“May you live forever, Lord General!”
That cry was repeated by many throats. Balif surveyed the onlookers.
“Do not let your affection for me lead you to say things you may regret,” he said severely. “Save your hails for him who sits on the Throne of the Stars.”
“Better that you sat there!”
From where she stood, Mathi saw two reactions: the captain of the guard glowered under his ornate helmet, and Balif went pale. Without another word, he strode back to the head of the procession.
“Forward,” he said in a low voice to Treskan, busily writing. “And you, girl. Do not look around or say anything.” Mathi nodded. “At a walk, then.”
Down the Sunpath they went, trailed by the ever-growing crowd. Passing the grounds of the temple of Astarin, a troupe of pipers formed on the green came down. The musicians were young acolytes of the temple, dressed in green robes and bare headed, as befit their status as new servants of the god. They fell into place ahead of Balif, playing a light marching air. Mathi could not tell if the general was at all pleased. Wasn’t it Balif’s intention to draw notice? Why else take such a conspicuous route to the Tower of the Stars? Why walk down the center of a busy street?
It didn’t take long for her to imagine a reason: If I thought I was going to be arrested or killed, I would want a large, friendly crowd at my back too!
By the time they reached the Star Way, more than a thousand elves filled the boulevard. The pipers struck up an ancient air, “Sun and Stars,” and the crowd began to sing. Their voices made the hair on Mathi’s neck prickle. She had never heard such harmonious singing before. That was the magic of Silvanost, the city that rural elves believed was inhabited by the gods.
Since the procession was hardly stealthy, word of Balif’s progress reached the Tower of the Stars well in advance of the general. Everyone could see the bright white pinnacle ahead, the tallest tower in the city. What no one saw until they rounded the wide, circular lane was a phalanx of royal troops drawn up before the tower gate. Ranged behind them were two companies of cavalry. Overhead, griffon riders circled. Quite a few griffon riders, in fact.
The massed might, arrayed in perfect formation, caused the pipers leading the parade to falter. Their pipes fell raggedly silent when their lips dried. The divine chorus behind Mathi likewise sputtered and fell dumb. Everyone stopped and stared at the Speaker’s power, so openly displayed. All, that was, but one.
Balif shouldered through the Astarin acolytes, politely excusing himself as he went. Mathi and Treskan were lost in the press until the general called out to them to follow. Feeling a bit like a rabbit racing by a dog pen, Mathi hurried to catch up.
At the head of the troops lined up before the Tower of the Stars was a familiar face. Balif hailed his old comrade Farolenu, commanding the tower guard.
“My lord!” said Farolenu, once a master metalsmith. “I was ordered to defend the tower against a riot. Instead I find you leading a festival parade!”
Balif said, “Just a few well-wishers, old friend.”
Farolenu raised his sword in salute. “Face the honor!” he cried. The commander of all elf armies was present, and the warriors had to pay homage. Blades and spears rose skyward.
In response the crowd of Silvanesti chanted, “Balif, Balif,” in two long syllables like “Bay leaf, Bay leaf,” a pronunciation the general particularly disliked. Lofotan had advised Mathi that he preferred his name be pronounced “Bah-liff,” with the emphasis on the second syllable.
The captain of the guard led his honor troop forward. They had to break ranks and filter through the crowd, a path they plainly resented. Mathi and the scribe came with them, filling in behind Balif like mismatched shadows.
“The Great Speaker awaits,” Farolenu said, stepping aside. Balif mounted the shallow steps to the tower. The guard captain tried to restrain Treskan and Mathi from following.
Balif said, “Let them be.”
“The scribe perhaps, but a common girl cannot be admitted to the presence of the Speaker of the Stars!”
“I am of common birth. The fact that everyone calls me ‘my lord’ doesn’t change that. So either admit us both or deny us both. Do as you will, but do it in haste. The sun grows hot and my friends restive.”
Thinking of the crowd at his back, the captain relented. “On your responsibility, my lord,” he said grudgingly.
Balif went on. Very quietly he told Mathi and Treskan to stay three steps behind him and say nothing. Tingling with anticipation, the girl and the scribe readily agreed.
They climbed the steps between the enormous curled rails flanking the entrance. Made of white metal, they were brilliantly polished. Sunlight reflecting off them was almost painful. Treskan fell six steps behind when he strayed to get a closer look at the ornamentation. Without looking back, Balif urged him onward.
“Those are solid electrum,” he said. An alloy of gold and silver, the metal was notoriously difficult to work. The entwined forms were curled as naturally as shoots of honeysuckle but made of hard metal six inches thick.
They passed out of the bright sun into a cool antechamber. Farolenu and the guard captain were close behind. When Balif disappeared into the tower, another shout rose from the crowd. Mathi was close enough to the general to see his enigmatic expression. He might have been smiling, but his brow was deeply furrowed. Balif walked ahead, hands clasped behind his back and head lowered. Corridors passed by on either side. Court officials and favor seekers, looking cool and vastly self-important, lingered in the side halls, awaiting their chance to gain the Speaker’s ear. They stared at the elves who had the audacity-and influence-to walk directly into the monarch’s presence. For the first time, Mathi felt truly worried. Could she really stand before the Speaker of the Stars?
The arched passage opened abruptly into a great open area, the hall of the Tower of the Stars. The scale of the place diminished everyone. Mathi looked up and saw that the awesome height of the tower was lined with a spiral row of windows reaching all the way to the domed roof. The tower walls were faced with black basalt. The only light came from an open skylight, the Moonlight Shaft, at the very peak of the dome. There were two rows of galleries above the hall, capacious enough to hold the assembled lords of the realm if need be.
Amazing as the tower was, the floor was positively breathtaking. The floor of the great hall was covered with the finest mosaic Mathi had ever seen. Thousands of pieces of polished black jet were laid out to mimic the sky. Stars rendered in gold or silver dotted the floor in exactly the positions occupied by their heavenly counterparts. Most astonishing of all, tracks allowed models of the three moons to travel around the floor. A hidden mechanism under the floor kept them moving in the same place as the moons in Krynn’s sky. The floor of the Tower of the Stars was a giant orrery, an astronomical device by which the seasons could be tracked and the days of the year numbered. Such a complex mechanism was no less magical to Mathi than the invisible spells she knew protected the place.
Balif approached to where the orbit of Solinari crossed the floor. There he stopped. He went down on one knee, facing the throne.
“Great Speaker, I have come.”
Mathi raised her eyes from the amazing instrument at her feet. Silvanos Goldeneye looked down at them from his throne atop a two-level dais. Lined up on the lower level were five solemn figures, richly dressed and wearing silver-star headbands. They were the Speaker’s counselors, heads of the five noblest families in Silvanost. On the second level, at the Speaker’s right, were the high priests of the major temples-Astarin, E’li, Matheri, Quenesti Pah, and the Blue Phoenix. Standing at Silvanos’s left were two females. One was young and very beautiful. The other was older, quite handsome, but more modestly dressed than the other. Mathi assumed the elder female must be the Speaker’s wife, and the younger, his daughter.