Heirs of Prophecy - Lisa Smedman [38]
Thamalon turned on his daughter, his voice pitched dangerously low. "Look there," he said, pointing a quivering finger at the ring that hung at Leifander's throat.
"That ring. I was the man who gave it to his mother, twenty-five years ago, as a token of my affection. Leifander is indeed… my son."
Thazienne's mouth fell open in mute surprise. Her eyes darted from the ring to her father, then back to Leifander again. She gaped at him, as if seeing him for the first time. The shock she must have felt, however, was a pale shadow of Leifander's own.
"I'm no humanl" he said, spitting out the word. "Nor even half-human. You're wrong!"
"I'm afraid not," said Thamalon. 'Your story meshes with my own, like two hands folded together. I lay with Trisdea, and later, during my second visit to the Tangled Trees, learned that she had become pregnant by me. The elves told me that she died giving birth to that child- that although there was a cleric present at the birth, his magic could not save her. That her death was the will of the gods. They also told me she bore twins, but that only one lived. Now I see that they lied."
"Twins?" Leifander echoed..
Could it be true? He could feel his eyes widening. According to the ancient tales, twins were favored of the gods-twice blessed and destined for great and noble deeds.
He was too upset to say more. All he could do was stare at Thamalon. With a growing horror, he realized that what Thamalon was saying must indeed be true. Now Leifander knew why the druids had chosen him to convey their message, why they had said that by doing so, he would learn who his father was. They'd told him the truth, but now Leifander wished they hadn't. His father… a human? He couldn't believe it. He wouldn't believe it.
But part of him had already accepted this terrible fact. He thought back to the taunts he'd endured in his youth-taunts thrown at him by an elf many years his senior who had teased Leifander by calling him "round ears." At the time, he'd shrugged it off-his ears were as pointed as any other elf s-but Leifander's adoptive father had taken the incident more seriously, and had come to blows with the man. Later, when the fellow disappeared, there had been rumors that Leifander's father had killed him. At the time, Leifander had dismissed this as idle gossip, knowing there was nothing that could have prodded his father into so brutal an act.
He realized, now, that he'd been wrong. His adoptive father must have known all along that Leifander was indeed half-human. He'd killed the man to spare Leifander the shame of it.
A part of Leifander, however, still struggled with the revelation. How could he be part human? He had the look of a full-blood elf! Then he realized that subtle hints had been there, all along. He'd always been tall and somewhat heavyset for his age. His deep auburn hair was much darker than the autumn-leaf red of the other elves. Added all together, it seemed like damning evidence against him being a full-blooded elf.
He stared at Thamalon, searching for any resemblance, but just could not see it. Thamalon looked so human, and yet this man's blood flowed in his veins.
Human blood.
With that thought came a second realization, even more terrible than the first. If human blood flowed in Leifander's veins, that meant his life expectancy would be half what it should be-less than two hundred years. He stared at Thamalon with narrowed eyes, suddenly hating him.
Leifander started to turn, intending to stride back down the hall to the nearest balcony and fly off into the night, but Thamalon stepped forward and caught his arm. Though the fingers that gripped him were strong, the touch was a light one, imploring, rather than commanding.
"Please," Thamalon said. "Stay a little longer. I would like to speak with you further, my son."
Leifander tried in vain to keep from wincing at the word.