The Second Generation

Alhana made no response. She was looking at Gil, and now she was frowning, as if a new and unpleasant thought had suddenly occurred to her. Gil had no idea what was going on. He was too dazed, too rattled. To hear such glowing praise of his father, praise given by the queen of Qualinesti and Silvanesti. His father—one of the great men of our time ... proud knights bow to him ... dwarven king calls him brother ... highest honors of each nation".

Gil had never known that. Never known any of that. He realized suddenly that a deafening silence had descended on the room. He was extremely uncomfortable, wished someone would say something. And then he was alarmed.

“Maybe it’s me!” he said to himself, panicked, trying to recall his mother’s lessons in entertaining royalty. “Maybe I’m supposed to be the one making conversation.”

Alhana was studying him intently. Her lovely eyes, turned upon him, effectively robbed him of coherent speech. Gil tried to say something, but discovered he had no voice. He looked from the senator to the queen and knew then that something was wrong.

The sunlight was not permitted to enter this room. Curtains had been drawn across the windows. The shadows had at first seemed cool and restful.

Now they were ominous, unnerving, like the pall that falls over the world before the unleashing of a violent storm. The very air was dangerous, charged with lightning.

Alhana broke the silence. Her purple eyes darkened, deepened almost to black.

“So this is your plan,” she said to Rashas, speaking Qualinesti with a slight accent that Gilthas recognized as belonging to her people, the Silvanesti.

“Quite a good one, don’t you think?” Rashas answered her. He was calm, unmoved by her anger.

“He is only a boy!” Alhana cried in a low voice.

“He will have guidance, a wise counselor at his side,” Rashas replied.

“You, of course,” she said scathingly. “The Thalas-Enthia elects the regent. I will, of course, be happy to offer my services.”

“The Thalas-Enthia! You have that band of old men and women in your pocket!”

Gil felt the knot tighten his stomach, the blood start to pound painfully in his head. Once again, adults were talking over, around, below, and above him. He might as well be one of those trees sprouting up out of the floor.

“He doesn’t know, does he?” Alhana said. Her look on Gil now was one of pity.

“I think perhaps he knows more than he lets on,” Rashas said with a sly smile. “He came of his own free will. He wouldn’t be here if he didn’t want this. And now, Your Majesty”—he said the title with fine sarcasm—“if you and Prince Gilthas will both excuse me, I have pressing business elsewhere. There is much to do in preparation for tomorrow’s ceremony.”

The senator bowed, turned on his heel, and left the room. The servants shut the door immediately on his leaving.

“Want what?” Gil was bewildered and angry himself. “What’s he talking about? I don’t understand....” “Don’t you?” she said to him.

Before he could reply, Alhana turned away. Her body was rigid, both fists clenched, nails digging into flesh.

Feeling like a child who has been shut up in the nursery when the adults are having a party in the living room below, Gil stalked over to the door and flung it open.

Two of the tall, strong Kagonesti elves planted their bodies before the door. Each held a spear in his hand. Gil started to shove between them. The elves did not move.

“Excuse me, perhaps you don’t understand. I’m leaving now,” Gil said politely, but in a stern tone to show them he meant what he said.

He stepped forward. The two said nothing. Their spears crossed in front of the door, in front of him.

Rashas was just disappearing down the staircase.

“Senator!” Gilthas called, trying to keep calm. The flame of his anger was starting to waver in fear’s chill wind. “There’s some sort of misunderstanding. These servants of yours won’t let me out!”

Rashas paused, glanced back. “Those are their orders, my prince. You’ll find the suite of rooms you will be sharing with Her Majesty quite comfortable, the best in my household, in fact. The Wilder elves will provide you with whatever you want. You have only to ask.”

“I want to leave,” Gilthas said quietly.

“So soon?” Rashas was pleasant, smiling. “I couldn’t permit it. You’ve only just arrived. Rest, relax. Look out the windows, enjoy the view.

“And by the way,” the senator added, proceeding down the stairs, his words floating upward. “I’m truly glad you find Qualinesti so beautiful, Prince Gilthas. You’re going to be living here a long, long time.”

“Dalamar!” Tanis beat on the bolted door. “Dalamar, damn you, I know you’re out there! I know you can hear me! I want to talk to you! I—”

“Ah, my friend,” came a voice, practically in his ear. “I’m glad you’ve finally regained consciousness.”

At the unexpected sound, Tanis nearly jumped through a stone wall. Once his heart had quit racing, he turned to face the dark elf, who stood in the center of the room, a slight smile on the thin lips.