Dragons of a Lost Star

10 The Betrothal Banquet

The Tower of the Stars was in a bustle of excitement and frantic preparation. His Majesty, the Speaker of the Stars, I was giving a grand banquet in honor of Mina, the savior of the Silvanesti. Ordinarily, among the elves, such a banquet would have required months of preparation, days spent agonizing over guest lists, weeks of consultation with the cooks over the menu, more weeks spent arranging the table and deciding on the perfect choice for flowers. It was a mark of the king’s youth, some said, and his impetuosity, that he had announced that the banquet would be held within twenty-four hours.

His minister of protocol wasted two of those twenty-four by attempting to remonstrate with His Majesty that such a feat was beyond the realm of possibility. His Majesty had been adamant, and so the minister had been forced to give way in despair and rush forth to marshal his forces. The king’s invitation was presented to Mina. She accepted in the name of herself and her officers. The minister was horrified. The elves had not intended to invite the officers of the Dark Knights of Neraka. So far as the longest lived among the elves could remember, no Silvanesti elf had ever shared a meal with a human on Silvanesti soil. Mina was different. The elves had begun to consider Mina as one of themselves. Rumors were circulating among her followers that she had elven blood in her; the fact that she was a commander in the army of the Dark Knights of Neraka having conveniently slipped their minds. Mina helped foster this belief, never appearing in public in her black armor, but always dressing in silvery white.

At this point, an argument arose. The aide to the minister of protocol maintained that during the War of the Lance, when the daughter of Lome (who was Alhana Starbreeze, but since she was a dark elf and her name could not be mentioned, she was referred to in this manner) had returned to Silvanost, she had brought with her several human companions. There was no record of whether or not they had dined while on Silvanesti soil, but it was to be presumed they had. Thus a precedent had been set. The minister of protocol observed that they might have dined, but, if so, the dining was informal, due to the unfortunate circumstances of the time. Thus, such a dinner did not count.

As for the notion of the minotaur dining with elves, that was simply out of the question.

Flustered, the minister hinted to Mina that her officers would be bored with the proceedings, which they would find long and tedious, particularly since none of them spoke Elvish. They would not like the food, they would not like the wine. The minister was certain that her officers would be much happier dining as they were accustomed to dine in their camp outside of the walls of Silvanost. His Majesty would send food, wine, and so forth.

“My officers will attend me,” Mina said to him, “or I will not come.”

At the thought of delivering this message to His Majesty, the minister decided that eating dinner with humans would be less traumatic. General Dogah, Captain Samuval, the minotaur Galdar, and Mina’s Knights would all attend. The minister could only hope fervently that the minotaur would not slurp his soup.

His Majesty was in a festive mood, and his gaiety affected the palace staff. Silvanoshei was a favorite among the servants and staff members, and all had noted his wan appearance and were anxious about him. The staff was pleased at the change in him and did not question it. If a banquet would lift him from the doldrums, they would throw the most lavish banquet that had ever been seen in Silvanesti.

Kiryn was less pleased at the change, viewed it with unease. He alone noted that Silvanoshei’s gaiety had a frantic quality to it, that the color in his cheeks was not the rosy color of health but seemed to have been burned into the pale flesh. He could not question the king, for Silvanoshei was immersed in preparations for the grand event, overseeing everything to make certain all was perfect, down to personally selecting the flowers that were to grace the table. He claimed he had no time to talk.

“You will see, Cousin,” Silvanoshei said, pausing a moment in his headlong rush to grasp Kiryn’s hand and squeeze it. “She does love me. You will see.”

Kiryn could only conclude that Silvanoshei and Mina had been in contact and that she had somehow reassured him. This was the only explanation for Silvanoshei’s erratic behavior, although Kiryn, thinking over again all that Mina had said the day before, found it difficult to believe that those cruel words of hers had been an act. But she was human, and the ways of humans were never to be understood.

