Dragonlance 15 - Dragons Of A Fallen Sun (51 page)

suddenly ceased all our attacks, the Knights would grow suspi-

cious that we were up to something, and they would start search-

ing for it. This way, we will keep them distracted."

"A month," Gilthas said softly, silently, praying to whatever

was out there, if anything was out there. "Just give me a month.

Give my people a month."

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

DAWN IN A TIME OF DARKNESS

Morning came to Ansalon, t~o.fast for som~, too slow for

others. The sun was a red slIt ill the sky, as if someone had

drawn a knife across the throat of the darkness. Gilthas

slipped hurriedly through the shadowy garden that surrounded

his prison palace, returning somewhat late to take up the danger-

ous role he must continue to play.

Planchet was lurking upon the balcony, watching anxiously

for the young king, when a knock on the door announced Prefect

Palthainon, come for his morning string-jerking. Planchet could

not plead His Majesty's indisposition this day as he had the last.

Palthainon, an early riser, was here to bully the king, exercise his

power over the young man, make a show of his puppeteering to

the rest of the court.

"Just a moment, Prefect!" Planchet shouted. "His Majesty is

using the chamber pot." The elf caught sight of movement in the

garden. "Your Majesty!" he hissed as loudly as he dared. "Make

haste!"

Gilthas stood under the balcony. Planchet lowered the rope.

The king grasped it, climbed up nimbly, hand over hand.

The knocking resumed, louder and more impatient.

"I insist upon seeing His Majesty!" Palthainon demanded.

Gilthas clambered over the balcony. He made a dive for his

bed, climbed in between the sheets fully dressed. Planchet tossed

the blankets over the king's head and answered the door with his

finger on his lips.

"His Majesty was ill all night. This morning he is unable to

keep down so much as a bit of dry toast," Planchet whispered. "I

had to help him back to bed."

The prefect peered over Planchet's shoulder. He saw the king

raise his head, peering at the senator with bleary eyes.

"I am sorry His Majesty has been ill," said the prefect, frown-

ing, "but he would be better up and doing instead of lying about

feeling sorry himself. I will be back in an hour. I trust His Majesty

will be dressed to receive me."

Palthainon departed. Planchet closed the door. Gilthas smiled,

stretched his arms over his head, and sighed. His parting from

Kerian had been wrenching. He could still smell the scent of the

wood smoke that clung to her clothing, the rose oil she rubbed on

her skin. He could smell the crushed grass on which they had

lain, wrapped in each others arms, loathe to say good-bye. He

sighed again and then climbed out of bed, going to his bath, re-

luctantly washing away all traces of his clandestine meeting with

his wife.

When the prefect entered an hour later, he found the king

busy writing a poem, a poem-if one could believe it-about a

dwarf. Palthainon sniffed and told the young man to leave off

such foolishness and return to business.

Clouds rolled in over Qualinesti, blotting out the sun. A light

drizzle began to fall.

The same morning sunshine that had gleamed down upon

Gilthas shone on his cousin, Silvanoshei, who had also been

awake all night. He was not dreading the morning, as was

Gilthas. Silvanoshei waited for the morning with an impatience

and a joy that still left him dazed and disbelieving.

This day, Silvanoshei was to be crowned Speaker of the

Stars. This day, beyond all hope, beyond all expectation, he was

to be proclaimed ruler of his people. He would succeed in

doing what his mother and his father had tried to do and failed.

Events had happened so fast, Silvanoshei was still dazed by it

all. Closing his eyes, he relived it all again.

He and Rolan, arriving yesterday on the outskirts of Silvanost,

were confronted by a group of elf soldiers.

"So much for my kingship," Silvanoshei thought, more disap-

pointed than afraid. When the elf soldiers drew their swords,

Silvan expected to die. He waited, braced, weaponless. At least he

would meet his end with dignity. He would not fight his people.

He would be true to what his mother wanted from him.

