Tanis froze, hoping he wouldn't have to defend the human against the elves whom Scowarr had helped save. The silence stretched longer as Scowarr's smile faded and the elves continued to exchange dumbfounded glances. One old elf chortled, then drew in his breath sharply and looked sideways at his colleagues. "A human!" he muttered wonderingly.
Another elf, streaked with dirt and sweat, let loose with a chuckle. "I'll be a slig!" he commented, then reached over and clapped Scowarr on the back. Another elven mouth stretched into a smile and opened into guffaws.
As laughter spread from elf to elf, Tanis relaxed and slipped out the door. As he slipped into the street, he overheard talk of raising a monument to honor Scowarr's heroics… if Ankatavaka survived, of course.
The light from more than five hundred torches bathed the seacoast village in a flickering orange glow as Tanis searched the streets for clues that might lead him to Brandella or deliver him to his father.
"Do you know a woman named Brandella?" he asked many a scurrying elf.
"Yes," replied everyone he questioned.
"Where can I find her?" he immediately countered.
They all answered, "With Kishpa, of course."
"And where is he?"
None knew.
No one had seen the mage since late afternoon. The wizard apparently had vanished. Teams of elves had been sent out to search for him. Without his magic, the villagers couldn't hope to hold the human army at bay.
Tanis tried another way of finding Kishpa's lover. He remembered Clotnik had said Brandella was a weaver. "Where does Brandella work at her loom?" he asked a rotund elven smith.
"Works and lives in the same place, m'boy," said the smith as he sharpened one of countless swords and knives that had been left with him overnight. "Y'know, my wife is rather fond of the shawls Brandella makes; wears them all the time. Costs me a fortune. But it's worth it. Keeps the wife happy, y'know."
'That's important," agreed Tanis, trying to remain patient. Perhaps ordinary chitchat helped the smith remain calm, maintaining the illusion that life as usual was still possible. "But can you tell me where she lives?" Tanis pressed.
'Try the second floor over that way," the smith said", using a worn hammer to point down the cobbled street. "See that overhang?"
Tanis nodded.
'That's her place. My wife…"
Tanis thanked the smith, ran directly to the overhang, and looked up at dark windows. He hurried through the doorway and took the stairs three at a time.
Knocking loudly on the door at the top of the stairs, he stood and waited, wondering what Brandella would look like, how she would act.
To his dismay, no one answered the door.
Tanis glanced down the stairway. When he saw no one lurking in the shadows, he put his shoulder to the door. It got away from him and swung open with a crash. Tanis grimaced.
Lighting a candle he found near the doorway, Tanis scanned the large room. A loom stood in one corner with baskets of bright red, yellow, and purple yarn beside it. Near the back was an unmade bed, the scent from the sheets aromatic and exotic, and there, too, were several baskets of yarn. Then he saw what he should have seen from the very beginning: All four walls were covered with a huge mural; even the ceiling was part of the enveloping painting.
Despite the meager light from the single candle, the images were bright and lively. Tanis couldn't figure out where the mural began or where it ended, and the more he peered at it, the less it mattered. The pictures told a story that needed no beginning, middle, or end. There were scenes of Kishpa, his physique perfect, his face flawless, his inner essence shining through his blue eyes with regal purity. It wasn't the mage's magic that shone, but the painter's art.
There were also scenes of children playing games. One of the children-a girl with black, unruly curls-always seemed to have her back turned to the viewer. Exquisitely dressed elven dancers leaped to music one could almost hear. Here, too, was an older girl, her hair flowing in thick, black curls down her back; her face also was hidden. There were scenes of merry festivals, viewed, it was clear, from the terrace overhang off to Tanis's right.
All of the scenes, wherever he looked, were joyous and happy, save one. On the ceiling, over her bed, Tanis noticed the woman with dark curls, her face obscured this time by the shoulder of a man, running toward a light that seemed to be a great distance away. The man was sweeping her into his arms, carrying her forward, and her body seemed to say, "I will go with you to the very source of light itself."
