'That's for the Hill Elders to decide,' said Galaeron. 'My duty is only to tell what happened.'
The answer was a dodge, for the truth lay somewhere between the extremes laid out by the wizard. The humans had broken an elven crypt, but the ones inside had been nobles of the much despised Vyshaan clan, and even then nothing had been stolen. And while the humans had resisted the patrol's attempt to capture them, they had risked their own lives to avoid injuring elves. Given these facts, Galaeron's attitude would carry more than a little weight with the Elders.
What Galaeron did not know was how much to trust the humans. There was an undeniable aura of darkness about Melegaunt, and it had crossed Galaeron's mind that the battle in the Vyshaan crypt might be no more than an elaborate ruse to sneak a powerful and evil wizard into Evereska.
Melegaunt smiled crookedly at Galaeron's response then watched as Nimieye removed the hoods from Vala's followers. The three men-Vala had introduced them as Burlen, Kuhl, and Dexon-blinked and glowered at Galaeron, portending the black look Vala shot him when her own hood came off.
'Mind how you tell your tale, elf,' she said. 'Helm has a memory for word breakers.'
'That might concern me, were I a word breaker or a human.' Galaeron was beginning to feel a very humanlike anger at the woman. 'As it is, I'm a tomb guard holding a band of crypt breakers in custody, with no reason to trust them.'
The woman opened her mouth to retort, but Galaeron cut her off by glancing over to check on Takari. The scout was still slouched in front of Ehamond, not quite slumbering, but in some state far deeper than Reverie. It was a bad sign, for elves did not sleep unless they were ill or badly wounded. Galaeron started down the trail at a trot, determined to have Takari in a healer's hands before Eastpeak's shadow left Moondark Hill.
Despite the many concerns facing him-or perhaps because of them-Galaeron found himself bitterly disappointed by the humans' indifference when Nimieye removed their blindfolds. This section of the trail was the most striking part of the return to Evereska, with a vast staircase of vineyards descending toward the city in a series of mist-shrouded terraces, and not one human had stopped glowering at him long enough to notice the view
In the bottom of the valley lay a rolling patchwork of fields both gold and black. From Galaeron's perspective high in the Vine Vale, these farmlands formed a deep crescent in the bottom of the valley, with the thousand foot cliffs of the High Sharaedim ringing it on the exterior and Evereska looming up in the center. Though the city was often described as walled-usually by bombastic humans who based their 'eyewitness' accounts on tales bribed from elves half-drunk on the Halfway Inn's potent elquesstria-the walls were in fact the smooth-polished cliffs of the Three Sisters, the largest of the dozen hills upon which Evereska rested.
Behind the cliff tops rose hundreds of towers, soaring up out of a thick bluetop forest to make the city look like a many-spired crown. Most spires rose to twice the height of the surrounding trees, some even higher than the peaks of the High Sharaedim. Their exteriors swarmed with lines of antlike figures, residents of the city going about their daily business with no thought as to how strange it looked from below.
Such was the magic of Evereska, jewel of the mountains, and Galaeron considered anyone who failed to gasp at its wonders worthy of doubt. He led his prisoners down the Vine Vale terraces via a series of gentle switchbacks, then traveled down a narrow lane to the walled pasturelands that surrounded Evereska. As they approached the boundary, Galaeron spoke a word of passing. The gilded gate swung open, admitting the column into a rolling meadow dotted with boulders and bigcone firs. Like many of Evereska's defenses, the gate's purpose was not obvious. While it was not magical, it marked the perimeter of the city's most priceless treasure and best- kept secret, the mythal.
As intangible as it was invincible, the mythal was a mantle of living magic woven by the high mages of old. Galaeron did not fully understand its nature-when the masters spoke of it at all, it was only to claim that no elf alive could comprehend a mythal's intricacies-but most elves believed it to be a mesh of mystic energies spun from the life-forces of its ancient casters, the favor of Corellon Larethian, and the fabric of Faerun's magic Weave. What Galaeron did know was that first and foremost, the mythal was Evereska's most potent defense, capable of plaguing foes with a dazzling array of assaults-including the famous gold bolts so often attributed to Corellon's guardianship. The mythal also provided other blessings, such as the ability of the city's inhabitants to climb vertical walls. In return, it required only that the elves maintain the health of its sustaining lands.