To Silvan's amazement, the elf soldiers lifted their swords to

the sunlight and began to cheer, proclaiming him Speaker of the

Stars, proclaiming him king. This was not an execution squad,

Silvan realized. It was an honor guard.

They brought him a horse to ride, a beautiful white stallion.

He mounted and rode into Silvanost in triumph. Elves lined the

streets, cheering and throwing flowers so that the street was cov-

ered with them. Their perfume scented the air.

The soldiers marched on either side, keeping the crowd back.

Silvan waved graciously. He thought of his mother and father.

Alhana had wanted this more than anything in the world. She

had been willing to give her life to attain it. Perhaps she was

watching from wherever the dead go, perhaps she was smiling to

see her son fulfill her dearest dream. He hoped so. He was no

longer angry at his mother. He had forgiven her, and he hoped

that she had forgiven him.

The parade ended at the Tower of the Stars. Here a tall and

stem-looking elf with graying hair met them. He introduced him-

self as General Konnal. He introduced his nephew, Kiryn, who-

Silvan was delighted to discover-was a cousin. Konnal then

introduced the Heads of House, who would have to determine if

Silvanoshei was indeed the grandson of Lorac Caladon (his

mother's name was not mentioned) and therefore rightful heir to

the Silvanesti throne. This, Konnal assured Silvanoshei in an

aside, was a mere formality.

"The people want a king," Konnal said. "The Heads of House

are quite ready to believe you are a Caladon, as you claim to be."

"I am a Caladon," Silvanoshei said, offended by the implica-

tion that whether he was or he wasn't, the Heads would approve

him anyhow. "I am the grandson of Lorac Caladon and the son of

Alhana Starbreeze." He spoke her name loudly, knowing quite

well that he wasn't supposed to speak the name of one deemed a

dark elf.

And then an elf had walked up to him, one of the most beau-

tiful of his people that Silvanoshei had ever seen. This elf, who

was dressed in white robes, stood looking at him intently.

"I knew Lorac," the elf said at last. His voice was gentle and

musical. "This is indeed his grandson. There can be no doubt."

Leaning forward, he kissed Silvanoshei on both cheeks. He

looked at General Konnal and said again, "There can be no

doubt."

"Who are you, sir?" Silvan asked, dazzled.

"My name is Glaucous," said the elf, bowing low. "I have

been named regent to aid you in the coming days. If General

Konnal approves, I will make arrangements for your coronation

to be held tomorrow. The people have waited long years for this

joyful day. We will not make them wait longer."

Silvan lay in bed, a bed that had once belonged to his gr.and-

father, Lorac. The bedposts were made of gold and of slIver

twined together to resemble vines, decorated with flowers

formed of sparkling jewels. Fine sheets scented with lavender

covered the mattress that was stuffed with swan's down. A silken

coverlet of scarlet kept the night's chill from him. The ceiling

above him was crystal. He could lie in his bed and give audience

every night to the moon and the stars, come to pay homage.

Silvanoshei laughed softly to himself for the delight of it all.

He thought that he should pinch his flesh to wake himself from

this wonderful dream, but he decided not to risk it. If he were

dreamin let him never wake. Let him never wake to find him-

self shivering in some dank cave, eating dried berries and way-

bread, drinking brackish water. Let him never wake to see elf

warriors drop dead at his feet, pierced by ogre arrows. Let him

never wake. Let this dream last the remainder of his life.

He was hungry, wonderfully hungry, a hunger he could enjoy

because he knew it would be satiated. He imagined what he

would order for breakfast. Honeyed cakes, perhaps. Sugared rose

petals. Cream laced with nutmeg and cinnamon. He could have

anything he wanted, and if he didn't like it, he would send it

away and ask for something else.

Reaching out his hand lazily for the silver bell that stood on

an ornate gold and silver nightstand, Silvanoshei rang for his

servants. He lay back to await the deluge of elf attendants to flood

the room, wash him out of his bed to be bathed and dressed and

combed and brushed and perfumed and bejeweled, made ready

for his coronation.