Elven royal banquets are always held outdoors, at midnight, beneath the stars. In the old days, before the War of the Lance, before the coming of Cyan Bloodbane and the casting of the dream, rows and rows of tables would have been set up in the tower’s garden to accommodate all the elves of House Royal. Many nobles had died fighting the dream. Many more had died of the wasting sickness brought on them by the shield. Of those who had survived, most refused the invitation—a terrible affront to the young king. Rather it would have been an affront, if Silvanoshei had paid any heed to it. He said only, with a laugh, that the old fools would not be missed. As it was, only two long tables were required now, and the elder elves of House Servitor, who remembered the past glory of Silvanesti, let fall tears as they polished the delicate silver and set the fragile, eggshell-thin porcelain dishes upon the cobweb-fine lace table coverings. Silvanoshei was dressed and ready long before midnight. The hours until the banquet appeared to him to have been mounted on the backs of snails, they crawled so slowly. He worried that all might not be right, although he had been to check the laying of the tables eight times already and was with difficulty dissuaded from going down a ninth. The discordant sound of the musicians tuning their instruments was sweetest music to him, for it meant that there was only a single hour remaining. He threatened to backhand the minister of protocol, who said that the king could not possibly make his regal appearance until all the guests had entered. Silvanoshei was the first to arrive and charmed and bewildered all his guests by greeting them personally.

He carried the ruby ring in a jeweled box in a velvet pouch inside his blue velvet doublet and beneath his silken shirt. He checked continuously to make certain the box was still there, pressing his hand over his breast so often that some of the guests took note and wondered uneasily if their young king suffered from some heart complaint. They had not seen His Majesty so joyful since his coronation, however, and they were soon caught up in his merriment and forgot their fears.

Mina came with the midnight, and Silvanoshei’s joy was complete. She wore a gown of white silk, simple, with no ornamentation. Her only jewelry was the pendant that she always wore, a pendant round and plain with no decoration or design. She herself was in high spirits. Those elves she knew, she greeted by name, graciously accepting their blessings and their thanks for the miracles she had performed. She was as slender as any elf maid and almost as beautiful said the young elves, which was, for them, a high compliment, one rarely paid to any human.

“I thank you for the honor you do me this night, Your Majesty,” said Mina when she came to make her bow to Silvanoshei.

He would not let her bow but took her hand and raised her up. “I wish I had time to do more,” he said. “Someday you will see a true elven celebration.” Our wedding, his heart sang to him.

“I do not mean this honor,” she said, dismissing with a glance the beautifully decorated tables, the fragrant flowers and the myriad candles that illuminated the night. “I thank you for the honor you do me this night. The gift you intend to give me is one I have long wanted, one for which I have long prepared. I hope I may be worthy of it,” she added quietly, almost reverently.

Silvanoshei was astonished and for a moment felt the pleasure in his gift—that was to have been a marvelous surprise— diminished. Then the import of her words struck him. The honor he would do her. The gift she had long wanted. She hoped she may be worthy. What could that mean except that she spoke of the gift of his love?

Ecstatic, he kissed fervently the hand she offered him. He promised himself that within hours he would kiss her lips.

The musicians ceased playing. Silver chimes rang out, announcing dinner. Silvanoshei took his place at the head table, leading Mina by the hand and seating her on his right. The other elves and the human officers took their places, or at least so Silvanoshei presumed. He could not have sworn to that, or the fact that there was anyone else present or that the stars were in the sky, or that the grass was beneath his feet. He was aware of nothing except Mina. Kiryn, seated opposite Silvanoshei, tried to speak to his cousin, but Silvanoshei never heard a word. He did not drink wine, he drank Mina. He did not eat fruit or cake, he devoured Mina. The pale moon did not light the night. Mina lit the night. The music was harsh compared to Mina’s voice. The amber of her eyes surrounded him. He existed in a golden stupor of happiness, and as if drunk on honey wine, he did not question anything. As for Mina, she spoke to her neighbors, enchanting them with her fluent Elvish and her talk of the One God and the miracles this god performed. She rarely spoke to Silvanoshei, but her amber gaze was often on him, and that gaze was not warm and loving but cool, expectant.

