The Betrayal (31 page)

When all the councillors had arrived, Jharan raised a hand in signal, and a deep chime sounded through the chamber. At its tone the voices stilled.

“My friends and kindred, welcome. I thank you for your attendance. We have matters of grave importance to discuss. Let us begin with the summoning.”

Glenhallow's court herald stepped forward and announced Lord Jharan, Turisan, and Lord Berephan, warden of Southfæld's Guard. The Eastfæld herald then came forward, naming Lady Rheneri and several of her kindred who attended her. In her company was Lord Ehranan, who had been commander of Eastfæld's forces in the Midrange War. With no border touching the Ebon Mountains, Eastfæld was the only ælven realm that did not keep a standing guard, though Eliani had heard rumor that they had summoned their reserve forces to arms.

The delegation from the Steppe Wilds was summoned next, headed by the governor and her companion, who proved to be her son, Lord Parishan. Eliani looked away from his curling bronze hair, reminded too strongly of Kelevon.

Had representatives from Fireshore been present, they would have been summoned last, as theirs was the newest ælven realm. Instead, Alpinon was the last party to claim its place. They had brought no herald, so Felisan, Eliani, Heléri, and Luruthin were announced in decorous tones by Southfæld's herald. As they took their places at the curving table, the chime sounded again, and Lord Jharan bade the Council be seated.

“You all know our reasons for meeting. We have much to discuss; therefore, I will lose no time in raising what appears to be the most pressing of several
urgent concerns. The western borders of Alpinon and Southfæld are threatened with war. We owe thanks to Lady Eliani of Felisanin for alerting us to the immediate danger of kobalen gathering west of Midrange Pass.”

Eliani glanced down at the table before her, feeling she deserved no thanks. She sensed her cheeks beginning to color and reached for her water cup as Jharan spoke again.

“Lady Eliani, if you would, please describe what you saw at Midrange.”

Governor Pashani stood up. “All honor to you, Lord Jharan, and to you, Lady Eliani, but should we not postpone until Fireshore can join the Council?”

“Every effort has been made to contact Fireshore. I have sent an armed party to them with a second summons. Until they return either with tidings or as escort to Fireshore's delegation, we must move forward.”

Pashani glowered but resumed her seat. Lord Ehranan, the most experienced warrior in the room, leaned forward. He wore his black hair pulled back from his face in a hunter's braid, and his features looked stark above a pale gold tunic.

“Fireshore is far away. Assuming they have not yet sent out a delegation, by the time your envoy returns, we may already be at war.”

An uncomfortable silence filled the chamber. Eliani gazed at her hands clasped before her on the table, her sense of dread increasing. A shadow approached—inexorable, inevitable. She glanced at Heléri, then at Turisan. Both were watching Ehranan.

Lady Rheneri turned to Jharan. “How long will it take the envoy to reach Fireshore?”

“Riding hard, thirty days at best.”

“And as long again to return.” Ehranan frowned. “Sixty days at the least before we have news. Past Midwinter.”

Eliani thought of the swiftness with which kobalen raids could destroy whole villages and imagined the havoc the horde she had seen could wreak. What if a similar horde was already at work in Fireshore? If it was, and the news took the better part of a season to reach Glenhallow, what hope would there be of sending aid? Yet if aid was sent now and no threat existed, Southfæld's defenses would be weakened needlessly.

She had meant to hold silent in council, but the possible cost was too great. She knew she could not bear another burden of remorse such as that which had assailed her at Midrange Pass. Drawing a faltering breath, she spoke.

“We can have word in thirty days.”

All eyes turned toward her, and she was struck with sudden awkwardness. She swallowed.

“I can ride to Fireshore and send back news …”

Courage failing, she looked to Turisan. He stood up swiftly, dark eyes blazing. Strangely, that calmed her rather than frightened her. The fire in his eyes was exhilaration. It burned for her.

He held her gaze, questioning, waiting. She gave a tiny nod, and Turisan's glance swept the room.

“Lady Eliani and I share mindspeech.”

A burst of exclamation followed even as Eliani breathed a rough sigh. It was done. It was revealed. Her choice was made.

Jharan rose again, this time to demand quiet from the councillors. He directed a hard look at Turisan.

“You have not seen fit to mention this before?”

“We only recently discovered it.”

Eliani watched Turisan stand firm before his father's frowning gaze, feeling more than willing to leave explanations to him. Coward yet again, she thought, and looked down at her hands. She realized she was clenching them together quite tightly, and tried to relax them.

“Have you tested it?” Jharan sounded half-angry, half-eager. “Can you speak across distance?”

“We do not know.”

Eliani looked up, saw Turisan's slight smile as he glanced at her, and tried to smile back though her heart seemed to have sunk into her belly.

Lord Jharan turned his gaze on her, dark and intense, seeming to weigh her. He looked from her to Turisan.

“Well, we shall test it now. Lord Turisan, prepare yourself for riding. Skyruach should be far enough.”

“My Lord Jharan.” Heléri, who hitherto had been silent, stood. “Had not this test better be postponed until morning? If he is to ride, the horse will go faster and farther in daylight.”

The governor's gaze flicked to her. His frown deepened slightly, but he nodded. “You are right, my lady. Turisan, you will ride at dawn.” He glanced around the council table. “I need one to ride with him.”

One breath passed, then Luruthin stood. “I will go.”

