This seemed to amuse the queen. “You are definitely Amnestria’s daughter,” she said wryly. “She was ever one to speak her mind. Yet I see that there is much of your father in you, as well.”
“What you see before you is my doing,” Arilyn said in a calm, even tone. “I am not a soup, made by tossing a little of this and that into a pot. As for my father, we met for the first time but three winters past.” She paused and touched the gem in her restored moonblade. “You and yours made certain of that.”
There was no accusation in her voice, just a statement of fact. By the decree of Amlaruil, the moonblade had been dismantled and the sword and stone divided between Arilyn’s mother and father. This had kept the dangerous elfgate from becoming as powerful as it might have been, but it had also robbed Arilyn of her family and the knowledge of the sword’s true power.
The queen’s gaze did not falter. “I suppose you’ve wondered why we never sought you out after Amnestria’s death.”
“No.”
Amlaruil raised one brow. “You’re not going to make this easy, I take it. Very well—nor would I in your position. It is known that those of mixed blood are banned from the island kingdom. You must understand. Evermeet is the last retreat, our only secure refuge from the incursions of humanity. Many of the People, particularly the high elves, fear our culture is giving way to that of the humans. Half-elves may in themselves be no threat, but the symbolism is too powerful. We cannot make exceptions, not even in your case. Perhaps especially in your case.”
“Yet here I am,” Arilyn pointed out.
“Yes.” The queen was silent for a long moment, and the gaze she turned upon the half-elf grew more searching. For the first time the queen’s features showed a touch of regret. “You have done remarkably well. To my knowledge, no one has ever before had to discover a moonblade’s powers alone. Had we known you possessed the potential to wield the moonblade, we would have taken another course. We knew, of course, that Amnestria’s blade would pass to you, but we never expected you to …”
“Survive?” Arilyn finished dryly.
“Few elves are up to the demands of an ancient moonblade,” the queen pointed out. “Most have lain dormant for centuries, and only a handful of the swords retain their power. Many elves refuse their inheritance, with no dishonor. It was not unreasonable for us to assume that a half-elven child would be unequal to the challenge.”
“But you let me try, fully expecting that I would be slain. I drew the moonblade that first time knowing nothing of this, or of the hidden requirements of the sword.”
“And had you known all, would you have done differently?”
The question was shrewd, and Arilyn was momentarily startled by the queen’s insight. Obviously, she could not deny the truth in Amlaruil’s words, and she responded with the gesture of a fencer acknowledging a hit.
“What was done is done, and I am content to leave it so,” Arilyn said. “But there is a reason why I speak of these matters now. My mother spoke often and fondly of her youngest brother, and so I have named Prince Lamruil as my blade heir. Will you tell him of his inheritance and see that he is properly prepared to receive it? I took up the sword unprepared. I would not see another do likewise.”
The queen stood in silence for a long moment. “It will be done. On behalf of my son, I thank you for showing him this honor.” She paused, as if considering what to say next. “You were speaking of your fee,” the queen prompted, clearly eager to once again put the conversation, and the extraordinary half-elf, in terms she could understand and control.
Arilyn met her gaze squarely. “I want a vast tract of land to the east of the Forest of Tethir, stretching from the borders of Castle Spulzeer to the origins of the Sulduskoon River. Have your agents—or the Harpers, or whoever you please—obtain the land.”
“Your fees are high,” the queen commented.
“The wealth of Evermeet is fabled to be beyond reckoning. And you did say that I could name my price.”
The queen gave her a searching look. “And what will you do with these lands?”
In response, Arilyn dug one hand into her bag and drew out a handful of seeds: winged maple seeds, pine cones, acorns.
For a long moment, the queen and the half-elf held each other’s gaze. “It will be as you have requested. The lands will be ceded to you to do with as you see fit.”
Arilyn bowed and walked to the place where Ganamede had disappeared.
“One more thing,” Amlaruil said softly. “In behalf of the People, I accept your fealty and your sword. May you always serve them as well as you have today.”
