The Coral Kingdom

creature when it came through.'

Erashanoor groaned, his voice tremulous. 'This-the palace, these walls and gardens-they can all be rebuilt. But the Fey-Alamtine!'

The elderly elf's thin hands grasped Brigit's shoulders with surprising strength. 'The eternal route to Evermeet is closed!'

Brigit's mind refused to consider the long-term problem to which her mentor referred. Instead, she tried to grapple with more immediate concerns-the loss of her friends, the destruction of her city, and the astounding and timely arrival of humans within Synnoria.

'Can you come to the atrium?' she asked. 'The Serene Matriarch will be meeting the humans there. She- we-would like your presence.'

Erashanoor blinked again, looking around as if he couldn't bear to leave the wreckage without cleaning up. 'Humans? Yes-yes, of course!'

His voice grew firm, and he looked at Brigit sternly. 'We cannot bear every outrage of this grievous day!'

She felt a measure of relief as he fished out his great pipe and tamped down a bowl of his herb. Finally he turned his back on the chaos and followed Brigit toward the atrium, the only part of the Palace of the Ages where the floor was clear enough for a gathering.

Alicia and her companions stood as spectators to a confrontation between two factions of the Llewyrr.

On the one side, albeit reluctantly, stood Brigit Cu'Lyrran and the surviving Sisters of Synnoria. They formed a pathetically small group, though Alicia was heartened to see that the brave Colleen had survived the fight. These Llewyrr had fought the Ityak-Ortheel and knew that without the intervention of the humans, the battle would have ended in unmitigated disaster.

On the other side stood the venerable Erashanoor and the Elders of the Llewyrr, each of whom had lived a minimum of six centuries, representing nearly three thousand years of tradition coupled with implacable prejudice. Yet these elves, like the fighters, still reeled emotionally from the shock of the Elf-Eater's rampage.

The Serene Matriarch of Synnoria, Ate'Niah, sat in an ornately carved wooden chair in the center of the sunlight-filled chamber. Her face was unlined, but still reflected the wisdom of many centuries of life. Silver hair coiled around her head, rising into a peak that bore a small tiara of diamond-studded platinum. Despite the perfection of her coiffure, however, the haste of the meeting was reflected in her muddy boots and the traces of soot that stained her pearl-colored gown.

'I must repeat, Matriarch,' announced Erashanoor determinedly, 'I protest most strongly the presence of humans here, in the heart of our most sacred chambers!' The elderly Llewyrr, keeper of the Elven Gate for all these long centuries, avoided looking at the visitors, as if their very sight was an affront to his sensibilities. Instead, his gaze came to rest on Brigit, and he glowered with unconcealed anger.

'It has been agreed that their presence will be tolerated,' replied the Serene Matriarch Ate'Niah.

'Tolerated!' Alicia, who had been struggling to contain her anger and resentment at the elven arrogance, could no longer bear it. 'If we hadn't arrived when we did, there'd be no chambers here at all, sacred or otherwise! A brave halfling died in that cause!' She glared at the withered form of the gatemaster, daring him to meet her gaze, but he did not.

A touch on Alicia's arm brought her attention around to Robyn. The queen stood beside her daughter, though the princess didn't know how long she had been there. Yet, with the touch on her arm, Alicia felt her tension and anger fade from burning flame to dull coal, like a well-banked fire that nestled a great deal of heat while showing little brightness.

'Serene Matriarch of Synnoria, I thank you for the opportunity to speak in these exalted chambers,' Robyn began, bowing politely without seeming abject.

'I know who you are, High Queen Kendrick of Callidyrr,' said the thin-faced elven matriarch known as Ate'Niah. Her voice was cool, carefully formal. 'The mistress captain has informed me of your acquaintance in the recent past, and your contributions today are known to even the blindest of the Llewyrr.'

Recent past! The words brought rueful smiles to Robyn's and Alicia's lips. Her adventures with Brigit had occurred twenty years ago, half of the queen's lifetime, yet the elf could refer to it as the 'recent past'!

'I am pleased that my friend Brigit recalls our alliance in a positive light. The courage of her and her comrades was instrumental in the triumph of King Kendrick and myself.' Robyn's tone remained formal, but she smiled at the captain of the sister knights.

'Ah, yes… High King Kendrick. The extent of his rule was known to us, even isolated in Synnoria. His reign did not pass without merit.'

Again Alicia flushed. Tristan had merely united the four kingdoms of the Ffolk, the first ruler to do so since Cymrych Hugh! 'Not without merit' indeed! But she held her tongue, realizing that anger could only jeopardize their hopes.

'I extend our regret regarding his death,' continued the matriarch. 'The passing of even a short-lived human must be a thing of sorrow.'

Robyn stiffened, and for a moment, Alicia wondered if the sublime arrogance of the Llewyrr would overcome even her mother's discipline. It did not.

'He.. King Tristan. . may be alive,' replied the queen, her words ringing with hope in the vast chamber.

For a time, none of the elves made any reply. At first, Alicia wondered if they'd heard. Then she noticed a raised eyebrow on Erashanoor's creased forehead, a twist of the Matriarch's lips. Brigit alone gasped, and she did that silently.

'How do you know this? Is he a madman, to disappear from the world? Or is he a prisoner?' inquired Matriarch Ate'Niah.

'A prisoner,' replied Robyn. 'That is why we have come to you-to ask for help in his rescue.'

'No!' declared Erashanoor, forcing himself to look at the companions for a moment before turning to the matriarch to plead his case. 'It's a snare to trap us in human intrigues!'

'I was about to explain that we have no intention of 'ensnaring' you or even of asking Llewyrr to place themselves in danger,' Robyn said, her tone low but icy-hard. The rebuke against the venerable Erashanoor was plain to all the Llewyrr. The matriarch's lips tightened in an expression that might have been grim amusement.

'Who holds King Kendrick, and where?' asked Brigit.

'The scrags-the sea trolls-have imprisoned him in the Coral Kingdom. Their ransom demands are impossible, leaving us no recourse but to abandon him or attempt his rescue.'

'It would seem, then, that they have him beyond your reach,' observed the sister knight grimly. 'How did you hope that we could help?'

'There are tales. . perhaps little more than legends, though our bards and mages believe them to be grounded in the truth. . tales of elven ships that, at one time, could sail beneath the sea. If this is true and such magic can be employed to modify our vessels, we intend to mount an expedition to rescue him.'

Robyn stated the plan bluntly, and then she waited. If the matriarch or Erashanoor had expected her to plead for help, they were surprised. The queen of Moonshae would make no further attempt to persuade.

It was the ancient gatekeeper who broke the silence, and his tone was the softest it had been during this council. Erashanoor almost looked sad; certainly his attitude was regretful. 'Such knowledge was once the province of the elven seafarers, and perhaps two thousand years ago you would have found crafters among the Llewyrr who could help you. But such skills are long since lost to the elves of the Outer Lands.'

'Outer Lands? You mean places like Synnoria?' inquired Alicia, her impatience forcing her into the conversation.

'All the elvenlands beyond Evermeet are the Outer Lands,' explained the matriarch. 'And I'm afraid that the gatemaster is correct. The only repository of such knowledge is in the vast libraries and troves of the eternal elvenhome.'

Evermeet! To Alicia-to all the humans-the knowledge might as well have resided on the moon. That mystical isle was hidden somewhere in the mists of the Trackless Sea, reputedly death to any sailors who dared approach. The greatest navigators of humanity disagreed vehemently on its location or even its very existence.

Keane spoke softly, but his voice and his presence-he was the tallest person, man or elf, in the room-