3 When Darkness Falls.8 (51 page)

"Isn't strong enough. Will melt in the spring. Won't handle the traffic to the caverns once they've been turned into a fortress," Kellen had pointed out, sounding exasperated.

"Beloved, it is time to try new things," Ancaladar had said gently, settling the matter. "I am sure it will be a fine bridge."

"Very well," Jermayan said, acknowledging defeat. "I should know better than to argue with a dragon."

"Indeed you should," Ancaladar agreed. "Riddles are far more effective."

* * * * *

THERE was an interested party of observers standing a little distance away, including Vestakia, Idalia, and Cilarnen. Jermayan walked to the very edge of the river, gazing down into the water.

The edges had begun to freeze, though it would be moonturns yet before the whole river froze again. As Kellen and Ancaladar watched, Jermayan paced back and forth through the snow, his eyes half-closed, until Kellen began to wonder if anything were ever going to happen at all.

Suddenly the air began to shimmer.

Beneath their feet, the ice creaked and groaned as it split. Kellen jumped back out of the way. The mantle of snow and ice had been pushed upward several inches in a wide fan extending several dozen yards in every direction on this side of the river, as if by something suddenly appearing beneath.

Stone began to form in the air.

At first it was like fog, and Kellen doubted his eyes. But no, it was truly there, growing outward from this side of the river, low and wide enough for two ox-carts to cross side-by-side. As the fog drifted out over the river, the parts at the near bank became solid; Kellen could see that Jermayan's bridge was made of granite.

There was a subtle pattern of river currents etched into the stone, mimicking the currents beneath. The texturing of the stone would also keep the granite from becoming too slippery in the rain, of course; the Elves were nothing if not practical.

More fog swirled up, forming a railing along the sides of the bridge. Tall river rushes, a leaping fish silhouetted against them, here an angular river-bird — Kellen knew without being told that its long beak was meant to hold a lantern to light the bridge in the dark — there an otter, jumping up in play to snatch at a hovering dragonfly…

In moments, the fog-turned-stone had reached the far side of the river. There was another crackling and buckling of ice as it sunk stone roots deep into the earth on the far side.

Kellen regarded the result in awe.

It was a bridge that looked like… water.

But the more he gazed at it, the less it looked as though it belonged here. Unlike every other creation of the Elves', it did not fit. It seemed as if it intruded on the landscape, instead of growing out of it. It demanded the attention immediately, instead of revealing itself slowly, in a series of unexpected yet pleasant surprises.

It was… intrusive.

Jermayan took a deep breath and opened his eyes.

Kellen turned to him and bowed, very deeply.

"I think you've won the argument," he said. "A bridge does not belong here. But we need one. And it
is
beautiful."

Jermayan regarded the bridge, obviously still unreconciled to it. "Perhaps, some day, it can be swept away again," he said. "I believe it is time to go," Ancaladar said.

* * * * *

THE flight to Sentarshadeen was short — a good thing, as the heavy weather that the Wildmages had predicted was already starting to set in. This far to the south and west, the snow was wetter and heavier than what they had been used to north of the Mystrals; even on the short flight, it caked both Idalia and Jermayan's flying-furs, until they resembled snow-figures.

On the journey, Jermayan at last told her the contents of the message that Keirasti had brought to Redhelwar.

"Leaf and Star," Idalia groaned, after sitting a long time in silence. "Jermayan, this is… This is the worst possible time… "

"Yes," Jermayan answered simply.

There was no need to say anything more.

* * * * *

ANCALADAR landed near the house of Leaf and Star. A curious herd of unicorns, their coats fluffed out against the cold and caked with falling snow, quickly gathered at a safe distance to observe this interesting sight.

Once they had dismounted, Jermayan quickly unbuckled the straps of Ancaladar's flying harness. There was no point in making his friend wear the saddle any more than he had to, and there was no way of telling how long they would be staying.

