But he was forced to admit that the Unified Nations of the Three Races treaty was doomed. His wife had worked so hard on the pact, with the help of his sister Laurana and her half-elf husband. Now that word had leaked, Porthios knew that the Silvanesti would never accept the terms of the prospective agreement. As far as these elves were concerned, the treaty was dead.
Surprisingly, he found himself wondering what Tanis Half-Elven would have suggested. He had never been friendly with the man—indeed, when they were youngsters, Porthios had gleefully joined in the cruel teasing that had forever marked Tanis as an outcast from his mother’s land of Qualinesti. The prince had even scorned his sister for her choice of “that mixed-race bastard” as her husband. But somehow, over the years, he had been forced to see the strengths that lay so subtly beneath his brother-in-law’s skin. Now he almost wished that Tanis were here, that he could ask the half elf’s advice or merely share the quiet competence of his presence.
Yet that was just one more thing he couldn’t change. With a sigh, Porthios decided instead to take stock of his surroundings, and he immediately noticed that his accommodations were in fact quite comfortable. The chambers were spacious and included a sleeping room with a huge bed, a mattress of soft down draped with a canopy of bright silk. He had a large sitting room, a balcony with a splendid view across nearly two-thirds of the horizon, a good-sized dining room with windows looking across the other directions, and a private cooking chamber. The only structure anywhere around that was higher than his prison was the main summit of the tower, which rose another hundred feet overhead. From his complex of apartments, he could look out of any of several windows and take in the vista of Silvanost in all four directions, observing almost all corners of the island city sprawling across the landscape eight hundred feet below.
He crossed back through the main room, went to the door, and was not surprised to see that it was locked. Porthios knocked loudly, and it opened.
A pair of burly Silvanesti axemen stood beyond the outer door to the apartments, maintaining constant vigilance and presenting uncompromisingly stern aspects. Inevitably the guards were veterans of House Protector, but Porthios noted that neither of them had served him during the recent campaigns to restore Silvanesti. Obviously General Konnal was not taking the chance of assigning to guard duty an elf who might have conflicting loyalties. Furthermore, the tower’s top chamber was accessible only by a single flight of stairs, and Porthios had no doubt that there were more guards waiting at the bottom of the tower.
Not that I would try to escape, he argued to himself during one of his many hours of solitude. After all, didn’t I come here willingly? Didn’t I stop Tarqualan when he would have used violence to free me? Still, his reasoning rang hollow as he looked out at the city turning to the bright shades of autumn. He wondered how soon his baby would be born... and how was Alhana faring?
He settled into a comfortable chair, somehow drifting off into a sleep so deep that he was surprised when the door opened to reveal one of his guards.
“A visitor,” the elf said coldly, stepping back to reveal General Bandial. That venerable warrior wept to see his old commander so mistreated, tears pouring from the elf’s one good eye until an embarrassed Porthios bade him to please control his emotions.
“How can they do this to you?” moaned Bandial. “Don’t they understand what you’ve done for them... for us all?”
“At this point, I think Konnal has them more concerned about what I’ll do to them in the future. But what did he have to say after he had me locked up here?”
“Funny thing, that,” Bandial admitted. “Konnal left the city again right after you were brought here. No one knows where he’s gone, though there’s a rumor he traveled all the way to Palanthas!”
Porthios shook his head. “That makes no sense at all. Not that I miss the arrogant wretch. I could use a few more days to calm myself down. It wouldn’t do any good to throttle him, not with his bullyboys standing outside my door.”
“D’you want me to take care of those fellows?” growled the loyal general. “I could bring a few veterans of the Second Division with me next time...”
Porthios chuckled, a dry sound more bitter than humorous. “Tempting as it is, I have to ask you not to. I’ve gone this far without resorting to violence against my own kind. No, it’s best to let this matter play out in the senate.”
Bandial looked as if he didn’t exactly agree with that sentiment, but he said nothing.
“What of Tarqualan and the Qualinesti? Have they been left alone?” Porthios worried about the two hundred griffon riders from his own nation. They weren’t as numerous as a Silvanesti army, but with their fierce fliers, they were highly mobile, and he had convinced himself that they would be able to take care of themselves.
“As much as could be expected. The Sinthal-Elish has discontinued food shipments to their camp, but with their griffons, they of course have no trouble taking all the deer they can eat. Konnal posted several companies of Silvanesti to keep an eye on them, but there hasn’t been any trouble.”
“Good—and I say that more for the sake of the Silvanesti than Tarqualan’s bunch. I daresay it wouldn’t take much to set him off.”
“I know,” Bandial agreed. “But you’ve got to realize that there are a lot of us Silvanesti on your side, too. We don’t like what’s happened to you, or to our comrades on the griffons.”
“That means a lot to me, old friend.”
The two old warriors talked for a little while longer, but in the end, Bandial left without persuading Porthios to try to escape.
And in all truth, as his old comrade made his farewells, Porthios was not disappointed to be left alone with his thoughts, his brooding. He found himself remembering many things, with thoughts of his wife growing strong among the tangle of his feelings. How had he let so many years pass during which he’d viewed their marriage as a cold alliance? Now that affection had blossomed between them, now that the miracle of a child was before them, he feared that he’d wasted too much time.
He worried about her status in Qualinesti, wished for some word from Alhana or Samar. With autumn advancing, he knew that her pregnancy was well advanced. The baby would be born in another month or two, maybe even sooner. But still the west was silent.
Several more days passed, and the Prince of Qualinesti finally got some clue as to his accuser’s whereabouts when General Konnal came to visit him, accompanied by an elf in the regal white robes of a Qualinesti senator.
“Rashas!” snarled Porthios, immediately recognizing the pinched features of the elf who had long led the most conservative faction of the Thalas-Enthia, the senate of Qualinesti. This body had long been opposed to a merger between the nations; indeed, it had been in resistance to the Thalas-Enthia where Alhana and Porthios had first found common cause.
“I see you are learning some of the virtues of elven cooperation,” the haughty noble said with a sneer. “This is the end of your foolish dream. Ironic, isn’t it, that you meet the same fate here that your wife has met in your own homeland?”
“You bastard!” Porthios threw himself at Rashas, but somehow one of the axemen from the door interposed himself. With a casual swing of the haft of his weapon, the warrior knocked the Speaker of the Sun backward, and Porthios tumbled heavily to the floor.
“Oh, and you may be interested to know that Alhana’s man, Samar, has also been arrested and imprisoned, charged with spying and sentenced to die. I anticipate that the sentence will soon be carried out.”