as it should be," the prince smiled. "I am pleased that you take your service to the king so seriously, but understand that I do as well. When the king is incapacitated or absent, I rule the Elfwoods. As I now believe that the king is asleep, and I am loath to wake him after his long journey, I must demand your destination. For all I know, you could be attempting to flee the Elfwoods. I have a solemn duty to prevent that."
The runner hesitated as he mulled the logic of the prince's words. Eventually, he nodded in agreement.
"I have been sent to Despair," stated the runner. "I will indeed be leaving the Elfwoods, but I am in the service of the king. Should you try to stop me, I am within my rights to do whatever is necessary to deliver the king's message."
The runner was correct, Prince Saratoma realized. Even the slaying of a prince could be justified by the code. The prince nodded and turned away. As the runner continued on his way towards the human city, Prince Saratoma tried to analyze the situation. He could find only one reason for his grandfather to send a runner to the very city he had just returned from. Surely, the emperor did not need to know that the king had arrived home safely, and the only thing King Elengal had discovered upon his return was the news the prince had just given him about Prince Rigal and his friends.
For a long time, Prince Saratoma stood in the forest as the sky darkened and turned to night. He could not imagine why his grandfather would be sending a message about the newcomers to the emperor before he had even talked to them, but he was sure that was the case. In a week's time, Baroukan soldiers would arrive to take Prince Rigal and the others to Despair. It would certainly mean the end of their lives. The prince's heart screamed for him to warn the descendents of Prince Geltim, but his responsibilities as the only prince of the Dielderal held him back. Once the emperor had been notified of their presence in the Elfwoods, allowing the newcomers to escape would surely bring a harsh punishment down on his own people.
The weighty decision tore at Prince Saratoma's soul. He could not see any path that was correct. Either way he acted, some innocents were going to die, and the decision of who would die was in his hands alone. Torn by his inner turmoil, Prince Saratoma reentered the Heart. For a while, he roamed the Heart in a daze, trying to figure out what he should do. Unexpectedly, he found himself standing in front of the historian's hut. Although Legaulle was one to go to bed early, the prince banged on the door. When the old man cracked the door open, the prince pushed his way inside.
"Double rudeness," scowled the old man. "Not only do you wake me from my sleep, but you push your way inside my home. What has come over you?"
"I am in need of information," declared the prince. "There are only two people who can tell me what I need to know, and I will not wake the king to get the answer."
Legaulle's eyes narrowed as he eased the door closed and lit a candle. He waved the prince to one chair while he sat in the other.
"What dire need of knowledge brings you to the brink of insanity?" he asked calmly.
"I need to know the truth about my father," declared the prince.
The historian started shaking his head in objection, but the prince was not to be put off.
"King Elengal will never share the truth about my father, and you know it," stated the prince. "I have a right to know, and I demand to know."
The historian stared at the prince with sadness in his eyes. He sighed heavily and shook his head again.
"What has brought you to this point?" he asked softly. "What dire emergency is causing you to threaten not only your position with the Dielderal, but also the welfare of your people?"
"Not to mention yourself," quipped the prince. "You are forbidden to discuss royal matters with me, but I am demanding to know them."
"I am not hesitant for my own selfish needs," Legaulle smiled tautly. "I am an old man, and I will soon be dust, but you are young and the hope for the future for our people. I suspect that you already have suspicions about the knowledge that you seek. Why not leave at that?"
"Because I have a decision to make," answered the prince, "and it is one that I must make tonight."
"Your grandfather brought back bad news from the empire?" asked the historian.
"He did," shrugged the prince, "but that is not what is bothering me. I told him about Prince Rigal and his men. I wanted him to meet them, but he was too tired. He scoffed at everything I said, but he promised to speak to them tomorrow after he was rested."
"Is that so bad?" asked Legaulle. "Your grandfather is getting on in age. These trips take more out of him each time he goes to the empire. He will be skeptical at first. That is only natural, but I will help explain the truth to him. Surely you can wait until morning?"
"That is not the problem," explained Prince Saratoma. "After he kicked me out and went to bed, he sent a messenger to Despair. As there was only one piece of news that he might want to share with the emperor, we both know what was in that message."
Legaulle sighed heavily and nodded. "Your family has always been impetuous," he said sadly. "Each of you has always been positive that your actions were the right thing to do at the time, and it has brought nothing but misery to your line."
"My father?" demanded the prince. "I have the right to know."
The historian pressed his lips tightly together for a moment and then sighed as he nodded.
"I suppose you do," he said. "Your father was as impetuous as your grandfather. He railed against King Elengal's strictness to the point of hatred. He spent much time talking to the Dielderal of the need to rise up against the empire. King Elengal tried to pretend that he did not notice, as he had only one son, but shortly after you were born, it all came to a head. King Elengal demanded that your father cease his words of rebellion, but your father was adamant. Within a week of your birth, soldiers of the empire arrived and executed your father. It was a very public spectacle, and it cowed the rest of those who thought they should fight against the empire."
