“Attacked by Delvers… World rocked by tremors… saw Axial darken…” He murmured as he wrote, painstakingly engraving each letter into the soft gold.
“We are climbing away from here. Signed, Karkald and Darann, Clan Watcher.”
“And Clan Silkmaker,” added Darann, stating her family’s clan. “Put that there, too.”
Karkald stifled his urge to object. She had joined his clan with the marriage… but still, it was only practical to put as much information here as they could.
“Very well… Clan Silkmaker.”
He placed the sheaf of gold against the hopper, and stood. “There are stairs leading partway up from here- they’ll take us some way toward the roof,” he said, indicating the narrow stone steps.
Darann started up, while Karkald’s hands moved through the routine.
“Hammer, chisel, hatchet, file. Knife pick rope spear.”
And then he, too, started toward the highest reaches of the only world he had ever known.
6
The Tapestry
Threads of life and lovers, colors bright or gray, a picture made of human life,
And warriors born to slay.
Tamarwind and Ulfgang came to her rooms as Belynda prepared to attend a meeting in the Senate forum.
“Just to say goodbye,” Tam explained. Once more he was dressed in his green traveling clothes and boots of soft leather. Ulfgang pranced around, white coat groomed to a cottony fluff. The dog was clearly anxious to go, but the elven scout seemed inclined to linger. “And I wanted to tell you that it was nice to see you again.”
“Yes…” Again Belynda felt that unusual flush spreading up her neck. “I… me, too. May the Goddess watch over your journey.” She felt jumpy, unusually worried-which she took to be a lingering reaction to the quake of several days earlier. “Do you know if the road to Argentian suffered any damage?”
“A few rockslides in the hills-that’s what the enchantress saw. Even if they’re not cleared out, we’ll have no trouble getting over them. The elves of the delegation are gathered and waiting for us on the Avenue of Metal. They’re anxious to get back home-I think the city has overawed them a bit. In any event, we should get across the causeway by midday.
Ulfang, who had been quivering, tail wagging while he tried to stand still, suddenly uttered a short bark, then hung his head in embarrassment. “Excuse me,” he said. “It’s just that I haven’t traveled in a long time… I guess the excitement of departure got to me.”
“Well, you have a good trip too,” Belynda said, touching the dog’s tufted white topknot. “And hurry back.”
Tamarwind took her arms in his hands, startling Belynda with the embrace as he stared into her eyes. “I would like to see you again… I hope that I can.”
“Yes!” she replied, holding absolutely still until he turned and, with an easy wave, ambled away. Ulfgang, tail still wagging, trotted ahead, then waited impatiently for the elf. In both of them she perceived-and envied-the eagerness to be starting on the journey that would carry them halfway across Nayve.
Belynda felt a sadly contrasting emotion as she joined several other ambassadors in the slow, dignified procession to the white-columned building that rose in stately majesty beside the College. Here the Senate convened in Grand Forum once every interval of forty days. The sessions were held in the great chamber, and were attended by elven sage-ambassadors as well as at least one spokesperson from the druids Grove. Normally Belynda found the sessions tedious and time-wasting. She had long ago determined that the more people involved in a process, the slower and more frustrating that process became, and there would be very many people indeed in the Grand Forum.
The senators themselves numbered nearly threescore, as every race of Nayve was represented by anywhere from two to twenty senators in that august body. Of course, it was the elves who had the twenty-the next most numerous group were the eight gnomish ambassadors. Some groups, such as the dryads and goblins, were limited to only a pair of senators. In theory, however, the Senate gave voice to every one of the cultures inhabiting Nayve.
As to the sage-ambassadors, there were more than a hundred in attendance. Each represented an elven community in the Fourth Circle-or at least a part of such an entity. Indeed, twelve of the ambassadors represented neighborhoods in Circle at Center, while the others, such as Belynda, were there in the interests of more rural realms like Argentian. The eldest of the local representatives was Rallaphan, a silver-haired patriarch who had held his seat for nine centuries. Belynda dipped her head as he marched past, honoring her with a cool nod. The sage- ambassador, like everyone else, stepped back to allow the regal senator to go by.
On her way toward the great doors she saw Zolaryn, the sage-ambassador of Barantha.
“My lady Sage-Ambassador? Do you have time for a word?” asked her fellow representative. Zolaryn was only a few centuries past the millennium mark, and bowed politely in deference to her elder.
“Of course,” Belynda agreed.
Zolaryn’s smooth brow creased in concern. “I have recently learned of many elves moving away from Barantha, particularly young males who have not yet bred. And there are similar reports from Kol’sos, too. I was curious to see if the same tendency has been reported in Argentian?”
“That is curious… I have heard of the same occurrence in my own land.” Belynda couldn’t help but be a trifle alarmed at this news. Clan and community were important attributes of elven life, and movement-except for purposes such as studying here in Circle at Center-was quite unusual. “They’re not Wayfarers, are they?” she asked, thinking of the small clans that dwelled here and there in Nayve. The Wayfarers maintained small villages, but were not inclined to belong to any of the major realms.
“If only it was as simple as that. But no, these are elves from good, long-standing families. And even their own clans can’t report on why, or where, they’re going.”
“Perhaps it will be addressed in forum,” Belynda suggested. In fact, she would welcome the chance to discuss something meaningful in the upcoming session.
Fortunately for a body that was sluggish almost to the point of utter inaction, the Senate of Nayve had very little work to do. While the elven ambassadors of the College saw to most matters of education, and the druids of the Grove made splendid caretakers for the natural world, the Senators could ponder questions of philosophy and ceremony. Belynda knew that, long ago, the great council had spent the better part of a century debating whether or not to honor the architect who had designed the grand structure housing the Senate offices. In the end, the commendation had passed-though the builder had been deceased for more than a thousand years!
Today, however, as she found her chair in the middle tier of the circular amphitheater, she sensed that there might be some purpose, even some urgency, to the meeting. All the seats were taken, and the two co-speakers on their stools at the center of the ring looked, if not concerned, at least like they were paying attention.
Praxian sat to the left. Short of hair and pinched of features, Speaker Praxian was tall and lanky, perching on the stool like some eccentric construct of sticks covered by a robe of purple and gold. Opposite the lean speaker sat Cannystrius, whose rounded face was capped with a lush head of curling yellow hair. Speaker Cannystrius was as rotund and short as Praxian was tall. Both had held their chairs for centuries, since long before Belynda had arrived in Circle at Center.
Now the two speakers exchanged glances and then stood, simultaneously. Cannystrius uttered a high, nervous cough, and the arriving senators and ambassadors quickly fell silent. It was Praxian who began, speaking in stentorian tones that resonated through the marble-walled chamber.
“We are honored by the presence of the sage-enchantress Quilene, who has brought herself here from the
