Dragons of Winter Night - Margaret Weis [98]
Gilthanas admired her determination, although he was ashamed for her nakedness. Any well-bred elven woman would have fainted dead away by now. He knew he should avert his eyes, but he was too awed by her beauty. His blood burned. With an effort, he kept talking, not even knowing what he was saying. Only gradually did he become aware that he was speaking the innermost thoughts of his heart.
“Silvara, what am I doing here? My father needs me, my people need me. Yet here I am, breaking the law of my lord. My people are in exile. I find the one thing that might help them—a dragon orb—but now I risk my life taking it from my people to give to humans to aid them in their war! It’s not even my war, it’s not my people’s war.” Gilthanas leaned toward her earnestly, noticing that she had not taken her eyes from him. “Why, Silvara? Why have I brought this dishonor on myself? Why have I done this to my people?”
He held his breath. Silvara glanced into the darkness and the safety of the woods, then looked back at him. She will flee, he thought, his heart pounding. Then, slowly, Silvara lowered her knife. There was such sadness and sorrow in her eyes that, finally, Gilthanas looked away, ashamed of himself.
“Silvara,” he began, choking, “forgive me. I didn’t mean to involve you in my trouble. I don’t understand what it is that I must do. I only know …”
“… that you must do it,” Silvara finished for him.
Gilthanas looked up. Silvara had covered herself with the frayed blanket. This modest effort served only to fan the flames of his desire. Her silver hair, hanging down past her waist, gleamed in the moonlight. The blanket eclipsed her silver skin.
Gilthanas rose slowly and began to walk along the shore toward her. She still stood at the edge of the forest’s safety. He could still sense her coiled fear. But she had dropped the knife.
“Silvara,” he said, “what I have done is against all elven custom. When my sister told me of her plot to steal the orb, I should have gone directly to my father. I should have sounded the alarm. I should have taken the orb myself—”
Silvara took a step toward him, still clutching the blanket around her. “Why didn’t you?” she asked in a low voice.
Gilthanas was nearing the rock steps at the north end of the pond. The water flowing over them made a silver curtain in the moonlight. “Because I know that my people are wrong. Laurana is right. Sturm is right. Taking the orb to the humans is right! We must fight this war. My people are wrong, their laws, their customs are wrong. I know this—in my heart! But I can’t make my head believe it. It torments me—”
Silvara walked slowly along the pool’s edge. She, too, was nearing the silver curtain of water from the opposite side.
“I understand,” she said softly. “My own … people do not understand what I do or why I do it. But I understand. I know what is right and I believe in it.”
“I envy you, Silvara,” Gilthanas whispered.
Gilthanas stepped to the largest rock, a flat island in the glittering, cascading water. Silvara, her wet hair falling over her like a silver gown, stood but a few feet from him now.
“Silvara,” Gilthanas said, his voice shaking, “there was another reason I left my people. You know what it is.”
He extended his hand, palm up, toward her.
Silvara drew back, shaking her head. Her breath came faster.
Gilthanas took another step nearer. “Silvara, I love you,” he said softly. “You seem so alone, as alone as I am. Please, Silvara, you will never be alone again. I swear it.…”
Hesitantly, Silvara lifted her hand toward his. With a sudden move, Gilthanas grabbed her arm and pulled her across the water. Catching her as she stumbled, he lifted her onto the rock beside him.
Too late the wild doe realized she was