"The elves were affected less by the passage of the Gray-stone than the other, weaker, races were, but-"

"Tell me about the Graystone," Tanis interrupted, hoping this storytelling session would last into his early afternoon archery lesson with Tyresian.

Miral glared, and the shadows seemed to draw in deeper around the pair, as though the light reflected the mage's ill-humor. "I've told you about the Graystone. Now…" The mage's voice resumed hoarsely. "… We were less affected by the Graystone than other races were, but still the passage of the stone-which, as you know, is the embodiment of chaos-gave rise to unsettlement wherever it went.

"In Silvanesti, where I hale from…" This was news to Tanis, who sat up, prepared to ask a question, but instead slumped back down with another glare from the mage. "In Silvanesti, near the main city of Silvanost, lived an elven lord and his two children, a son named Panthell and a slightly younger daughter named Joheric. As was custom there in the years before the Kinslayer Wars, the eldest son stood to inherit his father's title, his lands, and his wealth. The daughter, Joheric, would receive a large enough dowry that some young elf lord would be encouraged to marry her, but she would have no title to anything else that her father owned."

"That seems unfair, put that way," Tanis interjected.

Miral nodded arid drew his robe tighter around him. "So it seemed to Joheric," the mage continued. "The situation tortured Joheric, especially as it seemed obvious to her that she was the worthier child. Elven women, then as now, were trained in weaponry, though then, as now, their use of weapons was more ceremonial than practical. The men still did most of the fighting, when it became necessary.

"Well, Joheric was so skilled with a sword that she could defeat her brother, Panthell, in the mock battles they held about the castle. She was stronger than her older sibling, and smarter. But because she was the younger child, she knew that eventually she would see everything she thought she deserved passing to the unworthy one. Everyone should be able to see, she reasoned, that Panthell was a poor fighter, with no moral judgment at all. She knew that he was not above thievery, that he was greedy and a coward, and that, moreover, he was none too bright."

Tanis's stomach growled and he glanced at the plate of toasted quith-pa that the mage had placed just out of reach on a low table near the two chairs. The half-elf had come in too late the previous evening to join the Speaker's family at the dinner table; misgivings about his conversation with Flint had kept him awake until the early morning hours, and then when he'd finally fallen asleep, he'd risen too late to break his fast before hurrying off to see Miral.

The mage, however, correctly interpreted the abdominal gurgle and the wistful glance, and uttered a command in another language, a command that, with no help from elven hands, sent the plate sliding across the table toward the half-elf. Tanis grunted his thanks, spread a slice of quith-pa with pear jelly, and stuffed it in his mouth.

Miral continued. "Joheric grew increasingly bitter over the knowledge that all her skills, all her talents, would gain her nothing. She yearned to go into battle and bring glory to her house. Soon the Dragon War gave her that opportunity. The war drew her father into fighting, and he, over his son's vehement protests, sent Panthell off to join the other elven soldiers. Joheric, however, remained at home, practicing her swordsmanship, her skill with the bow, until she was sure she could defend herself with honor. Long months went by, however, with no word of Panthell since he'd left with his regiment."

"He was killed?" Tanis asked.

"Joheric's father feared so. He feared his son and heir had been captured. Joheric went to her father and vowed to find her brother-a vow nobody at home took terribly seriously because, after all, she was a girl and she was only twenty-five or so, younger than you are now. In the cover of night, she left the castle and set off through the forests of Silvanesti, hunting for her brother's regiment."

"Did she find him?" Tanis asked around a mouthful of quith-pa. He picked a crumb off his sand-colored breeches.

Miral nodded. "She did, but not in the way she'd expected. She came upon Panthell just as the regiment of elves was engaged in battle with a troop of humans. She fought her way to his side, where she discovered, to her horror…" the mage's voice trailed off. "What do you think she learned, Tanis?" Miral prompted.

Tanis looked up and swallowed. "What?" he repeated.

Miral resumed. "Panthell was fighting on the side of the humans."

The half-elf felt a thrill go through his body. He sat up so swiftly that the room spun from gray to black before his eyes. He shook his head to clear it. What was Miral trying to tell him?

Relentless, the mage continued, no longer meeting the half-elf's eyes. "Joheric was so enraged that, without thinking, she shouted her brother's name and, when he turned toward her, ran him through with her sword. It turned out that the elves had been seeking the human troop that Panthell had joined and was leading. The elves decimated the humans and brought Joheric home a hero."

"A hero? For killing her brother?" Tanis gulped. He'd heard the Silvanesti elves were colder, more calculatingly rational than the Qualinesti, but…

"For killing a traitor" Miral corrected. "She inherited her father's estate and went on to great success as an elven general." He stopped and cast a glance at his student.

Tanis was horrified. "That's it?" he demanded, his tone rising despite himself. "She killed her brother and was rewarded for it?"

"For the rest of her life, she was troubled by sadness," Miral conceded. "For years afterward, she was pursued by dreams of her brother, nightmares in which she ran him through again and again and again, until she awoke screaming,"

Tanis considered, looking around the shadowed room but seeing instead an armored elven woman impaling her own brother in battle. "Bad dreams seem a poor price to pay for slaying another elf," he said finally.

"It depends on the dreams," the mage said.

The two sat in silence for a short time, until Miral leaned forward. "Do you understand the moral of what I've told you?"

The half-elf took the last bit of quith-pa and thought some more. "That one person can change the course of history?" he offered.

The mage's face displayed approval. "Good. What else?"

Tanis thought hard, but no reasonable alternative came to him. The mage leaned close, his eyes suddenly shards of crystal. "Decide which side you're on, Tanis."

Startled, the half-elf felt his face go white. "What did you say?" he asked weakly.

"Decide which side you're on." Then the mage turned away.

At that point in the morning's lesson, Laurana arrived, and Miral called a break, prompted also, no doubt, by the shock that still showed on his young pupil's face. The lad had to learn the hard truth sooner or later, the mage thought; Tanis couldn't exist half-elf and half-human without choosing which race to align himself with. Still, it had pained Miral to hurt his young pupil, and he wished he could have found a gentler way of making the same point. If Tanis didn't develop a shell between himself and the court, he'd go through life bruised and battered.

Still, it was a shame, the mage thought.

Tanis returned several minutes later, having successfully fended off his youngest cousin's attempts to lure him into the sunshine for some childish fun.