"That is close to what I suspected," Prince Saratoma said as a tear formed in his eye, "but I had not given my grandfather quite enough credit for it. What kind of beast can he be? King Saratoya gave up his own life to save my grandfather, but Elengal could not bring himself to do the same for his son. Worse, he turned his own son over to the emperor."
"That is harsh," frowned the historian. "King Elengal is in an impossible situation, as any ruler of the Dielderal would be. While you may look poorly upon his actions, those actions have always been for the good of the Dielderal, even when it hurt him deeply."
"Well his actions tonight were not for the good of the Dielderal," declared Prince Saratoma. "We carefully shielded the presence of three descendents of Geltim from everyone. No one but you, me, and the couple from that small village knew anything about them. Certainly the empire had no knowledge of their being here, or soldiers would be swarming the Heart at this very moment."
"Perhaps that is so," the historian responded, "but that is no longer the problem, and there is not much you can do about it."
"Isn't there?" retorted the prince.
"What are you going to do?" Legaulle asked with alarm.<
br />
"I am going to help them escape," declared the prince.
"There will be severe retributions," warned the historian. "You had best think before you act."
"I have dwelled upon it," replied Prince Saratoma, "and I am ready to stand for my punishment. Once Prince Rigal and his men are safely away, I will admit to my part in their escape. Let grandfather and the emperor do what they will with me."
"You will be killed," scowled the historian. "How does that help the Dielderal people? Have you given no thought to the fact that you are the last of your line? You grandfather is far too old to sire another child."
"That is the blessing in this whole affair," the prince smiled thinly. "As you stated earlier, my ancestors have not acted well in ruling over the Dielderal. Perhaps it is an appropriate time in our history for my line to die out."
"Your ancestors have been rash," the historian shook his head, "but they have kept the Dielderal alive for generations. Your actions will be more akin to the leadership of the long lost dwarves. The Dielderal will cease to exist."
"Perhaps the dwarves had the right of it all along," countered the prince. "While it was a heavy price for them to pay, they have not had to watch their people suffer for generations. The Dielderal are dying, Legaulle, and while we slowly die, we are enabling the Baroukans to wage war on the Elderal. We mine their metals as they forge weapons to slay other elves. As we now know, the Dielderal should never have existed in the first place. Our people are no longer just those elves within the Elfwoods. The Elderal are our brothers, too. Why are we helping to kill them?"
The historian stared blankly for a long time and then he met the prince's eyes with his own.
"There is one falsity in your reasoning," the old man smiled thinly. "You would make a wonderful ruler of our people. Let me be the one to help them escape. The Dielderal will need you around to guide them."
"No," Prince Saratoya said with finality. "This battle is mine to fight. My heart screams for me to make this stand, and I want the emperor to know that as long as the Dielderal live, he will never truly conquer them. You are to remain aloof. You will be needed to explain the knowledge that Prince Rigal has brought us."
Prince Saratoma rose to leave, but the historian moved with a speed that belied his old age. He wrapped his arms around the prince and hugged him. With tears in his eyes, he watched the prince break the embrace and exit the building.
Prince Saratoma made his way straight to the hut holding the descendents of Prince Geltim. He stepped inside without knocking and closed the door. Three pairs of elven eyes stared at him in the moonlight.
"Pack your things," Prince Saratoma said softly. "It is time for you to flee."
"What has happened?" asked Prince Rigal.
"The king has returned," replied the prince, "and I spoke to him about the three of you. He did not even have the time to listen to your words. He sent a messenger to the emperor. The message most assuredly announces your presence here. You must flee immediately."
"Gather your belongings," Prince Rigal said to his men as he picked up his own pack. "Will you get in trouble?" he asked Prince Saratoma.
"That is not your concern," replied the Dielderal prince. "I beg you to make haste in leaving the Elfwoods. Once you are noticed missing, word will spread quickly."
"You could come with us," offered Prince Rigal. "It will spare you whatever fury the emperor throws at you."
"My disappearance would bring misery to my people," Prince Saratoma replied with a shake of his head. "I cannot shove my burden onto them. Just go quickly."
Prince Rigal nodded sadly and waved his men towards the door of the hut. Gerant opened the door and stepped into the darkness. Lyron followed him, but Prince Rigal paused in the doorway. He turned and gazed at the Dielderal prince.
"I am truly sorry to part company with you," he said softly. "I feel the burden of the Dielderal and wish I could do something to ease your suffering."
"You have brought enlightenment into our lives," Prince Saratoma smiled thinly. "That is a gift that will make a great difference to my people one day. May you live to hear of it."
