“You have the course of events confused, High Warden. We are here to deal with the evil that has stirred in Myth Drannor. We did not cause it to stir with our approach.”
The human snorted. “So you say now, anyway.”
Seiveril studied the human emissary. If this is the way humans conduct their diplomacy, the elflord thought, it is no wonder that they get into so many wars. “Did Maalthiir of Hillsfar have anything else to say to me?” he asked.
“In fact, he did,” Hardil Gearas replied. “The first lord instructed me to advise you of three important facts. First, in conjunction with our allies in Sembia, we are moving strong forces into place to safeguard the upper stretch of the Moonsea Ride and Rauthauvyr’s Road. We are concerned that your reckless marching about and warmongering may jeopardize our crucial, legitimate commercial interests in this vital route, and the various minor settlements and communities that lie along the way.
“Second, Hillsfar and Sembia recognize no other power as sovereign over the forest of Cormanthor. Your people gave up any claim to ownership over the woodlands when you left some three decades ago. Hillsfar now claims all lands within fifty miles of the city’s walls. We will clear, settle, log, or otherwise use these lands as we see fit. We will regard the presence of any foreign soldiers within this area as nothing less than an invasion of Hillsfar itself.
“Finally, the first lord offers this for your consideration: In Myth Drannor’s day, the elven realm of Cormanthyr was surrounded by human states too small and weak to do anything other than what the coronal told them to do. That is no longer true. Humans have grown strong in the centuries since Myth Drannor’s fall, Lord Seiveril. We were not party to the Dales Compact, and we see no reason to abide by an agreement made centuries ago by people who had no right or authority to speak for us.” Hardil Gearas bared his teeth in a cold, reptilian smile. “It is in the nature of humankind to grow, to expand, to become more numerous and more powerful with the passing of a few short years. You might as well shout at the incoming tide as try to check our natural increase. We need room to grow, Lord Seiveril, and we will have it.”
Seiveril folded his arms in front of his chest, and consciously made himself wait a full minute before he responded, in order to keep his anger in check.
“I wish no quarrel with Hillsfar or Sembia, High Warden, and I should hope they wish no quarrel with me. But your First Lord Maalthiir must understand that I will not countenance the occupation of Dales who have no interest in being ruled from Ordulin or Hillsfar, and I will not surrender a claim to the Elven Court. If Hillsfar needs room to grow, I hope that we could reach some agreement over the responsible use of the woodlands in question. As for your master’s third point… well, it may be human nature to expand, but you should not assume that it is in an elf’s nature to Retreat. With the host of Evermeet in this forest, there is a greater strength of elf warriors in Cormanthor today than there has been at any time since the Weeping War.”
“Elven armies stronger than your own failed to stop the Army of Darkness in the Year of Doom, Lord Seiveril,” the High Warden said, not even bothering to conceal a smirk.
The elflord watched the sneering Hillsfarian. What was his purpose in coming here? he wondered. Is he trying to provoke me with these threats and demands? Or is this simply a facade, a ploy of bravado to mask true fear?
“I mean to save my arrows for the daemonfey,” Seiveril told the first lord’s emissary. “Whether you know it or not, they are your enemies as well as mine. For all our sakes, do not interfere with my work in Myth Drannor.”
“For your own sake, think long and carefully before you attempt any work at all in Myth Drannor,” Gearas growled. “You will not be warned again.”
The stocky human inclined his head a bare inch and glowered at Seiveril before turning on his heel and stomping out of Seiveril’s presence, waving aside the door guards with a curt gesture.
Seiveril stared after the Hillsfarian lord.
“Corellon, grant me patience,” he whispered into the night.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
12 Kythorn, the Year of Lightning Storms
Windsinger dropped anchor in the round bay of Velprintalar, surrounded by the steep green hillsides and graceful, airy buildings of the city. Araevin could see the elven influences in the city’s flower-covered verandas, tree-shaded boulevards, and elegant palaces high above the bay. High up on the slopes above the city’s center stood the palace of the Simbul, the ruler of Aglarond, a rambling structure of beautiful green stone that gleamed like emerald in the sunshine.
“Is this truly a human city?” Ilsevele wondered aloud. She stood beside him at the ship’s rail. Smiling, her eyes were warm when she looked at him, but there was a distance hiding in her thoughts, a searching quality to her gaze that he could not miss. “I didn’t know humans could be so… elven… in their work.”
“Aglarond is the union of two lands under one crown,” Araevin answered, glad of an opportunity to speak without addressing the anxiety he knew was growing in his own heart. “Centuries ago the young human kingdom of Velprin settled the northern coasts of the Aglarondan peninsula, while a race of forest-dwelling humans, half-elves, and wood elves held the woodlands of the interior. Velprin tried to bring the whole of the peninsula under its rule, but the forest folk defeated Velprin’s ambitious rulers. The lords of the forest folk governed both the forests and the coastlands from that day forward.”
“My homeland has a similar history, but a more tragic outcome,” Donnor Kerth said. Araevin glanced at him in surprise. Their new companion had proved more than a little taciturn, a fellow who rarely used two words when one would do. “In Tethyr elves and humans fought for centuries. Elves still roam the deeps of the Wealdath, or so I am told, but they have nothing to do with the human lands beyond their forests, and humans do not venture very far into their woods.” He dropped his gaze from Araevin and Ilsevele. “I am sorry to say that I have known very few elves. And I believed things that were said about your kind that I have since learned are not true.”
Ilsevele reached out and set her slender hand atop the Lathanderian’s. “I have spent most of my years on Evermeet, Donnor, and I have known very few humans. I, too, am learning that not all that I have heard is true.”
Maresa laced up her crimson-dyed leather armor, and adjusted her sword belt. “I thought you said you hadn’t been here before, Araevin,” she said. “You seem to know a lot about this place for a stranger.”
“I haven’t. But I’ve had a long time to pick up odds and ends about a lot of places I haven’t been.” Araevin picked up his pack, and quickly checked to make sure he had everything he needed. “Come, let’s go ashore.”
The four travelers thanked Master Ilthor for their passage and paid him handsomely. Then they were rowed ashore in Windsinger’s longboat. They landed along the city’s stone quay, and climbed up the seawall’s steps to the harborside streets. For all Velprintalar’s elven grace, the dock district seemed human enough, filled with carts and longshoremen, and dozens of workshops, warehouses, and merchant’s offices, all crowded together in buildings faced with white stone.
“Well, where now?” asked Maresa.
“We’ll find a place to stay then we’ll ask after sages, colleges, wizards’ guilds, and such things,” Araevin said. “Someone will have an idea of who I can ask about star elves and ancient Yuireshanyaar.”
They found a comfortable but expensive inn within an hour of landing, a fine establishment called the Greenhaven, high up on one of the hillsides overlooking the harbor. Araevin asked the proprietor about sages or libraries he could visit, and the inn’s proprietor directed him to several locales where he might confer with learned folk.
With his companions in tow, Araevin spent much of the next two days visiting Velprintalar’s houses of learning. He visited the temple of Oghma and spoke with the high loremasters there. He conferred with a local wizard held in high regard by the Oghmanytes. And he also found a small chapel dedicated to the Seldarine, where he and Ilsevele were able to speak at length with the presiding priest. Several times Araevin confirmed that the ancient realm of Yuireshanyaar had indeed stood within the Yuirwood, and that some at least of its ruins might still be found there, but no one knew anything about star elves or a mage named Morthil who had lived long ago in that realm.