Douglas Niles - Circle at center

“This is Wiytstar Sharand,” Tamarwind said smoothly as a mature male, head crowned by a stiff mane of metallic hair, stepped forward. The elf wore the gold mantle of leadership. “He is the spokesman for the delegates.”

“My lady Sage-Ambassador.” Wiytstar bowed gracefully. “I trust your life is unchanging?”

She replied with the ritual words, but as soon as the formalities of introduction were concluded the elder frowned. Belynda knew that the complaints were about to begin.

“We seek constancy, the elven ideal, and the perfect stasis of the Circle-but in truth, there have been some changes at Argentian-disturbing developments, to be sure.”

“Yes?” Even though Belynda was fairly certain she knew what was coming, she added: “Please elaborate.”

“Most significant, the rains of the past three intervals have left us nearly an inch short of our quota!”

“Yes… there was a report of this in the Senate. Sage-Astrologer Domarkian spoke to the issue, declaring that the reduction in water has occurred throughout Nayve. But he has learned that there is no danger.”

“But-will this continue through the next intervals? Will it always be different?”

“Domarkian could not say for sure, though he indicated that the chances are good. However, as I said, the effect has been noticed in many parts of the Circle. The same reduction has apparently been experienced everywhere.”

“It’s the same? Everywhere?” Wiytstar seemed to find this news comforting.

“Yes. And there is no perceived harm in the effect. Now, were there other matters that brought you here as well?”

“There is something of a mystery we thought we should bring to your attention,” Tamarwind reported. “At least, I did.”

“And?” Belynda was curious-mysteries were altogether unusual in her serene, sedate world.

“Over the past years, ten or twenty or more, an increasing number of young elves have departed Argentian. They are mostly male-individuals who reportedly have been quite normal throughout their upbringing. The pattern is the same: The elf makes no announcement to kin or companion; he merely boards a riverboat in the city and rides to some point down the Sweetwater. They debark at any of a hundred villages and towns along the water, and then simply disappear.”

“Of course, the fact that they make no announcement doesn’t mean much-we all know how private our people can be. Still, to disappear, with no word, no sign?” The sage-ambassador frowned. “How many of them have gone?”

“There is really no way to tell, of course. But it would seem to be upward of twoscore, just in the last year alone.”

“I will take this up with the other ambassadors,” Belynda decided. “First we will try and determine if this is a matter affecting just Argentian, or the other realms as well.”

“Has it happened here, in Circle at Center?” Tam wondered.

Belynda could only shrug. “It has not been reported. Of course, there are so many elves here-something like twelve ten-thousands’ worth-that it would be difficult to notice a small change in numbers.”

Tamarwind nodded, apparently satisfied. Belynda noticed that the other elves had been fidgeting nervously, waiting for this seemingly trivial matter to be resolved before they continued with the litany. “And what is the next matter?” she inquired politely.

“It’s the children!” declared another delegate, a wiry woman nearly as petite as Belynda. Her hair was short, but spiked stiffly outward in a series of golden spurs. “I have joined this delegation, made this arduous journey only after a series of events so outrageous that I was left with no alternative but to seek ambassadorial intervention.”

“I understand.” Belynda was not surprised by the complaint, though she knew that the route between Argentian and Circle at Center consisted of good roads and a placid river ride. “Though of course you realize that the sage-ambassador’s role is to provide wise counsel, not action. But please, outline your complaints.”

“These young elves today-they’re… they’ve gone beyond any reach of control. They lack all semblance of respect!” The elfwoman shook her head in exasperation.

“It has been noted, without rebuttal, that they universally lack the discipline necessary for serious study!” claimed Wiytstar. “Why, there’s a painting class that is supposed to meet in the village hall every day at the Lighten Hour-and they have never visited their classroom!”

“It’s taught by that young firebrand, Deltan Columbine,” another elf maintained. “He says that walls aren’t conducive to art!”

“He takes those youngsters all over the place!” clucked the still-exasperated female. “Sometimes to the shore, or to the aspen groves. Wherever it is, they can be counted on to be loud and disruptive.”

“I see,” Belynda murmured calmly.

“And they have no manners.” Wiytstar resumed the litany, and Belynda assumed that he had expanded the topic to include elven youth as a whole. “They tease and laugh, and can be counted on to make noise even on the most solemn of occasions! Why, we had to have a funeral last year when Kime Fallyerae faded-and everyone there could hear children rustling the curtains behind the choir!”

“The offspring today are much worse-behaved than when we had our own children,” sniffed a third elf, a stout female with a hint of silver in the combed wave of her hair. “They have no respect, no appreciation for the greatness of our race-and their parents have no notion of proper control!”

Belynda did her best to look concerned as, inwardly, she sighed once again. Children, weather, or dogs: It was almost always one of these, and often two or all three, that brought complaints to the sage-ambassador of the Senate from the various elven homelands. It had been so ever since she had held her post, and no doubt before, as well.

Unfortunately, the topic of children made her rather squeamish. Of course, as a dutiful elf, she had given birth precisely twice in her early life: once, when she had reached nine hundred years of age, and then again fifty years later. Both of her offspring had matured and reached independence before her thousandth birthday, freeing her to spend her time on more important and interesting duties.

Such as listening to the complaints of these elves, she thought, forcing her mind to return to the present.

“-digging up the gardens with impunity!” the silver-maned Wiytstar was saying.

“And-and they’re breeding in the woods!” declared the matronly elf indignantly, speaking up for the second time.

“The children?” gasped Belynda, shocked into emotion by the unthinkable declaration.

“No! The dogs,” Tamarwind declared solemnly, though the twinkle in his eye betrayed his amusement.

“Oh. Of course.” Drawing a breath, Belynda tried to restore her dignity; clearly her mind had wandered as the recitation of complaints shifted topic. Yet she was shaken just the same, for she had allowed her mind to wander in neglect of her duties. Sternly she resolved to pay careful attention.

“Hah-woof.” The polite, dignified bark came from another of the arched entries into the garden. A large dog regarded the elves from there, brown eyes warm and moist over a sharp and pointed muzzle. The dog was pure white, long-legged and slender of body, fluffy with a coat of cottony hair. That fur puffed into a crown atop the creature’s head, while the ends of its long ears bore with regal dignity cascading tails of pure white. The animal stepped forward slowly, long tail wagging as the elves of the delegation looked askance.

“Hello, Ulfgang. Thank you for coming,” Belynda said, secretly relishing the consternation among the delegates. She addressed the elves serenely. “I had an inkling about some of the problems we might be addressing today, and I have asked my friend Ulfgang if he would join us.”