I came across this story while browsing though my archives. It was meant to be the start of a long story about Irenicus' fall from grace, but lack of time and motivation caused me to shelve it. I haven't read this in years! I thought it was interesting, so decided to give it an airing.
...
I remember running. Or more accurately, my mother running. She pressed me so hard against her breast I felt her every heartbeat as a hammer blow against my skull. I did not understand why we fled, why my mother pulled me from my bed to run with nothing more than the clothes on our backs. The darkness was coming—it was all I knew, all I heard screamed into the night.
I remember the fires. I watched them from over my mother's shoulder. The canopies of the trees burned with magical flame, sending ghostly hellfire sweeping up towards the stars, killing all in its wake. Even at my young age I knew they meant death, yet I could not take my eyes from them. They were so...beautiful. I had seen nothing so grand, not even from the wizards of the court. They burned in silence, will-o-wisps on a summer's night.
Despite the chaos I felt no fear. Why? All around us was death, our family and our friends dropping like birds felled by a hail of arrows, yet—nothing. Perhaps I was too young for fear, too young to truly understand pain. Too young to know that those who fell would never rise again. Too young to understand what that darkness would mean—the loss, the upheaval, the years of wandering that awaited. But at that moment, there was nothing but a strange curiosity.
The paper lantern over the desk swayed in a stealthy breeze, making the man look up from his writing. A storm was coming. The misty stars still flickered through the treetops but he could smell the approaching rain, and felt the electricity tingling faintly against his skin. He thought for a moment, then jotted down a note in the margins predicting a three-day's rain.
He bit slightly at the end of his pen, trying to draw his thoughts back to that fateful night. Considering its impact there was surprisingly little to recall. The flames he remembered. His mother's face, beautiful and terrified. The screams. But that was all. Perhaps if it had happened after he learned to reverie he would have been able to recall more. He let out a short noise of frustration and wrote again without thinking.
I remember nothing.
He regarded the words, smudged where the pen swirled in his agitation. They were the opposite of fact. He remembered much—so much that his brain felt weary at times from the weight of it. Why he should be so determined to commit such a distant memory to paper? It had little bearing on his studies, and there were much more vital thoughts waiting to be written down. But this memory kept creeping into his mind of late, softly pushing away other ideas, tickling his brain like a stray leaf against his hair.
Perhaps he was growing sentimental, unlikely as it seemed. Four centuries would soon have passed since his birth, perhaps they had already. At his age counting every season seemed pointless. Five hundred was considered more of a milestone, true, but for some reason the thought gave him pause. He barely noticed when he turned three hundred, in fact it seemed just yesterday. Nor did he feel his age in any meaningful way—if anything the pull of Arvandor had actually lessened over the years. So why did it make him stop in the quieter moments, filling his mind with such pointless reminiscence?
"Joneleth."
A voice spoke his name, soft and low, but as always carrying the force of a thunderbolt. He felt stung by shock, and a hint of anger rose at being ripped from his thoughts, but he stood from his desk and bowed quickly to the speaker.
"My Queen. Forgive me, I did not feel you approach."
"We are not at court, my love," she replied. "Must you speak to me as a stranger?"
Joneleth straightened and looked at her in the way that was his privilege alone. Ellesime stood in the doorway, the faint light in the hall enough to penetrate the loose silk of her gown and reveal her shape. The Queen was slight of frame, more so than most women he had known, and combined with her living beauty gave her a deceptively delicate appearance. She smiled in her jest but a slight shadow of pain appeared then faded away in the corners of her eyes. The spark pricked at his conscience and he drove the anger back down.
"I am sorry for departing the feast without your leave, but if I heard that dreadful hunting story once more I should cause the entire hall to burst into flames," he said.
"Dear me. Such disrespect to hint the venerable Ambassador Belenvas is a bore."
Despite the gravity of her tone, a smile crept out of her mouth as her bare feet padded silently towards him. She reached up and slid the palm of her hand over his brow and down his hair, letting her hand flow down the length of it. Joneleth shut his eyes, drawing in a breath at the remarkable feeling of life in her touch. That strange bond with the Great Tree gave her a subtle power that for all his arcane skills he had never been able to match.
"Are you writing again?" she asked, her gaze drifting to the desk.
He stiffened slightly in her embrace.
"Yes, but it is nothing."
"I cannot think why you spend your days devoted to these things that you insist are of little importance," she said, her voice growing slightly harder.
"I only mean it is nothing that would interest you, my beloved. It dulls even me at times."
Joneleth sensed green eyes fixed on him, but he kept his gaze on the cascade of beads in her hair.
"I am at least thankful to find you here," Ellesime said slowly, and his arms finally fell away.
"Have you been to my study?" he asked, more sharply than he wished.
"Do you imply that I have no right there?"
There was now little mistaking the frost in her tone. Joneleth fell back from her slightly, aware of her authority, but slipped forward again.
"Of course not, my Queen. You are welcome. I often wish you would take more of an interest in my studies."
He hesitated over the words, feeling himself stumbling like a youth over the falsehood. Ellesime drew away from him and sat on the wide window, looking out over the lanterns that flickered in the city below.
"So you say. Yet I feel perhaps you already have all the assistance you require."
"Beloved?" he said cautiously.
She did not reply. Her face was still and sombre as any ruler but her eyes glittered, looking almost damp in the light. Joneleth stood still and said nothing, waiting in apprehension.
"I saw her leaving your chambers," Ellesime said finally.
She tossed her head slightly, her gaze still firm on the trees. Joneleth melted with a strange relief, a smile even passing over his mouth. Why did he fear? For all her power the Queen revealed herself to be a woman, after all. He went and knelt by her side, taking her hand in his.
"Is that what troubles you?" he said, a laugh slipping out. "Beloved, there is nothing more between Bodhi and I than a mutual interest in natural philosophy. We study together, that is all! On that you have my word."
"I almost wish you are telling me a lie," Ellesime unexpectedly replied, and he drew his hand away. "Are you so cold that dead words involve you more than a living heart? There is life and light surrounding you—our home is a gift from the Seldarine themselves, yet you...squander it in this way. I do not understand you, Joneleth."
"But you love me?"
"Yes," she said slowly. "Rillifane help me, but I do."
She slid her hand over his hair again and Joneleth felt that same guilt, but no anger. He leaned his head against her and slipped a hand over the silk of her gown, up her leg to wrap an arm around her waist.
"Have you had your answer yet?" he murmured into her dress.
"Not yet," she replied quietly. "Such a question cannot be rushed."
"They must know soon. If not I shall burst into the temple and demand a reply from the Leaf Lord myself," Joneleth said.
"And you would burst straight out again, I have little doubt," Ellesime replied, placing a kiss on his head.
Joneleth looked up to see she was smiling.
"Perhaps you are right. But I do not understand why your ancestor should be so troubled at the idea of our marrying."
"Because my life comes at a price, beautiful as it is," she said. "Being the embodiment of the Tree of Life carries a great weight—all that affects me affects my people, more than any other ruler. Even my heart is not as free to give as I should wish."
