won't listen to anything else."
"I didn't want to tell you, but I see that I must," Tanis said, exasperated. "Laurana, I'm in love with someone else-a human woman. Her name is Kitiara. That doesn't mean I don't love you, too. I do-" Tanis faltered.
Laurana stared at him, all color drained from her face.
"I do love you, Laurana. But, you see, I can't marry you, because I love her, too. My heart is divided, just like my blood." He took off the ring of golden ivy leaves and handed it to her. "I release you from any promises you made to me, Laurana. And I ask you to release me."
Laurana took the ring, unable to speak. She looked at Tanis pleadingly, then, seeing only pity in his face, shrieked and flung the ring away from her. It fell at Tas's feet. He picked it up and slipped it into a pouch.
"Laurana," Tanis said sorrowfully, taking her in his arms as she sobbed wildly. "I'm so sorry. I never meant-"
At this point, Tasslehoff slipped out of the brush and made his way back up the trail.
"Well," said the kender to himself, sighing in satisfaction, "now at least I know what's going on."
Tanis awoke suddenly to find Gilthanas standing over him. "Laurana?" he asked, getting to his feet.
"She is all right," Gilthanas said quietly. "Her maidens brought her home. She told me what you said. I just want you to know I understand. It was what I feared all along. The human half of you cries to other humans. I tried to tell her, hoping she wouldn't get hurt. She will listen to me now. Thank you, Tanthalas. I know it cannot have been easy."
"It wasn't," Tanis said, swallowing. "I'm going to be honest, Gilthanas-I love her, I really do. It's just that-"
"Please, say no more. Let us leave it as it is and perhaps, if we cannot be friends, we can at least respect each other." Gilthanas's face was drawn and pale in the setting sun. "You and your friends must prepare yourselves. When the silver moon rises, there will be a feast, and then the High Council meeting. Now is the time when decisions must be made."
He left. Tanis stared after him a moment, then, sighing, went to wake the others.
7
Farewell.
The companions' decision.
The feast held in Qualinost reminded Goldmoon of her mother's funeral banquet. Like the feast, the funeral was supposed to be a joyous occasion-after all, Tearsong had become a goddess. But the people found it difficult to accept the death of this beautiful woman. And so the Que-shu mourned her passing with a grief that approached blasphemy.
Tearsong's funeral banquet was the most elaborate to be given in the memory of the Que-shu. Her grieving husband had spared no expense. Like the banquet in Qualinost on this night, there was a great deal of food which few could eat. There were half-hearted attempts at conversation when no one wanted to talk. Occasionally someone, overcome with sorrow, was forced to leave the table.
So vivid was this memory that Goldmoon could eat little; the food was ash in her mouth. Riverwind regarded her with concern. His hand found hers beneath the table and she gripped it hard, smiling as his strength flowed into her body.
The elven feast was held in the courtyard just south of the great golden tower. There were no walls about the platform of crystal and marble which sat atop the highest hill in Qualinost, offering an unobstructed view of the glittering city below, the dark forest beyond, and even the deep purple edge of the Tharkadan Mountains far to the south. But the beauty was lost on those in attendance, or made more poignant by the knowledge that soon it would be gone forever.
Goldmoon sat at the right hand of the Speaker. He tried to make polite conversation, but eventually his worries and concerns overwhelmed him and he fell silent.
To the Speaker's left sat his daughter, Laurana. She made no pretense at eating, just sat with her head bowed, her long hair flowing around her face. When she did look up, it was to gaze at Tanis, her heart in her eyes.
The half-elf, very much aware of the heart-broken stare as well as of Gilthanas eyeing him coldly, ate his food without appetite, his eyes fixed on his plate. Sturm, next to him, was drawing up in his mind plans for the defence of Qualinesti.
Flint felt strange and out of place as dwarves always feel among elves. He