Dolphius looked at Konnal, as if certain that the general would indeed take advantage of the lord’s generous offer.
Konnal smiled and waved good-naturedly. “No! Continue, by all means, honored lord and renowned Defender of Logic.”
With a bow and a modest shrug, Dolphius did just that, though he turned to address a question to Porthios.
“Honored Marshal, could you share with us an estimate—your best but most cautious assessment as to how long this campaign in the delta might take?”
Porthios nodded. “It seems likely that it will require perhaps a month, not very much more, to sweep and clear the island that remains in the grip of nightmare. Naturally the work of the healers and wizards charged with restoring the landscape will continue for many months longer. But for the army, a month.”
Dolphius turned back to Konnal, and now he spoke in tones of utter astonishment. “Did I hear correctly? Our colleague, the esteemed general, proposes that the army be cut in half so that some warriors who have bravely fought for thirty years can now turn to peacetime pursuits, instead of partaking in a last campaign, a venture that will extend their duties by so long as another whole month?”
The senator shook his head, doing a fine impression of a man who just couldn’t believe what he was forced to say. “And as to the matter of the treasury... naturally we are all concerned with the future of our realm. And, of course, a sizable fund of currency is a part—a small part—of our planning for the future. We wish to leave our children with the means to fund those necessities that, we all agree, must be taken care of by the nation’s financial reserves.”
Warming up now, Dolphius raised his voice. “But I ask you, elves of Silvanesti! Have we reached the point where a few steel coins in the treasury mean more to us than the purity of the forests, the sanctity of the waters and the woodland creatures of our homeland? Have we reached the point where a matter of financial bookkeeping shall be rendered more important than the task to which so many of us have devoted our energies, our courage, our blood and tears, and, yes, our very lives over the last three decades?”
With a sigh, the senator seemed to shrink. Suddenly he looked weary far beyond his relatively youthful years. “I ask you this, in all seriousness, my fellow elves. And I must warn you: If the answer is yes, then the future of Silvanesti is already lost, and no mountain of silver or steel in the treasure chamber is going to change that fact!”
“No!” The cry came first from General Cantal-Silaster, a female leader of noble descent who had fought in all of Porthios’s campaigns. Lately she had commanded one of his two divisions of troops. Her objection was quickly echoed by a score, then a hundred, voices.
“Send the full army! Finish the campaign! Only then will we turn to the future!” The shouts and whistles came from all over the chamber but quickly died down as Porthios raised a hand.
The marshal looked at the general, who stood calmly by his stool on the martial side of the chamber. “I ask you, General Konnal, do you wish to put your motion to a vote?”
“The will of the people is made clear,” Konnal said graciously. “I withdraw the motion. But I would ask just one question, if I may.”
Porthios watched him warily but gestured that he should continue.
“Have you made a decision that you can share with us, honored marshal, as to when you plan to launch this next campaign? It would only be fitting for the people to turn out and send you off in style.”
Though he wondered what the general was getting at, Porthios couldn’t see any harm in sharing the decision he had made just that morning. “This is the Day of First Gateway, in the month of Summer End. My expedition shall embark onto the river in twelve days, at dawn on the Day of Second Dream Dance.”
“Very well,” Konnal replied with a bow. “And you will have the entire army with you. I am certain that we can look forward to nothing but another unqualified success.”
“Why did he make that motion?” Samar asked Porthios later as the elves dined in the Palace of Quinari.
Also present was Aleaha Takmarin, the scout who had reported about the state of the delta, and the two generals of the Wildrunners. These were Lady Cantal-Silaster, the elegant patrician, and her counterpart, the one-eyed Karst Bandial, veteran of every Silvanesti campaign fought over the last two hundred years. Crystal windows spilled bright moonlight onto a linen-draped table spread with pyramidical loaves of bread, cheese, jars of honey, a variety of fresh fruit, and a small haunch of venison.
The five veterans had been discussing plans for the upcoming assault in the delta, but naturally enough their conversation had come around to the debate that had gone on in the Sinthal-Elish that day.
“I’m curious,” admitted the marshal. “It’s not like Konnal to speak out for something that he knows has no chance of passing.”
Porthios felt at ease, knowing that these were his four closest allies among the Silvanesti. Samar, of course, was relentlessly loyal to Queen Alhana, and, by connection, to her husband. Aleaha had been an invaluable ally as she and her Kirath scouts mapped out the realms of nightmare and gave him solid information on the necessities of each campaign. Bandial and Cantal-Silaster had proven themselves capable subcommanders, and Porthios couldn’t imagine embarking on a campaign without their able assistance.
“At least he went down to defeat graciously,” suggested the scout.
“And that, too, is not like him.” Porthios’s droll remark drew smiles all around. Still, the thought darkened his own mood. “The only reason that popinjay talks from two different points of view is that his mouth has only two sides,” the marshal declared sourly. “Imagine, suggesting that the Sinthal-Elish is doing us a favor by allowing us to extend our campaign through the summer!”
“I don’t think he speaks for most of Silvanesti,” Samar noted with an easy smile. “The people know what you’ve done for them.”
“What we’ve done,” Porthios corrected. “I tried to make it clear that these campaigns have been joint efforts between Qualinesti and Silvanesti companies.”
“You did.” Lady Cantal-Silaster voiced her approval. “And then Konnal somehow made it sound as though the Silvanesti have been treated with disrespect by your own guards.”
“Bah! He’s a fool!” snapped Porthios, wishing it were true. In fact, however, he was concerned because he knew that Konnal was not a fool. He had given his inflammatory speech to the elven council for a reason, and so far Porthios had not been able to figure out what that reason was.
“In any event, you know that the people are behind you. There must have been ten thousand of them cheering our arrival back home,” noted the female general.
“As they should,” Aleaha noted wryly. “For ten years, Konnal tried to wage this campaign without you, and we all know what happened.”
“Aye,” Samar agreed. “I can remember when the Windriders were the proudest force of griffon riders in Krynn. After Konnal was finished, we had to import our flying troops from Qualinesti!”
“And now we’re on the brink of victory,” Bandial observed, sounding almost wistful. But he quickly brightened. “Still, there’s one more battle, and we’ll get the job done right!”
“You know, I sought to find out a little more... went to Konnal’s house, as a matter of fact, to see what he was trying to accomplish,” Samar said. “And oddly enough, he wasn’t home. His servants didn’t know where he’d gone, but they were told he was attending an important meeting.”
“That is odd,” Porthios agreed. “You’d think with supplies being drawn, an expedition mounted, he’d want to keep an eye on everything I’m doing. I’m just glad he didn’t start talking about the cost of boats.”