“But this is all water beneath the bridge. In two days time, Silvanoshei Caladon will be in Silvanost. You have proclaimed publicly that you would support a member of the Caladon family as Speaker of the Stars.”
“Because you advised that I do so!” Konnal returned.
“I have my reasons,” Glaucous said. He glanced at the guests, who continued to talk, their voices rising in their excitement. The name “Silvanoshei” could be heard now, coming to them through the starlit darkness. “Reasons that will become clear to you someday, my friend. You must trust me.”
“Very well, what do you recommend that I do about Silvanoshei ?”
“You will make him Speaker of the Stars.”
“What are you saying?” Konnal was thunderstruck. “This. . . this son of dark elves. . . Speaker of the Stars. . .”
“Calm yourself, my dear friend,” Glaucous admonished in placating tones. “We will borrow a leaf out of the book of the Qualinesti. Silvanoshei will rule in name only. You will remain the general of the Wildrunners. You will retain control over all the military. You will be the true ruler of Silvanesti. And in the interim, Silvanesti will have a Speaker of the Stars. The people will be joyful. Silvanoshei’s ascension to the throne will put a stop to the unrest that has developed of late. Once their goal is achieved, the militant factions among our people—most notably the kirath—will cease to cause trouble.”
“I cannot believe you are serious, Glaucous.” Konnal was shaking his head.
“Never more serious in my life, dear friend. The people will bring their cares and woes to the king now instead of you. You will be free to accomplish the real work of ruling Silvanesti. Someone must be proclaimed regent, of course. Silvanoshei is young, very young for such a vast responsibility.”
“ Ah!” Konnal looked quite knowing. “I begin to see what you have in mind. I suppose that I—”
He stopped. Glaucous was shaking his head.
“You cannot be regent and general of the Wildrunners,” he said.
“ And whom do you suggest?” Konnal asked.
Glaucous bowed with graceful humility. “I offer myself. I will undertake to counsel the young king. You have found my advice useful from time to time, I believe.”
“But you have no qualifications!” Konnal protested. “You are not of House Royal. You have not served in the Senate. Before this you were a wizard serving in the Tower of Shalost,” he stated brusquely.
“Oh, but you yourself will recommend me,” said Glaucous, resting his hand on Konnal’s arm.
“ And what am I to say by way of recommendation?”
“Only this—you will remind them that the Shield Tree grows in the Garden of Astarin, a garden that I oversee. You will remind them that I am the one who helped plant the Shield Tree. You will remind them that I am the one currently responsible for keeping the shield in place.”
“ A threat?” Konnal glowered.
Glaucous gazed long at the general, who began to feel uncomfortable. “It is my fate never to be trusted,” Glaucous said at last. “To have my motives questioned. I accept that, a sacrifice I make to serve my people.”
“I am sorry,” Konnal said gruffly. “It’s just that—”
“Apology accepted. And now,” Glaucous continued, “we should make preparations to welcome the young king to Silvanost. You will declare a national holiday. We will spare no expense. The people need something to celebrate. We will have that minstrel who sang tonight sing something in honor of our new Speaker. What a lovely voice she has.”
“Yes,” Konnal agreed absently, abstracted. He was beginning to think that this plan of Glaucous’s wasn’t a bad plan after all.
“ Ah, how very sad, my friend,” Glaucous said, pointing to the pond. “One of your swans is dying.”
Chapter Twelve
Marching Orders
The first day after the siege of Sanction, Mina tried to leave her tent to go stand in line with the other soldiers waiting for food. She was mobbed, surrounded by soldiers and camp followers who wanted to touch her for luck or who wanted her to touch them. The soldiers were respectful, awed in her presence. Mina spoke to each one, always in the name of the One, True God. But the press of men, women and children was overwhelming. Seeing that Mina was about to drop from exhaustion, her Knights, led by Galdar, drove the people away.
Mina returned to her tent. Her Knights stood guard over her rest.
Galdar brought her food and drink.
The next day, Mina held a formal audience. Galdar ordered the soldiers to form ranks. She passed among them, speaking to many by name, recalling their bravery in battle. They left her presence dazzled, her name upon their lips.
After the review, she visited the tents of the dark mystics. Her Knights had spread the story of how Mina had restored Galdar’s arm. Miracles of healing such as this had once been common in the Fourth Age, but not anymore.
The mystic healers of the Knights of Neraka, healers who had stolen the means of healing from the Citadel of Light, had in years past been able to perform healing miracles that rivaled those the gods themselves had granted in the Fourth Age. But recently, the healers had noticed that they were losing some of their mystical powers. They could still heal, but even simple spells drained them of energy to the point where they found themselves near collapse.
No one could explain this strange and dire occurrence. At first, the healers blamed the mystics of the Citadel of Light, saying that they had found a way to prevent the Knights of Neraka from healing their soldiers. But they soon heard reports from their spies within the Citadel that the mystics on Schallsea and in other locations throughout Ansalon were encountering the very same phenonmena. They, too, sought answers, but thus far, in vain.
Overwhelmed by the number of casualties, forced to conserve their energy, the healers had aided Lord Milles and his staff first, for the army needed its commanders. Even then, they could do nothing for critical wounds. They could not restore hacked off limbs, they could not stop internal bleeding, they could not mend a cracked skull.
The eyes of the wounded fixed on Mina the moment she entered the healers’ tent. Even those who had been blinded, whose eyes were covered with bloody bandages, turned their sightless gaze instinctively in her direction, as a plant languishing in shadow seeks the sunlight.
The healers continued their work, pretending not to notice Mina’s entry. One did pause, however, to look up. He seemed about to order her out, then saw Galdar, who stood behind her and who had placed his hand upon the hilt of his sword.
“We are busy. What do you want?” the healer demanded churlishly.
“To help,” Mina replied. Her amber-eyed gaze roved swiftly about the tent. “What is that area back there? The place you have screened off?”
The healer cast a glance in that direction. Groans and moaning sounds came from behind the blanket which had been hastily strung up in the back end of the large hospital tent.
“The dying,” he said, cold, casual. “We can do nothing for them.”
“You do not give them anything for the pain?” Mina asked.
The healer shrugged. “They are of no more use to us. Our supplies are limited and must go to help those who have a chance to return to the battle.”
“You will not mind, then, if I give them my prayers?”
The healer sniffed. “By all means, go ‘pray’ over them. I’m sure they’ll appreciate it.”
“I’m sure they will,” she said gravely.
She walked to the back of the tent, passing along the rows of cots where lay the wounded. Many stretched out their hands to her or called out her name, begging her to notice them. She smiled upon them and promised to return. Reaching the blankets behind which lay the dying, Mina reached out her hand, parted the blankets and let them fall behind her.