The half-elf turned to face the queen. She drew her moonblade and saluted in a uniquely elven gesture of respect.
The two elf women stood for a moment gazing upon one another, but there was nothing more that either could say. They were unlikely to meet again, and Amlaruil could in truth give the half-elf no more acknowledgment than this. Yet it was more than Arilyn had anticipated, and she was content.
As if sensing that her task was done, the silver wolf appeared. Arilyn slipped with him back into his veiled world, and to Tethir beyond.
And behind her, the elven queen stared thoughtfully at the shimmering gate that had brought the half-elf to Evermeet. Since she was ever the queen, part of her mind dealt with practical matters. It had never occurred to her that the lythari might be able to access this particular gate. Although no lythari had ever proven traitorous, safeguards must be taken.
Amlaruil stooped and picked up the commission the half-elf had left behind. She absently unrolled it and glanced at the elegant script. Her eye settled on a certain curving rune, and a jolt of astonishment shook her. A subtle, skillful turn of the quill had transformed the half-elf’s chosen name “Moonblade” to “Moonflower,” the clan name of the royal moon elf family.
“Captain Macumail,” Amlaruil murmured, recognizing at once the source of this forgery.
The outrage she expected to feel at this sacrilege simply did not come. Amnestria was lost to her, but her daughter’s daughter was a credit to the People … and the clan.
“Arilyn Moonflower,” the queen repeated softly. Although she realized no elf on Evermeet could ever hear her speak these words, they felt right and good upon her lips.
* * * * *
At dawn, several days hence, the survivors of Zoastria’s Stand stood together at the eastern boundaries of Tethir. They all came: the green elves—both Elmanesse and Suldusk—the lythari, even the fauns and centaurs. Only Jill and Kendel Leafbower were missing, for now that his self-assigned task had been completed, the dwarf was eager to see his kinfolk once again, and the two had departed the evening before.
All who gathered carried the grandchildren of Cormanthor—seedlings from the ancient trees that in centuries to come would extend the wondrous forest for miles. It was a small thing, perhaps, in the face of all that the sylvan folk had lost and all that they would continue to endure. But each tree was a living link to their beloved forest and a symbol of the new coalition between the tribes, the lythari, and the other sylvan creatures. They who had merely endured, would now rebuild.
And so they worked together throughout that long day, with a harmony rare among the forest folk. With the coming of night, they retreated to the familiar haven of the trees.
When the evening meal was over and the songs and tales fell silent, Foxfire sought out Arilyn and asked her to walk with him. They walked in silence until they found themselves back in the seedling forest. It was an oddly appropriate place, one that mingled new beginnings with ancient and cherished memories.
“I have a message for you from Rhothomir,” he began. “It is not one he could easily give himself, so I offered to speak for him. This I do with all my heart.”
“Speaker for the Speaker now, are you?” she teased him. The elf smiled faintly, but he would not be deterred.
“The People of Tethir offer you a home in their midst. Join the tribe and live beneath the trees
your own hands planted. This is your place,” he concluded softly.
“There is a part of me that would like to accept,” she said with complete honesty. “There is a part of me that will remain. But look around you,” she said, sweeping a hand toward the fledgling trees and the little mounds of soft earth where the sylvan folk had planted seeds of hope.
“You will live to see these trees grow. I am half-elven, Foxfire, and I will be gone before the branches of these two oaklings meet overhead. There are things I must do elsewhere. Like the lythari, it is given to me to walk between two worlds. You have shown me that my soul is elven and have helped me to know that my path and my heart lie with the humans. But I can promise you this,” she vowed as she drew her moonblade from its ancient scabbard. “As long as the fires of Myth Drannor burn within this sword, a hero will return to the Forest of Tethir in time of need.”
She showed him the blade, and the bright new rune that blazed upon it, and then she slid the moonblade carefully back into its place. “It is given to me to add a power to the sword. This is it: when the people of Tethir are in need, the wielder of this blade will come. But most likely, it won’t be me. My life will not be that long, and I wish you to have peace long after I have joined my ancestors.”
