The Radiant Dragon (15 page)

He threw up his hands in exasperation. “I live to please. Now, I’m sorry if this ruffles a few elven feathers, but I need to bring Hectate with me. If I’m to purchase a new ship, I need the advice of someone I can trust, someone from my own crew.”

“Surely you know that the swan ship is at your disposal,” Vallus told him. “After we visit Evermeet, you may choose whatever course you wish. You do not need another ship.”

“Sorry, but I don’t care for the strings attached to your offer,” Teldin said bluntly.

The elf received this information with a long silence. “Very well. I ask only that you keep an open mind and not make your final decision until after we speak with the elves of Evermeet.”

The human shrugged. “If you like, but Hectate comes with me,” he insisted.

“That is not possible,” Vallus repeated. “No half-elves are allowed on Evermeet. It is not permitted for me as an ambassador of the Imperial Fleet to violate a rule of the groundling elves. If you wish, you may bring other, more acceptable crew members.”

“Like Rozloom?” Teldin asked with heavy irony.

Vallus had the grace to smile. “That choice might not further diplomatic relations. Actually, I had the dracons in mind.”

“Chirp and Trivit?” echoed Teldin in disbelief.

“Why not? They are fine sailors, born and raised in the void. Since they now are part of your family, so to speak, they have a very personal stake in choosing your next ship.”

Teldin’s eyes narrowed. He suspect that Vallus was teasing him, but he could detect no sign on humor on the elf’s angular, aristocratic face. Neither could he see any real reason for leaving the dracons behind, so he gave in with a gut-deep sigh. “All right. They can come.”

“Then only one minor matter remains.” Vallus excused himself and left the cabin. He returned almost immediately with a large, paper-wrapped bundle, which he handed to Teldin. “Since your possessions were either lost or damaged in the last battle, we took the liberty of replacing some of them.”

With a feeling of apprehension, Teldin untied the string. He had a mental picture of himself gadding about in the shining silver favored by the Imperial Fleet. He didn’t particularly like the idea of appearing before elven royalty in his only set of battered clothing, but wearing an elven uniform would be making a statement of allegiance that he could not support.

To his surprise, the bundle contained several dark garments. He shook out the first, a shirt of fine black silk. Black trousers, a dark jacket, and several other garments completed the package. The cut of the clothing was almost identical to his old wardrobe, except that the quality of fabric and workmanship far surpassed anything he’d ever owned. At the bottom of the package were finely tooled leather items: boots, a belt and scabbard, even a new money sack.

“We had these made while you were ill, using your old things as a measure. I trust they are satisfactory?”

“Very,” Teldin murmured, still stunned by the thoughtfulness of the gift.

“Then we shall meet after we make landfall. Sleep well.” Vallus was gone before Teldin realized he’d forgotten to thank him.

Chapter Eight

Chirp and Trivit responded to the news of their furlough with such glee that Teldin was glad he’d agreed to Vallus’s suggestion. However, Teldin made a point of talking to Hectate and explaining the position of the Evermeet elves. The half-elf seemed quietly pleased by Teldin’s concern, but he shrugged off the rebuff as if it were of no consequence. Teldin got the distinct impression that the whole thing mattered more to him than it did to Hectate.

Everyone whose duty schedule permitted gathered at the swan ship’s railings to watch the descent to Evermeet. Rozloom was there, uncharacteristically surly over not being allowed ashore. Following him like a tiny brown shadow was Om, who remained more or less invisible to the aperusa. Despite his professed lack of interest, Hectate joined Teldin at the railing, as did Vallus Leafbower. Chirp and Trivit kept up a running dialogue, speculating about the wonders that awaited them ashore, until Teldin began to give serious consideration to throttling them.

Vallus acknowledged the exasperated expression on Teldin’s face with a faint, sympathetic smile. “Try to appreciate the dracons’ curiosity,” the elf suggested. “So few maintain it past youth that your clan’s enthusiasm is actually refreshing.”

Kaba
or not, Teldin was about to take issue with the elf’s casual reference to clan, but he saw that he no longer had Vallus’s attention. The elf was absorbed in the scene spread out before them, and his angular face was rapt with wonder. The elf’s expression was a perfect replication of what Teldin always felt upon making landfall. For the first time Teldin felt a touch of sympathy – even kinship – with the elven wizard. He turned his own attention back to the rapidly approaching world.

