The Moon elf quickly brushed aside his unease. A moonblade, with its powerful and killing magic, was something to be feared and respected. This boy, however, was a mere stripling. Surely Montagor Amarillis was more than Kymil's match.
And so the two left for the Towers the next day, as Lady Nimesin had decreed. Kymil rode well, but he was strangely silent during the northward trip, with none of the questions or chatter that Montagor would have expected from a boy his age.
Finally the silence began to wear on Montagor. "I trained in the Towers myself, briefly," he said. "If there is anything you'd like to discuss, I'd be happy to oblige."
The boy slanted a look at him. "Thank you, no," he said politely. "I shall do fine."
"Have you friends at the Tower?" Montagor persisted. "I don't imagine there are many elves your age."
"There is at least one," Kymil said in a dark tone. He grimaced, as if even that terse remark was more than he had intended to say.
Montagor was intrigued. "I had not known that the Tower magi accepted children."
"From time to time, children are born to the Tower magi," the boy said matter-of-factly. "And sometimes a prodigy is accepted at an early age. Tanyl Evanara, a distant cousin of mine, is much my age and nearly my equal at arms and magic. We will learn together."
"Ah. And what use will you make of the magic you acquire?" the Moon elf asked in the patronizing tone often used toward the very young.
A hard smile played at the corner of the Gold elf's lips. "What would you say, Lord Amarillis, if I told you that I would use what I learn to do away with the travesty of a Moon elf royalty and restore the Elven Council?" he said softly. "Just for argument's sake, of course. Naturally, I would never attempt such a thing. No one but a fool would harbor such treasonous thoughts, or express them to the brother of the queen-not even considering that you yourself would profit from such a course of action. Amarillis will never hold the throne, but certainly you could become High Councilor were the Council restored. Again, just for argument's sake."
Montagor blinked, astonished by the levels of intrigue in the boy's words. He was being warned, courted, and threatened-all at once.
But even as he regarded the young elf, the sly hard look disappeared beneath the smooth golden mask of Kymil's handsome face.
A chill passed through Montagor, swiftly followed by a wave of bitter remorse for his part in delivering this child to the Towers. Whatever came of it, he would have a part. Kymil had implied as much.
Suddenly the Moon elf was less certain of his ability to control, or even to fathom, the ambitions of this Gold elf clan. But the spires of the Towers were now clearly visible to all in the escort party.
Come what may, it was too late to turn back now.
Several years passed before Montagor Amarillis was again summoned to the mansion of Lady Vashti Nimesin. He found the matron in a state of high excitement.
"It has begun," she said bluntly. "The first of the Gray elf pretenders to the throne has been slain. And you, my friend, have made it possible!"
Montagor stared at the Gold elf. "Zaor is dead?"
Vashti laughed scornfully. "Not even your sister could get close enough to the king to accomplish that wonder! No, I speak of Zaor's daughter."
"My sister the queen has no children," the Moon elf said, his brow furrowed in puzzlement.
"As all Evermeet well knows!" sneered Lady Vashti. "Amarillis blood is running thin-the best you can offer these days is a barren queen. No, Zaor has a bastard, and by the Lady of the Towers, no less!"
"Amlaruil Moonflower has a child?" Montagor demanded. "And you are certain that it is Zaor's?"
"Oh, yes. I suspected that she was breeding when I saw her at the kingmaking. At the time, I assumed that it was some festival-got brat, or the result of climbing to her high office by currying Jannalor Nierde's favor-on her back," Lady Vashti said crudely. "But I made it my business to trace the wench's footsteps back. She and Zaor were together at the right time. There are magics that can determine a child's sire…"
She cast a sly look at the appalled Moon elf. "Why do you suppose I was so eager to place my son in the Towers? It was not from a desire to have him learn magic at the foot of a Gray elf, I assure you!"
"Kymil has slain Amlaruil's daughter," Montagor repeated in a dazed voice.
"Well, it appears that this elf can be taught," the Nimesin matron said with heavy sarcasm. "Ilyrana Moonflower is dead, or soon to be. It seems she fancies herself a priestess rather than a mage. She left the Towers to travel to Corellon's Grove as if it were some sacred pilgrimage. Kymil sent me word of this. Which brings us to your part in the matter."
"I will have no part of this!" Montagor said.
"An admirable sentiment, but a bit late in coming," Lady Vashti said dryly. "When you escorted Kymil to the Towers, he told you quite plainly of his intent. He said that you made no move to dissuade him or to disagree. We took your silence as assent, as will any who might hear of this matter now. Speak of it, and you will only condemn yourself."
The Moon elf slumped in his chair, defeated. "What must I do?"
Vashti Nimesin smiled coldly. "Many days will pass before Ilyrana is missed. By then, the poison which sent her into confused slumber will have run its course. It will be assumed that she, who has never been out of the Towers, simply lost her way in the forest and perished. Although it is unlikely that dark intent will be suspected, you will provide Kymil with a safeguard story. He left the Towers the day before Ilyrana departed. If any question is raised, you will say that he was hunting at your villa in the Eagle Hills, as your invited guest."
Montagor's thoughts whirled as he worked his way through this puzzle. All his life he had lived with the small intrigues, the endless positioning for power and influence, but never had he suspected that one elf would willingly slay another for gain. He wanted no part in any of it, yet he feared he was as firmly enmeshed as Lady Vashti claimed.
And yet, what would he lose if the Nimesin elves succeeded? Surely the Gold elf would not be content with killing Zaor's daughter. Lydi'aleera would be the next to go-perhaps Lady Nimesin would even require Montagor's hand in the matter! And for all that, what would keep her from eliminating the claimants of clan Amarillis, once the Moonflower elves were removed? No, this was not a path that Montagor could safely tread. He must set Lady Nimesin's foot upon another.
"I fear that this matter has gone beyond the simple remedy you suggest," Montagor said gravely. "As you know, my sister the queen has yet to bear an heir to the throne. You were not the only one to notice the looks that passed between Zaor and Amlaruil Moonflower during his king-making, or to search for possible by-blows of the king."
"What are you saying?" the elf woman demanded.
"Lydi'aleera knows that Amlaruil's daughter is Zaor's heir, and she has already taken steps to have the child brought to the palace for fosterage. Therein lies the problem. The death of a novice priestess might be mistaken as an accident; the death of a secret heir to the throne would certainly attract more scrutiny than either you or I could bear."
"How is this possible? You were surprised to hear of Amlaruil's child!"
Montagor spread his hands. "Forgive me for my prevarication, my lady. I had to feign ignorance, the better to learn the full extent of your knowledge. This is a delicate matter, and I'm sure you can understand."
"Has Lydi'aleera approached the king yet? Has he knowledge of this child?"