In a few minutes they rolled into a small courtyard below one of the palace’s green stone towers, and followed the half-elf past more guardsmen into the tower.
The palace of Aglarond’s queen was not so large or ethereally beautiful as Amlaruil’s in Leuthilspar, but it was easily the grandest and most elegant building Araevin had ever set foot in outside of Evermeet itself. Despite his two and a half centuries and familiarity with the uses and exercises of power, he could not entirely quell the uneasy awe that settled over him. Maresa was positively petrified, marching stiffly as if she expected to be arrested on the spot, while Donnor Kerth lapsed into a silence so deep and sullen that Araevin feared he might try to fight his way out of the place given the least provocation to do so. Ilsevele, though… She strode along confidently, her chin high, her eyes straight ahead, refusing to be intimidated by the setting. She was the daughter of a lord of Evermeet, after all, and she had been born to palaces.
Jorin Kell Harthan led them to a comfortable hall with a great fireplace and a large banquet table. He spoke a quiet word to the guards walking with them, and the two warriors withdrew to flank the door.
“There’s wine on the table,” the half-elf said. “Help yourselves, if you like.”
“Well, if we are being arrested, it’s starting well enough,” Maresa muttered. She went over and poured herself a goblet.
“Are we under arrest?” Donnor Kerth asked the half-elf.
“Most likely you are not, Dawnmaster. We will see soon.” Harthan leaned against a credenza, and spoke no more.
They all waited anxiously for a short time, but just as Araevin was about to question the Aglarondan again, the door at the far end of the hall opened, and a regal woman swept into the room. She was tall and dark-haired, with striking green eyes as bright and keen as a serpent’s. She wore a gown of deep green, and Araevin noticed at once that she was quite skilled in the Art, girded with subtle spells and enchantments he would be hard-pressed to match.
“Greetings,” she said in a cool voice. “I am Phaeldara, apprentice to the Simbul. I am currently serving as regent in her stead. Now, do not be alarmed, but I am going to cast a spell. Be still.”
With no more warning, the enchantress skillfully cast a powerful divination that Araevin recognized, a spell that would give her the ability to reveal false things and unearth magical deceptions. Phaeldara studied Araevin and each of his companions for a long moment, taking their measure, and she allowed the spell to fade away.
“Forgive me for that. We have learned that we must be careful of strangers. The zulkirs of Thay have tried to slip assassins in magical guise into the palace before.”
“What is this all about, Lady Phaeldara?” Araevin asked. “If we have given offense to you or your people in the last two days, we sincerely apologize.”
“It has come to my attention that you have been making inquiries throughout the city about Yuireshanyaar and star elves. I would like to know why you are interested in such things.”
Araevin studied the Simbul’s apprentice for a moment, considering his answer. He could see no reason not to be reasonably forthright with the Aglarondans. They did not need to know about the selukiira embedded over his heart, but it certainly would not hurt for more people to know of the threat posed by Sarya Dlardrageth and her fey’ri legion.
“An old enemy of the People returned to Faerun this year, Lady Phaeldara,” he began. “They are known as House Dlardrageth-or the daemonfey, a family of sun elves tainted by demonic blood. Long ago they were driven out of Cormanthyr, in the early days of that realm. Later they and their followers caused the Seven Citadels’ War between Siluvanede, Sharrven, and Eaerlann. They were imprisoned for thousands of years by high magic, but they have escaped. The daemonfey raided Evermeet itself, and launched a war against the High Forest and Evereska.”
“We heard of war in the High Forest,” Lady Phaeldara said. “But what does this have to do with Aglarond, Master Teshurr?”
“Ilsevele’s father-Lord Seiveril Miritar of Elion-gathered a host in Evermeet to battle the daemonfey. His army drove the daemonfey out of Myth Glaurach, but they fled to Myth Drannor and began to fortify the ruins of that city as their new stronghold. More importantly, Sarya Dlardrageth, the queen of the daemonfey, has learned how to manipulate the wards and powers of mythals, so she has surrounded Myth Drannor in magical defenses of great power. Lord Miritar’s army followed the daemonfey to Cormanthyr, but I fear that they will be unable to defeat Sarya unless we find a way to contest her control of Myth Drannor’s mythal.”