As the rest of the column crossed the mythal's perimeter, Galaeron glanced over his shoulder to look for any sign that Melegaunt perceived the magic field. The wizard's eyes remained as dusky and unreadable as ever, exhibiting neither curiosity nor surprise as they scrutinized the meadow's green grass and the butterflies still bobbing along in the breeze. Vala and the other humans were a stark contrast to Melegaunt's nonchalance, gawking about with fallen jaws and craning their necks to stare up Evereska's thousand-foot cliffs.
Satisfied that neither Melegaunt nor any of the humans sensed the mythal, Galaeron led the column across the meadow to the Tomb Guard Livery. A simple three-walled shed with a station for each patrol to store its harness and tack, there were no pens or stalls, nor even any mangers or watering troughs. Galaeron dismounted and made his assignments then unbound the humans' feet and helped them dismount as well.
'Nimieye will unsaddle and curry your mounts.' He slung the humans' sword belts over his shoulder, taking care not to let the glassy pommels touch his skin. 'But we don't corral our beasts.'
'It is no bother,' said Melegaunt. His hands remained bound like those of the other humans; unlike the others, he did not seem irritated or particularly worried by it. 'Raven will bring our mounts when 1 send for him- though I trust we won't be returning to the Desert Border on horses.' 'That much we are safe in assuming, yes,' said Galaeron.
Vala gave him a dark look, then stepped out from beneath the livery shed and tipped her head back to stare up the cliff. 'How do we get up there?' 'Dynod will lead the way'
Galaeron nodded to Dynod, who took Takari from Ehamond's arms and entered a small, irregular chamber hewn into the cliff base. He vanished from sight, as did Ehamond when he followed. Galaeron motioned Vala and the other humans to follow, then stepped through himself. There was a golden flash and a brief feeling of falling, and when he put his foot down again, it was onto a marble-paved lane filled with the zesty scent of dusktop blossoms.
Vala and her men stood at the edge of the street, silently gawking at the wondrous forest around them. White-paved paths curved off in every direction, twisting through an eye-boggling tangle of towers and trunks. In the sylvan shade, it was difficult even for Galaeron to tell which was which. The trees were uniformly as large around as castle towers, with cross-striped bark ranging from white to gray, and branches so high overhead it was not unusual for mist to form beneath the leaf canopy. The towers were sometimes smaller than the tree boles and sometimes larger, but most were almost indistinguishable from the mighty bluetops that dominated the outer rim of the city.
With the sun just rising above Eastpeak's craggy shoulder, it was the busiest time of day. Elves were everywhere, gliding along the ground paths, popping out of high doorways to clamber headfirst down the tower exterior, sometimes even soaring from one building to another like flying squirrels. Even with the unpleasantness to come, Galaeron found himself feeling more content and peaceful than even the calmest desert afternoon lounging naked in a pool of cool canyon water. This was Evereska, Lasthaven to all the elves of Faerun, sanctuary to Galaeron and all Tel'Quess who would hold some home for their race against the relentless tide of human expansion.
'I believe we are to follow Dynod and Ehamond,' said Melegaunt, nudging Vala and the others up the lane. 'Galaeron will inform us when we should turn off.'
'Follow them all the way' The long ride had fatigued Galaeron more than he thought. Though he always enjoyed his return to Evereska, he usually did not come so close to slipping into Reverie the instant he entered it. He shook himself alert and started up the lane. 'We will see Takari to the Hall of the High Hunt.'
Melegaunt stopped, finally seeming to take exception to Galaeron's instructions. 'Do you think that wise? We wouldn't want to keep the Hill Elders waiting.'
'You will do as I say, human.' Galaeron pushed Melegaunt after the others but quickly regretted his tone. His anger had more to do with the danger he had unleashed on the city than anything Melegaunt had done. In a gentler voice, he added, 'We'll be speaking with the elders sooner than you think, Melegaunt. In Evereska, we have our own ways of doing things.'
The path ascended along the bank of a small stream, passing several waterfalls artfully arranged to spill from the mouths of deep emerald pools. As they walked, elves young and old paused to stare at Galaeron's