Foxfire nodded and then gathered her into his arms. Arilyn went to him, remembering everything, and regretting nothing. Her elven soul would always be linked to this forest. Perhaps, in some future age, she would return, her essence giving strength to the elven sword. But as she had said to her dear friend, her heart lay elsewhere, and so did her path.
Twenty-five
It was after midsummer when Lord Hhune’s carriage rolled through the northern gates of Zazesspur. He had enjoyed a very eventful interlude in Waterdeep, the rival city to the north. Granted, some of his plots and plans had withered on the vine. It did not appear as if the northern outposts of Zazesspur’s thieves and assassins guilds would take hold—a pity, for these were favored tools of the Knights of the Shield. And he, Hhune, had been labeled as a member of this hostile group and barred from Waterdeep. The Knights had also lost their capable agent in Waterdeep. The Lady Lucia Thione had been unmasked and exiled. It would be many long years before the Knights of the Shield again managed to place an informant so high in Waterdhavian society.
Even so, Hhune felt certain he could turn these losses into personal gain. Although he could not enter the northern city again, there was to be no disruption of shipping between Zazesspur and the north. And Waterdeep was still reeling from a series of disasters: crop failure, incursions of monsters stripping the forests of game and the fields of cattle, political uncertainty. Zazesspur’s goods and surplus crops would find an eager, almost desperate market. Finally, he had with him the deposed agent, and he had spent much of the trip southward mentally devising various uses for her.
Lucia Thione, formerly the ranking agent of the Knights of the Shield in the north, was a rarity in Tethyr: a surviving member of the old royal family, albeit a very distant relation. The tide of royalist sentiment in Zazesspur was swelling, and who knew what heights an ambitious man might reach with such a consort at his side? In addition to her purple blood, she was a woman of rare beauty and keen business acumen. At one time, Hhune would have counted himself lucky merely to spend time in her company. He was ecstatic to find her utterly in his power!
Of course he had said nothing of this to her. Lady Thione fully expected to meet her death in the land of her forebears, and she had spent the trip trying to subtly insinuate herself into Hhune’s good graces. It was gratifying to him to have this beautiful, nobly bred woman pursuing his favor, and he intended to allow her to work for it!
Eager though he was to install his “guest” in his country estate, Lord Hhune set a brisk pace for his town offices. Business must always come before pleasure. He strode in, nodded to the clerks, and called for his scribe.
To his surprise, the young Calishite brat—the royal apprentice Balik’s men had saddled him with—came to his bidding.
“Good day, Lord Hhune,” Hasheth said. “I trust that your business in the Northlands went well?”
“Where is Achnib?” Hhune demanded.
The lad’s face darkened. “He is dead, my lord,” he said bluntly. “May all traitors and thieves meet the same end. But you need not hear of this from my lips. Word of your approach reached us this morn. Duke Hembreon awaits you in your office.”
Hhune’s boots suddenly seemed rooted to the floor. Amid the changeful winds of Zazesspurian power, the Duke stood as unbending as a sycamore. His was an ancient family with vast wealth, and he himself was a grave, distinguished man whose impeccable sense of honor and duty extended to all he did. Therefore, Hembreon tended to view his position in the Knights of the Shield as noblesse oblige. He was also one of the most important leaders of the group, Hhune reminded himself as he shook off his immobility.
The duke stood as Hhune entered the room and gave him his hand. “You have performed a great service to the people of the city.”
“I live to serve,” Hhune said smoothly, but he cast a quick sidelong glare at his young apprentice. Hasheth gave him a subtle nod, as if encouraging him to play along.
“As you requested, Lord Hhune,” Hasheth began, “in your absence I strove to ferret out who among your men might be in league with the Nelanther pirates. It was Achnib, as you suspected. Two of these pirates are even now in the city’s dungeons—men who have sworn that Achnib hired them, paying with information of shipping schedules and routes.
“Nor was that his only crime. He was stealing from you, skimming the profit from the caravans and hoarding coin. What he planned to do with such is beyond belief.”