"And I should free you from your burden," he said under his breath.
"Joneleth!" Ellesime exclaimed. "Do not say such things. Even if you mean them."
"Forgive me, my Queen," he said quickly. "Rillifane knows I mean no disrespect."
"He must, or you would not be standing," she sighed. "But I must return to the feast—the gathering of the night-blooms will begin ere long and I need to preside at the blessings."
"You could stay for a time," Joneleth said, thoughtfully caressing the sash of her dress.
"No, my love."
She disengaged herself from him and rose to her feet.
"I will not command you to accompany me, but I do wish you would."
"I shall be with you soon, I promise," he said, rising as well. "Pray give me some time to ensure the ambassador has finished his tale."
"And such a noble consort you are, to leave your regent in his clutches," Ellesime smiled.
Joneleth smiled back and ran his hands softly over her cheeks, drinking in her features before pressing his lips against hers.
"Not long. I promise."
Ellesime's eyes opened slowly. She nodded, then touched a slender finger to his lips and departed without another word.
...
Joneleth let out a breath watching her slip away like a ghost, but another woman was in his mind. Why had Bodhi been in his study? He had told her more than once not to enter there alone. He paced the room just long enough to ensure that Ellesime was gone, then pulled his cloak around his shoulders and fled down the long stairs.
The faint glow of painted lanterns from walkways and windows penetrated his nightvision, adding sparks of colour into his sight. Laughter and talk drifted from the houses, but thankfully the bridges were empty as most still lingered over their evening meal. Even the city guard seemed absent from view, and that suited him well enough.
Joneleth slowed his pace crossing a particularly narrow bridge formed of twisted, living vines. No branches passed underneath the swaying walkway, leaving an open drop of over a hundred feet to the forest below. He kept his gaze trained on the bridge though a grimace still stuck in the corner of this mouth. Never would he admit he once slipped from that walkway—his magic saved him but the story would bring no end of amusement for the natives who scampered around the tree city like squirrels. That he insisted on wearing shoes in all weathers was humour enough for them.
On the other side a giant tree trunk rose up from the gloom, wide as a house in any other city. He followed a curving pathway and at last reached the end. Speaking a quick incantation the outlines of a door appeared from the otherwise seamless wall of bark. Joneleth stepped inside and the door sealed shut behind him.
His eyes ran around his study but Bodhi thankfully was not there. The enchanted flames still burned low in the firepit, casting their strange glow over bookcases and tables. His study was one of the few rooms within the city without windows and the air was staler than the outside, but he had long ceased to notice. The rare privacy it offered was far more important.
He crossed the room swiftly, pausing just before a bookcase. The heavy wooden shelves were burdened with titles that would fail to interest even the most studious of spirits—Fungus Farming and the Duergar; The Native Turtles of Chult; Slimes and Their Applications for the Destruction of Refuse: Progress in Neverwinter. It still looked intact, perhaps the woman had failed to notice it was actually an exact duplicate of the bookcase on the opposite side of the room. Joneleth dispelled the illusion and regarded the true object that stood there with pride.
Standing a foot or more above the tall elf was a construct of wood. A wood golem, a creature of his own design. Its limbs he carved flawlessly from the city's trees, spending months on their details. When gifted with his magic it would be stronger and more agile than a golem of flesh. As the city's most abundant material creating this type of golem made sense, though he hoped to overcome the need to cut living wood. The Priests of Rillifane in particular were somewhat sensitive on that point.
He hoped though they could move beyond their instinctive reaction and realise how valuable such constructs could be to the city. The creation and use of golems was entirely prohibited by the lawgivers; despite his best efforts to convince them otherwise constructs were still perceived as potentially dangerous. But a walk around the city was enough to show how much such servants were needed—everywhere the living walkways sagged and grew overgrown, windows and doorways reclaimed by the trees. The city desperately needed repair.
His golem now stood unanimated, a silent statue, but he hoped to complete it before long. He ran a finger over the small hole in its chest that awaited a crystal, a particular kind of quartz that would imbue it with more energy than most golems of its kind. The gem was rare but he had at last procured a sample that should arrive in the city within days.
"It looks rather like a giantling's poppet, my dear Jon."
He jumped hearing the door slide open but did not turn around.
"Bodhi. Why are you here?" he asked through clenched teeth.
"Why, simply to borrow that truly fascinating tome on slimes," the woman laughed.
Joneleth turned and glared at her. Bodhi wandered languidly into the room, her gown of misty blue flowing around her. Her pale arms were bare and black coils of hair slid around her like vipers, falling down past her waist. A crooked smile decorated her face and she draped herself over his couch. She propped her chin up on a thin hand and looked at him.
"Those are forbidden, you know," she said, nodding at the golem.
"Why do you think it was hidden?" Joneleth said.
"Not hidden very well. Anyone with half an eye could have seen through your illusion."
"Hidden well enough," he replied, his anger at the woman's impertinence growing.
Bodhi seemed to pay little heed though and stretched out her legs, examining the silver rings on her dainty toes.
"You needn't be so antagonistic," she said. "It's not as though I would run out and share your secret with the world."
"But that is precisely the issue—it is not your secret at all. I have told you before not to come here unbidden. You test my patience, woman," he grumbled.
"Oh, tut," she dismissed him. "What is it that you think I would do? Play with your toys? I am a mage the same as you, Jon dear. You seem to keep forgetting that."
She smiled brightly up at him and Joneleth cleared his throat. In spite of her manner he could never escape the rather irritating charm in her lovely cheeks.
"And how you earned yourself that name is anyone's guess," he continued, trying to change the subject. "You seem to rely more on instinct to cast your spells rather than knowledge."
"Oh, you are kind," Bodhi laughed. "I simply do not know why I continue to put up with you. Do you think I am a stranger to the books? But I have a life, something you might do well to acquire. And speaking of which, how is our fair Queen this eve?"
"Now who is treading outside the law?" Joneleth muttered, examining some specimen bottles on a table and desperately wishing she would attend to one of her suitors.
"Don't worry, I am not plotting a treason. I was merely baiting you, but that seems all too easy an occupation tonight. Here, come share this with me."
Bodhi placed a small incense box on a side-table and spoke an incantation, lighting the tips of her fingers with a cold blue fire. She looked at him with laughing eyes and lit the contents of the box. Coils of spice-scented smoke began to rise and she breathed deep, drinking them in as they caressed her face.
"I think not. And I have told you before to keep that repulsive substance out of my study, for whatever that is worth," Joneleth said coolly.
"Hardly repulsive, it is my own blend," Bodhi replied, her silver voice slightly thickened. "And you could stand to relax, dear Jon."
"Will you cease calling me that?" he suddenly growled.
He gestured with a snap of his fingers and the box fizzled, dispersing the flames. Bodhi started in surprise and looked up at him with a scowl.
"Hmph! The Queen does have her work cut out with you, Jon dear."
He opened his mouth to reply but Bodhi cried out as she rose, holding up a bleeding finger.
"Oh, Sweet Seldarine! These sharp edges. See what you have made me do? I cannot stand blood, and if I stain my dress your illicit golem shall be the least of your troubles," she declared.
