above them. It was well past midnight now, and the two had to rise in mere hours for the tylor hunt, but Flint would have died rather than hurry Tanis away now.
Suddenly Eld Ailea was standing on the bottom step, and Flint found himself wondering whether her magical skills included teleportation. She was remarkably quick-footed for someone several centuries old.
'Here,' she said, and handed Tanis a portrait encased in an ornate frame of silver and gold filigree, and a steel pendant on a silver chain. 'The pendant belonged to Elansa. She gave it to me before she died.'
Almost reverently, Tanis took the painting with one hand and the pendant with the other, seeming not to know which to examine first. The half-elf's greenish brown eyes looked wet, but it may have been the effect of the light. 'So this is the face she saw,' the half-elf whispered, and Flint found himself turning away to stare into the fire. The smoke was to blame for his own misty vision, certainly.
Eld Ailea looked over his shoulder. 'You were a robust infant, Tanthalas-remarkably healthy for one whose mother was so frail by the time he was born.'
Tanis swallowed, and Ailea continued, her voice barely audible to Flint, only several feet away. He wondered if that was the voice the old midwife used to sooth laboring mothers, to bring calm to colicky infants. 'Elansa loved Kethrenan dearly, Tanthalas. She decided, early in the pregnancy, I think, that she didn't want to live without her husband, but she stayed alive, hoping the baby was his.'
Tanis's face grew hard. 'Then when she saw me,' he said, 'she knew the truth.' He tried to give the portrait back to the midwife, but she wouldn't take it.
'No, Tanthalas.' Eld Ailea's voice was gentle, but her hand was strong on his shoulder. 'When she saw you, when she saw that face that you look at now, she seemed, I think, to change her mind. She roused enough to nurse her baby, but it was too much for her. She was simply too weak from all she had been through from Kethrenan's death onward.' The midwife's voice faltered. 'She held you until she died.'
Silence hung in the room like a darkness, broken only by someone's heavy breathing-Flint's own, the dwarf realized. He cleared his throat and coughed.
After a pause, during which none of the three met the others' eyes, Tanis asked, 'What about the pendant?'
Eld Ailea took it from him. 'It's steel, very valuable. Kethrenan gave it to her when they were married. She wore it always. I've considered it a blessing that the brigands didn't take that from her. She seemed to draw from it what little strength she had during those last months.' She walked over to Flint and showed him the amulet. Ivy and aspen leaves encircled the intertwined initials 'E' and 'K.' Scalloping decorated the edges of the circular disk.
There didn't seem to be anything more to say. Flint and Tanis were drooping with fatigue, and even the ostensibly tireless midwife looked weary. As if by unspoken agreement, the men gathered by the door to leave; Eld Ailea moved to retrieve Tanis's sword from where he'd left it by the fireplace. She hoisted it in its scabbard, then hesitated, an odd look on her face.
'This sword…'
Tanis spoke proudly. 'Flint made it.'
'Yes, I know,' she said, stammering slightly. 'It's beautiful. Yet…'
The dwarf and half-elf waited while the midwife collected her thoughts. She inhaled, and seemed suddenly decisive. 'Flint.' Her voice was sharp. 'Come here.'
Flint moved to her side, gazing worriedly into her hazel eyes. 'Could you fasten this pendant to this sword?' she asked. 'Would it ruin the weapon?'
'Well, certainly it can be done, and no, it wouldn't hurt it, but…'
'Permanently? That can be done?'
He nodded. Her expression caught him; it was an unsettling mixture of urgency and fear. He pointed to an open swirl in the hilt of the weapon. 'I could attach it there.'
Her hand closed over his on the sword's hilt. 'Then do it,' she urged. 'Tonight.'
'It's so late…' Flint hedged.
Eld Ailea grasped his arm. 'It must be done tonight. Will you? Without fail?' So close to the midwife, Flint suddenly saw the exhaustion, the years, that her sprightly character normally overshadowed. He promised, and she relaxed her grip-Flint parted from Tanis at the Hall of the Sky. The half-elf continued north to the Speaker's palace, and Flint went on home, carrying his friend's sword.
The dwarf spent the next two hours doing as the midwife had asked.
Miral made almost no sound as he passed the pair of black-jerkined guards posted outside the Speaker's private quarters at the palace; the guards hailed him and waved him on. At ease in the darkness, with only occasional torches to pain his eyes, he made his way quickly down one corridor to the stairwell. But instead of going down to the courtyard, he climbed the steps to the building's second level.
He paused at Xenoth's quarters, hearing the adviser's roisterous snoring even through the door, then slipped by Tanis's door, which stood slightly ajar, revealing a dark and empty interior. Miral imagined the half-elf was out walking the tiled streets of Qualinost, agonizing over the day's developments.
In succession, the mage passed Porthios's and Gilthanas's rooms, until he arrived at Laurana's. A light shone beneath her door, and he heard pacing within.
He knocked softly. The footsteps stopped, then approached the door. Laurana's voice was low. 'Who is it?'
'It is Miral, Lady Laurana. I apologize for bothering you at such an unconscionable time, but I need to speak with you.'
She opened the door. Miral caught his breath, as he did almost every time he saw the young princess. She was resplendent in a robe of watered silk. The aqua color brought out the glitter in her ashy hair and the coral tones of her curved lips. Momentarily, he fell speechless; then he chided himself for his lack of control.
'May I talk with you in private, Laurana? It's about the Speaker's announcement of your betrothal.'
Laurana's exotic green eyes widened, and color rose in her cheeks. 'Certainly… but not here.'
'No, of course not,' Miral said smoothly. 'In the courtyard, then? I would not want to disturb anyone. This will not take long.'
She thought, tilting her head to one side. 'Give me time to dress. I will meet you there in ten minutes.' Then she closed the door.
Well within the appointed time, Laurana, now more suitably garbed in a cloak and gown of dove-gray satin, was seated on a stone bench in the courtyard-the same bench that had witnessed the archery contest between Porthios and Tanis so many years before. But now the pear and peach trees stood bathed in silver light from Solinari, and the scent of blossoms was almost cloying. The steel door in the two-story marble edifice gleamed in the moonlight. She pulled the cloak tight around her.
Miral paced along the tiled path before her, his red robe appearing nearly black in the deep of the night. He seemed agitated. His hood had fallen back slightly, revealing pale features and the elf's almost colorless eyes.
'What is it, Miral?' Laurana prompted gently. 'You said it had something to do with Father's announcement.'
'I… I wanted to offer my condolences.' The mage dipped his head. 'I know that you prefer Tanthalas to Tyresian-which, I might add, shows considerable taste on your part.' He smiled engagingly, and she followed suit. 'Tanthalas is by far the more suitable for one such as you, regardless of his… violent… heritage. I am certain that you could keep his uncontrolled tendencies under rein, my lady. After all, not all humans are savages, and I have long been impressed by Tanthalas.'
He dipped his head slightly, and the hood fell forward over his features again.
Laurana felt flustered, unsure how to sort the mage's combination of praise and condemnation of Tanis. 'Thank you, but I don't see-'
'There is one even more suitable for you.'
Laurana felt a look of amazement cross her features before years of court training took over and she forced her face to go blank. When she spoke, her tone was carefully neutral. 'And who is that, Miral?'
'Me.'
Laurana was on her feet before the word had stopped echoing in the night air between them. 'You!' she said