“Achnib was always ambitious,” Hhune said in a sage tone, hoping this would fit into the incredible scenario the younger man was weaving.
“The scribe was not content with selling information to the pirates. He began to traffic in armed ships with a warlord known as Bunlap. Worse, there is a faint trail which attempts to place this crime at your door.”
“Indeed?” Hhune managed, marveling at the young man’s audacity.
Incredibly, Duke Hembreon seemed to swallow the absurd recitation. He rose and extended a hand to Hhune.
“By your efforts, the city has gained use of a fleet of some fifteen ships. All Zazesspur owes you thanks.”
Hhune murmured a response and saw the duke on his way. Then he turned an ominous, narrowed gaze on his apprentice.
“Much of what I told the duke was true,” Hasheth said earnestly. “Achnib was skimming, and he was in league with the mercenary captain. But he lost his nerve and hoped to scuttle away in the confusion after your involvement with Bunlap and his logging operation became known. He attempted to buy passage to Lantan. To protect your interests, I had both Achnib and Bunlap killed, and turned the ships over to the Lords’ Council as confiscated goods. They would have found out about them, regardless. Better this way, and be a hero rather than a culprit.”
“You seem to be unusually loyal,” Lord Hhune pointed out suspiciously.
“What good would have come to me had you been brought low?” the young man said, reasonably enough. “Besides, the Knights were pleased by my initiative and permitted me to enter their ranks, and so, in protecting your interests, I served my own.”
Hhune shook his head, apparently stunned by all this. “What of Duke Hembreon? How did you learn the identity of such a powerful man among the Knights?”
“Palace intrigue,” Hasheth lied, thinking of the coin in his pocket. He wanted to impress Hhune with his many connections and his own importance. “One of the few benefits of being born a pasha’s son. There is more that you should know. The Harpers have been inquiring into your affairs. I thought it best that this matter was concluded, and quickly. The Harpers would not be contented as easily as Duke Hembreon.”
“Well done,” exclaimed an amused feminine voice. Hhune looked up; he had almost forgotten about Lucia Thione. “You ha
ve a talented new ally, my lord. Perhaps you would consider another? With three such minds, what could we not accomplish in Tethyr?”
Hhune regarded the beautiful woman and the hawk-nosed youth and decided that he could do worse.
“Meet my new apprentice, my dear,” he said to Lucia. “And Hasheth, this is Lucia Thione. Surely you recognize her family’s name and realize that it must not be spoken outside of these walls—at least, not until the mention of it can advance the fortunes of us all.”
For a moment the trio regarded each other intently. Relief was bright in Lucia’s beautiful eyes, now that she knew what Hhune had in mind for her. The lord saw also that she understood his purpose in making this introduction. The knowledge of her identity offered both potential power and grave danger—and the secret bound them together. It was a subtle way of accepting her offer, while reminding her that her fortune was bound indelibly with his. Hhune also noted the soft, warm look the woman cast over the impressed lad; this amused him. If Lucia was willing to use her charm to advance her position in Tethyr, so much the better for him.
“You should not have killed Achnib,” he told Hasheth mildly. “He was not terribly intelligent, but neither was he personally ambitious. He carried out his duties well enough, with loyalty usually found only in retainers with four legs and fleas. Such men are hard to find. I thought you might kill him, but I’d hoped otherwise. That is the only part of the test you failed, however. Overall you have done well.”
“T-test?” faltered Hasheth.
“Of course,” the lord returned in an amused tone. “You do not think I would allow you to give away my entire fleet, do you? Mark me, I am not happy about the ship you gave to the pirates, but you shall pay for it from your earnings. And other than that lapse, you did precisely as I had anticipated. The fleet is now in the hands of the Council of Lords. I could-not keep it—the risks of discovery were too great. But the merchants of Tethyr will continue to benefit from the protection the fleet offers, while the Council pays for its upkeep. And who, I ask you, is both head of the shipping guild and a ranking member of the council? Who will control this fleet?”
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