"It's all right," Tanis said, for want of anything else to say to ease her troubles, but this seemed enough, for she smiled at him then and took his hand.

"Laurana, I-" Tanis began, but his words faltered. He wanted to tell her that she was wrong, that the Speaker would never go back on his word, that it was best for her to stop playing these silly games with him. Their vows to marry had been children's promises, and they weren't children anymore. At any rate, if the Speaker of the Sun ordered her to marry Tyresian to uphold the honor of the house, she was going to have to wed the elven lord, unless she were willing to destroy her father politically.

Laurana continued relentlessly, "My father has to listen to me." And Tanis realized that at this moment, despite her exterior calm, she was very close to panic.

He should give her the ring back, he thought. But somehow, in the state she was in, he knew that would break her heart, and so all he said was, "I'm sure you're right. The Speaker has to listen."

He winced at the lie, but there was nothing else he could say. It seemed to ease Laurana's torment at any rate, for her coral lips curved and she began to talk of other matters as they walked through the garden. The paths were silvery in the growing moonlight, and even though little detail could be seen in the gardens, the two could inhale the heady scent of roses.

They reached the end of the path closest to the palace. Laurana hesitated. "We should go in separately," she said.

Tanis agreed. It wasn't a time to be spotted sneaking into the palace together.

"I'll see you soon, love," she whispered to him, and, standing on tiptoe, kissed his cheek. She slipped away then, through the garden, leaving Tanis, slightly dazed, to continue alone.

"It didn't take you long, did it?" a voice said sharply, and Tanis spun around. He sucked in a sharp breath of air. Porthios stood near one of the pear trees, so straight as to appear one himself. "She's been betrothed for mere hours, and already you're sneaking around in the dark with her."

The young elf lord watched him warily as Tanis stared in shock. How much had Porthios seen?

"It's not what you think," Tanis began hurriedly, but Porthios only scowled at him.

"It never is, is it, Tanis?" he said. He moved, as if to turn away, but then he stopped, regarding the half-elf intently. "Why are you doing this, Tanis? Just once, couldn't you try to behave like a true elf? Must you always be different?"

When Tanis failed to answer, Porthios stalked away through the twilight.

Miral knew the upheaval of the day would give him nightmares. He struggled to stave off the demons of his dreams. Sitting at the desk in his dim room, surrounded by spellcasting materials, he forced his weak eyes to gaze into the flame of a candle until the tears streamed.

Yet in the end, his efforts proved futile. He finally had to wrench his pained gaze from the candle fire and close his eyes, and in the moment it took his lids to touch, sleep claimed him. His head fell forward on his crossed arms.

He was in the cavern again. As always in his dreams, he was a child again. Light, with the power of ten thousand torches, drilled into his young eyes and he cried until he was hoarse. The light pulsed, pounding into him until he shook in its grip. He feared the light.

Yet he feared the dark as well. For at the fringes of the light waited the evil creatures of every child's dreams-dragons and ogres and trolls, all hungry and mean and willing to wait forever to get at him. The child Miral gazed from light to dark and tried to choose, but he was little and afraid.

Then warmth suffused him like a pleasant bath. He heard a simple childhood tune, played on a lute. The scent of his mama's perfume-crushed rose petals-filled his nostrils, and he knew she'd be there soon to save him from the light, give him dinner, and put him to bed with a story. That's what mamas were for, after all. He waited eagerly.

But she didn't come, and he grew impatient, then afraid that this meant she never would come.

He heard the sound of footsteps. And he knew instinctively that, not only were the steps not from his mama, but that they were made by someone his mama would want him to stay away from.

He began to cry and clenched his tiny hands into fists.

The hands of the sleeping mage also clenched and relaxed, clenched and relaxed, in growing fear.

Chapter 15

Tanis, looking as somber as the deepening night had no sooner arrived at Flint's shop than the dwarf hustled him back out the door and slammed it behind them.

"Where-?" Tanis protested, tripping on the fieldstone path that connected shop and street. His sword, which he had refused to be without ever since Flint had presented it to him, slapped in its sheath at his side.

"Never mind," the dwarf snapped, hurtling along ahead of him. "Come on."

The spring night was chilly, and few elves were out, but the two or three who were on the streets stared as the dwarf towed the half-elf down the lane before Flint's shop, then across the mosaic of the Hall of the Sky and into a tree-lined path beyond. The scents of spring-earth, vegetation, and blossoms-filled Tanis's nostrils, but he paid little attention to anything other than the dwarf's head bobbing before him.

Finally, Tanis set his moccasined feet, grabbed a branch with his free hand, and refused to move until Flint told him their destination.

"We're going to visit a lady," the dwarf explained testily.

Tanis grimaced. "A lady got me into this mess, Flint. Are you sure this is such a good idea?"

Flint crossed his arms before his chest and looked as stubborn as his friend. "This lady knew your mother. I want you to meet her."

Tanis, mouth agape, beheld the dwarf in confusion. "A lot of people at the palace knew my mother. What's so special about this one?" he demanded, beginning to grow angry. "Is she a wizard? Can she bring my mother back from the dead? What's the point, Flint?"

"Oh, leave that," the dwarf replied irritably. "Would you rather sit in your quarters and mope? Or in my shop and mope?" Flint tugged at his arm. "Just come on, son."

"No."

Tanis's voice was mulish, and the dwarf knew there would be no strong-arming him now. "All right," Flint said. "The lady was with your mother when she died."

Tanis felt a quiver go through him. "She told you that?"

"No," Flint replied. "I put two and two together. Now come on."

Tanis reluctantly let the dwarf lead him again, albeit at a slower pace and without the arm-tugging that had accompanied the first leg of their journey. "Who is she?"

"A midwife. Retired, anyway."

"Where does she live?"

"I don't know."

Tanis dug in his feet again. "Then how will we know when we get there?"

"Trust me." The dwarf's voice was curt. Flint resumed walking, and Tanis had to keep going or be left behind.

Minutes later, they emerged from the trees into the western portion of Qualinost, overlooking the site of the Grand Market. At this time of night, the open space was nearly deserted, of course. But on the other side of the park more rose quartz homes had sprouted, gleaming with a purplish hue in the blue evening light.

Flint accosted a middle-aged elf. "Can you tell me where I can find the midwife Ailea?" he asked, panting from the effort he'd expended so far.

"Eld Ailea?" the man repeated, looking from Flint to Tanis with a befuddled look. "Down that way." He pointed. "Don't waste your time. Hurry!"

"Come on, Tanis!" Flint said, thanking the man and trotting in the direction the man had indicated. "That one looked confused."