Trying to make out more detail of the woman's face, Tanis held the candle up close to the ceiling. The painter had hidden her features well. As he pulled the candle away, he saw something. The candle came loose from its holder and fell into a basket of yarn that sat on the floor near the bed. He quickly grabbed the candle and snuffed out the beginnings of a fire, only to find a piece of paper, now slightly burned, in the basket.
He steadied the candle back in its holder, held the note up to the flame, and read: Dearest of my Heart,
Please do as I beg you, and think only of your safety. A home is just a place to live; it isn't worth risking your life to save. I know what you're thinking: I'm a hypocrite because I'm staying behind to fight. I stay because it is my duty; my ancestors would be shamed if I left the children of their friends when my magic was needed most. I do not stay out of pride or desire. My only desire is to be with you. I keep you in my heart, in my mind, every moment of every day. Please, your life is too short as a human to risk it here. Go to Qualinesti. Our people know you, and you will be safe among them despite your race. Save yourself so that I may love you later. I will find you there when the battle is over. Go to the fisherman called Reehsha. He has promised me that he will ferry you to a ship in the harbor that sails for Qualinesti. You can trust him to save you a place on his boat. Don't delay. Do this for me, and know that I love you always. Yours Ever Faithful, Kishpa
"Reehsha," whispered Tanis.
He was about to rush out the door and make his way to the harbor when he remembered that there had been something about the picture over the bed that had startled him, making him drop the candle. He hurriedly raised the flame for a quick look-and saw that the man carrying the girl with the black curly hair toward the light… was he!
Or was it?
The features of the man on the ceiling seemed too perfect, too handsome, too majestic. No, he decided. There was just a passing resemblance in the face, but nothing more. Nothing more at all.
11
A cry in the night
"Reehsha? yes, everyone knows old Reehsha," said a sinewy elf who was patching his small skiff at the edge of the water. "Keeps to himself a lot these days. Didn't even help ferry the women and children to the ship," he added, gesturing out to the open sea.
Although he hadn't asked the question, Tanis now knew that Brandella had not done as Kishpa had begged; she had not left for Qualinesti.
"It could be the old man is smarter than most," the elf went on. "It was probably a good thing he didn't take his boat out there. I'm kind of sorry I did, myself."
Tanis was taken aback. "What about the women and children?" he asked. 'They had to be taken out of the village, didn't they?"
"Sure," agreed the fisherman, his face a map of wrinkles, "but the waves were something treacherous, and there were too many boats out there. Half kept banging into the other half. That's how I got this hole in my bow. We lost four women and six children to drowning; they'd have been safer in the village, taking their chances with the humans than with those rough seas. Yes, Reehsha is a wise old man."
"I want to meet Reehsha," said Tanis. "Where can I find him?"
The elf laughed harshly, his teeth showing whitely against his deep tan. "You may want to meet him, but he may not want to meet you. Reehsha doesn't have many visitors. And that's the way he likes it."
"He can always turn me away. Just tell me where to- find him."
The elf spat into the sand and pointed across
the beach. "At the far end, way past the piers. There's a shack back up in the rocks a bit. Maybe you'll see a light. Maybe you won't. But he's there."
It was cool, dark, and peaceful by the edge of the sea, and being away from the village light was soothing to the eyes. Heavy waves crashed upon the sand, leaving a white foam tinged pink by the red light of Lunitari. Tanis breathed in the damp night air as he walked along the sand; the smell of the sea revived him, helping him forget the soreness in his arms and legs. The scent of salt and seaweed was a welcome change from the stench of battle, although elves in general preferred living in wooded areas inland to spending their lives by the sea. Passing a rickety wooden pier that jutted into the thrashing surf, Tanis suddenly stopped. Without quite knowing why, he turned and stared at the old wooden structure. He thought he'd heard something odd, a sound that somehow didn't belong. At the same instant, a flock of birds skittered off the pier and into the wind, flying on a strong sea breeze.
