Heirs of Prophecy - Lisa Smedman [19]
Rylith shook her head. "Thamalon Uskevren is not a high elf," she said. "Nor a moon elf, nor one of the woods. He is human. He hails from the city of Selgaunt, in the realm of Sembia."
Leifander's puzzled frown deepened. "Does my father also live… among humans?" The last word hung bitter on his lips.
Rylith nodded, then quickly turned to one of the other druids. Taking his cue, Klanthir the Learned cleared his throat. Slender fingers gripped the edges of his cloak, hands resting against his chest as he assumed the posture of a speaker of the High Council.
"We commend you, Leifander of the Tangled Trees, for your brave rescue of your companion on Rauthauvyr's Road and your daring attack on the wizard whose evil magic was blighting the wood. You proved the High Council correct in our assumption that the depredations upon our wood were caused by human hands. More than that, you have laid the blame squarely at Sembia's doorstep."
Sembia? That was the name of the realm from which the man they said knew his father hailed.
That's good, isn't it?" Leifander asked tentatively. "Now we know the name of our enemy. We know which caravans to strike."
In his heart, though, he didn't care which of the cara-vaners died. They were all human and equally deserving of the elves' wrath.
Klanthir sighed. "If only it were merely a matter of striking caravans… Now that the Council knows who perpetrated this blight, they are speaking of war. If it comes to that, the balance will be forever tipped, and in a direction not in our favor. Long gone is the glory of Cormanthor and Myth Drannor. Though we hold the wood still, we are a scattered people. A war against Sembia will be a war we cannot win."
"Not so!" Leifander cried, unable to contain himself. "We may be outnumbered, but one elf is a match for any
four humans. They will never take our wood! We know it too well. On our home ground we cannot fail."
"That is so," Klanthir agreed, "but the wizard you met cannot be the only one working magic along Rauthau-vyr's Road. So great is the destruction-so widely are the seeds of the blight scattered-that one wand could not have sown them all."
"There is yet time for us to act," Rylith added. "The man I spoke of earlier-Thamalon Uskevren-is the head of a powerful merchant family. His voice speaks loudly in the Sembian council. If he could be persuaded to counsel against rash action, a war might yet be averted."
With a sinking feeling in his heart-for he could guess the answer-Leifander asked, "What is my part in this?"
"Go to the city of Selgaunt, and find Thamalon Uskevren," Rylith said. "Speak to him. Remind him of the love he once had for… the Tangled Trees. Plead with him to steer Sembia toward a course of action that will placate the High Council-one that will heal the rift between elf and man."
"I have never been to a human city," Leifander said. "I couldn't…"
It was a half-hearted protest. Already his mind was turning over the possibilities. He would deliver his message to Thamalon Uskevren, then press the human for information about his father, insist that he arrange a meeting between father and son.
"Don't worry" Rylith said with a twinkle in her eye. "Selgaunt is not far-as the crow flies. Now listen closely, while I relate what you are to say."
CHAPTER THREE
Larajin kneeled on a carpet of fragrant rose petals, her reflection rippling in the pool beside her. The cleric who kneeled in front of her rinsed his brush in the water, scattering flakes of gold, then dipped it again into a pot. Concentrating on Larajin's bared midriff, he applied moistened gilt paste to her skin with delicate, tickling strokes, marking her as one of the novices who would be traveling to the temple in Ordulin.
The temple of Sune was tranquil at this hour of the morning, filled with the soothing sounds of fountains and harmonious voices chanting the Song of Sunrise under the direction of the Heartwarder. The clerics stood in a group on the other side of the sacred pond, arms stretched to the