Read Dragonlance 15 - Dragons Of A Fallen Sun Online
Authors: Margaret Weis
suddenly ceased all our attacks, the Knights would grow suspi-
cious that we were up to something, and they would start search-
ing for it. This way, we will keep them distracted."
"A month," Gilthas said softly, silently, praying to whatever
was out there, if anything was out there. "Just give me a month.
Give my people a month."
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
DAWN IN A TIME OF DARKNESS
Morning came to Ansalon, t~o.fast for som~, too slow for
others. The sun was a red slIt ill the sky, as if someone had
drawn a knife across the throat of the darkness. Gilthas
slipped hurriedly through the shadowy garden that surrounded
his prison palace, returning somewhat late to take up the danger-
ous role he must continue to play.
Planchet was lurking upon the balcony, watching anxiously
for the young king, when a knock on the door announced Prefect
Palthainon, come for his morning string-jerking. Planchet could
not plead His Majesty's indisposition this day as he had the last.
Palthainon, an early riser, was here to bully the king, exercise his
power over the young man, make a show of his puppeteering to
the rest of the court.
"Just a moment, Prefect!" Planchet shouted. "His Majesty is
using the chamber pot." The elf caught sight of movement in the
garden. "Your Majesty!" he hissed as loudly as he dared. "Make
haste!"
Gilthas stood under the balcony. Planchet lowered the rope.
The king grasped it, climbed up nimbly, hand over hand.
The knocking resumed, louder and more impatient.
"I insist upon seeing His Majesty!" Palthainon demanded.
Gilthas clambered over the balcony. He made a dive for his
bed, climbed in between the sheets fully dressed. Planchet tossed
the blankets over the king's head and answered the door with his
finger on his lips.
"His Majesty was ill all night. This morning he is unable to
keep down so much as a bit of dry toast," Planchet whispered. "I
had to help him back to bed."
The prefect peered over Planchet's shoulder. He saw the king
raise his head, peering at the senator with bleary eyes.
"I am sorry His Majesty has been ill," said the prefect, frown-
ing, "but he would be better up and doing instead of lying about
feeling sorry himself. I will be back in an hour. I trust His Majesty
will be dressed to receive me."
Palthainon departed. Planchet closed the door. Gilthas smiled,
stretched his arms over his head, and sighed. His parting from
Kerian had been wrenching. He could still smell the scent of the
wood smoke that clung to her clothing, the rose oil she rubbed on
her skin. He could smell the crushed grass on which they had
lain, wrapped in each others arms, loathe to say good-bye. He
sighed again and then climbed out of bed, going to his bath, re-
luctantly washing away all traces of his clandestine meeting with
his wife.
When the prefect entered an hour later, he found the king
busy writing a poem, a poem-if one could believe it-about a
dwarf. Palthainon sniffed and told the young man to leave off
such foolishness and return to business.
Clouds rolled in over Qualinesti, blotting out the sun. A light
drizzle began to fall.
The same morning sunshine that had gleamed down upon
Gilthas shone on his cousin, Silvanoshei, who had also been
awake all night. He was not dreading the morning, as was
Gilthas. Silvanoshei waited for the morning with an impatience
and a joy that still left him dazed and disbelieving.
This day, Silvanoshei was to be crowned Speaker of the
Stars. This day, beyond all hope, beyond all expectation, he was
to be proclaimed ruler of his people. He would succeed in
doing what his mother and his father had tried to do and failed.
Events had happened so fast, Silvanoshei was still dazed by it
all. Closing his eyes, he relived it all again.
He and Rolan, arriving yesterday on the outskirts of Silvanost,
were confronted by a group of elf soldiers.
"So much for my kingship," Silvanoshei thought, more disap-
pointed than afraid. When the elf soldiers drew their swords,
Silvan expected to die. He waited, braced, weaponless. At least he
would meet his end with dignity. He would not fight his people.
He would be true to what his mother wanted from him.