Silvanoshei might have been uneasy at this, but he touched the box over his heart for reassurance, brought to mind Mina’s words to him, and his unease vanished.

Maidenly confusion, he told himself, and gazed at her as she talked of this One God, proud to watch her hold her own among the elven wise and scholars such as his cousin, Kiryn.

“You will forgive me if I ask a question about this One God, Mina,”

said Kiryn deferentially.

“I not only forgive you,” Mina answered with a slight smile. “I encourage you. I do not fear questions, though some might fear the answers.”

“You are an officer in the Dark Knights of Takhisis—”

“Neraka,” Mina corrected. “We are the Dark Knights of Neraka.”

“Yes, I heard your organization had made that change, Takhisis having departed—”

“As did the god of the elves, Paladine.”

“True.” Kiryn was grave. “Although the circumstances of their departures are known to be different. Still, that is not relevant to my question. In their brief history, the Dark Knights of whatever allegiance have held that the elves are their sworn and bitter enemies. They have never made secret their manifesto that they plan to purge the world of elves and seize their lands for their own.”

“Kiryn,” Silvanoshei intervened angrily, “this is hardly suitable—”

Mina rested her hand on his. Her touch was like fire licking his flesh. The flames both seared and cauterized.

“Let your cousin speak, Your Majesty,” said Mina. “Please continue, sir.”

“I do not understand, therefore, why now you conquer our lands and . . .” He paused, looked stern.

“And let you live,” Mina finished for him.

“Not only that,” said Kiryn, “but you heal our sick in the name of this One God. What care can this One God—a god of our enemies—have for elves?”

Mina sat back. Lifting a wineglass, she revolved the fragile crystal goblet in her hand, watching as the candles seemed to burn in the wine.

“Let us say that I am the ruler of a large city. Inside the city’s walls are thousands of people who look to me for protection. Now, within this city are two strong and powerful families. They hate and detest each other. They have sworn each other’s destruction. They fight among themselves whenever they meet, creating strife and enmity in my city. Now, let us say that my city is suddenly threatened. It is under attack from powerful forces from the outside. What happens? If these two families continue to quarrel, the city will surely fall. But if the families agree to unite and battle this foe together, we have a chance to defeat our common enemy.”

“That common enemy would be what—the ogres?” asked Kiryn. “They were once your allies, but I have heard since that they have turned on you—”

Mina was shaking her head. “The ogres will come to know the One God. They will come to join the battle. Be blunt, sir,” she said, smiling with encouragement. “You elves are always so polite. You need not be fearful of hurting my feelings. You will not anger me. Ask the question that is in your heart.”

“Very well,” said Kiryn. “You are responsible for revealing the dragon to us. You are responsible for the dragon’s death. You led us to know the truth about the shield. You have given us our lives when you could have taken them. Nothing for nothing, they say. Tit for tat. What do you expect us to give you in return? What is the price we must pay for all this?”

“Serve the One God,” Mina said. “That is all that is required of you.”

“And if we do not choose to serve this One God?” Kiryn said, frowning and grave. “What then?”

“The One God chooses us, Kiryn,” said Mina, gazing at the wavering drop of flame flickering in the wine. “We do not choose the One. The living serve the One God. So do the dead. Especially the dead,” she added in a voice so low and soft and wistful that only Silvanoshei heard her. Her tone and her strange look frightened him.

“Come, Cousin,” Silvanoshei said, flashing Kiryn a warning, irate glance. “Let us make an end to these philosophical discussions. They give me a headache.” He gestured to the servants. “Pour more wine. Bring on the fruit and cake. Tell the musicians to resume playing. That we may drown him out,” he said with a laugh to Mina.