"Bodhi..." Joneleth sighed wearily. "Go home and see to your reverie."
"At this hour?" she said, sucking on her pricked finger. "I am nearly dying of boredom and you tell me it is time for bed. But I can take a hint—farewell, good lady, farewell. I can forgive you, Jon, but I shall leave you burdened with the suspense of wondering what truly drew me here tonight."
She gave him a look and sailed out the door, her gown sweeping along after her. Joneleth groaned slightly and rubbed his temples. Why did he ever allow that mad woman into his life? In spite of her fine family and her not-inconsiderable masculine attention she still designed to be his shadow, following a pace behind him wherever he stepped. Little wonder his Queen was growing jealous.
Ellesime...he could tarry no longer, the feast must be nearly over. He restored the illusion over the golem, but considering Bodhi's comments he wondered grimly if there was any point. He went towards the door but on his way out he stopped for some reason before a mirror.
Generally his looks were of little concern—he knew well enough that he had always been considered beautiful by the People, and a focus on superficial vanity never appealed. Tonight though he paused, mentally peeling away his features from the man inside, turning his face into a kind of mask that he regarded with a strange objectivity. His skin glistened with a slight golden hue, a shade darker than his long hair. The angles were strong in their beauty though his lips were often pulled too thin by his own serious countenance.
But he found himself being drawn into his eyes, regarding their deep copper as if they held some secret that he himself was not privy to. He stared into them, drawing further in until he truly did feel as though he was regarding another elf. Joneleth shook his head and drove away the image—Bodhi's incense must be getting the better of him. He drew a hand over his hair and departed.
...
The palace sat along with the Temple of Rillifane Rallathil high above the city, alone on the great Tree of Life. None save the Queen, the priests, and their retainers were allowed the privilege of residing on that marvel of creation, and even its sister trees seemed to regard it with respect, keeping their canopies at bay. While the other great trees of Suldanessellar were recognisable by their mundane oaken cousins the Great Tree had no species, no kin, that could be found on the Prime Material Plane at least. It was unique in every sense, and though he had resided in the city for nearly a century Joneleth still felt a sense of awe whenever he drew near those winding, impossible branches. It radiated life, an essence that he could feel vibrating within his very spirit, and at times it came near to drawing him to tears.
Even the royal family themselves had no idea of the Tree's exact age. Ellesime had told him the story many times of the young noble elf who wandered amongst the shattered trees, mourning their loss in a battle even more than his fallen comrades. A strange man clad all in green appeared before the young man and told him that if his faith was strong, he could restore the forest. Inspired, the young man gathered all the nuts and seeds he could find and spent many years alone, replanting and tending to the trees. Under his care they grew thick once more, everywhere except the spot he had encountered his kinsman.
Confused he called out in frustration in the empty place, asking why it should stay barren. The trees suddenly shook and the man fell to his knees as the Leaflord himself appeared. He told the no-longer young elf that as with him, the forest was still missing a vital part.
He gave the man a small stone and told him to plant it in the centre of the barrenness. 'But this is a rock, it will not grow,' the man said to the Leaflord. To which Rillifane replied, 'Your faith was enough to bring this forest to life once more, yet you still doubt?' The man thought on this, then opened his palm to examine the stone. There in his hand lay not a rock, but a nut. The man did as commanded, and stood back in wonder as a giant tree grew from the earth, its magic powerful enough to cause the surrounding trees to likewise grow to a great height.
Rillifane told the man to gather his lost kin to that place, where they might make a home in harmony with the revived forests that surrounded them. He told the man that as long as the People's faith was strong the great Tree of Life would protect them, as they protected the forests. And as a final token of generosity the Leaflord presented the man with his own beautiful daughter, that she might be his love and helpmate as he ruled over the forest as the first King of Suldanessellar.
A pleasant story, Joneleth considered, though he wondered idly what the young woman thought of the entire affair. The palace was brightly lit tonight, with the glow of the few true flames allowed within the city illuminating the mother-of-pearl outer walls and giving them a fairy-like appearance. As with all buildings in Suldanessellar the palace stood mainly within the trunk of the tree, with numerous outbuildings and platforms spreading out from the main structure.
The guards at the gate stood at attention as he passed but he paid them no mind, keeping his eyes on the merry crowd that milled around outside the great doors. He had little hope that he could escape past them without the usual parade of pleasantries that accompanied these affairs, but he forced himself to stride on.
"My Lord Anorlindar," a deep and earnest voice spoke at his side. Joneleth turned to see the young Lieutenant Elhan bowing politely. "I bid you good evening, and bring you a message from Master Casihar. The Lord Wizard entreats you to visit his chambers at your leisure. Shall I bring word for him to expect you this eve, my Lord?"
Joneleth sighed inwardly—despite the guard's polite words he knew a summons from Casihar was anything but at his leisure.
"Yes, Elhan. Tell your master that I shall see him after I have paid my respects to our Queen."
The response was the one he knew even Casihar could say nothing against, and the young man bowed and retreated.
Despite having to pause for a number of smiles and blessings Joneleth managed to slip through the crowd with remarkable ease. The revellers had been attending to their wine rather closely as they always did in high summer, and the majority of them hardly seemed to notice his presence. Just when he believed he could make his escape however another voice chirruped at hand.
"Ah, my good Joneleth. We missed you at the feast, and I had hoped we would have an occasion to speak. I believe my tale of the hind went down rather well."
"Of course, Ambassador," Joneleth replied, forcing a polite bow for the venerable elf. "I have often said it is a pity we do not have such fine hunting here as in the Vale of Evereska."
"Yes, yes," Belenvas said, taking a swallow from his golden goblet. "But with humans surrounding you on all sides it is to be expected. 'Tis a pity, this is a fine little settlement otherwise. Rustic, you know. Have I told you, my wife and I intend to live in Suldanessellar for a few seasons? Naloni is quite keen to study the local flora, the carpets of golden alfirin here are said to be quite remarkable. She may even remain after I have returned home. Although—" he said, glancing around warily. "Between you and myself I should be glad for a brief separation. Why, just before we departed the dear moved my entire collection of artefacts from the Plane of Fire into the cellar—she said they made the sitting room intolerably hot. Hot! This from a woman who keeps the fires blazing all year round—"
"Erm, yes," Joneleth politely broke in. "But I am surprised the Lady Naloni should undertake such research now, with the Drow beginning to surface again."
"Do you think them a problem?" the ambassador said, his eyes growing wide. "The guard captain assured me those devils only attempt a minor skirmish every few decades to assert their presence. She said they'd been driven back—"
"Yes, for the time being," Joneleth said, raising his brow somewhat. "But one can never be sure of the motivations of the Dark Ones. Their attacks have grown bolder, and they show a pattern that is previously unseen."
"Corellon preserve us. I had no idea—perhaps I could convince Naloni to study elsewhere, although if she hears any mention of the Dark Ones she will likely not leave the villa for a year," Belenvas sighed.
Joneleth nodded gravely, though he smiled inside at the thought he might be spared seasons of entertaining the Lady Naloni, whose conversations made her husband's seem inspiring by comparison.