Eliani turned her head to look at Luruthin and saw the hint of protectiveness in his gaze. She smiled, not so much from approval as from a knowledge that his instinct was futile. He could not preserve her, and at once she knew she needed no protection. Turisan would not harm her. She might yet manage to harm herself, but that would have to be risked.

The councillors had begun to murmur. Jharan silenced them, raising his hands.

“Gentles, in light of this news, I suggest we adjourn until morning. I will remain here to discuss Midrange with any who wish, though we shall make no decisions to night.”

The chime sounded, and the room filled at once with excited voices. Turisan, still standing, was surrounded
instantly by Ælvanens and Greenglens. Only Rephanin remained seated, and even he was staring intently at Turisan.

Eliani was thankful that her kindred were around her, for she saw that the councillors nearby would have trapped her otherwise. Indeed, they called questions to her even as Heléri and Felisan swept her from the chamber with Luruthin close behind.

They hastened up the stairs and along the arcade to their suite, past the silvery whisper of the fountains below, into the privacy of Felisan's chamber. There her father caught Eliani by the shoulders, beaming with pride.

“My child! This is wondrous news!”

Eliani felt anything but wondrous. She hung her head. “Forgive me for not telling you at once.”

“No matter, no matter.”

Gently he took her chin in his hand, raising it. He was smiling with delight, though a slight frown dampened his joy as Eliani met his gaze.

“Does it trouble you, my daughter?”

Eliani opened her mouth, seeking words of explanation. Heléri spoke before she could form them.

“It changes everything. Imagine how much stronger it will make your alliance with Southfæld, how much more effective your defenses will be if you can communicate with Jharan from Highstone in the blink of an eye.”

Eliani glanced at Heléri, wondering if her elder-mother meant merely to distract Felisan or sought to reassure her that she need not be near Turisan to use the gift. Indeed, it would be most effective if they remained apart.

That was no comfort. What ever distance separated them, she knew that to touch in thought would bring them closer than she wished. She had, by revealing their gift, made that inevitable.

“Eliani.” Her father's hands were warm upon her shoulders; his face, when she looked up to him, filled with tender concern. “Your kindred will always be here for you. You are safe, my child. And Turisan is as good as kin; he will protect you.”

She shook her head, helpless to explain her fears. Her kin could not protect her from this. She was near to falling, or perhaps she already had fallen when she had let Turisan kiss her. Remembering it sent a shiver through her. She wanted him, and dreaded his touch.

Curunan took a decanter and a tray of goblets off a shelf and set them on the table. “That meeting was short. Are they all like that?”

Felisan chuckled, turning to him. “Well, Councils never accomplish much at their first sessions, but I believe this was the least effective I have seen. Scarcely begun before adjourned.”

Heléri shook her head. “I disagree. Eliani and Turisan have made to night's session one of the most important ever held.”

Eliani stared at the fire, making no answer. She wished she were in Alpinon, on patrol, shivering in the snow, perhaps, but free of the terrible pressure she now felt.

 The Ebon Mountains 

Shalár paused to scramble on top of a high rock and look down the eastern slope of the mountain they had scaled. She had not been east of the Ebons since her people had been driven out of Fireshore. She could see the tree line, blessedly close, and far below a wisp of smoke rising from the woods.

She tensed at the sight, suddenly feeling dangerously exposed, and instinctively crouched against the rock. She knew of no ælven village so close to this crossing, though her watchers had told her of one a day's journey to the north.

A guard outpost? Travelers? The smoke was near the mountain road, she could see by the small gap in the trees. She frowned. She would have to go carefully.

“Please.” The Steppegard leaned against a snow-strewn boulder. “Please, may we rest awhile?”

“We must get to the woods before dawn. It is not far.”

She glanced at him, saw the shortness of his breaths, each puffing ice into the night. He was becoming a little too weak for her liking. She jumped down from the rock, landing softly in snow, and went to him. Taking hold of his arm, she sent a flow of warming khi through him.

“Come. When we reach the forest, you may rest.”

He gazed at her, golden eyes pale in the twilight, surprise at her sharing khi with him writ on his face. Gently she urged him forward, and he complied.

They crossed a sloping snow-deep meadow, with occasional boulders thrusting up through the whiteness. Shalár regretted the marks their descent would leave, but there was little choice. By the time the ælven below took any notice, if they took notice, she hoped she would be far away.

She took the lead, easing the Steppegard's passage by breaking a path through the snow. The catamount snarled in anger as it followed them, so insane by this time that it no longer feared her at all. Only her hold on its khi kept it from attacking them.

She heard a surprised grunt from the Steppegard, turned to see him stumble to his knees in the snow. The catamount growled, and Shalár tightened her hold on it while she helped him to his feet. He was cold, very cold. She spent a little more khi on him and urged him onward.

“Only a little farther. Do you see?”

She directed his weary gaze toward the dark line of pine trees a short way below. He stared stupidly, then nodded.

There was no stopping when they reached the trees, though, for the snow was still deep. Shalár pressed on down the slope between pines, hoping to find a sheltered place where they might rest for the day. She steered southward, away from the smoke that she now smelled in taunting wisps on the air. Wood smoke, a fire built up anew from latent coals. Roasting meat.

Shalár paused, thinking. What ælven would be camped on this road in winter? No party of plea sure, no traders. A patrol, perhaps. Or a courier.