“Don’t like my ears?” he teased. “I don’t have the slightest problem with yours—though it’s almost impossible to see them under all of those curls.”
She shook her head. He was referring to the fact that she was a Kagonesti, and he was a Qualinesti—quite a bit taller and paler, almost aristocratic, in comparison with the wild elves. Historically, the disparate races of elves did not see eye to eye, though that was starting to change under the tyranny of the dragon overlords. Qualinesti, Kagonesti, and Silvanesti were banding together in some lands. One such colony was on the southern shore of Southern Ergoth.
“Your ears ” she laughed softly. “No, it’s not that at all.” She paused. “Dhamon had blond hair, and he used to tie it back like that, too.”
Gilthanas gave her a sympathetic look. “I heard a lot about him from the others on the ship. A former Knight of Takhisis, but a good man from what I understand. I take it you were close.”
“We were trying to be. Fate just wouldn’t give us a chance.” Feril took a deep breath, turning her tanned face toward the sky. “Wouldn’t have worked out anyway. He was human.”
“Something wrong with being human?” Gilthanas asked just loud enough so that Palin and his son, walking a few paces ahead, could hear. Both Majeres glanced over their shoulders, and Gilthanas grinned mischievously at Feril. Ulin scowled, shook his head.
The Kagonesti blushed, offering Palin and his son a weak smile. “There’s nothing wrong with humans. I like humans—truly.” Softer, once the Majeres had turned around to continue following their guides, she added, “But they’re not like us. Their life spans are so short, burning out like stubby candles. They look at things differently. They like cities; I prefer the wilderness. They’re better off with their own kind. Things wouldn’t have worked out between Dhamon and me. And there’s no point in thinking about it now—he’s dead.”
“Decades ago I thought like you,” Gilthanas said. “I was younger, definitely more foolish, and I almost cost my sister Laurana her happiness. I doubt she would have ever forgiven me of my ignorance.”
“Laurana fell in love with a human?”
“Yes, a half-elven man named Tanthalas”
“Tanis Half-Elven” Feril said excitedly. “I’ve heard of him. He was a hero with Caramon and Raistlin, and he died before the Chaos War. I don’t know much more, though.”
“His mother died giving birth to him, and my family took him in. He was a playmate, a confidant. But he was different, tainted I used to think, not as good as the Qualinesti, and certainly not good enough for my sister. She was infatuated with him from the beginning. One day when they were playing together, she made him promise that they would marry when they were older. He thought it was a jest and I heard him promise, felt the blood pounding in my ears. I realized it was no game to my dear sister; she wasn’t kidding. I drew Tanis aside, intent on keeping my family’s pure elven heritage alive. I threatened him, I guess. I most certainly threw our friendship out the window by calling him a half-breed unworthy of my sister.”
Tanis left and my sister was heartbroken. I was very pleased with myself, so happy that I’d saved her—until he came back a few years later. Laurana pursued him again, with more of a passion than ever. But Tanis was wise enough to heed my words. He kept his distance, and 1 kept my eyes on him.”
“So, they never got together?” Feril asked quietly.
“During the War of the Lance, fate took all of us to Icewall, then up to Southern Ergoth, your home. The three races living there—your people, mine, and the Silvanesti—were at odds. Though they lived side by side, they weren’t civil to each other. And it opened my eyes. You see, I fell in love with a Kagonesti. Being with her made me realize that elves are elves, and the names and happenstances of birth are irrelevant. It’s what’s inside a person that counts. The shell isn’t what matters.”
“Where is she now? What happened to her?”
“I pledged my love to her, fell so deeply that she became my entire world, and all thoughts of Laurana and Tanis were pushed aside. But then,” Gilthanas said, pausing to stroke his chin, “she showed me her true nature. She wasn’t a Kagonesti after all, and I turned away.”
“Her true nature?”
“I felt betrayed. She wasn’t who she claimed, what she claimed. She hadn’t been honest with me. I thought I knew her, but I didn’t know her at all. I felt that she’d tricked me, made a mockery of my feelings. I was no longer willing to trust her or to accept her. I refused to acknowledge my feelings for her. Then, I disappeared. Disappeared? Ha!”
“That’s when you were imprisoned?”
“Yes, by the Silvanesti. Spending years alone in that cell made me think about my life, my very haughty life. My own people gave me over to the Silvanesti. First, I focused on Tanis being not good enough for my sister. Thank the gods, the two were finally married. Then, I fixated on Verminaard. He killed my people, and I vowed vengeance, no matter what. Next, I was obsessed with Silvara. I loved her deeply, then rejected her just as passionately. I later realized I should have given her a chance, our love a chance. When I finally escaped from the prison, I began to travel all of Ansalon in search of her. Ultimately, I was betrayed again by elves and wound up in the prison where you and I met.”
“Maybe you could still find her”
“Maybe,” Gilthanas said, so softly that Feril had to strain to hear him. “How petty I was. And how entirely unworthy of her. Race has nothing to do with love, Feril.”
The Kagonesti studied his face for a few moments, and considered asking him more about Silvara. Gilthanas stared straight ahead. Feril looked down. “Dhamon and I never had enough time together,” she said quietly.
Gilthanas remained silent for a while. The thin woman and the red-haired youth led the small entourage through Witdel. The city was for the most part impoverished. At one time it had been prosperous, but it had gone through hard times, starting with the Chaos War. Most of the buildings were made of wood, and they were weathered from neglect and the ravages of the sea — paint was peeling, doors hung a little off-center. Business signs were crude, some with paint chipping so badly that they couldn’t be read.
However, a few establishments seemed to be faring better. A small boardinghouse two blocks from the docks was in better shape than most. Flowers bloomed in baskets hanging from the porch, and the trim around the windows looked newly painted. Nearby, a store that catered to fishermen and hunters was in the process of being renovated and expanded.
The thin woman glanced at her reflection in the window of a cobbler’s shop, frowning at her disheveled appearance. She didn’t walk very fast, exhausted from her ordeal as a prisoner of the Knights of Takhisis, but her stride was a determined one. “You can’t free them all, can you?” she asked Palin. “I mean, the Knights of Takhisis are probably taking prisoners in other cities, too. And you can’t save all of them”
Palin didn’t answer, didn’t think she really expected one.
“Even saving one person is important,” Gilthanas interjected. “Nobody should be a slave to the knights.”
The Qualinesti knew what it was like to be held captive. Gilthanas had been a prisoner for more than ten years at the hands of the Silvanesti. Second in line for the throne, his confinement had been a matter of political expedience. It was a short time in the life of an elf, but hardly a pleasant experience. And then he’d fallen afoul of a band of Knights of Takhisis and was again taken captive. He was grateful to Palin, Rig, Blister, and Feril for being rescued.