"Lady Chicken-legs," Zhoron improvised, setting the twins off in another bout of giggles. "That one ought to wear longer bloomers, I'd say!"
"Dances like a chicken, too, she does," Xharlion said. He tucked his hands high up on his sides, flapping his elbows like wings as he minced through the first steps of a roundelay. His small face was set in an eerily precise imitation of Lady Chichlandra's tight, prissy smile.
At last Amlaruil succumbed to a chuckle, which earned her a pair of identical, conspiratorial grins.
"Do not think for a moment that I approve," she cautioned the boys. "Whatever your opinion of Lady Chichlandra's dancing-or her legs, for that matter-you need to show her proper respect. Terrifying and embarrassing your hostess is not the sort of behavior I expect from you."
The genuine disappointment in her voice finally pierced the twins' high spirits. They mumbled apologies, and when Amlaruil dismissed them, they actually walked from the room and down the hall that led to the garden, rather than bolting headlong through the open window as was their usual custom. In moments, however, they had found wooden swords and were bashing at each other with great gusto, emitting battle whoops lusty enough to give pause to a well-armed ogre.
Amlaruil sighed as she watched the boys at play. "My work in the Towers keeps me from them far too much."
"They are being well taught here, lady," Rennyn Aelorothi assured her, coming from the shadows to stand beside the mage. The Gold elf was a frequent visitor to Craulnober Keep, and he had come to look upon the twins as his personal charges. "There is no finer swordmaster than Elanjar Craulnober on all of Evermeet."
The mage turned to smile at Rennyn. "Why, I never thought to hear such sentiments from you concerning any Silver elf!" she teased him.
Rennyn responded with a shrug. "I have seen much in the last ten years. Things are not so simple as I once thought them, nor are the Gold elves quite the paragons we like to think ourselves. There are elven cultures that, although very different from that of Evermeet, are worthy of respect."
"So you said, earlier. Tell me more about the elves of the Moonshaes," she prompted, knowing that her young advisor was eager to speak more on the matter, having recently returned from a trip to these islands.
"They are fierce fighters and fine riders-on horseback, they are as nimble as centaurs," Rennyn began, speaking with great enthusiasm. "Their magic is different from ours, too, and very much a part of the land. Even an elf would have a difficult time finding their valley, for it is hidden from common view by magic." He paused. "In fact, this sheltered valley might be the very place for restless young princes to begin exploring the world."
Amlaruil nodded thoughtfully as she watched the warring twins. Their play had progressed from sheer exuberance to fierce competition. As she watched, they threw aside their swords and leaped at each other. They fell together, rolling and pummeling as they went at it with fists and feet. Fortunately for Amlaruil's peace of mind, it appeared that the twins were dealing far more damage to Lady Craulnober's flower beds than to each other.
"They are too like their father in that they will need to find or form kingdoms of their own," she mused. "I fear there is little future for them here on Evermeet, since Ilyrana seems destined to rule."
"The Sonorian Valley may have need of such warriors as Xharlion and Zhoron will become," Rennyn said. "The elves are secure enough now, but I fear for them as humans become more numerous on the island. Perhaps the presence of the young princes will help persuade the elves to set up a gate between Evermeet and their valley."
"A fine idea," she commended him. "You have done well, Rennyn, in forming ties with other elven settlements, and in training the Ahmaquissar elves to follow your example."
The elf bowed. "I thank you for your words, my lady. They remind me, however, of my fear that we will soon lose the services of one of our agents. Nevarth Ahmaquissar."
"Oh?"
"He wishes to remain in the High Forest, in the company of a young elf woman."
"Ah." Amlaruil nodded in sympathy, even if she found the image hard to conjure. Nevarth was a roguish, carefree elf who changed ladyloves with a frequency that rivaled that of the new moons. "You have met this girl?"
A troubled look crossed Rennyn's face. "I have. She is very beautiful, and very bewitching. I suppose I can see why Nevarth is taken with her."
The mage heard and understood her agent's hesitation. Though she knew full well the power of young love, she also knew that Nevarth had trained long and hard to win his place among the High Mage's advisors. He would not lightly cast it aside.
"Perhaps I should summon him home, and try to learn more about his intentions."
"That would be wise. If you please, lady, I would as soon not be present when you speak to him." Rennyn paused, and again he looked disturbed. "He would not thank me for speaking against his ladylove. He is very jealous of her, and has already accused me of trying to come between them, thus to win her favors for myself."
Amlaruil frowned. That was very unlike Nevarth. He was sounding less and less like an elf enamored, and more like one ensorcelled. "I will speak to him now through the elfrune he carries. Go then, Rennyn, and I promise you I shall be discrete about my source of information."
The Gold elf bowed and left the room. As soon as she was alone, Amlaruil touched the ring on her small finger and spoke her agent's name, followed by an arcane phrase.
A few moments passed before Nevarth answered. His voice sounded unusually distracted, even impatient. Amlaruil, her concern increasing by the moment, insisted that he meet her at once, at the small lodge near the Lake of Dreams that the Grand Mage and her agents often used for such meetings.
When the light from her ring faded, along with Nevarth's reluctant assurances, Amlaruil gathered up her skirts and ran out into the garden that had become the boys' impromptu battlefield. There was but time for a quick embrace and a brief admonition concerning future behavior before her duties took her, once again, from those she loved.
"Why must you go?"
Nevarth Ahmaquissar stopped tugging on his boots long enough to cast a wistful glance at the elf woman curled up among the silken pillows of their shared bed. Even newly awakened, she was stunning-the most beautiful Moon elf he had ever seen. Her masses of night-black hair were still tousled from his touch, and the skin of her lithe, naked body was the rich, pale color of new cream. As if sensing a momentary weakness, Araushnee pouted prettily, then patted the cushions in renewed invitation.
"What is this Amlaruil to you? You do not rush so when I call you," she said in a voice that reminded Nevarth simultaneously of feywine and dark velvet.
"Rush?" The elf grinned. "Never that! You are meant to be savored, my love."
"Yet you are leaving me."
"Only for a while," he said in soothing tones. "I have business on Evermeet, and then I will return. And when I do, I need never leave again."
"Pretty words!" scoffed Araushnee. "How many elf maidens have heard the famed minstrel Nevarth sing that song?"
The elf caught one of her hands and raised it to his lips. "My heart is yours alone," he said, speaking with a simple dignity that was very unlike his accustomed banter. "You know this to be true."
Araushnee lifted her other hand and smoothed a finger over the ring Nevarth wore on the small finger of his hand. "Then give me a token to keep until you return. This ring."