There he sat, waiting.
He passed the time by trying to dredge up from memory what little he knew about the Elven histories. Look there for your answers, the Ellcrys had told him, so that was what he must suggest to the King. The histories were old, so old they could be traced back all the way to the beginning of the ancient wars between good and evil. It was then that the Elves and their Faerie allies created the Forbidding out of magic and shut away the dark creatures that had plagued them since the Word and the Void had begun their battle for control of all life. It had been a long, bitter struggle, but in the end the Elves had prevailed and the demons and their like were defeated and locked away. It was the creation of the Ellcrys that made victory possible and allowed for the confinement of the evil ones. Everyone knew that story, even those who had never read a word of the histories.
He had seen these ancient tomes while visiting Erisha some years ago. They were kept in a special room that was always locked when not in use.
The books were watched over by the royal historian, Culph, a formidable oldster possessed of an even more formidable temper. Kirisin had met him only once, and once was enough.
For the most part, the Elven histories were the property and concern of the Kings and Queens of the realm, and lesser folks were not allowed to peruse them. They were too fragile and too easily damaged for them to be made available to all, and perhaps it didn’t matter anyway since they were said to be sketchy about much of what had happened in the early years. The books themselves had been recorded and bound only a dozen centuries ago, their contents translated from written notes and oral history gathered together from hundreds of sources.
It was impossible to say how much of it was accurate. Certainly some of it was too thin and dated to be of any use. But perhaps the Loden and the seekingElfstones were important enough to Elven history and culture that whatever was written about them would be essentially correct.
He had to hope so. Because if there wasn’t something in those books about the seekingStones and the Loden and the whole business of how to save the Ellcrys without uprooting her . . .
So his thinking went, unraveling like thread off a spool, spinning out into a pile at his feet.
By the time he was summoned, two hours later, he had lost most of his enthusiasm for what he had come to do and all of his patience. Everyone else had been taken ahead of him, even though he was a member of the royal family. He couldn’t help but think that this was the King’s way of letting him know that he had slid a long way down in the royal pecking order since the confrontation with his parents over splitting the Elves. That hadn’t involved him personally, but it seemed he might be paying the price nevertheless. He made a mental note to ask his sister how she was faring as a member of the King’s personal guard.
“Kirisin!” the King exclaimed. “What a pleasant surprise!” He was a big man with a booming voice and expansive gestures, and the exuberance of his greeting seemed to refute the possibility of any personal antagonism. “But why aren’t you in the gardens with the other Chosen?”
If you knew I was supposed to be there, why did you make me sit inthe hall for two hours? Kirisin thought. Why didn’t you take me ahead of those others?
But he didn’t say any of that. He wasn’t there to pick a fight. He hoped.
“My lord,” he greeted, giving the King a respectful bow. “I’m sorry to interrupt you.”
“Nonsense! I don’t see enough of you. Come in, come in. How is my daughter? Still trying to convince everyone she’s all grown up at seventeen? I wish she could learn to take herself a little less seriously. More like you.
You always seem so relaxed.”
He guided Kirisin over to a couch, sat them both down, and leaned forward conspiratorially. “I would have called you in sooner, but I was stuck in a conference and couldn’t break free. All those others who came in first had to deal with one of my aides, but I selfishly kept you for myself. Hope the waiting didn’t age you too badly. Tell me how you are.”
Conflicted and slightly ashamed of my suspicious mind, Kirisin thought.
Arissen Belloruus always did this to him, and it wasn’t made easier in this situation where he was already uncertain about what he had come to do.
“Very well, my lord.” He cleared his throat. “I’m here because something happened in the gardens this morning. Something I thought you ought to know about. The Ellcrys spoke to me.”
Something changed in the King’s expression. It wasn’t a dramatic change, one that evidenced astonishment or excitement. It was subtler, more calculating.
It was there for an instant and then gone. Kirisin registered its presence, but was already forging ahead with his story.
“She said she was in danger, my lord. She said the Elves are in danger.