As he shook his head in an effort to banish the disturbing emotion, a picture of still a third woman insinuated itself. He recalled again the red-haired human woman who had given him his chance to escape from the enemy camp. There had been something vibrant and compelling about her, and this wasn’t the first time he had remembered her face.
The conflicting memories warred within him as he built a small fire and ate a simple meal. He camped in the clearing, as usual making himself a soft bed. The night passed in peace.
He took to the air at first light, feeling as if he had somehow sullied Anaya’s memory, but soon the clean air swept through his hair, and his mind focused on the day’s journey. Arcuballis carried him swiftly and uneventfully eastward. After his third night of sleeping in the woods, he felt as if his strength had been doubled, his wit and alertness greatly enhanced.
His spirits soared as high as the Tower of the Stars, which now appeared on the distant horizon. Arcuballis carried him steadily, but so far was the tower that more than an hour passed before they reached the Thon-Thalas River, border to the island of Silvanost.
His arrival was anticipated; boatmen on the river waved and cheered as he flew overhead, while a crowd of elves hurried toward the Palace of Quinari. The doors at the foot of the tower burst open, and Kith saw a blond-haired elf, clad in the silk robe of the Speaker of the Stars, emerge. Sithas hurried across the garden, but the griffon met him halfway.
Grinning foolishly, Kith leapt from the back of his steed to embrace his brother. It felt very good to be home.
II
Scions of Silvanos
8
“By Quenesti Pah, he’s beautiful!” Kith-Kanan cautiously took the infant in his arms. Proudly Sithas stood beside them. Kith had been on the ground for all of five minutes before the Speaker of the Stars had hurried him to the nursery to see the newest heir to the throne of Silvanesti.
“It takes a while before you feel certain that you won’t break him,” he told his brother, based on his own extensive paternal experience, a good two months’
worth now.
“Vanesti—it’s a good name. Proud, full of our heritage,” Kith said. “A name worthy of the heir of the House of Silvanos.”
Sithas looked at his brother and his son, and he felt better than he had in months. Indeed, he knew a gladness that hadn’t been his since the start of the war.
The door to the nursery opened and Hermathya entered. She approached Kith-Kanan nervously, her eyes upon her child. At first, the elven general thought that his sister-in-law’s tension resulted from the memory of them together. Kith and Hermathya’s affair, before her engagement to Sithas, had been brief but passionate.
But then he realized that her anxiety came from a simpler, more direct source. She was concerned that someone other than herself held her child.
“Here,” said Kith, offering the silk-swathed infant to Hermathya. “You have a very handsome son.”
“Thank you.” She took the child, then smiled hesitantly. Kith tried to see her in a different light than he did in his memories. He told himself that she looked nothing like the woman he had known, had thought he loved, those few years earlier.
Then the memories came back in a physical rush that almost brought him to his knees. Hermathya smiled again, and Kith-Kanan ached with desire. He lowered his eyes, certain that his bold feelings showed plainly on his face. By the gods, she was his brother’s wife! What kind of distorted loyalty tortured him that he could think these thoughts, feel these needs.
He cast a quick, apprehensive glance at Sithas and saw that his brother looked only at the baby. Hermathya, however, caught his eye, her own gaze sparking like fire. What was happening? Suddenly Kith-Kanan felt very frightened and very lonely.
“You should both be very happy,” he said awkwardly. They said nothing, but each looked at Vanesti in a way that communicated their love and pride.
“Now let’s take care of business,” said Sithas to his brother. “The war.” Kith sighed. “I knew we’d have to get around to the war sooner or later, but can we make it a little bit later? I’d like to see Mother first.”
“Of course. How stupid of me,” Sithas agreed. If he had noticed any of the feelings that Kith had thought showed so plainly on his face, the Speaker gave no sign. His voice dropped slightly. “She’s in her quarters. Shell be delighted to see you. I think it’s just what she needs.”
Kith-Kanan looked at his brother curiously, but Sithas did not elaborate. Instead, the Speaker continued in a different vein.
“I’ve had some Thalian blond wine chilled in my apartment. I want to hear everything that’s happened since the start of the war. Come and find me after you’ve spoken to Nirakina.”
“I will. I’ve got a lot to tell, but I want to know how things have fared in the city as well.” Kith-Kanan followed Sithas from the nursery, quietly closing the door. Before it shut, he looked back and saw Hermathya cuddling the baby to her breast. The elf woman’s eyes looked up suddenly and locked upon Kith’s, making an electric connection that he had to force himself to break. The two elves, leaders of the nation, walked in silence through the long halls of the Palace of Quinari. They reached the apartments of their mother, and Kith stopped as Sithas walked silently on.
“Enter” came her familiar voice in response to his soft knock. He pushed open the door and saw Nirakina seated in a chair by the open window. She rose and swept him into her arms, hugging him as if she would never let him go.
He was shocked by the aging apparent in his mother’s face, an aging that was all the more distressing because of the long elven life span. By rights, she was just reaching middle age and could look forward to several productive centuries before she approached old age.
Yet her face, drawn by cares, and the gray streaks that had begun to silver her hair reminded Kith of his grandmother, in the years shortly before her death. It was a revelation that disturbed him deeply.
“Sit down, Mother,” Kith said quietly, leading her back to her chair. “Are you all right?”
Nirakina looked at him, and the son had trouble facing his mother’s eyes. So much despair!
“Seeing you does much to bring my strength back,” she replied, offering a wan smile. “It seems I’m surrounded by strangers so much now.”
“Surely Sithas is here with you.”
“Oh, when he can be, but there is much to occupy him. The affairs of war, and now his child. Vanesti is a beautiful baby, don’t you agree?” Kith nodded, wondering why he didn’t hear more pleasure in his mother’s voice. This was her first grandchild.
“But Hermathya thinks that I get in the way, and her sisters are here to help. I have seen too little of Vanesti.” Nirakina’s eyes drifted to the window. “I miss your father. I miss him so much sometimes that I can hardly stand it.” Kith struggled for words. Failing, he took his mother’s hands in his own.
“The palace, the city—it’s all changing,” she continued. “It’s the war. In your absence, Lord Quimant advises your brother. It seems the palace is becoming home to all of Clan Oakleaf.”
Kith had heard of Quimant in Sithas’s letters and knew his brother considered him to be a great assistance in affairs of state.
“What of Tamanier Ambrodel?” The loyal elf had been his mother’s able aide and had saved her life during the riots that rocked the city before the outbreak of war. Sithel had promoted him to lord chamberlain to reward his loyalty. His mother and Tamanier had been good friends for many years.