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A hush fell across the men and women on horseback, and beyond. The noises on the other side of the wall fell away too. From the tower above them, at the highest point just visible above the wall, came an answering glow.

The lead knight looked up at that radiance, then back to the monk. Raidon saw the tension go out of her shoulders. Her eyes were suddenly wide with confusion. She raised her lance in a salute. “It seems you are expected by the Lady of the Moon,” she said, her voice now hushed.

“Who is the Lady of the Moon?” said Japheth, stepping forward.

“Each watchtower is under the command of a lady or a lord,” the lead knight said. “The Spire of the Moon answers to Lady Erunyauve.”

The ground seemed to drop away beneath Raidon’s feet. The air in his lungs didn’t seem to be enough to sustain him. Could it really be, after all that time?

Japheth glanced at the monk. “You know that name?” he asked.

Raidon swallowed. He tried to speak, coughed, then said, “Yes. Erunyauve is my mother’s name.”

Raidon walked in a daze. Images of his mother, as he remembered her, overlay reality. Part of him was sure it was all some kind of misunderstanding. How many eladrin took the name Erunyauve anyway?

He and Japheth were led past iron valves into a square-cut tunnel flagged with granite. The corridor pierced the outer wall, and was lit with flickering lamps. The knights preceded them into a wide courtyard surging with knights, mounts, ballistae, and steeds of various sorts, including several dozen griffons.

The central tower was the courtyard’s focus.

The Spire of the Moon, from a closer vantage, lost some of the slender elegance that distance lent it. The tower had been built up from lesser structures, one upon the next, over centuries. Roofs had become balconies for elevated watch posts, and foundations for higher walls, and basements the origin for yet deeper halls and armories cut into the earth. The congested construction thrust aloft the Spire, making it a citadel both high and wide. Slender walkways and curling stairways provided external access to various levels and galleries. At inconstant intervals, great lamps burned, spilling a silvery radiance down the spire’s side.

The knights directed the visitors to the tower’s entrance, which was flanked by sculptures of guardian unicorns.

Four eladrin in silver livery stood in the Spire’s entry hall.

“Greetings,” said one.

“We’re here to see Erunyauve,” said Raidon.

“Yes. But first, we are to show you to your rooms, so that you may take some rest from your journey.”

“What? No,” said Raidon. “I want to see Erunyauve.”

“All in good time.”

The monk narrowed his eyes.

Japheth put his hand on Raidon’s shoulder, and the monk realized that of all places, this was the place to show control. He sought his personal focus. Over slow heartbeats, his irritation fell away.

“Then I thank you, for we are travel weary,” said Raidon. “Please show us our accommodations. But also tell the Lady of the Moon that Raidon is anxious to see her, and that time is short.”

“She knows,” one of the eladrin said. “Now, follow me.”

Raidon’s room was high up on the tower’s side. It overlooked the keep, the darkling plain, and far beyond, the glimmering light of the Feywild.

Hot water was drawn for a bath. The monk called again on his focus for the timeless patience it could provide. Not all Xiang’s lessons had been martial.

As the steaming fluid sluiced down his head, cleansing the dirt of days from his hair and body, the tension washed away. His speculations on what was to soon occur smoothed away. His reunion with his vanished mother, whom he’d spent over a decade searching for and was likely the reason he became the man he was, was imminent.

That sufficed.

Raidon rose from his bath and dressed. He poured tea from a cunningly inscribed service left in the room. The flavor was nearly as good as his favorite variety, and that was saying something-West Lake Dragon Well was a gem of Faerun. The eladrin in the tower on the edge of everything obviously maintained a degree of contact with the world.

Someplace in the tower, a bell chimed.

A knock at Raidon’s door preceded the appearance of another silver-clad servant.

“It’s time,” she said.

Raidon nodded and followed.

“We go to the Court of the Moon,” said the eladrin.

They collected Japheth.

“Ready?” said the warlock.

Raidon said, “One hopes.”

They ascended more stairs, past closed doors, windows, and enigmatic statuary lit by candle sconces. Finally they came to a chamber high in the tower.

The room occupied the entire level. What seemed like Selune’s Tears glimmered upon the high ceiling, providing light more than bright enough to see by. A massive crystal throne occupied the chamber’s center, carved with subtle designs of moons, stars, leaves, and frolicking animals of the natural world. The designs seemed to swirl and move slowly across the crystal as if shadows of actual living creatures.

A woman sat on the throne with solemn grace, robed in emerald. A mantle of silver swathed her shoulders, and her hair was knotted with more braids and charms than Raidon could count. Her eyes were silver, and when they turned to regard him, he recognized them as his mother’s.

His breath hitched. Moisture filled the corners of his eyes.

Various knight commanders, courtiers, and other eladrin in the room parted to allow Raidon and Japheth room to approach.

“Welcome, my son,” said Erunyauve. Her voice was heart-breakingly familiar. “I’ve missed you. More than words can say, I’ve missed you.” She smiled, and the room grew lighter.

Raidon went to her.

The woman looked up at him and raised her arms, but did not rise. He bent and embraced her. Her flowery smell was a door, and a flood of recollections tumbled through. Tears blurred his vision, but a warmth kindled in his stomach that he hadn’t felt in years. It was the warmth of belonging. It was truly his mother before him.

“Why …?” said Raidon, but his throat constricted.

The woman took his hand and said, “I’m sorry I left you. Duty called, and … I couldn’t stay. It nearly tore me in two to leave you.”

Their embrace broke.

“Duty?” said Raidon, his voice hoarse. He regained a portion of his focus.

“Yes,” she said. “I had to choose. I chose to take up an obligation I’d long prepared for.” Tears pooled in Erunyauve’s eyes, shimmering silver.

“This place, I presume,” Raidon said, gesturing around the tower chamber.

She nodded. “I am one of the wardens of the Watch on Forever’s Edge,” she said. “I have been for decades-centuries even, at least according to the count of time in the world.”

“How did you ever come to Telflamm, to be with my father?” Raidon asked. “How was it that you, an eladrin warden of a place like this, and my father, a human; a Shou …?”

“I wasn’t to have assumed the mantle for many years,” his mother replied. “I traveled the world, and saw so many things.”

“That’s when you met my father?”

“Sometimes the heart leads us, not cold reason. He was the kindest of men. And, well … life’s tide washed over me.”

“Then you left us. You were ‘impelled’?”

“The warden of this tower died suddenly. I was his heir. The summons came to take my position on this unforgiving throne. I dithered long, because I knew if I left, I’d probably never see you, my son, ever again.” The woman cast her gaze down.

“You had no choice?”

“No, I had a choice. Some other could have taken this burden. But wardenship was what I’d spent my life preparing for. I couldn’t not accept it once it was offered, despite the awful timing.”

“Even though it meant leaving behind a child who would forever wonder what had become of his mother.” It wasn’t a question.