Kiryn said no more, but sat regarding Silvanoshei with a troubled and worried expression.

Mina did not hear Silvanoshei. Her gaze was sifting through the crowd. Jealous of anyone who stole her attention from himself, Silvanoshei was quick to notice that she was searching for someone. He marked where her gaze roamed and saw that she was locating every one of her officers. One by one, her gaze touched each of them and one by one, each of them responded, either by a conscious look of understanding or, with the minotaur, a slight nod of the horned head.

“You need not worry, Mina,” Silvanoshei said, an edge to his voice, to show he was displeased, “your men are behaving themselves well. Much better than I had hoped. The minotaur has only broken his wineglass, shattered a plate, torn a hole in the tablecloth, and belched loudly enough to be heard in Thorbardin. All in all, a most highly successful evening.”

“Trivialities,” she murmured. “So trivial. So meaningless.”

Mina clasped Silvanoshei’s hand suddenly, her grip tightening around his heart. She looked at him with the amber eyes. “I prepare them for what is to come, Your Majesty. You imagine that the danger has passed, but you are mistaken. Danger surrounds us. There are those who fear us. Those who seek our destruction. We must not be lulled into complacency by gentle music and fine wine. So I remind my officers of their duty.”

“What danger?” asked Silvanoshei, now thoroughly alarmed. “Where?”

“Close,” said Mina, drawing him into the amber. “Very close.”

“Mina,” said Silvanoshei, “I was going to wait to give this to you. I had a speech all prepared “He shook his head. “I’ve forgotten every word of it. Not that it matters. The words I truly want to say to you are in my heart, and you know them. You’ve heard them in my voice. You’ve seen them every time you see me.”

Thrusting his trembling hand into the breast of his doublet, he drew forth the velvet bag. He reached inside, brought out the silver box and placed it on the table in front of Mina.

“Open it,” he urged her. “It’s for you.”

Mina regarded the box for long moments. Her face was very pale. He heard her give a small, soft sigh.

“Don’t worry,” he said wretchedly. “I’m not going to ask anything of you in return. Not now. I hope that someday you might come to love me or at least think fondly of me. I think you might someday, if you will wear this ring.”

Seeing that she made no move to touch the box, Silvanoshei seized hold of it and opened it.

The rubies in the ring glittered in the candlelight, each shining like a drop of blood—Silvanoshei’s heart’s blood.

“Will you take it, Mina?” he asked eagerly, desperately. “Will you take this ring and wear it for my sake?”

Mina reached out her hand, a hand that was cold and steady. “I will take the ring and I will wear it,” she said. “For the sake of the One God.”

She slipped the ring onto the index finger of her left hand. Silvanoshei’s joy was boundless. He was annoyed at first that she had dragged this god of hers into the matter, but perhaps she was merely asking the One God’s blessing. Silvanoshei would be willing to ask that, too. He would be willing to fall onto his knees before this One God, if that would gain him Mina.

He watched her expectantly, waiting for the ring’s magic to work on her, waiting for her to look at him with adoration.

She looked at the ring, twisted it on her finger to see the rubies sparkle. For Silvanoshei, no one else was present. No one except the two of them. The other people at the table, the other people at the banquet, the other people in the world were a blur of candlelight and music and the fragrance of gardenia and rose, and all of it was Mina.

“Now, Mina,” he said, ecstatic. “You must kiss me.”

She leaned near him. The magic of the ring was working. He could feel her love. His arms encircled her. But before their lips could touch, her lips parted in a gasp. Her body stiffened in his arms. Her eyes widened in shock.

“Mina!” he cried, terrified, “what is wrong?”

She screamed in agony. Her lips formed a word. She tried to speak it, but her throat closed, and she gagged. Frantic, she clutched at the ring and tried to drag it off her finger, but her body convulsed, painful spasms wracking her slender frame. She pitched forward onto the table, her arms thrust out, knocking over glasses, scattering the plates. She made an inarticulate, animal sound, terrible to hear. Her life rattled in her throat. Then she was still. Horribly still. Her eyes fixed in her head. Their amber gaze stared accusingly at Silvanoshei.