To Silvan's amazement, the elf soldiers lifted their swords to
the sunlight and began to cheer, proclaiming him Speaker of the
Stars, proclaiming him king. This was not an execution squad,
Silvan realized. It was an honor guard.
They brought him a horse to ride, a beautiful white stallion.
He mounted and rode into Silvanost in triumph. Elves lined the
streets, cheering and throwing flowers so that the street was cov-
ered with them. Their perfume scented the air.
The soldiers marched on either side, keeping the crowd back.
Silvan waved graciously. He thought of his mother and father.
Alhana had wanted this more than anything in the world. She
had been willing to give her life to attain it. Perhaps she was
watching from wherever the dead go, perhaps she was smiling to
see her son fulfill her dearest dream. He hoped so. He was no
longer angry at his mother. He had forgiven her, and he hoped
that she had forgiven him.
The parade ended at the Tower of the Stars. Here a tall and
stem-looking elf with graying hair met them. He introduced him-
self as General Konnal. He introduced his nephew, Kiryn, who-
Silvan was delighted to discover-was a cousin. Konnal then
introduced the Heads of House, who would have to determine if
Silvanoshei was indeed the grandson of Lorac Caladon (his
mother's name was not mentioned) and therefore rightful heir to
the Silvanesti throne. This, Konnal assured Silvanoshei in an
aside, was a mere formality.
"The people want a king," Konnal said. "The Heads of House
are quite ready to believe you are a Caladon, as you claim to be."
"I am a Caladon," Silvanoshei said, offended by the implica-
tion that whether he was or he wasn't, the Heads would approve
him anyhow. "I am the grandson of Lorac Caladon and the son of
Alhana Starbreeze." He spoke her name loudly, knowing quite
well that he wasn't supposed to speak the name of one deemed a
dark elf.
And then an elf had walked up to him, one of the most beau-
tiful of his people that Silvanoshei had ever seen. This elf, who
was dressed in white robes, stood looking at him intently.
"I knew Lorac," the elf said at last. His voice was gentle and
musical. "This is indeed his grandson. There can be no doubt."
Leaning forward, he kissed Silvanoshei on both cheeks. He
looked at General Konnal and said again, "There can be no
doubt."
"Who are you, sir?" Silvan asked, dazzled.
"My name is Glaucous," said the elf, bowing low. "I have
been named regent to aid you in the coming days. If General
Konnal approves, I will make arrangements for your coronation
to be held tomorrow. The people have waited long years for this
joyful day. We will not make them wait longer."
Silvan lay in bed, a bed that had once belonged to his gr.and-
father, Lorac. The bedposts were made of gold and of slIver
twined together to resemble vines, decorated with flowers
formed of sparkling jewels. Fine sheets scented with lavender
covered the mattress that was stuffed with swan's down. A silken
coverlet of scarlet kept the night's chill from him. The ceiling
above him was crystal. He could lie in his bed and give audience
every night to the moon and the stars, come to pay homage.
Silvanoshei laughed softly to himself for the delight of it all.
He thought that he should pinch his flesh to wake himself from
this wonderful dream, but he decided not to risk it. If he were
dreamin let him never wake. Let him never wake to find him-
self shivering in some dank cave, eating dried berries and way-
bread, drinking brackish water. Let him never wake to see elf
warriors drop dead at his feet, pierced by ogre arrows. Let him
never wake. Let this dream last the remainder of his life.
He was hungry, wonderfully hungry, a hunger he could enjoy
because he knew it would be satiated. He imagined what he
would order for breakfast. Honeyed cakes, perhaps. Sugared rose
petals. Cream laced with nutmeg and cinnamon. He could have
anything he wanted, and if he didn't like it, he would send it
away and ask for something else.
Reaching out his hand lazily for the silver bell that stood on
an ornate gold and silver nightstand, Silvanoshei rang for his
servants. He lay back to await the deluge of elf attendants to flood
the room, wash him out of his bed to be bathed and dressed and
combed and brushed and perfumed and bejeweled, made ready
for his coronation.
