"Correct," Flint said, nodding.

"So?" Tyresian's voice throbbed with contempt. "You've admitted it's the half-elf's arrow. So what?"

Porthios made a small noise, and Flint's blue-gray gaze shifted back to the Speaker's son, whose eyes were suddenly wise. "You understand, don't you?" Flint asked.

Porthios nodded and explained. "If Tanis's arrow had struck Lord Xenoth before the tylor's long tail did, the arrow would have been crushed by the beast. As you can see, the arrow is undamaged."

The commander's sharp blue eyes widened. Then he swept one arm aside, all but knocking Gilthanas into Miral. "His arrow still found its way into Xenoth. So what if the half-elf didn't kill him. Tanis is still guilty of a gross error of judgment."

Flint and Tyresian stood frozen, gazes locked, for a long moment. Miral's voice finally broke the spell that held them. "All this talk is not getting our comrade's body back to Qualinost," he stated wearily. "I suggest we return immediately and discuss this matter with the Speaker."

Tyresian balked. "I have one more question," he said. "Who killed the tylor? Tanis?"

"Did the mage kill the beast, perhaps?" Litanas murmured. Several other elves nodded agreement. "Look at his hand, after all. Even from across the ravine, we saw the lightning burst from his fingers and hit the lizard."

Porthios turned his gaze to Miral, still supported by Porthios's younger brother. "Show us your hand, mage," Porthios ordered.

Miral's hood had fallen back from his pallid face, and the mage's eyes squinted against the light. He gingerly drew his right hand from beneath his cloak. The sleeve was in tatters. Nails were missing from his first two fingers, and all five digits were blackened from the tips to the palm. Angry red streaks extended from the mage's wrist to a scar near his elbow.

This time it was Flint's voice that rose above the rest. "I didn't know you were capable of such magic, Miral."

The mage looked confused. "Nor did I." He appeared to be on the verge of collapse.

"What happened?" Porthios asked gently.

The mage stammered as he spoke, and a blotch of red appeared high on each blanched cheekbone. "I saw the beast threaten Flint and Tanis," Miral said. "I am but a weak magic-user. Under normal conditions, I would have had no power against a beast such as this. I came along merely to tend some of you, should you get hurt.

"When I saw the monster looming over Tanis, I could not stand the thought of losing yet another beloved friend to a violent end. I… I thought of Arelas, if you must know, and suddenly I and my horse were in the clearing with Tanis and Flint, and… I felt power like I'd never known course through me." The mage's breath was shallow, his voice nearly a whisper. "I felt a jolt, as though I'd fallen from a great height, and my hand… pained me. Then I awakened on the ground, with all this around me."

A gesture of his left hand encompassed the adviser, the dead tylor, and the bloodstained clearing strewn with shredded leaves and bark. Then Miral slumped to the ground in a dead faint.

The hunting party rode slowly from the forest. The rain continued to hold off, the threatening clouds sparking tempers already stretched thin by the events in the clearing. Xenoth's body had been lain across the back of Litanas's horse, and-at Tyresian's order-Litanas rode with Ulthen. The mount was skittish, rolling its eyes, the scent of blood in its nostrils..

Porthios and Gilthanas kept their horses close to Tanis and Flint. Although the elven brothers said nothing, their actions spoke clearly enough. They were guarding him until the case could be laid before the Speaker.

Miral had awakened from his faint and was sharing a mount with one of the nobles, who supported the weakened mage, his horse tethered behind.

The journey back to Qualinost stretched endlessly. The thunder drummed overhead, and the wind rose, with no rain to ease the tension of the charged air.

When they neared the city's boundaries, Gilthanas pushed his roan ahead, to go inform the guards of their coming. The Tower of the Sun loomed like a specter in the leaden sky. When they reached the city's south archway, a quartet of guards was waiting for them.

"These guards will escort Tanis to his quarters, where he will remain under guard until we have met with the Speaker," Gilthanas said.

Flint protested. "You mean this one"-and he gestured at Tyresian-"will get a chance to tell his story to the Speaker without Tanis being there to defend himself? Is this elven justice?"

Porthios spoke. "Lord Tyresian, as commander of the expedition, has the right to report to the Speaker of the Sun."

"Will you be there?" Flint demanded of Porthios.

"Certainly. As will Gilthanas. And Miral, if he is strong enough."

"Then I'm going, too," the dwarf rejoined. "I'll tell the Speaker Tanis's side of all this." Flint set his jaw; it was obvious there would be no dissuading him.

Two guards, dressed in their glossy black livery, accompanied Tanis, still mounted on Belthar, through the streets of Qualinost to the palace. The somber trio drew some glances from passers-by, but all in all, the city's residents appeared to find nothing odd in the Speaker's ward traveling with two palace guards.

"Out of my way!" Tanis heard a deep voice growl outside the door to his palace chambers several hours later. The half-elf turned from where he'd been gazing out of his second-floor window, which overlooked the courtyard. He faced the source of the noise.

"Who goes there?" came the voice of one of the guards, but Tanis shook his head. He recognized the voice.

"You know darn well who it is," Flint roared. "Now stop this nonsense, and let me pass. I intend to speak to Tanis, and I warn you, don't you cross me."

"But Master Fireforge, Tanis is a prisoner," one of the guards protested. "He cannot-'

"Prisoner schmisoner!" the dwarf spat. "I come by order of the Speaker of the Sun. Now let me pass, or by Reorx I'll…"

Tanis could only imagine the look in the dwarf's steely eyes at that moment, but suddenly there was a jingling of keys. The heavy door swung inward, and the dwarf stepped through.

To Tanis's surprise, Miral had come with the dwarf. The mage's right hand was heavily bandaged, and his face was as colorless as his eyes, but he appeared pleased.

The guard shut the door, obviously glad to have the dwarf on the other side of it.

The glower on Flint's face couldn't disguise the fact that he was as pleased as Miral. "We explained everything to the Speaker," the dwarf said, refusing a seat. He remained standing on the thick, hand-knotted rug, which depicted a stag hunt in swirls of green, brown, and orange.

Miral made his way to a canvas-and-aspen chair next to a spare-looking table that served Tanis as a desk. The mage eased his body into the chair. Tanis offered him water from a porcelain pitcher, but the mage shook his head wearily.

"Your friend here," Miral said with a nod at Flint, "told the Speaker everything that happened in the clearing-how Xenoth was yards away from the path of both arrows, how you shot to protect the adviser as the creature attacked…"

"…and how Miral came thundering through the clearing to release his magic against the tylor," Flint added. "There was some debate over who killed the beast. The mage contended it was your arrow that slew the tylor. Others said it was the mage fire that killed it."

Tanis could well guess who those "others" were. He leaned against the windowsill and crossed his arms over his chest. He'd exchanged his hunting garb for a soft leather shirt and buckskin leggings.