Bearers of the Black Staff

“This will help us express ourselves more clearly,” he announced, distributing the tankards first. “Or at least we’ll think so.”


They ate and drank and talked of old times. The Orullians were the Elven equivalent of Trackers, although they served at the King’s pleasure and on behalf of the entire Elven nation rather than just the city of Arborlon. Panterra and Prue had met them more than three years ago, and the four had taken an instant liking to one another. The Orullian twins were fascinated by the then only twelve-year-old Prue, unable to believe that anyone could sense things unseen with such unerring accuracy and timing. They thought her better than what her people deserved and promptly declared her an honorary Elf. They made Panterra one, too, but mostly because it would have been rude to leave him out. Their standing with the brothers was what had prompted Pan to tell Xac that they were partly Elves. It seemed truer than not under the circumstances.

“Now then,” Tasha said once they had finished eating and consumed a fair amount of smooth, sweet honey-lemon ale. “To business. You’ve come to visit us, of course. But you’ve come for another reason, as well. Tell us what it is, Pan.”

So Panterra related the events that had brought them to Arborlon for refuge and help.

“There, you see?” Tasha declared to his brother, gesturing angrily. “I told you these two did not belong with the sorry excuse for human beings who occupy Glensk Wood. They belong here, with us. We are their people in more ways than they are.”

Tenerife shrugged. “He’s right. We may not be your people in terms of flesh and blood, but we are more so in our hearts and souls. You should do as Aislinne says and stay with us. Forever, if need be.”

“I would like that,” Prue declared rather a bit too boldly, and then caught herself. “I mean,” she added quickly, “that it would be nice to live in such a beautiful place.”

“Of course it would be nice!” Tasha exclaimed. “It would be wonderful! That’s settled, then!”

“Not exactly,” Panterra said, holding up both hands. “Finding a new home isn’t why we came to you. We came to ask your help about the collapse of the protective wall. If it’s really failing, we need to prepare ourselves for the possibility that whatever’s out there is coming in here.”

“We need to prepare ourselves for the possibility that we might have to go out there,” Tenerife added pointedly. He looked at his brother. “We should tell all this to the High Council.”

Tasha nodded, saying nothing for a moment. “But do we want to tell them now or later.” He cocked one eyebrow at his brother. “Consider the circumstances. We know and trust Panterra and little sister, but the members of the High Council do not. They are humans, and many do not trust humans. Will they be believed or doubted? Will the High Council choose to act at once or will they debate the matter until the cows come home?”

“You think they will not be believed?”

“I think it is a distinct possibility.”

“Do we take it directly to the King, instead? He may dither on it as well, as he does with so much these days.”

Tasha shrugged. “That is the question, isn’t it.”

“Is Oparion Amarantyne still King?” Prue interjected.

The big man nodded slowly. “He is. But his Queen is new. And therein lies the problem.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “After all these years, little sister, he remarried. Abruptly and foolishly, if you ask us. His Queen is young and beautiful and fickle. In spite of his years of experience and his keen mind, she plays him like a musical instrument. He would do anything for her; if not for his close friends and the members of the High Council, he would likely do things he would later regret. She has his ear on all matters, and it is her firm intention to guide him in his decision making until the day he dies.”

“At which time,” Tenerife cut in, “there is a widespread suspicion that she intends to carry on without him.”

Panterra and Prue exchanged a glance. “Is that possible?” the girl asked. “Will she be named Queen after him?”

“Another good question,” Tasha replied, rubbing his chin as if to extract an answer. “Will she succeed him? Or will Phryne?”

Phryne Amarantyne. The King’s daughter by his first wife was a formidable adversary. Panterra had met her only once, but that was enough. She was young but very tough. “I see the problem,” he acknowledged.

“Not entirely, you don’t,” Tasha said.

“But likely you will before long,” Tenerife added.

“So you don’t think we should take this before the Elven High Council?” Prue asked.