The face of Alhana Starbreeze, his mother's face, came to

Silvan's mind. He wished her well, but this was his dream, a

dream in which she had no part. He had succeeded where she

had failed. He would make whole what she had broken.

"Your Majesty. Your Majesty. Your Majesty."

The elves of House Servitor bowed low before him. He ac-

knowledged them with a charming smile, allowed them to

fluff up his pillows and smooth the coverlet. He sat up in bed

and waited languidly to see what they would bring him for

breakfast.

"Your Majesty," said an elf who had been chosen by the

Regent Glaucous to serve in the capacity of chamberlain, "Prince

Kiryn waits without to pay you honor on this day."

Silvanoshei turned from the mirror in which he'd been ad-

miring his new finery. Seamstresses had worked all yesterday

and all today in a frantic hurry to stitch the you:ng king's robes

and cape he would wear for the ceremony.

"My cousin! Please, let him enter without delay."

"Your Majesty should never say, 'Please,' the chamberlain

chided with a smile. "When Your Majesty wants something done,

speak it and it will be done."

"Yes, I will. Thank you." Silvan saw his second mistake and

flushed. "1 guess I'm not supposed to say, 'Thank you' either,

am I?"

The chamberlain shook his head and departed. He returned

with an elf youth, several years older than Silvan. They had met

only briefly the day before. This was the first time they had been

alone together. Both young men regarded each other intently,

searching for some sign of relationship and, pleasing to both,

finding it.

"How do you like all this, Cousin?" Kiryn asked, after the

many niceties and polite nothings had been given and received.

"Excuse me. I meant to say, 'Your Majesty.'" He bowed.

"Please, call me 'cousin,'" Silvan said warmly. "1 never had a

cousin before. That is, I never knew my cousin. He is the king of

Qualinesti, you know. At least, that's what they call him."

"Your cousin Gilthas. The son of Lauralanthalasa and the half-

human, Tanis. I know of him. Porthios spoke of him. He said that

Speaker Gilthas was in poor health."

"You needn't be polite, Cousin. All of us know that he is

melancholy mad. Not his fault, but there you have it. Is it proper

for me to call you 'cousin'?"

"Perhaps not in public, Your Majesty," Kiryn replied with a

smile. " As you may have noted, we in Silvanesti love formalities.

But in private, I would be honored." He paused a moment, then

added quietly, "I heard of the deaths of your father and mother. I

want to say how deeply grieved I am. I admired both of them

very much."

"Thank you," Silvan said and, after a decent interval, he

changed the subject. "To answer your earlier question, I must

admit that I find all this rather daunting. Wond~rful, but daunt-

ing. A month ago I was living in a cave and sleeping on the

ground. Now I have this bed, this beautiful bed, a bed in which

my grandfather slept. The Regent Glaucous arranged for the bed

to be brought to this chamber, thinking it would please me. I have

these clothes. I have whatever I want to eat and drink. It all seems

a dream."

Silvan turned back to regarding himself again in the mirror. He

was enchanted with his new clothing, his new appearance. He was

clean, his hair perfumed and brushed, his fingers adorned with

jewels. He was not flea bitten, he was not stiff from sleeping with a

rock for a pillow. He vowed, in his heart, never again. He did not

notice that Kiryn appeared grave when Silvan spoke of the regent.

His cousin's gravity deepened as Silvan continued speaking.

"Talking of Glaucous, what an estimable man he is! I am quite

pleased with him as regent. So polite and condescending. Asking

my opinion about everything. At first, I don't mind telling you,

Cousin, I was a little put out at General Konnal for suggesting to

the Heads of House that a regent be appointed to guide me until

I am of age. I am already considered of age by Qualinesti stan-

dards, you see."

Silvan's expression hardened. "And I am determined not to