More shouts of outrage and fear echoed in the chamber.
“We must activate the rest of the city militia,” Gilthas declared, trying to mask his own despair. “Get elves standing at each of the bridges, ready to defend Qualinost against the first sign of attack!”
“What good will that do?” Rashas demanded vehemently, contemptuously. “Weren’t you listening? This is a force that can trample anything that stands in its path! Would you send every young elf in Qualinost to his death?”
Gilthas spun around, at first too surprised even to speak. He gaped at the senator in astonishment, finally shaking his head, forcing out the words. “What would you have us do, then? Flee to Ergoth again, the second exile in thirty years? And even if we wanted to, you know there’s no time for the city’s population to get away!”
“Now is not the time for us to lose our heads,” Rashas replied, his tone calm and soothing. The Speaker realized that somehow Rashas had again made Gilthas appear to be an excitable youngster. Now the elder senator addressed the crowd of elves in general. “What else do we know of this army, these ‘Knights of Takhisis’? Who leads them?”
“I was able to learn a few things during my brief captivity. Their leader is now in Palanthas, a man called Lord Ariakan,” Guilderhand explained. “He is said to be the son of the Dragon Highlord Ariakas, who was once the Emperor of Ansalon. His mother is unknown, though there are those who claim her to be the goddess Zeboim.”
“A lackey of the Dark Queen’s... I admit that the tale makes a certain amount of sense,” Rashas mused.
“I know that these Dark Knights have already conquered Kalaman and much of the north—without bloodshed,” claimed one noble elf, who was a regular importer of marble quarried near that fabled city on the northern coast. “Even allowed the Lord Mayor of Kalaman to hold his seat. Business there has been better than ever.”
“The Kalamans didn’t fight?” This question was asked by Quaralan, who seemed to be making himself spokesman for the young hotheads who had scorned Gilthas’s appointment to the Speaker’s throne.
The noble merchant shrugged. “Perhaps there’ll be a battle at the High Clerist’s Tower, where the Solamnics are trying to hold off the invaders. Of course, if that tower is lost, Palanthas itself would be pretty much defenseless. I would expect that they would let the invaders march in. It would be foolish to let the place get burned down when they don’t have enough troops even to man their own walls.”
“And they have the proof before them, for it’s a fact that Ariakan’s army spared Kalaman!” shouted another elf. “I know this from my brother, who is a seller of silk there. The mayor maintains his station, and the council, too. Indeed, he says that these knights have been a boon in some ways. They’ve stopped the thievery that was always such a problem near the docks.”
Gilthas felt he had to take some steps to control this discussion. He stood straight and assumed his sternest glare as he looked around the chamber. “Am I to assume that the attitude of the Thalas-Enthia is that we welcome these invaders with open arms, that we invite them into our capital and perhaps hope that they will help us solve some recurring problems regarding merchandising and crime?”
His sarcasm was heavy and apparent. After all, Qualinost had no crime to speak of, and virtually every elf in this chamber was rich beyond the dreams of even the most avaricious human noble. Even so, his scornful remarks were greeted mostly with silence, a few elves exchanging nervous glances.
“It seems logical that we should at least meet with the leader of this army,” Rashas said. “There can be no harm in diplomatic negotiations, in finding out what his intentions are.” He addressed Guilderhand. “Is this Lord Ariakan himself leading the troops that are marching on Qualinost?”
“The best information I could gather is no, Esteemed Senator. The commander of this army is called Lord Salladac. He is reputedly a trusted lieutenant of Ariakan’s and has been given complete command of the campaign in Qualinesti.”
“At the very least, we should arm ourselves and make ready to fight!” Gilthas declared, surprising himself with his own vehemence. He heard several shouts of agreement, though they were scattered far and wide through the crowded chamber.
“Who will command?” asked Rashas. “Our most experienced general, Palthainon, is in the west, trying to solve the bandit problem.”
“Then I shall take charge of the troops,” Gilthas said coldly, ignoring the looks of astonishment he saw on many faces. He was prepared to challenge for his right to do so when, to his surprise, Rashas spoke in support.
“I commend the Speaker for his excellent suggestion,” declared the senator. “He has the necessary authority to bring together such recruits as we can gather in a short time.”
“Hear, hear!” Cries of support came from here and there in the chamber, though it was nothing like a universal acclamation.
“At the same time,” Rashas continued, “we have to realize that there is no profit in excessive bloodshed. The honorable members of the Thalas-Enthia must consider the minimum terms that we would require to arrive at a nonmartial solution.”
Gilthas shook his head in astonishment. “You’d be prepared to abandon the defense of the city, of the kingdom, before the first arrow is loosed?”
“I make the suggestion merely because I know that it will make sense for us to be prepared for every eventuality. We all applaud our young Speaker’s courage and the Tightness of your intentions. But bear in mind that war is serious business, and that we are facing a great force, well practiced in the arts of subjugation and conquest. Courage and honor are worthy concepts for any elf, but foolish sacrifice is nothing more than a waste.”
“Where are the Dark Knights now?” Gilthas asked, turning back to Guilderhand. He wondered how the spy had so easily escaped from these ruthless and efficient attackers, but there was no time to follow up on that question.
“They crossed the border after marching along the Southway. I predict they will be no more than five miles away by the dawn.”
“Then we really don’t have any time to lose,” the Speaker declared. He addressed the group at large. “I urge you all to go home, to arm your servants and to take up weapons yourselves. Armed elves should congregate...” Where? Suddenly Gilthas felt overwhelmed by the task. He didn’t even know how to bring his armed elves together! He thought fleetingly of his father, missing Tanis with a powerful sense of longing. Surely the heroic half-elf would know what to do.
“The Hall of the Sky?” suggested Rashas smoothly. The suggestion was perfect. The “hall” was in a fact a huge clearing in the center of the city, large enough to accommodate a good-sized force.
“Yes—meet at the hall, and spread the word!”
The agitated crowd began to disperse, but Gilthas took Rashas aside before the senator left the hall. “I need to send a message,” said the young Speaker. The thought of his father had brought to mind another concern, something that he was determined to address.
“A message? Where?” inquired Rashas, irritated at the delay.
“I want to send for my mother. With war threatening the land, she should come to Qualinesti. I know that my father will be fighting, and it would be best to have her return here to her homeland.” Where she’ll be safe, Gilthas wanted to add, but he didn’t say it, for he knew that it wasn’t true.
Surprisingly, Rashas thought for only a few seconds and then nodded sagely. “An excellent idea,” he replied. “By all means, send for Laurana. Encourage her to come with all haste.”
Watching the senator’s back, Gilthas tried to fathom the elder’s response. He had expected some resistance, even an outright refusal. Now he was worried that Rashas had agreed so easily.