The face of Alhana Starbreeze, his mother's face, came to
Silvan's mind. He wished her well, but this was his dream, a
dream in which she had no part. He had succeeded where she
had failed. He would make whole what she had broken.
"Your Majesty. Your Majesty. Your Majesty."
The elves of House Servitor bowed low before him. He ac-
knowledged them with a charming smile, allowed them to
fluff up his pillows and smooth the coverlet. He sat up in bed
and waited languidly to see what they would bring him for
breakfast.
"Your Majesty," said an elf who had been chosen by the
Regent Glaucous to serve in the capacity of chamberlain, "Prince
Kiryn waits without to pay you honor on this day."
Silvanoshei turned from the mirror in which he'd been ad-
miring his new finery. Seamstresses had worked all yesterday
and all today in a frantic hurry to stitch the you:ng king's robes
and cape he would wear for the ceremony.
"My cousin! Please, let him enter without delay."
"Your Majesty should never say, 'Please,' the chamberlain
chided with a smile. "When Your Majesty wants something done,
speak it and it will be done."
"Yes, I will. Thank you." Silvan saw his second mistake and
flushed. "1 guess I'm not supposed to say, 'Thank you' either,
am I?"
The chamberlain shook his head and departed. He returned
with an elf youth, several years older than Silvan. They had met
only briefly the day before. This was the first time they had been
alone together. Both young men regarded each other intently,
searching for some sign of relationship and, pleasing to both,
finding it.
"How do you like all this, Cousin?" Kiryn asked, after the
many niceties and polite nothings had been given and received.
"Excuse me. I meant to say, 'Your Majesty.'" He bowed.
"Please, call me 'cousin,'" Silvan said warmly. "1 never had a
cousin before. That is, I never knew my cousin. He is the king of
Qualinesti, you know. At least, that's what they call him."
"Your cousin Gilthas. The son of Lauralanthalasa and the half-
human, Tanis. I know of him. Porthios spoke of him. He said that
Speaker Gilthas was in poor health."
"You needn't be polite, Cousin. All of us know that he is
melancholy mad. Not his fault, but there you have it. Is it proper
for me to call you 'cousin'?"
"Perhaps not in public, Your Majesty," Kiryn replied with a
smile. " As you may have noted, we in Silvanesti love formalities.
But in private, I would be honored." He paused a moment, then
added quietly, "I heard of the deaths of your father and mother. I
want to say how deeply grieved I am. I admired both of them
very much."
"Thank you," Silvan said and, after a decent interval, he
changed the subject. "To answer your earlier question, I must
admit that I find all this rather daunting. Wond~rful, but daunt-
ing. A month ago I was living in a cave and sleeping on the
ground. Now I have this bed, this beautiful bed, a bed in which
my grandfather slept. The Regent Glaucous arranged for the bed
to be brought to this chamber, thinking it would please me. I have
these clothes. I have whatever I want to eat and drink. It all seems
a dream."
Silvan turned back to regarding himself again in the mirror. He
was enchanted with his new clothing, his new appearance. He was
clean, his hair perfumed and brushed, his fingers adorned with
jewels. He was not flea bitten, he was not stiff from sleeping with a
rock for a pillow. He vowed, in his heart, never again. He did not
notice that Kiryn appeared grave when Silvan spoke of the regent.
His cousin's gravity deepened as Silvan continued speaking.
"Talking of Glaucous, what an estimable man he is! I am quite
pleased with him as regent. So polite and condescending. Asking
my opinion about everything. At first, I don't mind telling you,
Cousin, I was a little put out at General Konnal for suggesting to
the Heads of House that a regent be appointed to guide me until
I am of age. I am already considered of age by Qualinesti stan-
dards, you see."
Silvan's expression hardened. "And I am determined not to