Teldin watched, fascinated, as the jewellike island of Evermeet came up to meet them. “So many shades of green,” he murmured. “I didn’t know so many different greens existed.”

“Evermeet is heavily wooded,” Vallus explained. “There are ancient forests on the island, but much of the foliage has been cultivated to produce shades of green, blue, gold, and silver. In different lights and at different times of year, certain colors predominate. From this height all meld into the unusual green you see before you.”

The swan ship spread its wings and began its descent, finally splashing down about a league off the coast. The small group clung to the railing for balance as the ship rocked, and Teldin heard the deep, creaking groan of turning gears.

“They’re lowering the paddles now,” Hectate informed him.

“Paddles?” broke in Om, her small brown eyes lighting with interest. Gnomes, Teldin recalled, had a perverse fondness for paddle-driven ships and were always on the alert for new variations on the theme. “What do these paddles look like?” she demanded.

“Like any swan’s feet, only very large,” Rozloom supplied absently, his tone morose.

The gnome harrumphed. “Inefficient,” she muttered. “Give me a day or two, and I could improve the design.”

Rozloom rolled his black eyes. “If only they knew, many swans would rejoice this night.” His insult earned him a playful swat from the tiny gnome woman.

Once the rolling motion subsided, the ship began to move forward. Almost immediately the swan ship was surrounded by a host of elves, strange fey creatures with webbed hands and skin beautifully patterned in hues of mottled blue and green. They formed two lines, one on each side of the ship, and began to swim toward the shore.

Teldin leaned far out over the railing to watch, awed by the elves’ exotic beauty. Their eyes were large and lacked the characteristic almond shape of other elves. Their hair was like nothing he had seen: masses of wet, silvery curls that caught the early morning sunlight and reflected it back as if through a prism. The elves sang as they swam, communicating in a lyrical language that mixed windsong voices with a haunting counterpoint of clicks and whistles.

“What are they doing?” Teldin asked in a hushed whisper.

They are guiding the ship safely along a channel of deep water,” Vallus explained. “The waters around Evermeet are extremely treacherous. The island is guarded by lethal rock and coral formations, underwater currents strong enough to rip apart unwary ships, powerful magical wards, and even a guardian monster or two.”

The elves guided the ship through the channel to the docks, then disappeared into the deep. As he stared out into the waves, Teldin found himself wondering what world within a world existed under the surface of the water.

The elven port soon claimed his full attention. The elves that greeted them at the dock were more familiar to Teldin. Slim and supple as aspen trees, the golden elves were very like those with whom he had sailed many months earlier on his native Krynn. These harbor workers set about securing the swan ship, and another contingent of elves met them with great ceremony and escorted them to a floating, odd-shaped litter. Teldin stared dubiously at the thing, but he clambered aboard. Since the dracons were far too large to ride the elven conveyance, they ambled along beside, drawing stares as they went. Teldin noted many curious glances cast in his direction as well.

Vallus leaned close to Teldin. “As you may have guessed, your presence here is an unusual occurrence. In elven memory – which is long – the humans allowed on Evermeet can be counted on the fingers of one hand.”

“I’m honored beyond speech,” Teldin said with grave formality.

Vallus’s silver eyebrows rose slightly, acknowledging the human’s sarcasm. He refrained from commenting, but his expression tightened. “I have arranged an audience with the queen. With her will be some of Evermeet’s most renowned sages.” He paused to let the import of his words sink in. “Am I safe in assuming that you are unaccustomed to the ways of royalty and scholars?”

“For one who knows as much about me as you do, that seems like a safe assumption,” Teldin returned. He did not care for the elf’s patronizing tone.

Vallus sighed deeply and passed a hand over his forehead. “You may not believe this, Teldin Moore, but I’m trying to help you. With all my heart I want you to find the
Spelljammer.”
Teldin made no attempt to hide his skepticism, and the elf sighed again. “You still don’t believe me.”

