He started and whirled to face her, his hand on the hilt of his mighty sword. For a long moment, he merely stared. Puzzlement, then startled realization, then dawning horror came over his face.
Anarzee understood all these emotions. She was not surprised that her love did not recognize her at first, for she was much changed. Her body, always slender, had become streamlined and reed-thin, and her once-white skin was now mottled with swirls of blue and green. The sides of her neck were slashed by several lines of gills, and her fingers and toes were longer and connected by delicate webbing. Even her magnificent sapphire-colored hair was not what it once had been, and she wore the blue-and-green strands plaited tightly into a single braid. Only her sea green eyes had remained constant.
'The raising of Iumathiashae has begun,' she said softly, for it was their custom to speak of matters of warfare and governance before turning to their personal concerns. 'A great Sea-elven city will stand between the Coral Kingdom and Evermeet, for High Magic has returned to the elves of Evermeet's seas. We will re-people the seas, and provide a balance for these forces of evil. The shores of Evermeet will be secure; the seas will again be safe. Tell the People these things,' she concluded in a whisper.
Darthoridan nodded. He could not speak for the scalding pain in his chest. But he opened his arms, and Anarzee embraced him.
'I accept my duty and my fate,' the Sea elf said in a voice rich with tears. 'But by all the gods, how I shall miss you!'
'But surely you can spend much time ashore,' he managed.
Anarzee drew back from him and shook her head. 'I cannot bear the sun, and the nights are when the evil creatures are most active, and my duty most urgent. I will do what I can, and what I must. This twilight hour will be our time, brief though it is.'
Darthoridan gently lifted her webbed hand and kissed the mottled fingers. 'Thus it is ever with time. The only difference between us and any other lovers who draw breath is that we know what others seek to ignore. Joy is always measured in moments. For us, that must be enough.'
And so it was. Each night when the sunset colors gilded the waves, Anarzee would come to speak with her love and to play with her babe. When at last she had to relinquish Seanchai to his nurse, she would linger in the water below the keep and sing lullabies to her child.
In the years that followed, the lovers found that their times together came less and less often. Darthoridan was called often to the councils in the south, and Anarzee roved the seas in defense of her homeland. But she returned to the wild northland coast as often as she could, and to her son she gave the one gift she had to give: the songs taught to her by the merfolk and the sea sirens and the great whales, stories of honor and mystery from a hundred shores.
So it was that this boychild grew to become one of the greatest elven minstrels ever known, and not merely for his store of tales and songs of heartbreaking beauty. Even his name, Seanchai, came to denote a storyteller of rare skill. But there was never another who equaled his particular magic, for the noble spirit of Anarzee flowed through all his tales like air and like water.
12
The harbor of Leuthilspar was silvered with the promise of dawn when Rolim Durothil and Ava Moonflower slipped away from the home they had shared for many years. They left behind them a large gathering of their kin- Gold and Silver elves alike-as well as a multitude of elves from all clans and races who had come to do honor to Evermeet's High Councilor and his consort, the Lady High Mage.
It was difficult for Rolim not to reflect upon what he was leaving behind. He and Ava had been blessed with an unusually large family. They had raised seventeen healthy children, who had in turn given them grandchildren to the third and fourth generation. These offspring had increased both the Durothil and the Moonflower clans. Some of their kin had gone on to form alliances with other ancient houses, as well as with newcomers-elves who had come to Evermeet by sea, or through the magical gates that linked the island to places hidden within the elven realms. He and Ava had been fortunate in their family, and in each other. They had lost kinfolk, that was true. Their daughter Anarzee was all but lost to the sea, though she served Evermeet still as a Sea elf, and a few of their grandchildren had perished in the sea battles that, though less common, were still a grim reality of life on the elven island. But the losses had been somewhat easier to bear for Rolim, in that he had such strength ever at his side.
Rolim looked fondly upon his wife of over seven centuries. Her gray eyes were serene, and the oddly dull, kitten-soft gray of her hair was streaked at last with elven silver.
But for that, there was little in her face or form to mark the passage of years. Ava appeared to be nearly as youthful as the day they married, and in his eyes she was far more beautiful.
Together the aged couple climbed the easy slope of the mountain that overlooked the river and the city beyond. For a long time they stood there, looking out over the place that had been their home.
On this, her last day upon Evermeet, Ava's heart was filled with a poignant mix of joy and sadness. She had loved this land and the People in it, but she was prepared to go. Her farewells had all been said in a celebration that had lasted three days. No one had come to the mountain to see them off. This time was theirs alone. She smiled at Rolim, and was surprised to see that furrows lined his brow. He looked deeply troubled-an odd thing, considering the peace that awaited them.
Ava tucked her arm into his. 'You have served Evermeet with honor, my lord,' she reminded him. 'And Tammson Amarillis will be a fine High Councilor. You have trained him well.'
The Gold elf sighed. 'I have no fear of Tammson. It is our own brood, and their hot-blooded young friends, who give me pause.'
It was not the first time Rolim had spoken of this concern to her. There were among their Gold elven descendants some who were not immune to the growing pride of the self proclaimed Ar-Tel'Quessir-the 'high elves.' It had been a matter of no little concern to Rolim. Gold elven sentiments concerning the innate superiority of their kind was growing to the point where the young elves threatened to mirror the dangerous attitudes of Aryvandaar's ruling elite. Among the youngest two or three generations there were many elves who were bitterly unhappy with the decision to return the Council of Elders to the control of a Moon elf. Tammson Amarillis, for all his talents, would not have an easy road ahead.
'The burden is no longer yours,' Ava reminded him. 'You have ceded your place to Tammson.'
'I know. But even with Arvandor ahead, it is not an easy thing to leave Evermeet,' he said ruefully.
'Even so, it is time.'
It was time, and Rolim knew it well. He and Ava, bonded together by the soul-deep rapport that was rare even among the elves, had both felt the call of Arvandor for many years. So pressing were their duties, so firm was their sense of responsibility to the People, that they had delayed their departure for far too long. But the voice of Arvandor, sweet and compelling, had beckoned to them in every waking hour, and sung them into revery at night. The need for this final homecoming had become too strong for either to resist.
The elves closed their eyes and sank deep into meditation. As he did, Rolim's awareness began to sharpen. With ever-increasing acuity, he began to see and hear and feel in ways that far surpassed his mortal senses. As barriers slipped away, he noted with wonderment that the rapport he had shared with Ava was spreading, reaching out until it encompassed all of Evermeet. On he went, traveling out to touch the communities of People upon distant shores.
It was a communion beyond anything Rolim had ever known or imagined, and he was awed and humbled. In his heightened awareness, he was exquisitely aware of Ava's thoughts and emotions. She was more accustomed to such wonders than he, for she had spent a lifetime as a High Mage in the communion of her magical Circles. Yet she also took her place in the larger elven community with mingled joy and humility.
Rolim understood at last what the call to Arvandor was: a summons into the very heart of magic, into the Weave of Life itself. As the centuries of their mortal lives began to press upon them, elves could no more disregard this call than an elven toddler could push aside the driving desire to walk and form speech. One way or another, the call to deeper community had to be answered. It was no marvel to Rolim, now that he saw the way of it, that more