"I shall go off to my den," Ancaladar said once that had been accomplished. "Perhaps there will be… food… soon," he added hopefully.

"I shall bring you bullocks from my herd as soon as I can," Jermayan promised. He hefted the saddle to his shoulder; though it was comparatively light, it was bulky, and he was glad it was only a short walk to the House of Leaf and Star.

"Then I shall leave you now," Ancaladar said. He rose to his feet and trotted away. The unicorns followed, pacing him until he took off.

Jermayan and Idalia gazed up at the House of Leaf and Star.

"At the very least, I'd say they know we're coming," Idalia said, hefting the strap of her medicine chest higher onto her shoulder.

* * * * *

THE door was opened by an Elf that Idalia could not remember having seen at the House of Leaf and Star before. Taranarya was a textile weaver — some of her designs covered the cushions and pillows in the guesthouse that had been given to Idalia and Kellen when they had first come to Sentarshadeen.

It seemed like a very long time ago.

"I See you, Taranarya," Idalia said.

Taranarya regarded the two of them as if they had just sprouted directly out of the ground.

"We have come to see Andoreniel," Idalia added, when Taranarya did not say anything.

It was, of course, perfectly possible — and within the scope of the complex code of Elven Manners — for Taranarya not to "see" Idalia, and simply close the door in her face. But though technically that was permissible, it very rarely happened in practice.

"I See you, Idalia," Taranarya said at last. "I See you, Jermayan," she added. There was a pause. "Be welcome in this house and find comfort at our hearth." She opened the door wider and stepped back.

It was quite the most grudging welcome Idalia had ever received among the Elves, but Taranarya probably did not wish to admit there was sickness in the House of Leaf and Star — though anyone who could not guess why she was here instead of her cousin Talminonil was thick-witted at best. Talminonil had served in the House of Leaf and Star since before any of Idalia's grandparents had met. She hoped that Talminonil was… well, that things weren't as bad with Talminonil as they could possibly be.

Taranarya conducted them to the Room of Fire and Water. By the time they'd reached it, two more servants had arrived to take their heavy outer clothing and Ancaladar's saddle.

The Room of Fire and Water was one of the formal receiving chambers of the House of Leaf and Star, and as such, had been designed to be as much to be a work of art as simply a place where guests were welcomed. As the name implied, the room was designed to be a marriage of fire and water. At one end of the room was an enormous fireplace in the shape of a red-gold dragon, whose enormous tile wings covered the entire wall of the room. At this season, the dragon-hearth naturally contained a well-built fire, and the flames leaped and danced in the dragon's belly.

Of course, the dragon did not bear a great deal of resemblance to an actual dragon. It was much too round and cheerful — something the Elven artisan who had designed the room was undoubtedly aware of. And real dragons certainly didn't breathe fire, or carry furnaces in their bellies. But dragons certainly did radiate heat, just as this dragon-hearth was doing, so in that sense, the symbolism was quite accurate.

At the opposite end of the room there was a fountain, and here the room's colors were deep vivid turquoise and violet, the intense saturated hues a perfect complement to the red-golds and vermilions that surrounded the dragon. Here, a column of water bubbled high into the air, falling back into itself and down into its catchbasin. The glittering motes of color caught within the water were tiny fish-shapes, all made of glass, for living fish would not have been at all happy living in that turbulent water.

The walls between the fountain and the hearth were covered with a mosaic — Elvenware seashells mixed with natural ones at the fountain end, glass tiles at the hearth end — in which the two sets of opposite colors reached out and blended together in perfect harmony, like a vibrant sunset.

"I shall bring tea," Taranarya said. It was obvious that she felt that the room's elaborate beauty would occupy them for some time.

"We have come on the wings of the wind," Jermayan said urgently. "And so our words enter the realms of suitable discourse like summer storms into an orchard, tossing the boughs about and shaking loose the fruit. Yet I believe it is with cause, for I know that which you do not wish to relate. Kellen has told me what he has learned from Rochinuviel, and so you must understand that we already know much of what has happened within these walls. I beg you, do not delay us."