His elvensight revealed nothing out of the ordinary. Tanis relaxed. It must have been the birds, he reasoned.
He started walking again, debating what he would say if he found Brandella and Kishpa together. How would the half-elf explain his presence? Perhaps he could say, "The whole village is looking for you, Kishpa. Please hurry. The elders are making new plans for the defense of the village. You must be there!" Once the mage was gone, Tanis reasoned, he could get Brandella alone and tell her why he had come for her. And then, he thought sourly, she'd think I'm a dimwitted fool.
Like a child, he kicked at the sand. Then he stopped. There was that sound again. He turned and looked back at the pier, staring intently into the dark shadows beneath the wooden structure, holding his breath, listening. What he heard had sounded like a muffled cry. Or maybe it was the flapping of wings-except this time there were no birds to be seen. And wasn't that a faint red glow he saw under the pier? Perhaps his elvensight, which caught the aura of living things even in little light, had focused on a shore animal.
His pulse quickened. It wasn't the birds he'd heard before at all. The birds flew away when they were startled by a sound, the same sound he'd heard. And now he heard it again. It was a cry.
As swiftly as his legs could carry him through the soft sand, Tanis dashed toward the pier. He could hear nothing over the sound of his own deep breaths and pounding legs, but the memory of that cry kept him running.
No light shone beneath the warped and rotting wooden boards of the pier. Tanis couldn't see details of who was there, but his elvensight revealed something large, shaped like a man. And surely, with the light of Lunitari behind Tanis, whoever or whatever was there could plainly see him.
In the darkness, a tall, powerfully built man with a barrel chest crouched over the bruised body of a terrified woman. He held a long, thin-bladed knife in one hand and an ornate, heavy shield in the other. The human jammed his knee into the woman's throat to keep her from crying out as he watched the intruder approach. He could tell by the interloper's forthright stride that they would do battle. He smiled at the thought.
The human had killed twelve elves after he'd scaled the barricade. He had thought that his fellow soldiers were going to overrun the village, but for some reason, few troops had followed him. Trapped inside the elven stronghold, he had killed seven more villagers since nightfall, weaving in and out of back alleys, using the shadows for cover. But elven patrols were getting closer all the time. He needed a hostage to keep them at bay until his fellow soldiers attacked again on the morrow.
Providence provided one.
She had been walking alone along the beach when he saw her. He'd leaped out from his cover, grabbed her around the mouth and throat, and dragged her, kicking and thrashing, back into the darkness beneath the rotting old pier.
Barely able to breathe, the woman lay near unconsciousness, no longer struggling. As he heard someone approaching, the human paid her no mind, lifting out of his crouch and edging toward an outer wooden pillar. He didn't need a hostage to protect him from a single elf. Hiding, the human waited.
As Tanis reached the pier, he slowed, not out of fear, but out of caution. He didn't want to walk into a trap. Before he went any farther, he called out, "Is anyone there? Are you all right?"
No answer.
That troubled him.
Someone was there. Someone had cried out. Of this, Tanis was certain. Wisely, the half-elf stepped just inside the blackness under the pier and then dropped silently to the sand, no longer silhouetted against the moonlight.
Tanis strained to hear any telltale sounds. All he heard were waves breaking against the front of the pier and the water roiling against the pillars that stretched out into the sea. He heard no voices, saw no movement. The only smell was that of the sea and shoreline.
The human was startled. Where had the interloper gone? He'd disappeared. The human, unused to fear, didn't panic now. He realized that his enemy was smart. It would be a good battle, he thdught, one to savor in tales told over the crackling coals of a fire.
Tanis inched his way deeper into the darkness.
The human didn't move. He knew the game well. The first one to show himself would likely be the one to die.
Despite the sound of the sea, it was as if the darkness under the pier was deathly quiet. It was its own world of silent treachery and stealth.
Tanis, his face pressed into the cold sand, began berating himself for having strayed from his duty. Finding Brandella had been the task at hand. He had no reason to be under this pier, searching for the gods knew what. Soon, he began thinking, he should give this up; he was losing valuable time. What he did here would make no difference to the world, or even to Kishpa.
