a slip of parchment from a writing desk that stood in the suite’s front hall and scratched out a short note with the quill and ink. He blew on it to dry the ink, then rolled the note into a tiny tube and pinched it closed with a little candle wax. Then he walked over to the suite’s window, opened the clear glass, and gave a long, trilling whistle. Sarth and Hamil stared at him as if he’d lost his mind, but he just smiled at them and repeated the whistle. A moment later, there was a sudden flurry of wingbeats at the sill, and a small blue-feathered songbird appeared. It chirped once at him.
Gently, Geran pressed the tightly rolled slip of paper into the bird’s talon. In Elvish he said, “Please, take this to Daried Selsherryn. You will likely find him in House Selsherryn or at Swordstar Hall.” The bird chirped again, and flew off with the note in its grasp.
“Did you just speak to that songbird?” Hamil asked in amazement. “When in the world did you learn to do that?”
“It’s not what I learned to say. It’s the birds that have been taught to listen.” Geran gazed out the window until the bird disappeared from view, enjoying a smile at his friends’ expense. Then he turned away and reached for his cloak. “Come on. We’ve got a little bit of a walk ahead of us.”
FOURTEEN
13 Alturiak, the Year of Deep Water Drifting (1480 DR)
A cold mist clung to the waters of Lake Glaerryl at dusk. The soft snow-fall of the day had finally ended, replaced by dense fog; from time to time the towering treetops of the lake’s far shore emerged from the drifting vapors like the battlements of some vast castle. Geran, Sarth, and Hamil waited in the shelter of an elegant pergola that stood on a small islet amid the dark waters, linked to the shore behind them by a slender bridge. In the fading light, the spires and domes of the elven city behind them were invisible; for all they could tell they weren’t within a hundred miles of Myth Drannor.
Hamil drew his cloak closer around his small frame and shivered. He hailed from the lands south of the Sea of Fallen Stars, and he did not care at all for northerly winters. He scowled at Geran, who stood wrapped in his own cloak a short distance away, and said, “You realize that there’s no retreat from this little island? If your friend has an attack of conscience, we’ll be trapped here like foxes in their den.”
“I didn’t give away much in the note I sent him,” Geran answered. He doubted that Daried would turn him over to the Coronal Guard without seeing him first, but he could understand that Hamil wouldn’t be reassured by his confidence in his old mentor. “But if we were found out, well, our chances to escape Myth Drannor wouldn’t be terribly good anyway. Given that, I thought we might as well choose a spot where we can speak in privacy.”
“Someone is coming,” Sarth said. Geran exchanged a look with his friends, and the three of them turned toward the bridge; he stepped back to hide himself behind Sarth in case it was somebody other than Daried who might recognize him. He heard a light footfall on the wooden boards, and a tall, slender figure in white and pearl gray appeared through the mists—a golden-haired elf swordsman whose clothes were embroidered with leaf and vine designs in silver thread.
The sun elf paused, his eyes bright and sharp as he studied Sarth and then Hamil. “I do not know you,” he said aloud. “Who are you, and why did you ask for me?”
Geran stepped forward, lowering his hood from his head. “Well met, Daried,” he said. “I see my note found you. My apologies for not giving my name, but it seemed better to remain anonymous.”
Daried’s eyebrows rose in astonishment. “Geran?” he said. “What are you doing here? You’re still under the coronal’s judgment! Are you mad?”
“No, only desperate. I’m afraid we need your help.” Geran indicated Hamil, then Sarth. “This is my old Dragon Shields colleague, Hamil Alderheart. You might remember that I spoke of him sometimes. And this is Sarth Khul Riizar, a sorcerer of no mean skill and a new friend. We’ve shared many dangers together in the Moonsea over the last few months. Hamil, Sarth, allow me to introduce Lord Daried Selsherryn, my tutor in swordmagic.”
“A pleasure,”