Paul Thompson - The Qualinesti

“Cannot the priests deflect this plague of fire?” shouted a voice from the crowd. Others took up the cry. “Is there no magic to defend us?”

Kith-Kanan held up his hands. “There is no need to panic,” he said loudly. “And the answer is no. None of the clerics of the great temples has been able to dispel or deflect any of the lightning.”

A low murmur of worry went through the assembly. “But there is no threat to the city, I assure you!”

“What about the towers that were knocked down?” demanded Clovanos. His graying blond hair was coming loose from its confining ribbon, and small tendrils curled around his angry face.

From the rear of the hall, someone called out, “Those calamities are your fault, Senator!”

The mass of elves and humans parted to let Senator Irthenie approach the throne. Dressed, as was her custom, in dyed leather and Kagonesti face paint, Irthenie cut an arresting figure among the more conservatively attired senators and townsfolk.

“I visited one of the fallen towers, Great Speaker. The lightning struck the open ground nearby. The shock caused the tower to fall,” announced Irthenie.

“Mind your business, Kagonesti!” Clovanos growled.

“She is minding her business as a senator,” Kith-Kanan cut in sharply. “I know very well you expect compensation for your lost property, Master Clovanos. But let Irthenie finish what she has to say first.”

A flash of lightning highlighted the Speaker’s face for a second, then passed away. Chill winds blew through the audience hall. The banners suspended above the assemblage flapped and rippled.

More calmly, Irthenie said, “The soil near Mackeli Tower is very sandy, Your Majesty. I recall when Feldrin Feldspar erected that great tower keep. He had to sink a foundation many, many feet in the ground until he struck bedrock.”

She turned to the fuming Senator Clovanos, eyeing him with disdain. “The good senator’s towers are in the southwestern district, next to Mackeli, and they had no such deep foundations. It’s a wonder they’ve stood this long.”

“Are you an architect?” Clovanos spat back. “What do you know of building?”

“Is Senator Irthenie correct?” asked Kith-Kanan angrily. Before the fire in his monarch’s eyes and the dawning disgust evident in the faces around him, Clovanos reluctantly admitted the accuracy of Irthenie’s words. “I see,” the Speaker concluded. “In that case, the unhappy folk who lived in those unsafe towers shall receive compensation from the royal treasury. You, Clovanos, shall get none. And be thankful I don’t charge you with endangering the lives of your tenants.”

With Clovanos thus humbled, the other complainants fell back, unwilling to risk the Speaker’s wrath. Sensing their honest fear, Kith-Kanan tried to raise their spirits.

“Some of you may have heard of my contact with the gods just before the darkness set in. I was told that there would appear wonders in the world, portents of some great event to come. What the great event will be, I do not know, but I can assure you that these wonders, while frightening, are not dangerous themselves. The darkness came and went, and so shall the lightning. Our greatest enemy is fear, which drives many to hasty, ill-conceived acts.

“So I urge you again: Be of stout heart! We have all faced terror and death during the great Kinslayer War. Can’t we bear a little gloom and lightning? We are not children, to cower before every crack of thunder. I will use all the wisdom and power at my command to protect you, but if you all go home and reflect a bit, you’ll soon realize there is no real danger.”

“Unless you have Clovanos for a landlord,” muttered Irthenie.

Laughter rippled in the ranks around her. The Kagonesti woman’s soft words were repeated through the ranks until everyone in the hall was chortling in appreciation. Clovanos’s face turned beet red, and he stalked angrily out, with Xixis on his heels. Once the two senators were gone, the laughter increased, and Kith-Kanan could afford to join in. Much of the tension and anxiety of the past few days slipped away.

Kith-Kanan sat back down on his throne. “Now,” he said, stilling the mirth swelling across the hall, “if you are here to petition for help due to damage caused by the darkness or the lightning, please go to the antechamber, where my castellan and scribes will take down your names and claims. Good day and good morrow, my people.”

The Qualinesti filed out of the hall. The last ones out were the royal guards, whom Kith-Kanan dismissed. Irthenie remained behind. The aged elf woman walked with quick strides to the window. Kith-Kanan joined her.

“The merchants in the city squares say the lightning isn’t in every country as the darkness was,” Irthenie informed him. “To the north, they haven’t had any at all. To the south, it’s worse than here. I’ve heard tales of ships being blasted and sunk, and fires in the southern forests all the way to Silvanesti.”

“We seem to be spared the worst,” Kith-Kanan mused. He clasped his hands behind his back.

“Do you know what it all means?” the senator asked. “Old forest elves are incurably curious. We want to know everything.”

He smiled. “You know as much as I do, old fox.”

“I may know a deal more, Kith. There’s talk in the city about Ulvian. He’s missed, you know. His wastrel friends are asking for him, and rumors are rampant.”

The Speaker’s good humor vanished. “What’s being said?”

“Almost the truth—that the prince committed some crime and you have exiled him for a time,” Irthenie replied. A sizzling lightning bolt hit the peak of the Tower of the Sun, just across the square from the Speaker’s house. Since the strange weather had begun, the tower had been struck numerous times without effect. “His exact crime and place of exile remain a secret,” she added.

Kith-Kanan nodded a slow affirmation. Irthenie pursed her thin lips. The yellow and red lines on her face stood out starkly with the next lightning blast.

“Why do you keep Ulvian’s fate a secret?” she inquired. “His example would be a good lesson to many other young scoundrels in Qualinost.”

“No. I will not humiliate him in public.”

Kith-Kanan turned his back to the display of heavenly fire and looked directly into Irthenie’s hazel eyes. “If Ulvian is to be Speaker after me, I wouldn’t want his youthful transgressions to hamper him for the rest of his life.”

The senator shrugged. “I understand, though it isn’t how I would handle him. Perhaps that’s why you are the Speaker of the Sun and I am a harmless old widow you keep around for gossip and advice.”

He chuckled in spite of himself. “You are many things, old friend, but a harmless old widow is not one of them. That’s like saying my grandfather Silvanos was a pretty good warrior.”

The Speaker yawned and stretched his arms. Irthenie noticed the dark smudges under his eyes and asked, “Are you sleeping well?” He admitted he was not.

“Too many burdens and too many anxious dreams,” Kith-Kanan said. “I wish I could get away from the city for a while.”

“There is your grove.”

Kith-Kanan clapped his hands together softly. “You’re right! You see? Your wits are more than a little sharp. My mind is so muddled that I never even thought of that. I’ll leave word with Tam that I’m spending the day there. Perhaps the gods will favor me again, and I’ll discover the reason behind all these marvels.”

Kith-Kanan hurried to his private exit behind the Qualinesti throne. Irthenie went to the main doors of the audience hall. She paused and looked back as Kith-Kanan disappeared through the dark doorway. Thunder vibrated through the polished wooden floor. Irthenie opened the doors and plunged into the crowd still milling in the Speaker’s antechamber.