"Speaking of home, I do hope there is a chance of your making a visit to Evereska soon? The court has missed your stimulation since you departed. As Naloni says you are quite a bright fellow, bright indeed," the ambassador said warmly.
"I thank you, my Lord," Joneleth replied, a true smile creeping out. "I should greatly enjoy a visit to the city, but my business here keeps me occupied."
"So I have heard," Belenvas said quietly. "Is there some truth then to the rumours of your betrothal?"
Joneleth paused, surprised. "Yes, her Majesty and I have petitioned Rillifane for permission to marry, though the oracles have not yet given their response."
"Well then," he chuckled. "If any man might be given the hand of the Maiden Queen I am certain it would be you. Royal Consort of Suldanessellar—quite a title."
"Yes, my Lord," Joneleth replied, unexpectedly turning warm.
"Although if you do wed Queen Ellesime you shall have to amend your ways, such as not sneaking out in the middle of a visiting dignitary's speech, eh?"
The ambassador leaned in slightly and gave him a subtle wink, causing Joneleth to turn a deeper hue of gold.
"Yes, forgive me—"
"Oh, don't trouble yourself, dear fellow," Belenvas laughed. "I know I can fall too deep into my tales. And I suspect by the way you have been fidgeting throughout our conversation that you have somewhere you need to be?"
"Ah, yes, the Queen has—"
"Say no more," he said, raising a hand. "Kindly give the radiant Ellesime my deepest respect and admiration. And shall I pass on your regards to the Lady Naloni as well?"
"Yes, my Lord, warm regards," Joneleth said, smiling in spite of himself.
He bowed deep to the ambassador and at last found his way into the palace, grudgingly admitting to himself that Belenvas wasn't so much a fool as he often appeared.
...
Ellesime was not to be found amongst her courtiers, and Joneleth learned from a servant that she had retired to her chambers. He made his way up the winding staircases, past bowing guards and laughing nobles until he reached her rooms.
The Queen's chambers were on the uppermost level of the palace, set into the place where the trunk of the Great Tree split into three branches. Her rooms could not truly be called such, for they had no walls but the branches and no roof but the leaves. They were entirely open to air, sun and starlight, yet somehow felt sheltered and secure.
Joneleth crossed the platform quietly. A large round rug of colourful silk decorated the floor, and the softly melodious sounds of chimes came to his ear as they swayed in the breeze. He saw Ellesime with her back to him, sitting among her flowers.
"My Queen," he said, bowing though she could not see him. "I beg you to forgive my lateness."
"It is a boon you frequently seek," she replied slowly, not turning around.
"Yes—forgive me," he said. "But I had encountered the ambassador..."
"So you place the blame on the good Belenvas."
She let out a short, rather weary laugh and turned to him. Joneleth bowed again.
"I am sorry, Ellesime."
"I know," she said, rising from her seat. "If there is one truth I have learned, it is that I am secondary to your own occupations."
"That is not true," he said quickly.
"It is. But I hope you can forgive me some self-indulgence, at least."
She reached up and carefully laced trumpet shaped night-blooms into his hair. Their rich scent came to him and he stood perfectly still, allowing himself to regard Ellesime closely as she focused on her task. She seemed pale tonight, her usual tan colouring washed out in starlight. Her lips were tight and her eyes hadn't lost the sadness they held earlier. Impulsively he put his arms around her.
"I do love you, Ellesime. With all my heart."
She appeared almost surprised at the unguarded statement and smiled slightly, looking down at his chest like a young girl. She seemed somehow different that night from the woman he once kneeled before; a ruler resplendent in green, almost a living part of the throne of leaves and vines that held her warm body.
Many women he had seen in his travels, beautiful, noble and terrible, but her—he would remember that sensation till the end of his days. She was alive. She was life—all that lived made whole and flesh. He bent to her lips and drank in that sensation again, feeling it growing under his touch as he helped slide her gown to the floor.
...
"You should not linger here," Ellesime said, running her hand over his chest.
Joneleth scowled into the leaves above her bed and pulled her closer.
"If your guardians do not wish me here they can come and attempt to remove me themselves," he said. "The human daughters of Calimshan are not so closely bound as you, and you are a Queen of more years than any of your priests."
"They act with good reason, and with my blessings," she reminded him. "I would thank you not to speak of the servants of the Leaflord as over-strict nurses. But that was not my meaning. You...have an appointment, do you not?"
"Indeed," Joneleth said, starting with remembrance. "I'd nearly forgotten. But you know of this?"
"I do," she said, tracing the lines of his torso with a finger.
"What does Casihar wish of me? Elhan did not say."
"It is not for me to discuss, either," Ellesime said unexpectedly. "You must speak with the Wizard Lord."
He groaned slightly. A meeting with the court's chief wizard at that hour, after taking pleasure with his lady had no appeal at all. But if even the Queen was urging him towards this date he knew he had little choice in putting it off till the morrow.
"Very well then," he said, sitting up. "Fortunately the wizard never takes his reverie till sunrise."
He rose to dress but Ellesime held out a hand, brushing against his flank.
"My darling—promise me one thing. That you will think of our love."
"What do you mean?"
"I cannot say more," she hesitated. "Just—promise me."
Joneleth sat back down and took her hand.
"I do not understand. Do you think I would do any other?"
"No," she said, smiling slightly. "Pay me no heed. But you should go now."
He looked at her for a moment, trying to fathom some reason for her strange behaviour. He found nothing. Instead Joneleth kissed her hand and rose again to dress.
Ellesime's words wore heavier on him with every step in his journey Casihar's chambers. The Queen had been behaving strangely of late, though he placed it on jealousy and his own admittedly neglectful habits. But her reaction to the meeting and the fact that she knew of it at all gave him pause. Why should she implore him to remember their love? He strongly doubted the ancient wizard was about to drop onto bended knee and declare his own love for him. The thought provided some levity in the increasingly grim night and he chuckled softly to himself.
A servant answered his knock and led him through the winding wooden passageways into the wizard's main chambers. By the lights and the sound of laughter he gathered that Casihar was entertaining friends, though whether that meant good or ill for him remained to be seen.
The wizard's sitting-room was warm despite the growing breezes from the wide windows. A number of men and women lounged on the cushions inhabitants of Suldanessellar preferred to chairs, talking and listening to the mellow tones of a harpist who sat in a corner. Their skins were bare to the summer air; such gatherings always seemed to require nudity, a mark of their total relaxation. On seeing him a dark-haired woman rose up and greeted Joneleth kindly.
"Good blessings of the wind," she said. "Casihar should return shortly. Please join us—this wonderful bard's ballad is remarkable."
She poured out a glass of mead before he could say anything and Joneleth took it with a sigh.
"Thank you, Fivanna. You and your husband always do offer the finest of meads."
"Nothing less for our friends," she smiled. "Please, sit."