“And you think that this can be found in Aglarond?”
“I hope that what I seek exists in Aglarond,” said Araevin. “We have come to believe that the key to unlocking the high magic secrets Sarya Dlardrageth now wields might lie somewhere in your realm. Specifically, we know that a great mage of early Cormanthyr carried away many Dlardrageth spellbooks when the coronal and the court mages first drove the Dlardrageths out of that realm. That mage was a star elf named Morthil. We are attempting to trace his footsteps.”
Phaeldara said nothing, but her eyes flicked to Jorin Kell Harthan.
The half-elf straightened and said, “So you came to Aglarond in search of star elves?”
“We were unfamiliar with that kindred of the People, but in researching the question, we learned that their realm was known as Yuireshanyaar, and that it stood in the Yuirwood long ago.”
“How long ago did this Morthil leave Cormanthyr?” Phaeldara asked.
“Five thousand years, give or take,” Araevin said.
“Five thousand years?” Jorin Kell Harthan said, his voice incredulous. “You can’t seriously expect that any spellbooks have survived that long!”
“It is an immense span of time, I know. But time means less to elves than it does to humans. I do not hope to find the original spellbooks, but I hope to find more durable records such as telkiira stones, or mages who have studied a tradition that is founded on this missing lore without even knowing where it once came from, or possibly even books that were copied from copies made from the original tomes.” Araevin spread his hands helplessly. “I admit that I have little prospect for success, but there is no telling what horrors Sarya Dlardrageth will inflict on the lands around Myth Drannor if we do not find a way to stop her.”
Ilsevele addressed the Simbul’s apprentice. “Do the star elves still exist? Can they be found in Aglarond?”
Phaeldara turned away without answering. She paced over to a row of elegantly arched windows, gazing out over the glimmering lamps and lanterns that were coming to life all over the city below, sparkling like a sea of fireflies.
“I wish the Simbul were here,” she remarked. “She would be a better judge of this than I. But she has left the realm in my hands for better than a month now, and I do not know when she will return. I suppose I must decide as best I can.”
She looked back to Araevin and his companions. “It seems that your need is pressing, so I will share a secret that few know, and trust that two of the ar Tel-Quessir and anyone they trust enough to call friend know the value of keeping secrets. Yes, the star elves exist, but they are not exactly in Aglarond.”
“Great,” Maresa sighed. “I suppose we’ll have to sail off to Kara-Tur or Selune itself to find them, right?”
“You won’t find them in any other land, either,” Jorin Kell Harthan said.
Donnor Kerth frowned. “Are they ghosts, then?”
“Nothing like that, Dawnmaster,” Phaeldara said. “Their kingdom lies entirely within the Yuirwood, but it is not of this world. You could crisscross the peninsula a hundred times, but you would never set foot in it. Only a few of us outside its borders have been entrusted with Sildeyuir’s secret.” The Simbul’s apprentice looked over to Jorin Kell Harthan, who still lounged by the door. “But Master Harthan knows the way. He can take you there.”
The half-elf frowned. “The paths to Sildeyuir have grown wild and strange in recent years, Lady Phaeldara. And the star elves might not welcome the Dawnmaster and the genasi.”
“We will answer for them, if need be,” Ilsevele said. “Maresa has walked in Evermeet and Evereska, and Donnor Kerth has sworn by Lathander to accompany us wherever our quest takes us. They will not betray your trust.”
Phaeldara nodded. “I believe you, Ilsevele Miritar.”
Jorin shrugged and stepped forward to clasp Araevin’s hand. “I’ll meet you at the Greenhaven an hour after sunrise. Be ready for a couple of days of walking.”
The city of Yulash had been a ruin for decades. It sprawled atop a great, shield-shaped plateau overlooking
