"Even so," the sorceress said briskly, not awaiting an answer. "Was the nature of your pledge merely that of a young lover, or she who wishes to serve all her People?"
"Must I choose between them?"
"Perhaps."
Amlaruil's fingers tangled in the folds of the Grand Mage's mantle, as if uncertain whether to draw it close or cast it aside. Yet there was no denying Nakiasha's words. The promises that she and Zaor had exchanged during the long, sweet hours of the night sang in her heart, and she would hold true to them. They were pledged to each other-and to the service of Evermeet.
In her heart, Amlaruil knew herself to be Zaor's true queen. But surely a long and difficult road lay before Zaor before he was acclaimed Evermeet's king. Perhaps she could best serve his destiny by accepting that which had been laid upon her by the former Grand Mage.
The elf maid lifted her head in an unconscious gesture of command. "We must gather the magi. With so many of us gone, there is much that must be done to rebuild the strength of the Towers, and to lift the spirits of those who remain."
A faint smile, one that was both proud and sad, crossed Nakiasha's face. Jannalor Nierde had chosen well-Amlaruil filled the mantle of power as if she had been fashioned for the task. The sorceress bowed her head in a gesture of respect, and followed the new Grand Mage out into the Tower courtyard.
18
The elves who sat at the table of the Council of Elders watched in stunned amazement as Lady Mylaerla Durothil put aside her cloak of office. "Do not look so dismayed," the elf woman said dryly. "In recent years, the title of High Councilor has been largely honorary. It is, quite frankly, an honor I can live without."
"It has never been the way of Durothil to turn aside from duty," Belstram Durothil said in a tight, angry voice.
"Nor do I," retorted the matron. "The recent battle has shown me how I can best serve the People and myself. I am less suited to court life than a general's command, and I say without intention of giving offense that I prefer a dragon's company to that of any elf in this room," she added, gazing pointedly at her great-great-nephew. Belstram flushed angrily and looked away.
"In resigning as High Councilor," Lady Durothil continued, "I do not suggest that the Council itself be dissolved. But mark me, its role, like my own, must change."
"Lady Durothil," interrupted Saida Evanara in a supercilious voice. "With or without you, the Council has ruled Evermeet for centuries untold. It is tradition. What you suggest is absurd."
"Is it?" the matron said tartly. "Perhaps my time in the Eagle Hills has given me the distance needed for clear sight. Do you wish to discuss absurdity? Very well. While this council in my absence debated a course of action, while the commanders of the various forces scrambled for personal glory, a flight of dragons came within a day's ship-travel from our shores! Your own kinsman, Horith Evanara, was slain in this battle. Had he not acted as he did, going into battle without either consulting the council or summoning the dragonriders, we would not have before us the task of choosing his replacement!"
"As to that, I do not see why the council should debate this matter. The command should fall to me," Saida stated, seizing upon the one item in Lady Durothil's speech of personal interest. "Perhaps I am have not been long in Evermeet, but in my clan I stand next to Horith in military rank and experience."
"The Nierde clan is not unique in producing able warriors," Francessca Silverspear pointed out. "Nor are you, Saida, the only elf seated here who fought for the life of Myth Drannor!"
"That is true enough, but would you have us toss aside all tradition in one afternoon?" returned Saida heatedly. "For centuries, the Nierde clan has held Ruith and commanded Sumbrar!"
"And what of Ruith now?" inquired Montagor Amarillis, a young noble with the bright red hair characteristic of his clan. "What of Sumbrar? The Starwing fleet is all but demolished. Many of the Sumbrar Tower's magi perished in an attempt to save the surviving dragons. Our reserves of arms and magic have been dangerously depleted by the actions of the last Evanara to hold Lightspear Keep. I, for one, am not eager to see Horith Evanara's legacy continued!"
Saida turned a coldly furious gaze upon the Moon elf. "The Amarillis have always been ambitious, Montagor. You would be delighted to see control of Evermeet's military seized from the Gold elves. Next, you're going to argue that it's time for Evermeet to succumb to a Moon elven royalty!"
"That is precisely what I think, and it is the reason why I called the council together this day," Lady Durothil announced firmly, turning Saida's mockery into a statement of truth.
She let the silence linger so that it might give weight to her next words. "I know that many of the noble families, particularly the Gold elven clans such as my own, will be resistant to this. But all of us knew that the time would come! I say that it is here, now."
"It is true that with a single voice commanding all the forces of Evermeet, we would be better able to respond to a sudden threat," admitted Yalathanil Symbaern. "According to Lady Durothil's reports, the tide of battle was turned when young Zaor Moonflower took command. I can only speak according to what I have seen, but I believe that if Myth Drannor had been led by a single, capable ruler rather than a contentious council of its own, its fate might have been quite different. Evermeet must learn, and move forward."
Several members of the council nodded thoughtfully. Had this opinion come from a Moon elf, it would not have fallen into such receptive soil. But the Symbaern house was ancient and honorable, even if the Gold elf wizard himself was a new voice in the council. Yalathanil and several other survivors from his clan had fled the destruction of Myth Drannor to settle Evermeet. He was already widely respected for both his magical skills and his wisdom.
"I agree with Lady Durothil's opinion of Zaor Moonflower," added Keerla Hawksong, the aged minstrel who led her Silver elf clan. "His recruitment of the giant eagles was brilliant. Already members of my house have followed up this victory, and are discussing with Queen WindShriek the possibility of forming a permanent troop of Eagle Riders."
"We are wandering from the point at hand," Montagor Amarillis pointed out. "According to our High Councilor, it is time for the People of Evermeet to choose a royal family. I say that the council put the matter to vote this very day!"
"The young have so little regard for history," Lady Durothil said dryly. "Are you forgetting that the choice will be made, not by the council, but by the will of the gods, as interpreted by enchanted swords?"
"Forget? That is hardly likely," sneered Saida, "considering that the Amarillis clan still holds a living moonblade! It is said that Montagor Amarillis has a bit of the seer about him. Perhaps in his dreams of the future he fancies himself a king."
"As to that, it is for the gods to say," Montagor said piously. "Yet it is true that the Amarillis moonblade is unclaimed. My grandmother, Chin'nesstre, was among the commanders of Lightspear Keep who took the Starwing fleet against the invaders. She was slain by dragonfire; her sword was recovered from the charred remains of the ship."
"Your grandmother's sword is not the only Amarillis moonblade still in service to the People," Francessca Silverspear asserted. As she spoke, the warrior touched the moonstone in the hilt of her own blade. "This I know, for I fought beside many of your kin. In the fall of Myth Drannor, many heroes died, including many moonfighters. Some of these swords are unclaimed, others have been lost."
"How are we to know that one of these lost swords might not have been meant to determine kingship?" Saida Evanara demanded. "How can such a decision be made now, when not all of the moonblades can be accounted for?"