Joneleth took an offered cushion, considering to himself that the wizard would hardly apply that term to him. Fivanna though he was fond of. They had lived in many of the same places, and she seemed to understand his habits more than many in the city did. She sat near him and spoke pleasant and low while still allowing him the pleasure of hearing the bard's song, a flawless hostess as always. Casihar had married late in life and she was considerably younger than him. The thought brought back the difference between himself and their own ageless Queen and he smiled into his cup.
Before long the wizard re-appeared, his eyes focusing on Joneleth as he walked into the room.
"Ah, Joneleth. I thought perhaps Elhan had been remiss in his duty, although that is the last I would expect from that serious young man."
"Forgive me my lateness, Lord Casihar," Joneleth replied, standing and bowing. "I only received your message not long ago."
"Your excuses do not interest me, although I do wish you had arrived earlier. My darling, my friends—forgive me, but I believe I must miss our communion tonight," Casihar announced.
"Oh, but why?" Fivanna said. "We can wait, it is no trouble. There is no shortage of drink and our beautiful bard has only warmed up her fingers. It would be a pleasure to have Joneleth join us, as well."
"Thank you, but your husband is likely right," he replied, bowing to her. "Perhaps another time."
"You always seem to find some excuse to avoid communion," Fivanna said. "I think perhaps you have something to hide?"
Her words were in jest but they pricked him slightly. Before he could reply Casihar spoke.
"No, my wife, do not delay yourselves for us. We may be some time. Come, Joneleth."
Casihar drew a silk robe around his bare body and departed rather abruptly for his study. Joneleth bade a quick farewell to Fivanna and followed after him, his apprehension returning.
...
"Sit," Casihar said, more of a command than an offer.
Joneleth took a seat in a thankful chair while the wizard poured pale wine from a pitcher on his desk. He offered him a goblet and took his own place, where he sat thoughtfully sipping the liquid. Although Joneleth could feel the tension rising within he said nothing; he knew well the wizard would speak only when ready. At last Casihar drew a breath.
"What do you know of your father?"
"My father?" Joneleth repeated, surprised by the question.
"Yes. What do you know?"
Joneleth shook his head slightly.
"I do not remember much of him. He passed when I was a child, one of the last defenders of Myth Drannor."
"And beyond that?"
"Only that of importance. He was a mage, and a member of a noble house. He served the Coronal. Beyond that I know little. My mother rarely spoke of him."
"Then you do not know all of importance," Casihar said, leaning back in his chair. "Beyond what you have said, your father was also a wielder of High Magic."
"Indeed…" Joneleth replied slowly.
"You do not seem surprised," Casihar remarked.
"I had my suspicions. My mother had her ways of stepping around the truth, but she placed seeds in my mind."
"Quite. But I should not blame your mother for keeping this truth about your sire—as you know, High Magic is rarely discussed, even amongst the closest of circles."
"Yes, my Lord. But forgive me, why do you mention this now?"
"Impatience, Joneleth, not the greatest of signs. But time is not so much our friend here, and I shall overlook it for now," the wizard said. "You know the great Tree of Life protects this city, radiating an energy that shields it within almost a natural Mithal. But on its own this is still not enough to maintain our protection, or even the integrity of the city itself. We must work tirelessly to keep the city from collapsing to the forest below."
Casihar paused again, brushing back the long silver hair that the breeze dared to touch. Joneleth nodded and said nothing.
"It is never an easy task, particularly when combined with the abundant magical forces present in this area. But our work of late has become even more difficult. You will recall the court wizard Lord Zeanal, I presume?"
"Yes, he passed not long after I arrived in Suldanessellar," Joneleth said.
"Indeed. But what you would not have been privy to is that he was part of our triad, the third house in our Rituals of Complement."
"And you are another, my Lord?" Joneleth said, leaning forward slightly.
"A bold assertion to make, but a logical one under the circumstances," Casihar said, fixing him with a look. "Yes, I am the second house."
"Forgive me, my Lord," Joneleth said quietly, not daring to ask for the other name despite nearly bursting with curiosity.
Casihar took another drink of wine and sat looking out the window. Dawn was near and the sky should have been growing lighter, but the stars were dimmed by an approaching cloud. Joneleth bit his goblet's rim and swallowed hard.
"Sinwe is the first house," Casihar spoke at last.
"Sinwe?" Joneleth burst out in spite of himself. "Lady Sinwe wields High Magic? May the Seldarine help us, I shall never rest in the city again."
Apart from the ageless Queen, Lady Sinwe was likely the most ancient elf Joneleth had ever encountered. But unlike Ellesime, Sinwe showed her age—her golden skin was so pale she seemed almost lit from within, and her dark hair was streaked with white. When she spoke her words were confused and she spent most of her time in her chamber in reverie, assuming she could manage that state at all. She seemed more spirit than flesh. Joneleth had always assumed she maintained a place in the court out of respect, but he never even dared dream that she continued to shape the Weave in such a way.
"Mind your words," Casihar said angrily. "Lady Sinwe has served the Queen and this city for longer than you have been alive. She is a wizard without peer. However..." he sighed. "You are correct. Although she has extended her time here more than should any elf, she grows steadily wearier. I would be surprised if she could spend another fifty summers without resisting the call of Arvandor. I believe she has only remained this long as she knew she was needed, but even the most determined of spirits cannot fight the inevitable forever."
"Yes. I am sorry, I meant no disrespect against Lady Sinwe," Joneleth said quickly. "But it took me by surprise."
"Understandable," Casihar said, fingering his goblet. "That she can maintain the power at all is a testament to her strength. But you see the difficulty the city is faced with—we have lost one house and soon stand to lose another. And even in Suldanessellar, High Mages do not grow on trees. We are few in the elven kingdoms, and even though other settlements provide aid when absolutely necessary they are primarily concerned with the defence of their own homes. We need new blood."
Joneleth silently agreed, though his mind was working. Casihar clearly hadn't summoned him to speak idly on such things, but what was his intent? Joneleth was no youth, but he still had not achieved the age normally required to practice High Magic. The Queen's words came back to him though and he wondered, did this somehow relate to her? Could Casihar possibly have Ellesime in mind as a candidate? It seemed unlikely, but so did every other explanation. He wondered and waited impatiently for the wizard to speak again.
"So you now know of our difficulties," Casihar said. "The most obvious answer would be to train new acolytes, but I am sorry to say that few of our blossoming wizards have shown the combination of intuition, skill, and strength needed to practice the High Art. And those that have are not of enough years. But the time has come that we cannot wait any longer. We needed to make a choice, and we have chosen you."
Joneleth stared at him. Though the statement wasn't the shock it might have been, it still stunned him to hear those words made whole.
"Have you nothing to say?" Casihar said after a moment.
"It...is...a remarkable offer. I am honoured, my Lord, but—I am not of age. I have heard—"
"That acolytes in the High Art must be of four hundred and fifty summers," Casihar interrupted. "It is true, but it is not an absolute rule. It exists mainly to ensure candidates have the required wisdom and mental development to wield such power, but age is relative to the elf. Some may have more wisdom at a hundred than others possess at six hundred. We have been observing you, Joneleth, and in all other respects you fit the requirements."
He started at the statement, and a grim smile broke over Casihar's face.