Kiryn rose to his feet. His action was involuntary. He had no immediate plan. His thoughts were a confusion. His first thought was for Silvanoshei, that he should try to somehow engineer his escape, but he immediately abandoned that idea. Impossible with all the Dark Knights around. At that moment, although he did not consciously know it, Kiryn abandoned Silvanoshei. The Silvanesti people were now Kiryn’s, his care and his responsibility. He could do nothing to save his cousin. Kiryn had tried, and he had failed. But he might be able to save his people. The kirath must hear of this. They must be warned so they could be prepared to take whatever actions might be necessary.

The other elves who sat around them were rigid with shock, too stunned to move, unable to comprehend what had just occurred. Time slowed and stopped altogether. No one drew breath, no eye blinked, no heart beat—all were frozen in disbelief.

“Mina!” Silvanoshei cried in desperation and reached out to hold her. Suddenly, all was turmoil. Mina’s officers, crying out in rage, surged through the crowd, smashing chairs, overturning tables, knocking down anyone who impeded their progress. Elves cried out, screamed. Some of the more astute grabbed husband or wife and fled in haste. Among these was Kiryn. As the Dark Knights surrounded the table where Mina lay still and unmoving, Kiryn cast one last, aching glance at his unfortunate cousin and, with a heavy heart and deep foreboding, slipped away into the night. An enormous hand, a hand covered in brown fur, seized the king’s shoulder in a bone-crushing grasp. The minotaur, his hideous face monstrous with fury and with grief, lifted Silvanoshei from his chair and, snarling a curse, flung the young elf aside, as he might have flung away a piece of refuse.

Silvanoshei smashed through an ornamental trellis and tumbled backward into the hole where the Shield Tree had once stood. He lay dazed, breathless, then faces, grim, human faces, contorted in murderous rage, surrounded him. Rough hands seized him and hauled him from the pit. Pain shot through his body, and he moaned. The pain might have come from broken bones. Perhaps every bone in his body was broken. The true pain came from his shattered heart.

The knights hauled Silvanoshei to the banquet table. The minotaur had his hand on Mina’s neck.

“The lifebeat is gone. She is dead,” he said, his lips flecked with foam. Turning, he jabbed a shaking finger at Silvanoshei. “There is her murderer!”

“No!” Silvanoshei cried. “I loved her! I gave her my ring—”

The minotaur seized hold of Mina’s lifeless hand. He gave the circlet of rubies a vicious tug, dragged it off her finger. Thrusting the ring under Silvanoshei’s nose, the minotaur shook it.

“Yes, you gave her a ring. A poisoned ring! You gave her the ring that killed her!”

Jutting from one of the rubies was a tiny needle. On that needle glistened a drop of blood.

“The needle is operated by a spring,” the minotaur announced, now holding the ring high for all to see. “When the victim touches the ring or turns it upon her finger, the needle activates and pierces the flesh, sending its deadly poison into the bloodstream. I’ll wager,” he added grimly, “that we discover the poison is a kind whose use is well known to elves.”

“I didn’t. . .” Silvanoshei cried from the agony of his grief. “It wasn’t the ring. . . . It couldn’t. . .”

His tongue cleaved to the roof of his mouth. He saw again Samar standing in his chambers. Samar, who knew all the secret passages in the palace. Samar, who had tried to force Silvanoshei to flee, who had made no secret of his hatred and distrust of Mina. Yet, the note had been written in a woman’s hand. His mother. . .

A blow sent Silvanoshei reeling. The blow came from the minotaur’s fist, but, in truth, Silvanoshei did not feel it, though it broke his jaw. The true blow was the knowledge of his guilt. He loved Mina, and he had slain her.

The minotaur’s next blow brought darkness.