“Rest assured, O Exalted One, I have taken all this into consideration.”
“Truly?”
“Yes, My Liege.”
“And what is your intent, Count?”
The count glanced at the slaves and the valet. He leaned down, whispered into His Radiant Majesty’s perfumed ear.
Agah’ran stared, confounded, at his minister, for a moment. Then a slow smile spread over the lips that were touched with ground coral. The emperor was aware of his minister’s intelligence, just as his minister was aware that his emperor—despite appearances—was no fool.
“We approve, Count. You will make the arrangements?”
“Consider them made, Your Imperial Majesty.”
“What will you tell the boy? He will be eager to leave.” The count smiled. “I must admit, My Liege, it was the boy who suggested the plan.”
“The cunning little devil. Are all human children like this, Tretar?”
“I should not think so, O Exalted One, or the humans would have long ago defeated us.”
“Yes, well, this one bears watching. Keep your eye on him, Tretar. We should love to hear further details, but some other time.” Agah’ran passed his hand weakly over his brow. “The headache grows severe.”
“Your Radiance suffers much for his people,” said Tretar, with a low bow.
“We know, Tretar. We know.” Agah’ran heaved a pain-filled sigh. “And they do not appreciate it.”
“On the contrary, they adore you, My Liege. Attend to His Majesty,” Tretar ordered, snapping his fingers.
The valet de chambre leapt to action. Slaves came running from all directions, bearing cold compresses, hot towels, warm wine, chilled water.
“Carry us to our bedchamber,” said Agah’ran faintly. The valet took over, marshaling the complicated procedure.
Count Tretar waited until he had seen the emperor lifted from the couch, placed among silken pillows on a gilded litter, and carried in a procession, moving at a coral grub’s pace (so as not to disturb the royal equilibrium) toward the bedchamber. Near the door, Agah’ran made a feeble gesture. Tretar, who had been watching closely, was instantly attentive.
“Yes, My Liege?”
“The boy has someone with him. A human freak, whose skin has turned blue.”
“Yes, Your Imperial Majesty,” answered Tretar, not thinking it necessary to explain. “So we have been informed.”
“What of him?”
“You have nothing to worry about, My Liege. I did hear it rumored that this man was one of the mysteriarchs. I questioned Captain Sang-drax about him, and according to the captain, this blue-skinned fellow is only the boy’s manservant.” Agah’ran nodded, lay back among the pillows, and closed the painted eyelids. The slaves bore him off. Tretar waited until certain he was no longer needed, then—smiling to himself in satisfaction—he went off to put the first steps of his plan into action.
21
King Stephen’s castle on the Isle of Providence was far different in appearance from his elven counterpart’s on Aristagon. The Imperanon was a vast collection of gracefully designed and elegant buildings, with spiraling towers and minarets decorated with tile mosaics, painted furbelows, and carved curlicues. King Stephen’s fortress was solid, massive, constructed on square lines; its grim, tooth-edged towers rose dark and unlovely into the smoke-colored sky. The difference in the stone could be seen in the flesh, so the saying went.
Night on the Imperanon was ablaze with flambeaux and candelabra. On Volkaran, lambent light from the Firmament glittered on the scaled skin of guard-dragons, perched atop the towers. Watch fires shone red in the twilight, lighting the way for returning dragon marauders and providing warmth for the human watchers, whose eyes ceaselessly scanned the skies for elven dragonships.
The fact that no elven dragonship had dared fly Volkaran’s skies for a long while did not make the watchers less vigilant. There were some, living in the town of Firstfall, which crowded close to the castle walls, who whispered that Stephen did not watch for elven dragonships. No, he watched for enemies closer to home, flying the kiratrack,[44] not the kanatrack. Alfred, who lived among the humans for a time, wrote the following discourse on the race. The title is A Baffling History.[45] Alfred wrote the history in the human language, undoubtedly with the intent of using it to instruct the humans in their own folly. True to his vacillating nature, the Sartan could never bring himself to show the book to the king, but placed it in the library, apparently in the forlorn hope that Stephen or Anne might stumble across it. The elves in Arianus would not have grown strong and powerful if the humans had been able to unite. United as a race, the humans could have formed a wall through which the elves could not have penetrated. The humans could have easily taken advantage of the various elven clan wars to have established strong footholds on Aristagon (or, at the very least, keep from being pushed off!).
But the humans, who consider elves foppish and weak, made the mistake of discounting them. The various human factions, with their long history of blood feuds, were far more interested in battling each other than in fending off elven attacks. The humans, in essence, defeated themselves, leaving themselves so weak that all the powerful Paxar had to do was stamp their feet and shout, “Boo!” and the humans fled in terror.
The humans were driven off Aristagon. They flew to the Volkaran Isles and the larger continent of Ulyndia, and here they might have regrouped, united. During the Brotherblood War that raged among the elves, the humans could have easily recaptured all the territory they had lost. It is altogether possible that they might have taken the Imperanon, for the humans had among them then the mysteriarchs, whose skills in magic are far greater than those attained by the elves, with the exception of the Kenkari. And the Kenkari were, in this war, supposedly neutral.
But their own race’s internecine wars offended and sickened the powerful mysteriarchs. Finding that their efforts to bring peace to the warring factions were in vain, the mysteriarchs left the Mid Realm, traveled up to the High Realm, to the cities built by the Sartan, where the mysteriarchs hoped to live in peace. Their departure left the humans vulnerable to attack by the Tribus elves, who, having defeated and forcibly united the elven clans, turned their attention to the human raiders, who had been attacking and pirating elven water shipments from Drevlin.
The Tribus elves conquered many human realms on Volkaran, using bribes and betrayal as well as the sword to divide and conquer. The humans saw their sons and daughters taken into slavery; they saw most of their food going into elven mouths; they saw elf lords slaughter dragons for sport. Eventually, the humans came to the conclusion that they hated elves more than they hated each other. The two most powerful human clans, working in secret, formed an alliance, sealed by the marriage of Stephen of Volkaran with Anne of Ulyndia. The humans began to push the occupying forces off Volkaran, culminating in the famous Battle of Seven Fields, a battle remarkable for the fact that the loser ended up the victor.[46] The subsequent rebellion among the elves, led by the Prince Rees’ahn, forced the withdrawal of elven occupying forces.
Alfred’s history concludes on a sad note:
Ulyndia and Volkaran are once again under human control. But now, once the elven threat is removed, the humans have decided it is safe to start hating each other again. Factions howl war and snap at each other’s throats. Powerful barons on both sides mutter darkly that the alliance of Stephen and Anne has outlived its usefulness. The king and queen are forced to play a dangerous game.
44
Directional reference system. Defined in detail in
46
Defeated in battle, King Stephen was forced to surrender his army to Prince Rees’ahn. The elves took the humans prisoner and were marching them to slavery when a human minstrel named Ravenlark began to sing a song of defiance. The song turned out to have a powerful, almost magical effect on the elves. It transports all elves who hear it back to a time when they lived in peace, when their society gloried in all things beautiful. The elves threw down their weapons; many began to weep for what was lost. The king and his army retreated into a nearby castle. The elves left field of battle, returned to their ships. Thus began the elven revolution.