elf, draped and cowled in the robes of the Grand Mage of the Towers.
'Jannalor! What happened? What is wrong?' she cried.
'Hush, child.' To Amlaruil's surprise, the voice belonged not to Jannalor, but to Nakiasha. The forest elf turned to face the young mage, and lowered the cowl that obscured her tear-streaked face. 'Do not speak his name while his spirit is yet so near to Evermeet, lest he turn away from Arvandor for love of you.'
To the young mage, this seemed impossible. For as long as she had lived-nearly three and a half centuries- Jannalor Nierde had ruled the Towers of the Sun and Moon. His calm presence seemed as constant and predictable as the dawn.
'Surely he is not dead!' she protested.
'Along with the other magi who ensorcelled the dragons,' Nakiasha said sadly. 'The task was too great, the magic that bound us all together too strained by the battle and by our far distance from each other. You were not part of the Circle, so you could not know. But each of the five magi who went with us to the Eagle Hills attended the silver dragons in separate, distant chambers among the caves. I felt them die when the enchantment was done, yet I could do nothing to save them.'
Amlaruil stared at her mentor, her thoughts spinning in confusion and stunned grief. Among the magi were many of her closest friends, and nearest kin. 'How then do you and I still live? It does not seem possible. It does not seem-'
'Right?' the older elf finished. 'Do not think that I have not asked that same question, many times. But to do so is to doubt the will of the gods. You and I, Amlaruil, carry the special blessing of the Seldarine. How old do you think me?'
The girl blinked, startled by the seeming non sequitur. 'You are past midlife, perhaps in your fifth century.'
Nakiasha snorted. 'Double that, you'd be closer. It will be much the same for you. Do not look so doubtful! You have lived three centuries and more, yet most who behold you take you for a maiden fresh from childhood. And what of your power? You should not have been able to cast the spell upon the dragon alone, and yet you did. You survived, even while those joined in a Circle could not bear the flow of magic. It is a hard fact, but you must accustom yourself to it, for it is your destiny. As is this.'
The forest elf shrugged off the Grand Mage mantle and came forward to drape it over Amlaruil's shoulders. 'It was the will of he who ruled these Towers that you succeed him. I but kept it in trust for your arrival.'
Amlaruil stared at her mentor, unable to take in all that she had said. 'But I am pledged elsewhere,' she whispered.
'Are you, now?' Nakiasha looked at her shrewdly. 'Ah. I see the way of it. The young warrior whom you supported through the battle, is it not?
'Even so,' the sorceress said briskly, not awaiting an answer. 'Was the nature of your pledge merely that of a young lover, or she who wishes to serve all her People?'
'Must I choose between them?'
'Perhaps.'
Amlaruil's fingers tangled in the folds of the Grand Mage's mantle, as if uncertain whether to draw it close or cast it aside. Yet there was no denying Nakiasha's words. The promises that she and Zaor had exchanged during the long, sweet hours of the night sang in her heart, and she would hold true to them. They were pledged to each other-and to the service of Evermeet.
In her heart, Amlaruil knew herself to be Zaor's true queen. But surely a long and difficult road lay before Zaor before he was acclaimed Evermeet's king. Perhaps she could best serve his destiny by accepting that which had been laid upon her by the former Grand Mage.
The elf maid lifted her head in an unconscious gesture of command. 'We must gather the magi. With so many of us gone, there is much that must be done to rebuild the strength of the Towers, and to lift the spirits of those who remain.'
A faint smile, one that was both proud and sad, crossed Nakiasha's face. Jannalor Nierde had chosen well- Amlaruil filled the mantle of power as if she had been fashioned for the task. The sorceress bowed her head in a gesture of respect, and followed the new Grand Mage out into the Tower courtyard.
18
The elves who sat at the table of the Council of Elders watched in stunned amazement as Lady Mylaerla Durothil put aside her cloak of office. 'Do not look so dismayed,' the elf woman said dryly. 'In recent years, the title of High Councilor has been largely honorary. It is, quite frankly, an honor I can live without.'
'It has never been the way of Durothil to turn aside from duty,' Belstram Durothil said in a tight, angry voice.
'Nor do I,' retorted the matron. 'The recent battle has shown me how I can best serve the People and myself. I am less suited to court life than a general's command, and I say without intention of giving offense that I prefer a dragon's company to that of any elf in this room,' she added, gazing pointedly at her great-great-nephew. Belstram flushed angrily and looked away.
'In resigning as High Councilor,' Lady Durothil continued, 'I do not suggest that the Council itself be dissolved. But mark me, its role, like my own, must change.'
'Lady Durothil,' interrupted Saida Evanara in a supercilious voice. 'With or without you, the Council has ruled Evermeet for centuries untold. It is tradition. What you suggest is absurd.'
'Is it?' the matron said tartly. 'Perhaps my time in the Eagle Hills has given me the distance needed for clear sight. Do you wish to discuss absurdity? Very well. While this council in my absence debated a course of action, while the commanders of the various forces scrambled for personal glory, a flight of dragons came within a day's ship-travel from our shores! Your own kinsman, Horith Evanara, was slain in this battle. Had he not acted as he did, going into battle without either consulting the council or summoning the dragonriders, we would not have before us the task of choosing his replacement!'
'As to that, I do not see why the council should debate this matter. The command should fall to me,' Saida stated, seizing upon the one item in Lady Durothil's speech of personal interest. 'Perhaps I am have not been long in Evermeet, but in my clan I stand next to Horith in military rank and experience.'
'The Nierde clan is not unique in producing able warriors,' Francessca Silverspear pointed out. 'Nor are you, Saida, the only elf seated here who fought for the life of Myth Drannor!'
'That is true enough, but would you have us toss aside all tradition in one afternoon?' returned Saida heatedly. 'For centuries, the Nierde clan has held Ruith and commanded Sumbrar!'
'And what of Ruith now?' inquired Montagor Amarillis, a young noble with the bright red hair characteristic of his clan. 'What of Sumbrar? The Starwing fleet is all but demolished. Many of the Sumbrar Tower's magi perished in an attempt to save the surviving dragons. Our reserves of arms and magic have been dangerously depleted by the actions of the last Evanara to hold Lightspear Keep. I, for one, am not eager to see Horith Evanara's legacy continued!'
Saida turned a coldly furious gaze upon the Moon elf. 'The Amarillis have always been ambitious, Montagor. You would be delighted to see control of Evermeet's military seized from the Gold elves. Next, you're going to argue that it's time for Evermeet to succumb to a Moon elven royalty!'
'That is precisely what I think, and it is the reason why I called the council together this day,' Lady Durothil announced firmly, turning Saida's mockery into a statement of truth.
She let the silence linger so that it might give weight to her next words. 'I know that many of the noble families, particularly the Gold elven clans such as my own, will be resistant to this. But all of us knew that the time would come! I say that it is here, now.'
'It is true that with a single voice commanding all the forces of Evermeet, we would be better able to respond to a sudden threat,' admitted Yalathanil Symbaern. 'According to Lady Durothil's reports, the tide of battle was turned when young Zaor Moonflower took command. I can only speak according to what I have seen, but I
