Acaila appeared at the edge of the royal couple’s private balcony, seeking admission, and Tomas waved him over. The ancient elf was the leader of those who had returned to Elvandar from the world of Kelewan. With the death of Tathar, the Queen’s closest advisor and senior spellweaver since the time of her father, Acaila had become the leader of the Queen’s Council. He bowed and said, ‘Majesty; Lord Tomas.’
The Queen waved him over and asked, ‘This Gulamendis, what do you make of him?’
Acaila moved to a chair as indicated by the Queen. Sitting on the wooden seat - two large ‘u’-shaped pieces of wood cleverly joined and padded with a down-stuffed cushion - the ancient elf smiled thankfully. ‘It is most difficult, my Queen,’ he began. ‘There can be no doubt he is of the eldar. He knows not of our ancient lore, but that is to be expected of one who was not raised as a Lorekeeper or spellweaver; but to discover he is a Master of Demons . . .’ He put his right hand to his face; his index finger tapped his bony cheek. Acaila’s age was incalculable, he was the oldest living elf. His hair was now as white as snow but his blue eyes were still alight with curiosity. ‘What troubles me is not the matter of his dark studies, for he would not be the first among the eldar to find such practices fascinating, it is his other . . . attitude.’
‘What attitude?’ asked Tomas.
‘He hides it well, but he feels superior to us. He counts his "Star People" to be a superior expression of the Eldar tradition.’ The old man sat back and sighed. ‘He considers us primitive, rustics at best. Wood lore is as alien to him as it was to many of the ocedhel who came to us from across the sea.’
‘What else troubles you?’
‘There are many mysteries within this elf,’ said Acalia. ‘He is here for more than he admits. I sense he desperately wishes us to aid his people, but that he despises himself for asking for help.’
Tomas was no stranger to feeling conflict over difficult decisions, so he asked, ‘Is his disdain dependant only upon our inferiority?’
‘No, it is more than that. While talking of our lore and how it differs, I could tell he is an academic in many ways, like all the eldar; he loves knowledge for its own sake. But it’s how that knowledge is used that is at the heart of his troubles.’ Sighing, the old elf said, ‘I do not know, but I suspect he has his own, personal agenda, and that is what we must uncover before we trust him.’
Tomas and the Queen said nothing and waited.
Acaila said, ‘These elves, these taredhel... they are unexpected?’
Tomas merely nodded.
‘Sire, you know our origins more intimately than anyone alive; can you imagine that any eldar took the path these taredhel speak of?’
Tomas was quiet as he considered the memories he had inherited from the Dragon Lord, Ashen-Shugar. Finally he said, with a slight sigh, ‘No, but the Valheru were arrogant beyond any other race’s imagining. They would not have understood the differences between those who served and those who laboured in the field.’
The old eldar nodded his agreement. ‘We were Lorekeepers and among the most trusting. When the Dragon Host abandoned my ancestors in Kelewan, we assumed others would do the same: abide and hope that someday we would be found, as we were.
‘When we returned here, and discovered the division between the eledhel, moredhel, and glamredhel . . . even discovering the ocedhel . . . well, all seemed logical, as if our basic nature was fashioned by circumstance, but these taredhel . . .’ The old elf shrugged. ‘They are strange.’ He fell silent.
A patient race, elves thought in terms of years where humans worried about days. ‘We have time to uncover these things,’ suggested Tomas.
‘That is where I must disagree, Lord Tomas,’ said the leader of the eldar. ‘There is an urgency about this Gulamendis, that leads me to believe we shall see the heart of this matter sooner rather than later.’ He sighed. ‘What I don’t know is if we will like what we see. I don’t think we will.’
‘Are these taredhel more similar to the moredhel, than ourselves?’ asked the Queen.
Acalia shook his head. ‘No, different from both, Your Majesty, different from any of the eldar.’ He looked out and waved his hand. ‘This is the place of seeds, from where we sprang at the dawn of time, before the war in heaven and the freeing of the People. Like seeds, if you move them to different soil, the tree that grows will take on a different character. Some will grow strong and straight, others will be stunted and bent, while still others become something far different than what they were before.’ It was clear to Aglaranna and Tomas that he was speaking of the differences between the eledhel, moredhel, and taredhel. ‘Those who lived to the north came to abide with us and some have moved on to Baranor. Others, from across the sea, have returned to us. Is it not reasonable to think that those who have lived centuries on other worlds would be any less different than those who merely lived on another part of this world?’