Hamil noticed that he was not following yet, and reined in again. He glanced at Sarth, and then twisted in the saddle to look back at the swordmage. “You’ve never spoken much of your years in Myth Drannor,” he said to Geran. “I think now might be time to tell your tale. What happened to you here?”
Geran sat his horse in silence for a moment, wrestling with the question of whether to answer. For many months he’d done his best to forget about the life he’d made for himself in the elf realm, unwilling to torment himself with the memories. But Hamil and Sarth certainly deserved to know whether their association with him entailed any risk in the City of Song. And it might be possible that he was finally ready to unburden himself of the tale, dragging it out from the dark recesses of his heart into daylight again.
He felt his companions waiting for his answer, and sighed. “I came here in Nightal of the Year of the Heretic’s Rampage,” he began. “It was a year and a half or so after the Company of the Dragon Shield parted ways and Hamil and I took over the Red Sail Coster. I’d been feeling restless in Tantras. I suppose my heart wasn’t in the merchant trade-I missed the Dragon Shields, and I felt like I was still searching for a cause worthy of my sword. Anyway, some Red Sail business brought me to Harrowdale, and while there I intervened in a fight between an elf-a bladesinger-and a band of Netherese assassins. The bladesinger was as good as anyone I’ve ever seen, but the odds were long, and the Netherese fought with dark spells and shadowy blades. I was a good swordsman at the time, better than most, but I was out of my depth in that fight, and I knew it. Still, I timed things well, and my appearance tipped the balance of the fight. The bladesinger and I killed or drove off the Netherese.
“Afterward I spoke at length with the fellow I’d aided. He was a sun elf named Daried Selsherryn, a master bladesinger of Myth Drannor. He told me that he thought I had potential, especially since I’d had a little arcane study during my time with the Dragon Shields. Daried offered to teach me more of his art by way of thanking me for my help.” Geran smiled as he recalled the evening. “I thought I’d pretty much figured out everything I needed to know about sword play, and I was a little offended by the idea that I might not measure up. But I’d sensed the magic Daried and his Netherese foes wielded against each other-I’ve always had a knack for it, I guess-and I was intrigued despite myself. Besides, I’d wanted to see Myth Drannor since I was a young lad. When I finished up with my Red Sail business, I sent a note back to Hamil explaining I might be a tenday or two late-”
“Five years late, as it turned out,” Hamil muttered.
“-and I rode west into the forest, with nothing more than a vague notion of studying a few days with Daried and taking in the sights. Of course, the forest is a dark and wild place in its eastern marches, and I lost my mount to a hungry bulette. I finally arrived on foot, cold and hungry from days of walking.
“Here, on this very spot, I stopped to listen to the sound of elven singing that I could hear through the trees.” Geran nodded at the small clearing around them. “And while I was standing here listening, I met the most beautiful woman I’d ever laid eyes on-Alliere Morwain, of House Morwain. She and Rhovann Disarnnyl, who was courting her, were out for a sleigh ride in the snowy woods. Alliere took pity on my weatherbeaten state and offered me the hospitality of her family’s home. She showed me around the city, and of course, I’d never seen anything like it. I found Daried again soon enough, and within three days learned that I didn’t know a thing about sword play or magic.”
“Did Daried teach you your swordmagic, then?” Sarth asked.
Geran nodded. “I studied under him every day for months. In the evenings, I explored the city at Alliere’s side, listening to the master bards reciting in the lanternlit glens, dancing on the tavern greens, watching plays and wandering through the shops of the city’s merchants. When I’d learned enough swordmagic to regain some of my self-confidence and enough Elvish to avoid embarrassing myself, I went to the court of the coronal and offered her my sword. She accepted, and I became a member of the Coronal Guard. They don’t choose many folk of other races, but Daried and Alliere spoke well of me, and I come from a noble line-such as it is. My experience of the lands outside the forest made me useful as a scout and spy, so I often went abroad when the guards found something that needed doing outside Myth Drannor. And during those days, I fell in love with Alliere.” Geran paused, lost in the memories.
“I think I finally understand why you stayed so long,” said Hamil.
Geran shrugged. “Myth Drannor is a strangely timeless place. Time doesn’t touch the elves the same way it does the rest of us, of course, but there’s something more to it than that. It’s like living in a waking dream. The lords are so splendid, the ladies so fair, the songs so beautiful … there are days of toil and grief, but they’re few and far between. The longer you remain, the more deeply you lose yourself in the dream. And I was lost here for years.”
“How did it end?” Sarth asked quietly.
Geran’s mouth tightened with old pain. “A duel,” he said. “Rhovann and I grew into rivals for Alliere’s affections. She cared more for me, I think, but they’d known each other since before I’d even been born, and their families desired a marriage between them. Perhaps she didn’t really know her own heart. In any event, Rhovann became jealous of me, and I of course didn’t like him much either. Whether he truly loved Alliere or simply regarded her as something that belonged to him, I couldn’t say, but he never missed a chance to let me know what he thought of me. I challenged him to meet me in a tournament, and he agreed.
“It was supposed to be a contest of skill, but from the first we meant to hurt each other. I got the better of Rhovann and struck his wand from his hand, but he wouldn’t yield.” Geran closed his eyes, remembering the frost-covered leaves under his feet, the clash and thunder of spells striking spell-shields and steel gleaming in his hand. “Something came over me then, a black rage like I’ve felt only once or twice in my life. Rhovann reached for his wand again, and I struck off his hand, knowing full well what I was doing. And I would have done worse to him if Daried hadn’t stopped me.
“For dueling Rhovann and deliberately maiming him, Coronal Ilsevele banished me. I found out later that Rhovann was banished a few tendays after me, since it turned out that he’d been studying magical arts banned in Myth Drannor. But Alliere was horrified. She couldn’t bear to look on me after I’d maimed Rhovann.” He sighed and opened his eyes, fixing his gaze on the snow-covered road ahead of him. “That’s the tale. I haven’t seen Alliere since that day. I returned to Tantras six years after I’d left, and Hamil was kind enough to make a little room for me with the Red Sails again.”
He tapped his horse’s flanks, and rode forward at an easy walk. Hamil and Sarth fell in with him, and the three companions rode in silence for a time. After a little while Hamil asked, “Exactly how banished are you?”
“I’m not supposed to be within the coronal’s domain, which includes the city and the forests around it. Customarily that’s held to be anything within a day’s ride of the coronal’s palace. What judgment Ilsevele would pronounce on me for violating my exile, I couldn’t say. Imprisonment? A geas?” He shrugged. “I hope to avoid the coronal’s notice, to be honest.”