"Yes, we know of your—extracurricular activities. They are a concern, but we see nothing in them that implies ill intent. However, if you are to study the High Art you must be willing to put your iconoclasm aside. The power you will wield will be unlike any you have experienced before, and there is no room for casual experimentation. Do you understand me?"
"Yes, my Lord. Perfectly," Joneleth said, feeling a tinge of relief.
"I am not certain that you do," Casihar said coolly. "I will tell you now, I retain serious doubts over your suitability as a candidate. While your skills are without question, there are aspects of your research, and within your personality itself that I find dubious. As it stands you have the most potential, but you will need to strive hard to convince me that my doubts have no merit. And as you know, I tend to be firm in my convictions."
"Yes, Lord Casihar," he replied, rising and bowing formally. Joneleth forced his tone to be meek but a certain anger still sparked within. "If you are willing to accept me, I should be honoured to become an acolyte. I shall do everything within my power to convince you of my worth."
The wizard however held up a long finger. "You are not starting well, then. I have more words for you, if you would be so kind as to indulge them."
Joneleth sat back down, a feeling of foolishness pricking his irritation even more. Why could people never just speak what they mean?
"Do not make the mistake of focusing on the power such a position might give you," Casihar continued. "There are serious sacrifices to be made if you wish to follow this path. You must be willing to abandon all your studies and concentrate on learning the High Art."
"Of course, my Lord."
"And there is...another point," the wizard said, hesitating. "The training is so rigorous an acolyte must put aside all personal concerns."
"My Lord?" Joneleth asked.
"If you are to study the High Art, your marriage to Queen Ellesime would be impossible."
Joneleth felt struck. He knew now what so troubled the Queen.
"But surely—" he began.
"No," Casihar said firmly. "There can be no debate. A wedding and your duties as Royal Consort would be a distraction you could ill afford. You must choose between the Art and your Queen."
Joneleth's mind raced. He still did not know if he could wed Ellesime at all. But even if he could...much as he hated to admit it, the wizard was likely correct. He could not have both a wife and this position. At least, not at that time. Casihar was married, he had a family. The two were not incompatible. Even his own father had been a High Mage.
Joneleth might train perhaps for a century before gaining status as a full Mage, but Casihar had said that time was of the essence. If he studied diligently, applied himself, perhaps he could achieve it in seventy, fifty even. Ellesime would be disappointed, but she could wait. It was only her feminine sensibility that implored him to consider carefully. She would understand. After all, it would ultimately benefit her people. To think of the Queen and the unique divine power she wielded, with a High Mage seated at her side? Suldanessellar would prosper, the Drow driven back permanently, their lands secured from human encroachment. It would be a glorious era. Thinking on these things Joneleth knew he would be a fool to refuse.
"I understand your meaning, my Lord," he said finally. "And I am prepared for the sacrifice. I believe too that the Queen will be willing to put the consideration of her people before her own desires, as she has always done."
Casihar let out a short, mirthless laugh.
"You do not begin to understand what she has given up for her people over the centuries. But you still are too quick to assume you have my meaning. It is not just your wedding plans you must abandon, it is your entire relationship with the Queen. A High Mage in training cannot be distracted by personal affairs. There can be no romance between you, no intimacy of any kind. She must be your Queen, and nothing more."
"What—none?" Joneleth said.
"Yes," Casihar said, arching his brow. "Sacrifice."
Joneleth sat back in his chair. Now he understood Ellesime, and he felt something of a fool for thinking she only wished to become a radiant bride.
"So that is her meaning," he said to himself.
"Has the Queen mentioned this to you?" Casihar asked.
"No," Joneleth replied. "Not in words, at least."
"I see. She has put much faith in you, I gather."
"Do you think she should not?" Joneleth said.
"Do not raise your tone with me," Casihar said. "It is not my place to judge to whom the Queen should give her heart. I had reported to her the truth of these affairs, as is my duty. Although it is her right to command me, in affairs of High Magic even she does not presume to do so. And I hoped that she would act to benefit the city."
"Now you question her Majesty?" Joneleth said, happy to reclaim some of his own.
"You are treading on dangerous ground, Anorlindar," Casihar flashed, glaring at him with silver eyes. "Never question my devotion to the Queen. Truth be told, there are many here who question your own."
"And are you one?" Joneleth replied coldly.
"Ellesime is no ordinary woman," Casihar said, ignoring the question. "As a babe she was bound to the Tree through ritual, and it is as much a part of her as her own blood. And although the Queen is learned and wise she still possesses that primal spark, that seed of chaos, the heritage of the Fey Lands from which we descend. She is much more subject to emotion than we are—it can take her like a leaf in the wind. When the Queen was celibate this was rarely a problem, but since you have been in her life..." Casihar broke off, perhaps aware that he was moving too far beyond respectability. "You have taken her heart, but you do not seem like a man to treat it with the care it requires."
Joneleth had sat still through this speech, his eyes on the floor, but his anger was building.
"And since I have been in her life, all around her have done what they could to keep me out of it," he said slowly. "The Queen is treated like a child, guided and coddled as though she could not stand on her own. Do you think I am not aware? If the priests could have disposed of me, they would have done. The Queen was in a cage, and I set her free. And those in the temple could not bear to see their child grown, so they poison every ear they can find. I am no threat to this city. I love Ellesime! I would have bonded with her if she would allow it. As such I am clinging to scraps already. I see now what this is. This offer you have given me—it is naught but a ploy. You wish to keep me from the Queen enough that you would even resort to giving me great power. Do you think that is all I want? Why I have stayed by the Queen through all this, through the whispers, the plots, the half-hidden accusations? No. I refuse your offer, Casihar," Joneleth spat. "She needs me, and I will not be tempted from her, not even for such a gift."
The wizard stared at him, for once stunned into silence. Joneleth felt numb, unsure if those words had even left his mouth. But his every fibre trembled with rage and indignation and he regretted nothing. Casihar's face slowly mellowed though, and he made a short laugh.
"Self-righteous fool. All you say may be true, but rest assured I am no pawn of the temple. But while you have not convinced me on your level-headedness, you have satisfied me on others. The offer still stands if you wish it. Answer me not tonight, however. Meditate on it. Speak with the Queen. Do not be so rash as you have been, for the consequences either way are serious. Now leave my house, for the hour is late and you have caused my head to ache."
Joneleth nodded slowly and stood up, unable to respond. He bowed stiffly and turned to the door, but Casihar spoke again.
"And one final point…if you ever speak to me in such a way again, I shall disintegrate you into atoms. Good morning, Joneleth."
The wizard picked up a book at his hand and casually opened it, seemingly forgetting that Joneleth was even in the room. He stood for a moment, then departed in a daze.
...
Outside the wizard's home Joneleth forced himself to clear his mind, focusing it on a spot that was familiar to him. He summoned his magic and the place grew nearer, becoming visible as he stepped through the mist onto the forest floor.
He glanced quickly around the grey woods but no danger came to his eyes. Patrols kept the area surrounding the city secure, but he still preferred to take his walks outside the borders. There was less chance of being disturbed that way; at least, disturbed by something that he couldn't remove if need be.