Taranarya regarded him as if he had shouted curses at her. It might not seem so on the battlefield, but to the ears of a gently-bred Elven artisan, this was plain speaking indeed, and it was obvious Taranarya had never heard anything like it in all the years of her long life. She stared at Jermayan for a long moment in shock, then curtseyed deeply and rushed as quickly as she could — without seeming to — from the room.

Jermayan and Idalia looked at each other.

"That certainly went well," Idalia said, after a moment.

"Perhaps we should have brought Kellen with us, to apply his courtly manners," Jermayan said ironically. "But I would truly feel more serene were I to know at once of the health of Andoreniel's Counselors, and have speech of them, and that is a thing neither cups of tea nor sweet cakes can provide."

"I see that Kellen's influence has been pervasive indeed," Idalia said, though she shared his feelings.

If Andoreniel was as ill as Kellen had implied, in Ashaniel's absence the Elven Council was all that was left to govern the Nine Cities. Tyendimarquen, Morusil, Ainalundore, Dargainon, and Sorvare had advised Andoreniel for centuries. Morusil and Ainalundore, at least, had advised Andorieniel's father Arinaldariel before him.

If all of them were sick, or dead…

But to Idalia's immense relief, before she and Jermayan actually came to the point of searching the House of Leaf and Star themselves for answers, Taranarya returned, bringing Morusil — and, inevitably, a large wheeled cart covered with savory dishes — with her.

The oldest of Andoreniel's Counselors leaned heavily upon a carved wooden staff as he walked into the room, and his steps were slow and hesitant. He seemed to have aged several centuries since Idalia had seen him last, though it had only been a handful of moonturns, and his ivory-pale skin was now marred with the ugly purple scars of plague.

"You should not be out of bed!" Idalia gasped, rising to her feet to help him to a chair near the fire.

Morusil chuckled faintly. "My dear Idalia, the Shadow's Kiss rested on me very lightly indeed, and that some sennights ago. Indeed, I was considering participating in the Winter Running Dance this year, for the first time in quite some time. But come. I am sure that you have news for me, and I will tell you what I can. Meanwhile, surely there is time to eat and drink." He raised a hand — though he was dressed in Council robes, he wore no rings, for they would have fit him far too loosely now — and Taranarya curtseyed once more and departed, closing the door to the Room of Fire and Water behind her.

They settled beside him around the fire, and Idalia laid out the tea-things upon the table, for despite his protests, Morusil looked far from well. Out of respect for his years, Idalia poured tea while Jermayan prepared them all plates from the — rather hearty — selection of delicacies.

Nevertheless, Morusil came quickly enough to the point.

"You come in a good hour, Idalia, for the Shadow's Kiss lies heavily upon us here. My old comrade Ainalundore has gone to the trees, and Sorvare with her. Only Tyendimarquen, Dargainon, and I remain, and… we do not know if Dargainon will recover. As yet, Tyendimarquen has not fallen ill, thanks be to the grace of Leaf and Star. But Andoreniel has not been so fortunate."

"That much Kellen has told us," Jermayan said. "He sent us here from Halacira, where he has destroyed the last of the Enclaves of the Shadowed Elves. Redhelwar follows, to await orders at Ondoladeshiron. Artenel prepares the caverns to become a fortress, for if we are to shelter the women and children of the Wild Lands, we must have shelter to offer them."

Morusil nodded. "It is a plan that contains both good and ill within it, yet I do not see how we can abandon our friends and Allies. Still, I would give much to know how Kellen intends them to reach this shelter. The unicorns tell us that travel will be impossible in the Wildlands until after Kindling, at best; in the High Reaches, it may be late spring, or later. And that is only without considering fear of attack. Yet I know that Their creatures already roam the Elven Lands and fill the Lost Lands."