The elf then replaced the rope, putting it between himself and the visitors. “Please give the ambassador my regards.” He glared at Burch then. “I hope we meet again, under less pleasant circumstances.”
Then the dockmaster spat out the Elven word for “up,” and the basket began to rise into the air toward a wide hole in the alabaster ceiling. The hole became a timber-lined cylinder that encased the basket like a dart in a blowgun as it ascended.
Sallah clutched Kandler’s arm as they entered the hole, the only lighting coming from the occasional doorways they passed. Each of these stood closed, though their centers featured panes of stained glass that depicted skulls, bones, and other images of death. Kandler reached out to hold the lady knight’s arm, but that seemed to bring her back to her senses. She drew her holy sword and held it aloft, its silver flames illuminating the dark shaft.
The ceiling of the shaft soon came into view, and the basket stopped shy of it, close enough that Sallah had to lower her sword to prevent scorching the plaster above. The north wall had a door in it, and as soon as the basket came to a halt, the door opened outward.
Sallah stepped out through the door, and Kandler and Burch followed her. They emerged into a magnificent room with high, vaulted ceilings. Weapons and trophies of war decorated the walls: spears, swords, bows, each tainted with blood. Skulls lifted from creatures of all sorts, from pixies on up to a bulette, hung from lacquered panels engraved with their details in a fine, elvish script.
The room let out onto a balcony, and a white-haired elf stood there in its entrance, framed in the streaming sunlight. He wore light robes of black linen that left his arms and legs exposed down to his bare feet. The contrast of the fabric against his snowy skin made him seem paler than a changeling. As he stepped into the room, his eyes seemed to glow a sickly yellow.
Kandler recognized the elf as Ledenstrae. Esprina had described her husband as looking exactly like this, and every time she had, she’d shuddered. Kandler felt a sympathetic shiver run down his spine. He missed his wife more than ever at that moment.
The justicar looked over at Sallah. He knew he would miss her too. These might well be the last few hours he would ever spend with her. Perhaps once everything with Esprë had been resolved one way or the other, he might find a way to get to Thrane. If he could make his way to Flamekeep, he knew he would be able to locate her.
“Welcome,” the elf said, raising an open hand in greeting. He addressed the justicar directly and ignored the others. “I’ve waited a long time to meet you, Kandler. I’m glad to finally have the chance. It is intriguing how destiny plays with our lives, is it not?”
“Destiny didn’t bring me here,” Kandler said. “Your dockmaster did—on your orders. I’d rather be loading up my airship right now and leaving this place behind.”
“Tour airship?” the elf said with a wry grin.
Kandler ignored the condescending tone. “So you’re an ambassador now? I always heard you were an elf of leisure.” Ledenstrae arched his brows, noting the point that Kandler had scored against him. “My family is well-connected within the political spheres in Aerenal. It had finally become time for me to put those connections to use—for the greater good of our society.”
Kandler glared at the elf. “What do you want?” Ledenstrae feigned shock. “Is it so unusual to want to meet someone with whom I have so much in common? After all, I understand we were both married to the same … lady—if I can use that term for someone who absconded to this wretched land of yours with my daughter.”
“She hated you.”
Ledenstrae smiled without a trace of warmth. “Does it matter? Ours was an arranged marriage, a union joined on behalf of our society’s interests in building wealth and good breeds, In that, it succeeded admirably—or so I’m told. After all, I haven’t seen my daughter since shortly after she was born.”
“She hasn’t missed you.”
“I think we should let her judge that for herself. I want you to bring her to me.”
“Why would I want to do that?”
Ledenstrae shrugged. “I care little for what you may want. Esprë is mine, and I intend to reassert my claim as her father and bring her back with me to Aerenal.”
“No damned way—”
Ledenstrae cut Kandler off with a wave of his hand. “Do you think your ways matter to me? You forget where you find yourself. Here, the viceroy has shown nothing but the utmost respect for me. My word is as good as law to the elves who call this outpost their home.”
Burch started to say something, but the elf cut him off. “If you can keep your mongrel there on a leash,” he said, “I will put this into simple words that your minds can digest: Give me my daughter back, or I will kill you all and pry her hands from your corpses.”
16
Kandler felt his hand on the pommel of his fangsword, and he wondered how it had gotten there. He glared at Ledenstrae. “Forget it,” he said. “Esprina left her to me.”
The elf smiled back at him. “You believe you have a choice in the matter. How amusing.”
Sallah put her hand atop Kandler’s, keeping him from drawing the weapon. He turned to spit something spiteful at her, but when he did he saw the look in her eyes. His voice caught in his throat, and he closed his mouth.
Sallah cleared her throat and spoke to Ledenstrae. “It’s not clear that allowing you to take Esprë would be in her best interests. Kandler loves your daughter very much, and he only wants to see her happy and well. He believes that those purposes would best be served by keeping her with him.”
Ledenstrae rubbed his chin. “Such a man who would let his mate speak for him is not one whose words I can take seriously.”
Kandler started to curse at the elf, but Sallah shut him up with a finger across his lips. In frustration, he looked to Burch, but the shifter didn’t notice. He was too busy staring at the decorative bits of furniture, artwork, and tightly trimmed foliage that screened the room and the balcony beyond off from the outside world.
“I’m surprised that one who speaks with so many invectives would be given a post as an ambassador, unless, of course, the aim of Aerenal is to plunge its offspring nation into war with its neighbors.”
Ledenstrae smiled. “The title ‘ambassador’ is only a ceremonial one, I’m afraid, given to any member of my family who cares to travel beyond the shores of fair Aerenal. I have no direct political duties. I am only here to recover what is rightfully mine.”
“Don’t you mean ‘who’?” Kandler said. “ ‘Who’ is rightfully yours?”
Ledenstrae bared his teeth, which were as even as the edge of a book. “The girl is of my blood. In the absence of her mother, I am her only family. Now that I have found her again, I wish to reassert my claim on her, and splitting definitions in your barbaric tongue will not dissuade me from the rightfulness of my aims.”
Kandler stepped toward Ledenstrae now, angling away from Sallah as he spoke. “Where have you been for the past few decades? Have you even been looking for her? Where were you for the past four years while I raised her on my own? Where were you when her mother died?”
Ledenstrae’s ivory cheeks flushed pink, although Kandler could not tell if this effect was rooted in anger or shame. “You have your point of view, of course, and you deserve my thanks for taking care of my daughter when I was not available to do so myself. Know, though, that I would have been with her every day since her birth had her mother not stolen her away from me.”