Elfshadow - Elaine Cunningham [131]
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An insistent flurry of coos erupted outside the window of Erlan Duirsar's study. The elflord's face betrayed his apprehension as he turned to an aid. "Let the messenger in," he commanded sharply.
The young elf threw open the window sash to admit the messenger. Onto the window sill hopped a gray dove, which tilted its head as if politely requesting admittance. A small scroll was tied to one leg with a bit of silver ribbon.
"Lord Duirsar will see you," the aid told the bird. The tiny messenger flew directly to the elven lord of the Greycloak Hills and perched expectantly before him.
A wave of trepidation swept through Erlan Duirsar. It had been some time since he had received a message from the western outpost. Myrin Silverspear was a proud elven warrior who preferred to take care of most problems himself. A matter had to be grave indeed before the "innkeeper" would pass it on to Evereska. Erlan untied the scroll. As he read it, his face grew troubled.
A polite chirp, the avian version of a cleared throat, drew Erlan's attention back to the messenger. The bird awaited his reply, its tiny head cocked at an inquisitive angle.
"No, there will be no response," Erlan told it. "You may go." The bird bowed its head and chirped an unmistakably respectful farewell, then it dissipated into a scattering of tiny lights.
"My lord?" questioned the aid.
"Summon the council immediately. Make it clear that we are to meet at once and in the utmost secrecy."
"Yes, Lord Duirsar." The urgency in the lord's voice was not lost on the aid. He bowed and hurried to the silver globe that would send the silent summons. Each council member wore an earring that was magically attuned to provide transport directly to Lord Duirsar's halls.
Erlan Duirsar gazed out the window to the courtyard below, a vast square ringed by buildings of enspelled pink crystal. Elvencrafted with the whimsical asymmetry and solid practicality that characterized the work of moon elves, the buildings housed most of the lords and ladies who sat on the council. Both the duties and privileges of government were shared by all in Evereska, and the common elves frequently gathered in the square for ritual, festivity, or contentious town meetings. It was his voice, however, that issued the final word on such matters as now confronted the city. Erlan Duirsar kept this thought before him as he strode into the meeting hall to address the council. A powerful and proud group, the elves studied him with varied degrees of curiosity and impatience.
"I know that you all have important business elsewhere, but I must ask that you remain here in counsel this night. Evereska may need the special talents of each elf here."
"What's going on?" demanded the head of the College of Magic.
"Bran Skorlsun has come to the Greycloak Hills," said Erlan Duirsar simply.
It was explanation enough.
* * * * *
The stars were beginning to wink into light as Arilyn entered the central garden through its maze of rose-entwined boxwood. Before her stood the statue of the Hannali Celanil, as radiantly beautiful as Arilyn remembered.
The half-elf drew a small parchment scroll from her pocket and held it aloft. "You told me to meet you at my mother's statue. Let's get this over with."
Arilyn's voice rang out through the empty garden. There was a moment's pause, then Kymil Nimesin stepped out from behind the statue.
"Arilyn. You cannot know how delighted I am to see you," he said, his patrician tones rounded with satisfaction.
"Let's see how quickly I can change your opinion on that matter," Arilyn said, as she drew Danilo's sword in challenge.
Before the steel had scraped free of its scabbard, several elven warriors emerged from