The tree branches around him creaked, bobbed by the wind in flowing waves like a current of water. Outside the city the weather was wilder but Joneleth enjoyed the sensation of the unfettered wind. The people of Suldanessellar made much of their integration with nature, but for all that they still managed to manipulate it in ways that would make any human jealous.
That morning however he hardly saw the forest as he poured over Casihar's revelations. A High Mage, an incredible offer. Joneleth had often pondered the secrets of the High Art; secrets that despite his own skill would remain forever hidden. The use of the High Art was strictly controlled amongst the elves, its commandments absolute and unyielding. It needed to be—the forces it could unleash to both create and destroy were second only to that which the gods themselves did wield. Used foolishly or with malice its power could have devastating effects; a fact to which history could attest.
But to sacrifice Ellesime for this goal? Whatever his words, Joneleth wondered if Casihar was not elaborating the truth in order to test his resolve. A marriage would be inconvenient, true, but why should he be expected to give up his lover? Even now the Queen had her duties to attend, as did he. His role as a wizard of the court kept him engaged in tasks from research to battle—though he paused considering that he must likely relinquish that position as well. But he could study the High Art without removing himself entirely from his life, surely.
A splash of rain began to slap at his face and he looked up. The storm was here. A flash illuminated the dark undersides of the clouds, highlighting their wicked shapes. The storms had been frequent that summer, sometimes even dropping hag's teats dangerously close to the vulnerable forest. But they always rose up again, flying away to do their damage elsewhere.
Joneleth stood still, revelling in the power of the wind and thunder while the forest quivered around him. It always seemed to him that nature was most alive in the heart of the storm, the noise and twisting madness shaking the trees from their reverie to dance like dryads with the sky. It humbled him, thrilled him, even frightened him. But it was beautiful.
Somehow though his ears picked a noise from the rumbling around him; the faintest sound, yet it seemed out of place with the harmony of the storm. A twig had snapped. He whirled, and not a moment too soon.
"Despana ultrin! Dos orn elggeth, whol Elamshin!"
Joneleth dove out of the way of a mace as it came swinging down, attempting to strike his knees as its wielder was too slight to reach his skull. The Drow was caught off-guard at his swift movement and he heard her grunt as she stumbled slightly, her foot trapped by thick wet grasses. He needed no other invitation and swiftly cast a spell.
Although he might have disintegrated the woman he chose instead to hold her, to capture her within a glowing field. She railed against him and cursed in her foul tongue, her small dark fists pounding hopelessly against the barrier. He ignored her rantings and stepped closer to examine his specimen. Despite his advantages it surprised him how easily this Drow allowed herself to be captured, at least until he regarded her face.
She was young, not more than a child. She was small even for a Drow, and her pale hair was swept back and held away from her face by a leather cord. Though her eyes lit with the same cruel fire as all her kin Joneleth could see a fear there, a desperation not normally seen in his years of battling the Cursed Ones.
"Tell me, have your dark kin now resorted to sending children into battle?" Joneleth said to her. The girl responded by more curses and he scoffed. "I know you can speak the true tongue—leave your gruesome speech underground, where it belongs."
"Olot dos!" she spat, but then spoke in halting Quenya. "You will not command me, male! You will die for the Spider Queen!"
"If the betrayer whore wants me, then she can come for me," Joneleth replied glibly, unconcerned by her rants. "But you have indeed followed my commands, little fool. Tell me now what brings you to this place."
He constricted the shield around her, drawing it closer in around her body. The girl writhed and pulled her arms closer but continued her tirade.
"L'alurl darthiir zhah elghinyrr darthiir!"
"You weary my ears," he said. "And you may be surprised to learn we feel the same for you. Is spouting platitudes all you are capable of? Speak, girl—it will prolong your life by a few moments. Why are you here?"
The Drow's eyes fixed on him, staring at him through the rain-soaked barrier. Suddenly she grinned, baring her dark gums and small, pearly teeth.
"What has? Your head, male!"
Joneleth snorted. "So. You are part of no raiding party after all, are you? Just a pathetic child sent to the surface in your gross attempts to claim adulthood."
"I am no child!" the girl proclaimed. "You are wrong. I have already taken many heads of your filthy kin—I only desired more to decorate my chambers."
"Doubtful," Joneleth said, his eyes narrowing. "But I hope the boast has satisfied you."
With a twist of his fingers he tightened the field, blocking out the air. He drew it closer in until it almost touched her skin. The girl swore at him again, her silent lips praising her foul goddess, but she must have felt her breath shortening for the frightened look returned. Her red eyes went wide but she never thought to conserve the precious air by ceasing her mad declarations.
He watched her dark throat bobbing, her mouth open as she gasped in pain. What she said at the last Joneleth neither knew nor cared. When her head finally lolled to the side he dispelled the field, sending her slight frame collapsing to the forest floor.
He stared at her for a moment, watching as the rain soaked into her pale hair and simple clothing. Her head turned when she fell, and her dead eyes seemed focused on a red poppy that grew at her side. An everyday sight to him, but one that to her would have seemed as alien as a flower of another plane.
Without knowing why he thought to pick the bloom and lay it in her grasp. He bent down put paused, feeling the slender stem alive in his fingers. Why sacrifice another life for hers? Instead he rose and teleported himself back into the city, leaving the girl's body to the rain.
...
Within the city the driving rain was lighter but the bridges and walkways now hung in a misty fog. Joneleth pushed back his wet hair and made the swift journey to the residence of the city guards. Inside he found the quarters surprisingly active, and also found himself confronted once again by the inescapable Lieutenant Elhan.
"My Lord Anorlindar," Elhan said, bowing formally. "This is fortuitous—Captain Alewen has just dispatched me to find you."
"Indeed," Joneleth replied grimly. "Does it trouble you, Lieutenant, that the guards can find no better service for you of late than that of a messenger boy?"
Elhan laughed quietly. "I serve regardless of the duty, my Lord. But the Captain is in her chambers, if you would follow me?"
Joneleth consented to being led down halls and up staircases, past the barracks where guards' hammocks still swayed from their occupant's departure. The urgency in the guards' faces told that something more than a drill was at hand. Elhan knocked at a door and entered the room at a brusque command.
Captain Alewen stood in the centre of the room, a pair of attendants helping her settle into her fine silver mail that flowed around her body lightly as fabric. She looked up at their entry and seemed somewhat surprised at Joneleth's arrival, or as surprised as someone like her was ever likely to be.
"Anorlindar? Excellent. Thank you, Elhan. You may go."
A wave of a silver gauntlet dismissed both the Lieutenant and the attendants. Without pausing the captain saw to her fastenings as she spoke.
"Our scouts captured a Drow a mile from the old temple this night," she said. "Under interrogation our enchanters managed to find some reference to an uprising. We do not know when, but I am taking no chances. You must alert the other mages of the court and tell them to prepare for battle."
"Yes, my Lady Captain," Joneleth said with a bow. "As it happens, I was on my way here to inform the guard that I encountered a Drow in the forest, not far from the city walls."
