a spear shaft. Decorating the front of its wooden handle was a square-cut amethyst, the gift he’d received from the old gemcutter weeks before.
Hytanthas Ambrodel was among the returning riders. The young Qualinesti broke ranks and approached. He dismounted before the Speaker.
“Captain Ambrodel. What word do you bring me?”
“A sad one, Great Speaker. There is still no sign of Lady Kerianseray.”
Gilthas had feared as much. He’d ordered the Lake of Dreams searched for any trace of his consort. The captain had led the search himself.
The Speaker sent him back to the returning riders. Hamaramis cleared his throat. “Great Speaker, what of the warriors who mutinied? They disobeyed their commanders and followed Lady Kerianseray against your orders. They must be punished.”
From their faces, Gilthas thought they’d been punished already. The old general obviously did not. “Discipline must be maintained, sire,” Hamaramis added.
“Punish over half the army? What would that do to morale?” Gilthas said gloomily.
Planchet intervened. “Certain zealots can be singled out, Great Speaker.”
After a pause, Gilthas nodded. “Don’t treat them too harshly,” he said. “Their loss is my loss.”
He swayed a little, despite his cane. Smoothly, Planchet eased a stool behind him and he sat. The valet hid his own worry, but he’d begun to wonder whether the Speaker would ever be whole again. The Khurish priestesses had cured him, yet he was still so weak, the silver in his hair more pronounced. Gilthas was not much older than Captain Ambrodel, but he seemed a generation removed.
“Sahim-Khan has done us a great service today,” the valet suggested. The nomads had been repulsed without the loss of elven life-save one, perhaps.
“I wonder how much he’ll charge us for the service,” Hamaramis muttered sourly.
Gilthas gazed over the dunes that filled the landscape around the tent city. The tan hills seemed to him the body of a vast sleeping giant, lying on its side.
“Sahim will not get another copper from us. This incident proves the time has come for us to go.” Hands cupped over the head of his cane, Gilthas looked up at his loyal friends, first Hamaramis, then Planchet. “To Inath- Wakenti, the Valley of the Blue Sands.”
“Is the place hospitable?” asked Planchet. “What of the dangers Lady Kerianseray mentioned?”
“We have many scholars and sages among us. They will unravel the mysteries. Besides-” Gilthas frowned. “There are dangers here too, and they will grow greater if we stay.”
The nomads had been driven back, but only temporarily. They would recover and return, using the desert as a shield against Sahim’s powerful but ponderous army. Plots in the city would continue so long as the Sons of the Crimson Vulture agitated against the elves. The rogue sorcerer Faeterus was still at large. Compared to these pressing ills, how terrible could Inath-Wakenti be?
Gilthas saw his retinue watching him, and he knew their troubled thoughts. He, too, sometimes wondered whether he had become obsessed with a spot on an old map. Was it sanctuary or delusion? The only way to know the truth was to go there.
As inevitable as drawing breath, his thoughts returned to Kerian. He refused to count her as dead. He would know in his heart if her life had ended. More likely, she had been carried off by the nomads, to whom she’d so valiantly surrendered herself. He already had resolved to send a small band of warriors to determine her fate and rescue her if possible. He would put Hytanthas Ambrodel in charge. However far the nomads went, however long it took, the dedicated captain would follow. If Kerian had been slain, Gilthas must know. If she was Adala’s prisoner, he must get her back. The one thing he could not do was remain any longer in Khuri-Khan. Sahim’s resources would be invaluable in the search for Kerianseray, but the elves must leave him on good terms. If they tarried, Gilthas risked losing the entire elven nation. The survival of his people must outweigh the welfare of his wife.
Dreams were murky things. As the sun settled low between the western dunes and the hot blue sky cooled to the colors of fire, Gilthas closed his eyes and let his chin rest on his hands. They were all such a long way from home. Like children, they were trying to find their place in the world. But children, he mused, didn’t usually have half a continent trying to kill them.
Trying. Many had tried, and failed. The ancient race of elves, firstborn of the world, would not be swept into oblivion without a mighty struggle. They would call on every scrap of strength, talent, and enterprise to save themselves. A hundred thousand had followed their Speaker into exile after the dual destructions of their homelands. From this core of strength, this seed, a new elven nation would grow. All that was needed was a sanctuary to allow the seedling to take root.
Dreams were awake. Gilthas opened his eyes to the dying sun.
A KHURISH GLOSSARY OF WORDS AND PHRASES
affre - A hooded, ankle-length robe worn over the
Fabazz (a.k.a. Lesser Souk) - An outdoor market in Khuri-Khan, for spices, incense, and foodstuffs.
geb - A sleeveless robe that hangs straight from the shoulders unless tied at the waist with the
geel - One of the eleven civic precincts of Khuri-Khan.
geel-khana - The guard commander of one of Khuri-Khan’s eleven
ghuffran - A leather cord used as a belt on the
Grand Souks - The main outdoor market in Khuri-Khan and the largest market in all of Ansalon.
Harbalah -The northern district of Khuri-Khan, ruined by Malystryx and not repaired.
Khuri-Khan - The capital city of Khur; historically, the seat of the Khur tribe.
Khuri yl Nor (“Palace of the Setting Sun”) - The palace of the khan in Khuri-Khan.
laddad - (ancient) Literally, “those who walk on air,” referring to griffon riders. (modern) Elves, encompassing Qualinesti, Silvanesti, and Kagonesti, since Khurs make no distinction.
Laddad-ihar (“Elves’ Anthill”) - The Khurish name for the elven tent settlement outside Khuri-Khan.
Lesser Souk - see
maita - Fate, carrying connotations of inevitability, an outcome predestined by the gods which no mortal can escape.
Malsh-mekkek (“Malys’s Tooth”) - A boulder buried in the
Malsh-sakhar (“Malys’s Anvil”) - The western gate into Khuri-Khan; so called because Malystryx crushed many foes against its iron portcullises.
Mazin yl Sadaf (“Lake of Dreams”) - A dry depression six miles from Khuri-Khan; so called because travelers commonly see mirages of water in it.
Nak-Safal (“Bottomless
Nor-Khan - The central citadel in the
soukat - A merchant in the Khurish
Weyadan (“mother of the Weya-Lu”) - A title of the widow of the Weya-Lu chief.
Zacca-Khur (“Father of Khur”) - One of the khan’s many titles (i.e., Sahim Zacca- Khur).