“I’m not completely convinced,” Teldin admitted. “The elves don’t need me to get the
Spelljammer.
There are other ways to achieve that goal. Forgive me for being so blunt, but what’s in this for you?”

“Freedom.” The elf’s eyes took on a distant look, and he scanned the colorful market scene outside their litter. “Freedom,” he repeated softly.

Teldin’s brow furrowed, but Vallus did not seem inclined to elaborate. The elf dropped the subject and began to describe the sights along their route. Teldin only half listened, so absorbed was he in the sights of the elven city.

Evermeet was a place beautiful beyond Teldin’s dreams.

The harbor led through a market, where elven merchants offered exotic produce, musical instruments, jewelry, gossamer silks. They passed a bakery redolent with the subtle spices of
quinpah
and surrounded by a flock of elven children. The elflings licked honey off their slender fingers and darted about in games common to children of all races. Some of them, agape or giggling, pointed at the dracons. Teldin had never seen an elven settlement before, and he was fascinated by the vital, joyful atmosphere. Aloof with other beings, elves apparently could be high-spirited, even fun-loving, in the company of their own kind. As the litter floated slowly through the city, Teldin began to perceive something of the fabric of the elven society. Tradition and magic wove through elven life, giving it a beauty and resonance Teldin had never before imagined.

As he pondered this insight, the market gave way to a residential area. Enormous trees were everywhere, meeting over the broad streets to make uninterrupted canopies of blue and green. The streets were lined with elven residences, each with its own gardens. These houses were neither uniform nor built upon the angular, four-square designs that humans favored. Some structures resembled wood or crystal and seemed to be organic, grown as were elven spelljamming ships. Other homes were in the trees themselves, and a complex system of suspended walkways connected the homes in a gossamer network.

Teldin knew little of magic, but it occurred to him that elven magic was subtly different from that wielded by a human wizard. It was somehow more harmonious, using life-forms and working with nature. That was an engaging thought until he remembered Hectate Kir and what that sort of magic could yield. Teldin hastily pushed the thought aside. It seemed almost irreverent to contemplate the elves’ dark side in this land of bright magic and green light.

After a time the litter came to a large square surrounded with official buildings. The palace, a marvel of gem-encrusted white marble, glistened faintly blue in the distance. It was surrounded by gardens, and to one side stretched a vast green forest. Magic hung in the air like mist.

“I should tell you a little about the royal family,” Vallus said, breaking into Teldin’s thoughts. “Evermeet is ruled by Queen Amlauril, who heads the moon elf royal family.”

“What are moon elves?” Teldin asked.

“They are but one of several elven peoples on Toril,” Vallus began. “They are uncommon on other worlds, so it is not unusual that you have not encountered one before this.”

Vallus gestured to the pale, black-haired elven woman who walked alongside the litter, exchanging pleasantries with Trivit.

“That is a moon elf,” Vallus said. “A slight blue tinge to the skin is common, but apart from that, they are more like mankind than are other elves.”

The elf’s discourse was interrupted by the creak of gates. They had reached the palace grounds, and several guards fell in with the procession to escort them up to the palace. As they neared the palace gardens, Teldin noted with interest that the lawns were a deep, vibrant blue, as were the tall bushes that formed the garden maze. He shook his head in silent amazement. Hearing about blue foliage did not prepare him for the strangeness of the sight.

Teldin turned his gaze to the palace walls. Instantly he recoiled. There were no doors into the palace; the vast wall looked as if it had been carved from a single precious stone.

“How do we get in?” Teldin asked bluntly.

Vallus pointed upward. “The gate is there.”

As Teldin craned his neck to see, the litter began to float straight up. The door was far above them, but the distance was closing rapidly. Teldin cast a look downward. The dracons were pacing about uncertainly, and he noted the guards pointing them toward the gardens. The dracons looked delighted at this turn of events and took off with an odd, four-footed skip. Teldin smiled, relieved that he could concentrate on the elven sages without the dracons’ endless questions and prattle to distract from important matters.

Vallus also had noted the dracons’ detour. “This is just as well. If Chirp and Trivit were involved in this conference, they would feel compelled to trace the royal family’s lineage back beyond Myth Drannor, to the forging of the first moonblade.”