The Qualinesti princess felt she had spent a very unfruitful day. She had slept until nearly noon and had absolutely no duties to occupy her time. Her requests for information on the progress of the city’s defenses were met with ignorance (from the servants) or unhelpful politeness (from everyone else). Lord Agavenes had sent a barely civil request that the Qualinesti girl and her dwarven companion remain within the palace, so as not to disrupt the citizens of Silvanost by wandering about the streets. Vixa had been furious, but Gundabyr-feeling he’d earned a respite-bluntly told her to stop her grumbling. He said they should take what rest they could, since once the Dargonesti got here there’d be no sleep for any of them.
The Speaker’s summons had been most welcome to Vixa. She assumed he would answer her many questions about the plans for Silvanost’s defense. She was wrong.
Speaker Elendar seated himself at the table and bade his guests do likewise. He was a charming host, and with his own hand filled three slender goblets with nectar. Once these were distributed, he dismissed his attendants so he and his guests could speak in private.
When Gundabyr tasted the nectar, his bushy black eyebrows rose. An excellent vintage. He’d never tasted better. He downed the entire contents of the goblet in one gulp, then held it out for more. Speaker Elendar smilingly refilled it. Once this amount was reduced by half, Gundabyr partook of some of the delicacies set before him. The food was a little light for his tastes, but certainly more than palatable. The dwarf gave the Speaker a puzzled look.
“Majesty, don’t get me wrong, but I thought you Silvanesti were all like Agavenes and Druzenalis, and didn’t care for outsiders.”
Elendar sipped his own nectar. He held the goblet in both hands, staring at the pattern of stars engraved on its slender bowl.
“I am my father’s fourth son,” he said by way of explanation. “The previous Speaker was the last of my brothers. When he died, most unexpectedly, none of his sons was old enough to rule, so I came to the throne.” Vixa and the dwarf regarded him blankly. He sipped his nectar and went on. “My point is, it was never expected that I would become Speaker, so I wasn’t trained for the role. As I had a bent for scholarship, I spent most of my early life with tutors. I know a great deal about Qualinesti and Thorbardin, but it has all come from books. Meeting you has been the most interesting thing to happen to me in ages.”
“Lately, my life’s been nothing but interesting,” Vixa said dryly.
“The end is in sight, lady,” was his serene rejoinder.
Gundabyr set his delicate goblet down so hard it rang against the tabletop. “You’re not thinking of surrendering?” he blurted.
“Of course not.”
“Sire, what plans have you made for the defense of the city?” Vixa asked.
“Last night an edict went out to every corner of the realm, summoning all freeborn males to our service. In a week, two hundred thousand Silvanesti will arrive to defend their capital. Of course, an enemy that breathes water is a formidable foe. I don’t know that the levies will be of much use against the Dargonesti.”
Vixa was silent, but her expression spoke eloquently of her inability to understand his calmness in the face of such a threat.
“Don’t trouble yourself, Cousin,” the Speaker added soothingly. “Coryphene cannot succeed. In a week, he will either be dead or captured and Silvanost will be saved.
This simple pronouncement was too much for the Qualinesti princess. She demanded, “How is this so, Majesty? You cannot do battle underwater!”
The Speaker broke a round loaf of bread into three portions, handing one to each of them. He took a bite of the sweet bread, chewed, and swallowed, then said, “Once we were warned of the sea elves’ advance, any chance they had to overwhelm us disappeared. Did this Coryphene and his queen imagine they could defeat a nation of one million Silvanesti with an army of ten thousand? Coryphene is bold, I’ll grant, and we have been burdened by old fools like Druzenalis and Agavenes for too long, but Silvanost is home to some of the greatest thaumaturges on Krynn.” He nodded slowly. “The fact that the Dargonesti will most likely surround the city works to our advantage-they will be spread thin. When the blow falls, Coryphene won’t be able to rally them.”
“What blow?” asked Gundabyr, mystified.
“My friends, you must be patient. I am not yet ready to reveal all.” The Speaker would say no more. Instead, he filled his plate from the bounty before them. Vixa and Gundabyr exchanged helpless looks, but had to content themselves with talking of other things. They answered the Speaker’s questions about their homelands and the other places they’d seen. A peaceful hour sped by.
At the conclusion of the meal, the Speaker of the Stars rose and offered his arm to Vixa-a great honor. “Would you like to see the Tower of the Stars?” he asked. “It’s always beautiful, but at night it is particularly so.”
They accepted with enthusiasm. Not even Vixa’s worry over the coming invasion could keep her from taking advantage of such a generous invitation. She might very well be the only living Qualinesti to enjoy such an opportunity.
The sun had set a short while before. As they crossed the plaza that separated the palace from the Tower of the Stars, Gundabyr kept up a steady stream of questions and comments. The dwarf fell silent once they entered the main hall in the Tower. The aura of power and majesty in the great structure made any noise at all seem sacrilegious.
The Tower of the Stars was basically a hollow shaft six hundred feet high. Three levels of small chambers ringed its base. Lines of window openings and precious jewels spiraled up the interior walls. This evening the jewels reflected the light of the red moon, Lunitari, and the white, Solinari, filling the interior with flashing rainbows. The Tower’s domed ceiling was dark and unadorned, pierced by a single opening that allowed a shaft of pearly moonlight to reach the floor far below.
Vixa and Gundabyr stared, their heads thrown back to take it all in. No columns supported the interior, and the vast open breadth of this central chamber was awe-inspiring. Vixa had thought the golden beauty of the Tower of the Sun in Qualinost could never be equaled, but this white and shining monument left her gasping.
Ahead of them, at the rear of the audience hall, seven steps led up to a raised platform. Three additional, wider steps led from this platform to the throne dais. The emerald Throne of the Stars sat in silent splendor on the dais.
The beauty of the Tower still moved the Speaker. When he spoke, it was in a whisper. “Behind the throne is a small door. It leads to a tightly spiraling stair that reaches to the battlements near the Tower’s apex.”
“Can we go up?” asked Gundabyr eagerly.
Before the Speaker could reply, an interruption occurred. “Sire, may I enter?” a voice called from the doorway.
They turned and saw an elf standing in the Tower’s main entrance. The Speaker told the newcomer to enter. When he stepped into the moonlight illuminating the hall, they saw he wore the green tabard of a herald. His clothing was muddied, and he obviously had been running hard. His breathing was labored.
“I beg to report attacks, Sire, the first attacks on the city!” he panted.
As these dreadful words rang out, a group of elves appeared in the entrance behind the courier. They crowded into the audience hall. In the group were Druzenalis, Agavenes, and several priests and warriors, Samcadaris among the latter.
Druzenalis boomed, “Majesty, I have received reports that the city is under attack!”
“I have just heard the same news,” the Speaker said dryly. “Herald, where is the enemy?”
“They have attacked from the east, Great Speaker, at the Gate of Astarin.” This was the point at which Vixa and Gundabyr had entered the city. “They have slain the sacred turtle that drew the eastern ferry, and stormed the gatehouse itself,” the herald replied.