“So far, so good,” Hamil remarked when they’d finished. A good meal usually did marvels for his disposition. “Now how do we go about getting our hands on the bit of manuscript we’re looking for? Do you know the place Aesperus mentioned?”
“No, I don’t,” Geran answered. “Many of the old ruins in the city have been covered over by newer buildings, and I suspect that the Irithlium might be one. We’ll have to determine where it lies, and then see if we can slip into the ruins without notice.”
“Correct me if I am wrong,” Sarth said, frowning, “but I seem to recall that the captain at the gate specifically warned us that we were to rummage around in no old ruins without the coronal’s permission. I would feel much better about this if we observed the legalities.”
“Unfortunately, I doubt that we can,” said Geran. “First, it could very well take tendays to obtain a writ-there are dangerous things still sealed in some of the vaults below the city, and the elves are very careful to make sure no one breaks wardings they’ve created to lock them in. Second, and perhaps more importantly, the Coronal Guard very well might confiscate anything that we remove, such as the Infiernadex pages.”
The tiefling frowned, but subsided. Hamil helped himself to another slice of apple from the depleted dinner tray, and looked back up to Geran. “I don’t like this idea of dangerous things sealed in vaults, but other than that, your reasoning seems sound. What are the odds that we can do what you say without being caught in the act? And how do we go about finding this Irithlium place, anyway?”
“The odds depend on where exactly the Irithlium lies. If it’s in the outskirts of the city, we have an excellent chance to avoid being seen. If not, we might have to rely on Sarth’s invisibility spell or some other means to get in and out,” Geran replied. “As for finding out where the vault lies, well, I intend to ask.”
He took a slip of parchment from a writing desk that stood in the suite’s front hall and scratched out a short note with the quill and ink. He blew on it to dry the ink, then rolled the note into a tiny tube and pinched it closed with a little candle wax. Then he walked over to the suite’s window, opened the clear glass, and gave a long, trilling whistle. Sarth and Hamil stared at him as if he’d lost his mind, but he just smiled at them and repeated the whistle. A moment later, there was a sudden flurry of wingbeats at the sill, and a small blue-feathered songbird appeared. It chirped once at him.
Gently, Geran pressed the tightly rolled slip of paper into the bird’s talon. In Elvish he said, “Please, take this to Daried Selsherryn. You will likely find him in House Selsherryn or at Swordstar Hall.” The bird chirped again, and flew off with the note in its grasp.
“Did you just speak to that songbird?” Hamil asked in amazement. “When in the world did you learn to do that?”
“It’s not what I learned to say. It’s the birds that have been taught to listen.” Geran gazed out the window until the bird disappeared from view, enjoying a smile at his friends’ expense. Then he turned away and reached for his cloak. “Come on. We’ve got a little bit of a walk ahead of us.”
FOURTEEN
13 Alturiak, the Year of Deep Water Drifting (1480 DR)
A cold mist clung to the waters of Lake Glaerryl at dusk. The soft snow-fall of the day had finally ended, replaced by dense fog; from time to time the towering treetops of the lake’s far shore emerged from the drifting vapors like the battlements of some vast castle. Geran, Sarth, and Hamil waited in the shelter of an elegant pergola that stood on a small islet amid the dark waters, linked to the shore behind them by a slender bridge. In the fading light, the spires and domes of the elven city behind them were invisible; for all they could tell they weren’t within a hundred miles of Myth Drannor.
Hamil drew his cloak closer around his small frame and shivered. He hailed from the lands south of the Sea of Fallen Stars, and he did not care at all for northerly winters. He scowled at Geran, who stood wrapped in his own cloak a short distance away, and said, “You realize that there’s no retreat from this little island? If your friend has an attack of conscience, we’ll be trapped here like foxes in their den.”
“I didn’t give away much in the note I sent him,” Geran answered. He doubted that Daried would turn him over to the Coronal Guard without seeing him first, but he could understand that Hamil wouldn’t be reassured by his confidence in his old mentor. “But if we were found out, well, our chances to escape Myth Drannor wouldn’t be terribly good anyway. Given that, I thought we might as well choose a spot where we can speak in privacy.”
“Someone is coming,” Sarth said. Geran exchanged a look with his friends, and the three of them turned toward the bridge; he stepped back to hide himself behind Sarth in case it was somebody other than Daried who might recognize him. He heard a light footfall on the wooden boards, and a tall, slender figure in white and pearl gray appeared through the mists-a golden-haired elf swordsman whose clothes were embroidered with leaf and vine designs in silver thread.
The sun elf paused, his eyes bright and sharp as he studied Sarth and then Hamil. “I do not know you,” he said aloud. “Who are you, and why did you ask for me?”
Geran stepped forward, lowering his hood from his head. “Well met, Daried,” he said. “I see my note found you. My apologies for not giving my name, but it seemed better to remain anonymous.”
Daried’s eyebrows rose in astonishment. “Geran?” he said. “What are you doing here? You’re still under the coronal’s judgment! Are you mad?”
“No, only desperate. I’m afraid we need your help.” Geran indicated Hamil, then Sarth. “This is my old Dragon Shields colleague, Hamil Alderheart. You might remember that I spoke of him sometimes. And this is Sarth Khul Riizar, a sorcerer of no mean skill and a new friend. We’ve shared many dangers together in the Moonsea over the last few months. Hamil, Sarth, allow me to introduce Lord Daried Selsherryn, my tutor in swordmagic.”
“A pleasure,” the sun elf said politely, nodding briefly to Hamil and Sarth. But his eyes swiftly returned to Geran’s face. “Geran, you must leave at once. If you are caught defying the coronal’s law, the consequences will be drastic. You risk your life merely by setting foot here! And you place me in a very difficult position.”
“I know it. I don’t intend to stay an hour longer than I must. But, as I said, I’ve got an urgent errand in Myth Drannor.”
The elf frowned. “What could possibly be urgent enough for you to flout the coronal’s will?”
“There’s a fragment of a magical tome hidden somewhere in the city ruins. It’s become vitally important to retrieve it-the sooner, the better.”
“So you intend to break the coronal’s laws against pillaging the old ruins as well as defying her edict of exile?”
Geran shrugged. “I can hardly get in any more trouble with the coronal by adding the second offense.”
“No, but your friends could,” Daried pointed out. He put a hand to his brow and moved over to the balustrade overlooking the lake. Geran waited, allowing the sun elf to think. After a long moment, Daried sighed and glanced back to him. “What do you need this tome for?”
“To defeat Rhovann.”
“Both of you are in exile, but still you indulge your enmity?” Daried shook his head. “Is there no end to it?”
“No, you misunderstand me,” Geran answered. “When I left Myth Drannor, I wanted nothing more to do with Rhovann. I would’ve been happy to never lay eyes on him again. But Rhovann came to Hulburg in secret five months ago, and arranged the overthrow of my uncle, the harmach. He now rules Hulburg through a puppet, while my family and I have been banished.” Geran’s gaze fell to the wet flagstones of the pergola, but he forced himself to finish. “My feud with Rhovann has cost my family the realm they’ve ruled for centuries. I have to undo what Rhovann’s done to Hulburg to set things right. And I’ll need the missing pages of the tome to do that.”