The captain paused then, one glove held in the air.
"Near the city? Where you able to glean any information?"
"No," he replied. "But she was only a child, and from her words I believed her to be on a Bloodening. I do not think she was part of any force."
"Child or no she is a Drow—you should leave the judgement of her intentions to the guard. Is she dead?"
"Yes, Captain," he said, feeling somewhat irritated at her chastising.
"Good. One less of those devils to deal with is a blessing," the captain concluded bluntly.
"Did the enchanters gain any other information from the prisoner?" Joneleth asked.
"No. He swallowed his own tongue," Alewen replied, taking her fine blades from their place of pride on her wall. "Now if you would excuse me, I must petition the Seldarine. We shall reconnoitre at the north camp—select your mages and meet us there."
She turned and laid her blades on an altar, not noticing Joneleth's bow. Joneleth sighed and raised his hands to begin casting once more.
...
In his haste Joneleth teleported himself directly into the Hall of Mages even though he knew it would be wiser to spare that power—who could say when he might rely on it to save his life. The centre hall was empty, the wizards of the court likely still in their reverie. But if he could go without that night, then they could stand to spare some time from theirs.
As a high-level wizard it was his right to summon the others. A plinth of living wood stood in the centre of the room, with tendrils like fingers embracing a small, faintly glowing gem. He placed a hand over the stone, feeling a bright heat flowing up through his palm on contact. Mentally he reached out to the other stones scattered around the city, calling them into life. The gem under his hand grew hot and he stepped back and waited.
He did not have long. One after another tens of mages appeared out of bright patches of mist, looking questions at each other. Joneleth heard footsteps and several others hurried their way in from the chambers upstairs. He was about to speak when another bright flash appeared at his side.
"You have summoned them, I see," Casihar said without greeting.
"Yes, my Lord," Joneleth replied.
"Good. Kinsmen, your attention," the wizard called to the group. "I have been informed by the captain of the guards that a Drow assault may be at hand. We have little intelligence however, and we must be prepared for any eventuality. Captain Alewen has requested that we form a contingent to meet her forces with immediate effect. Lord Joneleth shall be your commander whilst in the field, though as always you must adhere to the orders of the guard." Casihar spoke resignedly; Joneleth knew how little the wizard cared for that arrangement. "Those who remain in the city shall be at my command—"
The wizard paused, turning in anger to a new flash that appeared in the room.
"Lady Bodhi. Kindly tell me how it is that you always manage to arrive well after everyone else?"
"Apologies, my Lord Wizard," Bodhi said. "I would have arrived sooner, but I was—engaged."
She smiled slightly and ran a hand over her dark hair, now done up in a careless knot. Casihar's scowl deepened.
"I see. I am sorry if the imminent invasion of our fair city by the Drow inconveniences you. If it is such a trouble, you should not bother to join us at all."
Bodhi's smirk melted under Casihar's glare and she bowed, murmuring words of apology while trying to straighten her hastily-donned mage robe. Joneleth sighed quietly and shook his head.
"Make your selections, but be quick," the wizard said to him.
"Yes, my Lord," Joneleth replied.
It was easily done; he had often spent time considering the various strengths and weaknesses of the wizards of the court, weighing them against possible scenarios. He chose the mages most able in divining and invocation, two skills that would be of great use in the field. He selected as well conjurers and transmuters, and a young woman whose abilities as an enchanter were quickly becoming worthy of song. He hesitated over the last, however—an illusionist would be useful but he knew Casihar would rely on them most to strengthen the city's defences in the event of a direct attack. The wizard seemed to sense Joneleth's pause and spoke.
"You may take Lady Bodhi," Casihar said. "Some fresh air may do her good."
Joneleth groaned inwardly—the Lord Wizard was indeed no friend. He probably wished to be rid of Bodhi himself but there was nothing Joneleth could say.
"As you wish, my Lord. Bodhi, you may be our illusionist."
"How lovely," she smiled.
Joneleth frowned in reply. Despite her lax attitude the woman had skills, and admitting that fact irritated him almost as much as being forced to take her with him.
Casihar began to speak again but another flash interrupted him.
"By Corellon! Who now dares—"
The wizard stopped mid-sentence, bowing deep to the new arrival.
"My Queen. Forgive me, I was not expecting you."
"Do not concern yourself, Casihar. We have all been set on edge," Ellesime replied, allowing the wizard to kiss her hand. "I should like to speak with Lord Joneleth, if he may be spared for a moment."
"Of course, my Queen," Casihar said from his knees. "We have other preparations that must be seen to before they depart."
"I hope I shall not disrupt his duties, then. Come, Joneleth, if you would?"
"Yes, my Queen," Joneleth replied, bowing even as she teleported them away.
...
They reappeared in her chambers. Joneleth stood still as the Queen walked slowly away from him, waiting for her to speak.
"You have much to prepare for. I am sorry for taking you from your duties," Ellesime said, bending to take in the scent of a white lily that grew in her small garden.
"Ever I am at your command," he replied quietly.
"You have spoken to Casihar?" she asked.
She did not turn around though he heard a slight nervous edge in her voice.
"I have. But I have decided nothing. I wished to speak with you, first."
He went to her and she turned to him, a small smile on her face.
"Even a queen cannot always command. You must do as your heart dictates."
"But my heart would only ever point one way," Joneleth replied, caressing her hair.
"As would mine, my love. In truth, it nearly overtook me. But I am a ruler first, and must behave as one."
"My Queen?"
"I cannot order you in this. But...I feel it would be wisest if you took the wizard's offer."
She looked like she forced the words out against their will. Joneleth stared at her.
"Ellesime? Do you truly mean—?"
"No," she said, laughing sadly again. "But I cannot think only of myself. My life has never truly been my own, do you know? Even as a child the responsibility was mine, to commune with the tree, to maintain its strength—and then I was made Queen. But with you I feel—whole." She reached up and caressed his cheek, her eyes bright and loving. "There is that which was missing, that you have brought to me. My life...but I am no love struck girl. I am the Queen, and our city desperately needs a new High Mage. You should be that one. I could think of no other, who..."
She broke off as Joneleth took her hand and slid her fingers to his lips, taking each tip slightly in his mouth. Ellesime smiled and pulled her hand away.
"You will give us strength," she said. "And I can wait for you."
"And if I cannot?" Joneleth asked.
"You will. Be strong, for all our sakes. But, you must go now."
Her smile faded as her thoughts drifted back to reality.
"I will return to you, Ellesime. Do not doubt," he said, straightening himself.
"I never do. But before you leave, allow me to give my blessings."
Joneleth smiled softly and nodded. He knelt before the Queen as she plucked a small white flower from her garden, calling forth the protections of her ancestor upon it. Gently she held the bloom against his robe and it wound its way around a tassel, holding tightly as a child to its mother. Ellesime spoke further blessings and Joneleth shut his eyes, feeling them flowing over his body like a warm rain. He felt strength, power...but more than that he felt her love. It felt like the earth herself had given him her blessings. Unwillingly he rose, kissed her mouth, and departed down the stairs without another word.