He had almost convinced himself to get up and take his leave when he heard the faint sound of someone breathing off to his right. He had called out before, and the person had not answered. That might mean that an enemy hid here in the dark.
The half-elf moved closer, his hand on the grip of his broadsword. From the sound of the breathing, Tanis gauged that he was just a few feet away from his foe. His enemy had given himself away, and he would die for that mistake.
In one fluid motion, Tanis rolled to his feet, pulled his broadsword from its scabbard, and swung its deadly blade in the direction of the sound.
12
The confrontation
As soon as Tanis unsheathed his sworb, the blade gave off its shimmering red glow, casting a dim, otherworldly light on the underbelly of the pier. Only then did Tanis see his terrible mistake. The sharp edge of his broadsword was swooping down on the neck of an unmoving, defenseless dwarf. Tanis's blade was in full motion; he couldn't stop it. All he could do was throw his body to the left, away from the woman, and hope that he somehow missed. The blade whooshed through the damp night air and came down hard, burying itself deep in the sand just above the woman's head.
The human heard the sound of the broadsword coming free of its scabbard and readied himself for the kill. The red glow of the sword surprised him, but the light it threw off made his attack that much simpler. He saw his enemy clearly and dove at him with his knife pointing directly at the middle of Tanis's back. But the human did not expect his enemy to spin away from him at the last possible moment.
Tanis felt the impact of a glancing blow to the shoulder when the human hurtled past. The half-elf rolled over and came to his feet in one easy'motion, his glowing sword held high. The human recovered just as quickly, squaring off with his knife and shield. The creaky pier stood an arm's length above them.
The two men locked eyes. The human saw a half-elf who looked physically formidable, yet confused and unsure of himself: an easy kill.
Tanis saw himself.
They had the same eyes, the same mouth, the same shaped face. The man had the badly broken nose and long black hair that Clotnik had described. The only thing missing from the juggler's description of his father was the slash wound on his right leg.
This was the man Tanis so much wanted to discov
er, to meet, to learn about, but now that he had come face to face with him, Tanis didn't know what to do. Perhaps a gesture, he thought. What if he showed the man he meant no harm?
Tanis lowered his sword, hoping that his father would be struck by their resemblance and do the same.
The human saw his chance. He lunged forward with his knife hand to slit the throat of the half-elf.
A cry, not of surprise or fear but of infinite sadness, escaped Tanis's lips as he stumbled back out of the way, instinctively raising his enchanted sword to block the blade. With knife locked against sword, the two men's faces were mere inches apart, and Tanis could stand it no more. "Look at me!" he shouted at the distorted image of his own reflection. "Can't you see? I'm-"
"— the next to die!" the human swore as he slung one leg behind Tanis's feet and shoved.
Tanis tripped and fell heavily onto his back. His head hit the ground hard, stunning him momentarily. The human had the advantage, and he pressed it. Leaping on top of Tanis, he rammed his shield into the half-elf's face-to hurt him and to blind him to his next move, Tanis knew, a move that would involve slitting the half- elf's belly open with one long rip of his knife.
His father was bigger, heavier, and stronger than Tanis. But such experts as Kitiara, Sturm, and Hint had taught the half-elf to defend himself in ways no ordinary soldier would know. Just as the human's knife twisted down toward his stomach, Tanis executed a flip and roll that sent his father tumbling sideways. The knife missed its mark.
Both scrambled to their feet, Tanis faster than the human. With any other enemy who was obviously out to kill him, Tanis would have met deadly violence with lethal force. But this man was his father. Would Tanis cease to exist if he killed the man, or would his position in Kishpa's memory protect him? Was it fair to spare the man who would go on to rape Tanis's mother? Or had the heinous act already taken place? Tanis made a quick decision and, with a whip of his broadsword, slashed a deep cut in his father's right leg. The man yelled and hobbled backward, his leg spurting blood.
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