The dominant buildings of the city were towers, some paneled with wood and resembling the shapes of living trees, others splendid structures of rose quartz rising amid the groves so that just the summits were in view, narrow spires jutting above the canopy of foliage. Though elsewhere the woodlands were browned and crispy, suffering under the onslaught of this season’s unnatural heat, here in the city everything was green, carefully watered and tended by skilled elven gardeners.
Beyond the eastern and western boundaries of the city, the view from the tower almost masked by the thick growth of trees, the landscape plunged into a pair of deep ravines, wherein flowed the waters of the two branches of the Elf-stream. Deep and shadowed within its gorges, the brooks trickled and meandered to a confluence at the north of the city. Those ravines, so well screened by foliage, were more effective than any moats in blocking unwelcome intruders from reaching Qualinost.
To the south, in between the branches of the stream, the ground rose in a series of steep hills, and from this high vantage he could see all the way to the snowcapped whiteness of the High Kharolis. That was dwarven territory, he knew, foreign lands, though at a time not very long ago a treaty had been negotiated, a pact that would have sealed the peace between dwarf and elf as the Pax Tharkas had done a millennium before. It grieved him to know that the events that had brought him here, to this high tower, had also shattered the chance of that treaty’s ratification. With his ascendancy had come retrenchment for the races of Krynn, elves and dwarves and humans withdrawing unto themselves, waiting, watching... and fearing the events that the future might bring.
He was Gilthas Solostaran, Speaker of the Sun, ruler of mighty Qualinesti, the greatest elven nation on Krynn.
And he was a mere figurehead, a puppet controlled by the elves who had placed him on this high throne and who could knock him off of his exalted seat with the casual ease used to swat a meddlesome insect. He was a tool of the Thalas-Enthia, the hidebound senators who had schemed and plotted and fought to insure that nothing in the world would ever change.
His mother was an elven princess, daughter of the revered Speaker Solostaran, who had guided his people through exile during the War of the Lance. She was a heroine of the world, the Golden General who had led armies against the dragon highlords. And his father was Tanis Half-Elven, a Hero of the Lance, a leader in that same war.
Ah, but there was so much more to his father... a half-breed bastard, an elf who had proudly grown and maintained a beard as a symbol of his half-human parentage! Tanis, who was banned from his son’s kingdom, had been branded an outlaw, threatened with death should he dare come to Qualinesti again. Gilthas uttered a sharp bark of laughter as he thought of the irony. He was one quarter human, yet for the purposes of the Thalas-Enthia, he was regarded a purer elf than his uncle Porthios.
It was Porthios whom Gilthas could not help thinking of as the rightful Speaker of the Sun. Porthios, who had given up his medallion of leadership under coercion, because his wife and unborn child had been a hostage of the Thalas-Enthia. And Porthios, who had at last escaped from Silvanesti and disappeared into exile.
Yet his power had disappeared with him. Gilthas knew that he had none of the influence, none of the might that was the rightful accessory to the crown that fit so uneasily upon his young head. But even now, when that knowledge dragged him down, threatened to mire him in a swamp of despair, he felt at least a glimmer of pride, of acceptance, and of destiny. There was no longer an arrow pointed at Alhana Starbreeze’s heart. He could walk away from this place, throw down his medallion of office and, if he so decided, just leave.
He would not do that.
“Damned griffons—the beasts should have their wings plucked, their loins roasted on a slow fire!”
Senator Rashas, esteemed leader of the Thalas-Enthia and the elf who had placed Gilthas on his throne, wiped the sweat from his brow as he entered the lofty tower chamber. He looked at the Speaker crossly. “Why don’t you stay on the lower levels, where you can be reached when you’re needed?”
Gilthas shrugged, keeping his expression bland. “I like it up here.”
“Well, it’s a damned nuisance, you staring off into space all the time instead of attending to matters of your office.”
“You mean such matters as you leave for my consideration... what color of roses to adorn the banquet tables, that sort of thing?” The young speaker was feeling bold and allowed his words to show the fact. He feared Rashas—well he knew the punishments the senator was capable of inflicting, when the elder’s fearsome temper was released—but Gilthas had enough of his mother’s and father’s sense of pride that he couldn’t entirely bite his tongue even when silence was the politic choice.
Apparently today Rashas was not going to bother with a rebuke.
“You need to be ready in two hours. There’s an emergency meeting of the Thalas-Enthia called for noon today.”
“And how could the senate meet without their Speaker to preside?” Gilthas noted sarcastically.
Now Rashas looked at him with narrowed eyes, and the young elf felt a stab of fear. Perhaps he had gone too far. He tried to force himself to stand straight, to meet the cold glare of that icy gaze, but after a few seconds, Gilthas found himself looking sheepishly at the floor.
“Such a childish attitude does not befit an elf of your high station,” Rashas declared. “No doubt it’s that human blood again. I’d hoped you’d begin to outgrow it by now.”
Gilthas knew that Rashas was, in fact, grateful for his human blood. He assumed that it was an ancestry of weakness, that it would help make the Speaker malleable to the will of the Thalas-Enthia. There was a time when the younger elf would have agreed with him. But now, after he had had long days to reflect on his father’s courage and had learned more about the reputation Tanis Half-Elven had earned throughout Krynn, he was not so sure.
“What is the purpose of the meeting?” he asked.
“There is word from the western frontiers, just confirmed by messenger this dawn. Our trade routes with Ergoth and Solamnia are being plagued with banditry.”
“Then the reports last week were not just rumors?” Gilthas asked, unable to keep a twinge of triumph from his voice. He had urged that the senate act when they had first learned of a plundered steel caravan, but the Thalas-Enthia had disbelieved the elf who reported it because he was a mere woodland elf who had been traveling in the company of humans. Gilthas had suggested that the humans be interviewed as well, but the senate would not allow the men into the hallowed chamber at the base of this lofty tower.
“They have been confirmed by reliable reports. Now it is appropriate that the senate consider some action.”
By “reliable,” Gilthas knew that Rashas meant either his own spies or the word of some wealthy elf of high caste and unimpeachable reputation.
“If the griffons weren’t being so uncooperative,” the senator continued, “then we would have had word days ago!”
“I see.” Gilthas refrained from saying the remark that rose to the tip of his tongue: If the Thalas-Enthia had treated Alhana Starbreeze with respect, instead of with extortion and imprisonment, the griffons would not have been offended. As it was, the beasts that had ever been loyal helpmates to the elves of Qualinesti had abandoned their ancient masters, returning instead to a life in the wild. Now they dwelled free and unsaddled among the lofty peaks of the high Kharolis.
“As it was, a rider had to make his way on horseback, through the roughest part of the kingdom. And even so, he brings more questions than he does answers!”