Prince Rigal smiled and left the hut. The three elves from Glendor eased onto the path leading out of the Heart. They had not gone more than a few paces when a group of Dielderal blocked their path.
"You are forbidden to leave the Heart," declared one of the elves. "Return to your hut."
Prince Saratoma heard the loud challenge. He raced out of the dark hut and stared at the confrontation. He hurried over to the Dielderal blocking the path.
"Who are you to deny free passage to these elves?" asked the prince.
"We were directed by King Elengal," answered one of the blockers. "The foreign elves are not to leave the Heart. I was told that if they attempted to leave that they were to be secured within their hut, and that is what we intend to do."
"And I am saying that they have permission to leave," countered Prince Saratoma. "As Prince of the Dielderal, I demand that you step aside."
"We cannot do that," retorted the blocker. "The king specifically said that you were not allowed to countermand his order. The foreigners will be returned to their hut."
Prince Rigal watched Prince Saratoma stiffen. The Dielderal prince's hand moved to his belt knife, and his teeth clenched together as his lips parted with anger. He took a single step towards his host and placed his hand on Saratoma's arm.
"We will return to our hut," he said softly. "There is no need for bloodshed between brothers."
"You are to leave your bows outside the hut," commanded the head blocker.
Prince Rigal nodded and waved his men back to the hut. They placed their bows on the ground and stepped into the dark building. Prince Saratoma followed them, his rage dying slowly. For a while all four elves stood silently in the darkness.
"He knew," Prince Saratoma eventually said. "King Elengal knew exactly what I would do before I even knew myself."
"Perhaps he anticipated what he would want to do in your position," Prince Rigal said comfortingly.
"Hardly," snarled the Dielderal prince. "He would not even hear your words of wisdom. He has consigned you to die without a thought to the results of his actions. My grandfather is a fool."
"He is also the king," Prince Rigal responded. "Explain to me exactly what is going to happen from this night forward."
"It will take days for the runner to reach Despair," replied Prince Saratoma, "but once he delivers the message, the response will be swift. A squad of Baroukan soldiers will be sent here to take you back to the emperor. There you will probably be tortured and interrogated to discover what you know. When they are through with the questions, you will be executed."
"Will the Baroukans be on horseback?" asked Prince Rigal.
"No," replied Prince Saratoma. "They will walk here. Why do you ask?"
"It gives me a sense of time," answered Prince Rigal. "If it takes days for the runner to reach Despair, it will also take days for the Baroukans to arrive. Perhaps we can talk to the king in the meantime."
"Talking will no longer do any good," sighed the Dielderal prince. "Once the emperor knows that you are here, your fate is sealed. King Elengal could not release you himself now."
"Yet you were about to," frowned Prince Rigal. "What would that have cost you?"
"It is different now," stated Prince Saratoma. "Legaulle and I concealed your presence from all the other elves. We even had Tomar and Laring brought back to the Heart so that I could make them vow not to reveal that you existed. But now there are ordinary elves who know that you are foreigners. By morning that knowledge will be widespread throughout the Heart. Within days everyone in the Elfwoods will know."
"And those elves would stop the king from releasing us?" asked Gerant.
"They would," nodded Prince Saratoma. "All of Elfwoods would suffer with your escape. They would turn on the king without question."
"As they would have turned on you," Prince Rigal responded. "Ye
t you tried to bluff our way past those guards. You were prepared to die to see us free of the Elfwoods?"
Prince Saratoma sighed and nodded. "I realize now that more is at stake here than just the survival of the Dielderal. I could not, and cannot, allow the empire to capture you. You must carry back the knowledge that you have gained about the Baroukans. Only through their defeat can the Dielderal ever hope to be free."
"And only with a leader like you," smiled Prince Rigal, "will the Dielderal know what to do with their freedom. I urge you to distance yourself from us. We have quite a few days of life left, and we will not be so easily killed. Step away from us and do not let your life be wasted."
"It is too late," sighed the Dielderal prince. "My attempt at interceding on your behalf will undoubtedly be reported to the king. My fate is already sealed, and I accomplished nothing."
"Nothing is settled at this point," retorted Prince Rigal. "The messenger will only inform the emperor of our existence here. The message will not speak of your part in our attempt to escape. As for the king, we have yet to speak to him. Give me a chance to win him over to your side. Your life is not over yet, but you should no longer come around here. Do not give the king further need to discipline you. Do that for us."
"For you?" frowned Prince Saratoma. "I do not understand."
"The king will be angry that you chose to help us," explained Prince Rigal, "but he obviously expected it. If you make no further attempts to argue our case, his anger towards you will fade with the passing of days. By the time the soldiers show up, his anger towards you will be forgotten. Also," he continued, "if his anger remains strong towards you, we will have trouble getting him to see the truth. His anger will turn to stubbornness, and that will surely get us killed."
Final Voyage of the Remora Page 34