At peace, perhaps... Gilthas’s thoughts were bitter, and tears stung his eyes.
But peace at what price?
Lord Salladac was an imposing figure, taller than an elf and broad-shouldered and massive in a way that was unmistakably human. Gilthas quailed at a momentary image: It was not difficult to imagine this man picking up an elf in his hands and breaking him in two.
But in contrast to his bearlike physique, the lord’s face and words were geniality personified. The two elven emissaries were ushered into his command tent, and he greeted them warmly. Servants offered small glasses of iced wine before withdrawing to leave the trio alone. Seated in comfortable chairs of wood that were ingeniously designed to fold for easy transport, Gilthas and Rashas faced the leader of the invasion force.
“Your terms have been relayed to us,” the senator began without preamble.
“Ah, yes, your emissary... Guilderhand, I believe he was called. He seemed impressed by my display of strength.”
“Would you really have sentenced him to death had you caught him sneaking around your camp?” Gilthas asked.
Salladac chuckled. “Why? In fact, he was quite useful to me. Though I doubt that he suspects the fact, I myself arranged for him to steal that ring of teleportation. I knew that if he had freedom of movement around my camp, he would come to the conclusion that resistance would be futile.”
Gilthas flushed, embarrassed and shamed by the knowledge of how easily the elves had been manipulated.
“After considerable debate,” Rashas said, with a sidelong glare at Gilthas, “the Thalas-Enthia has voted to accept your more than generous terms.”
“Splendid!” declared Salladac, in a manner that reminded Gilthas of a person agreeing to a pleasurable social outing. “I must say that I was fully confident elven wisdom would see the logic of our proposal.”
“Indeed,” Rashas said in the same polite tones. “I am sure, as events transpire, it will become apparent that there are advantages to all sides in this arrangement.”
The young Speaker felt his face flush with shame, but as always when he was in the presence of Rashas, he seemed unable to find the words to articulate his feelings. Better, he decided, to let the senator speak, to let him prostitute his nation and his pride for the sake of this invader’s ambition. Even so, Gilthas felt the history of the moment and knew that he was witnessing a shameful day in the long life of a proud race.
How could Rashas not feel that same humiliation?
But instead, the senator was cheerfully discussing the arrangements for the army’s entrance into the city, promising that splendid lodgings would be made available for Salladac and his chief lieutenants, offering to procure venison for the dragons and fruits and breads for the Dark Knights.
“And the brutes?” Gilthas suddenly asked. He had seen the ranks of blue-skinned, virtually naked warriors arrayed before the general’s command tent. Their appearance had been savage in the extreme, and he had noticed that even Rashas had quailed at their scowling expressions and hulking size. “What do they eat?”
Salladac shrugged. “They are not particular, as you might imagine. Indeed, it is not my intention to lodge them in the city. We have learned that they do not mix well with the nations that we are trying to unite across Ansalon. Of course, they are useful in battle, but we are grateful for occasions such as this, when a nation sees the wisdom of joining our ranks without the need for gratuitous bloodshed. And fortunately much of the land has thus acceded to our inevitable advance.”
“It’s true, then... places like Kalaman have also surrendered to the Dark Knights without fighting?” Gilthas had not fully believed the stories that Guilderhand and Rashas had presented to the senate.
“For the most part, yes. It’s true that the Knights of Solamnia look to put up a good fight at the Tower of the High Clerist. In the end, however, I have no doubt that Lord Ariakan will prevail. Indeed, the outcome of the fight is inevitable.” For the first time, the lord’s genial facade cracked slightly, and his look gave Gilthas a suggestion of the iron-thewed warrior that lived beneath the pleasant exterior. “As it would have been inevitable had you elves been so foolish as to offer resistance.”
Gilthas thought of his father and knew that he would have joined the Knights of Solamnia in their heroic defense. He wondered what would happen to Tanis, but he didn’t want to ask the human knight for information.
“Merely a few young hotheads,” Rashas was saying smoothly. “I assure your lordship that the bulk of our population gave no consideration to impulses toward useless violence.”
“I regret to say that is not the case in the western part of your nation,” Lord Salladac said, his tone still stern. “There dwells a horde of elves in your forest that has caused serious harm to the other branch of my force.”
“Porthios?” Gilthas blurted without thinking. “He attacked you?”
“Ah, the rebel of House Solostaran,” the lord replied. “That explains a great deal. Yes, in fact, he led many thousands of elves in a night attack against a legion of Dark Knights. His warriors killed hundreds of troops and destroyed most of the army’s provisions. Not to mention that they slayed three dragons as well.”
At last Gilthas felt some salve to his elven pride. He didn’t know how Porthios could have gained an army of thousands, nor how elves and griffons could hope to kill dragons, but here was proof that the entire race was not craven and cowardly. He strained to keep his face bland, but his heart pounded with the thrilling news.
“Of course,” Salladac continued, “that army was commanded by a lesser lord. He has been summoned back to Lord Ariakan, and has probably already paid for his failure with his life.
“Even so, it is a distressing matter and will command my attention during the next few days. I must attend to this Porthios before I embark for Silvanesti, where I fear that your fellow elves will not prove as wise and accommodating as have you Qualinesti. I trust that such incidents of violence and intractability will prove exceptionally rare, for I must warn you both that although I pride myself on my tolerance, I can only be pushed so far before I start pushing back. And that will lead to consequences that none of us want.”
“Porthios is an outlaw!” Rashas declared. “At the time of your inva—er, arrival—he was the subject of a campaign by our leading general, Palthainon, and hundreds of Qualinesti warriors. In fact, General Palthainon has only just returned to the city. It occurs to me that he may be able to furnish you with information about the location of the outlaw camp.”
“Good. Send General Palthainon to me at once.”
Rashas nodded eagerly, despite the human’s tone of peremptory command. “I assure you that when he is caught, the elves of the Thalas-Enthia will wholly support whatever punishment you deem appropriate.”
“Splendid!” Lord Salladac was again all happiness and geniality. “I can see that this is the beginning of a fruitful alliance, a relationship that will bring prosperity—and profit—to all sides.”
“Your wisdom obviously is as great as your military acumen,” said Rashas, standing and bowing deeply. “Now, if you will forgive us, we should return to the city and make ready to offer you a fitting welcome.”
Salladac and Gilthas rose, too. The human was effusive in his thanks to the senator, including the Speaker almost as an afterthought. “Shall we say noon tomorrow for our official entrance?” he said in conclusion.
“That is more than enough time,” Rashas agreed.
With an escort of braying dragons and prancing horses, the two elves were led back to the bridge and were finally left by the humans only as they started across the elegant span leading to Qualinost. Gilthas looked down, saw the white rapids churning through the gorge so far below, and had to forcibly shake away an impulse that urged him to leap over the railing and end his life and his shame on the jagged rocks in the deep ravine.