"Araevin!" a deep, gravelly voice called across the room.
Araevin turned to see a tall, square-shouldered human with a deeply weathered face, a gray goatee, and a close-cropped fringe of iron-gray hair rising to hail him, dressed in a simple cassock of red. He did not recognize the fellow, and opened his mouth to request an introduction-then he realized with a shock that it was Grayth Holmfast.
The human's dark hair had gone silver-gray and retreated sharply above his brow, and his powerful, athletic build had grown lean and spare. The Lathanderite priest caught him up in a powerful embrace before Araevin recovered from his astonishment, and thumped his back with blows that might have staggered the elf mage if he hadn't been held up.
"Araevin Teshurr, as I live and breathe! It's been damned near twenty years, old friend. Where have you been keeping yourself?"
Twenty years? Araevin thought, confused. Surely it had not been that long… but when he thought on it, he'd last traveled in Faerun in the Year of the Worm, 1356 by Dalereckoning, so that would make it eighteen years.
"Evermeet," he answered. "I've continued my studies at home since I left." He rallied and returned Grayth's embrace, pounding the cleric on his back. "It's good to see you, Grayth!"
The human cleric stepped back and studied Araevin from head to toe.
"Amazing," he said. "Time touches you so lightly. You have not changed a bit, my friend."
Araevin replied, "I forget how different it is with us."
Grayth barked laughter and said, "That's one way to say that the years have been hard on me!" He gestured at his receding hairline. "The hair began retreating ten years ago. Oddly enough, it's started to sprout on my back instead. So, who's your friend?"
A wave of distress crossed Ilsevele's face at the last remark, but she bravely set it aside and thrust out her hand in the human fashion. Her Common was a little awkward, and her voice lilted musically.
"I am Ilsevele Miritar, daughter of Lord Seiveril Miritar. I am Araevin's betrothed. It is a pleasure to meet you, sir."
"Grayth, please! The pleasure is mine, fair lady. And welcome to Faerun. Unless I miss my guess, you haven't spent much time away from Evermeet."
Ilsevele shot a glance at Araevin, her surprise showing, and said, "Is it that obvious?"
"No, it's not," Araevin replied with a smile. "Grayth will never admit it, but he sees more in a glance than most people, human or elf, notice in an hour. Don't play cards with him."
"If you'll join us, I'll have some food and wine sent over, and we can trade tales of old adventures," Grayth said. "I noticed a number of mice in the stables, if your little falcon's feeling hungry."
"Whyllwyst died eight years ago," Araevin said. "I have no familiar now."
Grayth looked up and said with a grimace, "I know that's hard on a wizard, Araevin. I'm sorry. Come, we'll speak of lighter things."
The cleric motioned the two sun elves to a sturdy wooden table and bench, and sat down opposite them.
Another man was waiting for them, a strapping young fellow with sandy-blond hair and wide blue eyes. He was dressed like Grayth in the cassock of a priest of Lathand-er, but his robes were orange and yellow, and the emblem on his tunic was a simple half-disc of white.
"This is Brant Rethalshield," Grayth said, "an aspirant to the Order of the Aster, the knights templar of the Morninglord's faith. He is my squire. Brant, this is Araevin Teshurr and Lady Ilsevele Miritar."
Araevin took the young man's hand, noticing the well-worn calluses of a swordsman.
"A pleasure to meet you, Brant," he said.
The young fellow returned his handclasp and said, "And you, sir. The High Mornmaster has told me many stories of his adventures in your company."
"So you've simply been studying your spellbooks back on Evermeet all this time?" Grayth asked.
"I've found a few things to busy myself with, but I haven't been back to Faerun since the Year of the Worm."
Araevin studied Grayth's accoutrements and added, "I see you have risen in Lathander's church in the last eighteen years. What of you? How are you faring? Have you heard from others of the company?"
"I am well enough, as you can see. I traveled a few more years after we parted. In fact, I rode all the way to Thesk in King Azoun's crusade against the Tuigan Horde, but my superiors in the order kept asking me to take on more and more responsibility. So for some time now I have devoted myself to serving in the Morninglord's temples, as I have been called to do." A brief shadow flickered across the human's face. "I settled down and was even married for a time, but no longer. I have two fine sons, though-ten and seven. They live with their mother. I visit them whenever I can."
"I hope I get the chance to meet them someday," Araevin said, though his heart wasn't in it.
He had always felt a little odd around human children. A long time ago, when he'd been only a hundred or so, he'd struck up quite a friendship with a little girl named Senda, the daughter of a human merchant he dealt with in his travels. She'd lived to seventy years of age… and she'd been dead already for longer than she'd lived. Yet still he remembered a tiny slip of a girl with long curls of golden hair and eyes that danced with mischief when she laughed at his pointed ears. He might well live to see Grayth's sons, and their sons and grandsons too, pass from the world. Araevin felt his eyes growing damp and quickly changed the topic.
"What of the others?"
"Darthen's done well for himself. He's the lord of a small hold near Scornubel, with a lovely wife and a whole tower-full of children. I spoke with him after receiving your message. He will not come, Araevin." Grayth sighed and continued, "He said that his duties did not permit him to respond, but that you could come to him for anything you needed, and he would do his best. He also told me to tell you to make sure to visit him, if you'll be staying in Faerun for any time."
"I hope to do that," Araevin replied, concealing his disappointment. The Company of the White Star had parted with an agreement to come together if called, but none of them were sworn to it. If he needed Darthen badly enough, he might try to change his old comrade's mind, but it sounded as if the human knight had responsibilities he could not easily lay aside. "He would have come if he could have, I suppose. What of Belmora?"
Grayth sighed again, then said, "Belmora is dead. She went back to her clan-hold in the North, and I understand that she died in battle against an orc warband."
Araevin bowed his head. He'd always liked Belmora, even though she was irascible, stubborn, and every bit as abrasive as dwarves were supposed to be. The news didn't surprise him, really. The redoubtable dwarf priestess had always spoken of returning to her mountain home to drive away the orc tribes.
"She was a stout companion," he said. "Her heart was true and strong. What about Theleda?"
"I have not heard from her for ten years now, I guess." The human shrugged and said, "She lived in Waterdeep for a time, living well off the treasure we garnered back in our day. She owned a tavern, and provisioned caravans and merchant ships on the side. I suspect that one of the guilds ran her out of town."
"It doesn't seem likely that she will show up, then."
Araevin leaned back against the wall and sighed. Out of the four companions he had parted with in that very inn eighteen years past, only one had answered his call. One dead, one missing, and one simply unable or unwilling to come.
I waited too long, he realized. Of course I thought nothing of leaving them behind me for twenty years, but humans don't make light of such a span, do they?
"Grayth," Araevin said, "thank you for answering."
The Lathanderite waved his hand and replied, "I live in Waterdeep. It's only a couple of days up the road, so it wasn't any trouble to make the journey. Besides, I've been looking for an excuse to get out of the temple for some time, I think."