‘You knights have lived encased in metal so long it’s shaken your brains to mush!’ The dwarf snorted. ‘If you ever had any brains to begin with, which I doubt. I’ve seen that girl grow from a wee bit of a thing to the beautiful woman she is now. And I tell you there isn’t a more courageous, nobler person on Krynn. What’s got you is that she just saved your hide. And you can’t handle that!’
Derek’s face flushed dark in the torchlight.
‘I need neither dwarves nor elves defending me—’ Derek began angrily when Laurana came running back, her eyes glittering.
‘As if there is not evil enough,’ she muttered through tight lips, ‘I find it brewing among my own kindred!’
‘What’s going on?’ asked Sturm.
‘The situation stands thus: There are now three races of elves living in Southern Ergoth—’
‘Three races?’ interrupted Tasslehoff, staring at Laurana with interest. ‘What’s the third race? Where’d they come from? Can I see them? I never heard—’
Laurana had had enough. ‘Tas,’ she said, her voice taut. ‘Go stay with Gilthanas. And ask Elistan to come here.’
‘But—’
Sturm gave the kender a shove. ‘Go!’ he ordered.
Wounded, Tasslehoff trailed off disconsolately to where Gilthanas still lay. The kender slumped down in the sand, pouting. Elistan patted him kindly as he went to join the others.
‘The Kaganesti, known as Wilder Elves in the Common tongue, are the third race,’ Laurana continued. ‘They fought with us during the Kinslayer wars. In return for their loyalty, Kith-Kanan gave them the mountains of Ergoth—this was before Qualinesti and Ergoth were split apart by the Cataclysm. I am not surprised you have never heard of the Wilder Elves. They are a secretive people and keep to themselves. Once called the Border Elves, they are ferocious fighters and served Kith-Kanan well, but they have no love for cities. They mingled with Druids and learned their lore. They brought back the ways of the ancient elves. My people consider them barbarians—just as your people consider the Plainsmen barbaric.
‘Some months ago, when the Silvanesti were driven from their ancient homeland, they fled here, seeking permission of the Kaganesti to dwell in Ergoth temporarily. Then came my people, the Qualinesti, from across the sea. And so they met, at last, kindred who had been separated for hundreds of years.’
‘I fail to see the relevance—’ Derek interrupted.
‘You will,’ she said, drawing a deep breath. ‘For your lives depend upon understanding what is happening on this sad isle.’ Her voice broke. Elistan moved near her and put his arm around her comfortingly.
‘All started out peacefully enough. After all, the two exiled cousins had much in common—both driven from their beloved homelands by the evil in the world. They established homes upon the Isle—the Silvanesti upon the western shore, the Qualinesti upon the eastern, separated by a strait known as Thon-Tsalarian, which means the “River of the Dead” in Kaganesti. The Kaganesti live in the hill country north of the river.
‘For a time, there was even some attempt to establish friendships between the Silvanesti and the Qualinesti. And that is where the trouble began. For these elves could not meet, even after hundreds of years, without the old hatreds and misunderstandings beginning to surface.’ Laurana closed her eyes a moment. ‘The River of the Dead could very well be known as Thon-Tsalaroth—“River of Death.”’
‘There now, lass,’ Flint said, touching her hand. ‘The dwarves have known it, too. You saw the way I was treated in Thorbardin—a hill dwarf among mountain dwarves. Of all the hatreds, the ones between families are the cruelest.’
‘There has been no killing yet, but so shocked were the elders at the thought of what might happen—elves killing their own kindred—that they decreed no one may cross the straits on penalty of arrest,’ Laurana continued. ‘And this is where we stand. Neither side trusts the other. There have even been charges of selling out to the Dragon Highlords! Spies have been captured on both sides.’
‘That explains why they attacked us,’ Elistan murmured.
‘What about the Kag—Kag—’ Sturm stammered over the unfamiliar elven word.
‘Kaganesti.’ Laurana sighed wearily. ‘They, who allowed us to share their homeland, have been treated worst of all. The Kaganesti have always been poor in material wealth. Poor, by our standards, though not by theirs. They live in the forests and mountains, taking what they need from the land. They are gatherers, hunters. They raise no crops, they forge no metal. When we arrived, our people appeared rich to them with our golden jewelry and steel weapons. Many of their young people came to the Qualinesti and the Silvanesti, seeking to learn the secrets of making shining gold and silver—and steel.’
Laurana bit her lip, her face hardened. ‘I say it to my shame, that my people have taken advantage of the Wilder Elves’ poverty. The Kaganesti work as slaves among us. And, because of that, the Kaganesti elders grow more savage and warlike as they see their young people taken away and their old way of life threatened.’
‘Laurana!’ called Tasslehoff.
She turned. ‘Look,’ she said to Elistan softly. ‘There is one of them now.’ The cleric followed her gaze to see a lithe young woman—at least he supposed it was a young woman by the long hair; she was dressed in male clothing—kneel down beside Gilthanas and stroke his forehead. The elflord stirred at her touch, groaning in pain. The Kaganesti reached into a pouch at her side and began busily to mix something in a small clay cup.
‘What is she doing?’ Elistan asked.
‘She is apparently the “healer” they sent for,’ Laurana said, watching the girl closely. ‘The Kaganesti are noted for their Druidic skills.’
Wilder elf was a suitable name, Elistan decided, studying the girl intently. He had certainly never seen any intelligent being on Krynn quite so wild-looking. She was dressed in leather breeches tucked into leather boots. A shirt, obviously cast off by some elflord, hung from her shoulders. She was pale and too thin, undernourished. Her matted hair was so filthy it was impossible to distinguish its color. But the hand that touched Gilthanas was slender and shapely. Concern and compassion for him was apparent in her gentle face.
‘Well,’ Sturm said, ‘what are we to do in the midst of all this?’
‘The Silvanesti have agreed to escort us to my people,’ Laurana said, her face flushing. Evidently this had been a point of bitter contention. ‘At first they insisted that we go to their elders, but I said I would go nowhere without first bidding my father greeting and discussing the matter with him. There wasn’t much they could say to that.’ Laurana smiled slightly, though there was a touch of bitterness in her voice. ‘Among all the kindred, a daughter is bound to her father’s house until she comes of age. Keeping me here, against my will, would be viewed as kidnapping and would cause open hostility. Neither side is ready for that.’
‘They are letting us go, though they know we have the dragon orb?’ Derek asked in astonishment.
‘They are not letting us go,’ Laurana said sharply. ‘I said they are escorting us to my people.’
‘But there is a Solamnic outpost to the north,’ Derek argued. ‘We could get a ship there to take us to Sancrist—’
‘You would never live to reach those trees if you tried to escape,’ Flint said, sneezing violently.
‘He is right,’ Laurana said. ‘We must go to the Qualinesti and convince my father to help us get the orb to Sancrist.’ A small dark line appeared between her eyebrows which warned Sturm she didn’t believe that was going to be as easy as it sounded. ‘And now, we’ve been talking long enough. They gave me leave to explain things to you, but they’re getting restless to go. I must see to Gilthanas. Are we agreed?’