Элейн Каннингем - Silver Shadows

“What other items did you take?” Hhune continued before she could speak. “I would be most grateful for the opportunity to view them.”

Arilyn spread her hands in a gesture of regret. “There is nothing more. The clothes of the harem provide few hiding places for plunder! But I destroyed some of the things I could not take!” she said, suspecting that Hhune would appreciate any blow dealt a rival.

The guildmaster chortled with delight. “Splendid, splendid! But not too many, I trust!”

“I could not begin to describe the wonders that remain,” she said truthfully.

“Then, perhaps another expedition?”

“Not soon,” Arilyn said softly. “When next I enter Assante’s palace, it will be to tend to a personal matter.”

Hhune held her gaze for a long moment, then nodded. “Such things require much planning,” he said casually, no doubt assuming—as Arilyn had intended him to assume—that she planned to challenge and oust the master assassin. “You will have expenses. Please send all bills to me—discreetly, of course. In exchange, I ask only that you give me first refusal on any treasures you might acquire.”

All but one, Arilyn agreed silently. All but one.

The day was nearly spent. Foxfire knew this, even though in the deep forest no sun-cast shadows proclaimed the hour. Here the shade was cool and deep, the only sky a thousand layers of leafy boughs and velvety pines that filtered the sunlight until the very air he breathed seemed green and alive.

The elf was many miles from Talltrees, his tribe’s hidden settlement, but he and his two companions walked easily through the thick foliage, as silent and invisible as a trio of deer. This forest—all of it—was the elves’ home. Its rhythms coursed through their blood and sang in their souls.

Foxfire led the way steadily westward, to a grove perhaps a half-day’s walk toward the east from the trading settlement known as Mosstone. In times past—in happier, safer times—the elves of the Elmanesse tribe had traded with the humans who lived in this forest-side town. Then came the brutal reign of the Tethyrs, the family of human royals who seemed determined to drive the elves from the land. The Elmanesse had withdrawn into the forest shadows and proclaimed their own government via the Elven Council. For many years, all who ventured into the forests had lived and died by the judgments handed down by this council. But in these troubled times, even the wise, collective voice of the council had faltered and fallen silent. The elven alliance had splintered, and each clan had gone its own way. In particular the Suldusk tribe, always chary of alliance with their Elmanesse brothers and sisters, had all but disappeared into the deep shadows of the southeastern forest. No one knew for certain how many elves remained in the ancient wood.

Even so, a settlement of elves remained in the Council Glade, and the elders who lived there were still the best source of news and information in the forest. Foxfire hoped to find answers that would make sense of what was happening to his people.

Elves had lived in the Forest of Tethir from time beyond memory—and elven memories were long, indeed. But for the first time in his nine decades of life, Foxfire feared that the days of his people in this land might be numbered. Too many changes had come upon the elves, too quickly for them to assimilate or adjust. It was Foxfire’s nature to find the good in every situation and to expect that success would be his in all things. It was his gift to inspire those around him with the same confidence. Yet even he could not disregard the fears that a new shadow had fallen upon Tethir. Recent events suggested that the Time of Tyranny might soon return.

Nor were the elves helping themselves. Foxfire could not dismiss from his mind the insinuations placed there by the human, Bunlap. Was it possible that some clans really were attacking farms and caravans? And if this were so, what further trouble might this bring to the tribes of Tethir?

“Not far now,” commented Korrigash, a dark-haired hunter-warrior who was Foxfire’s closest friend. The taciturn elf seldom spoke, and the fact that he did so now was a sure measure of the gravity of their quest.

Though Korrigash was nearly as dour as a dwarf, there was no one under the stars whom Foxfire loved better or trusted more. The two were friendly rivals and had been since long ago when, as toddlers, they’d pelted each other with whatever weapons they could muster, whether pebbles found on the forest floor or the moss that lined their nappies. These days their rivalry took the form of contests of arms or archery, or the good-natured competition for an elf maid’s smile. But when they were on patrol or doing battle, Korrigash fell naturally into place at Foxfire’s back, instinctively deferring to the flame-haired warrior. Likewise, Foxfire had learned to hear the unspoken thoughts that lay beneath his friend’s few words.

“Council Glade is beyond those cedars.” Foxfire pointed with his bow to a thick stand of conifers. “The elders will know whether there is any truth to the human’s tales.”

Korrigash merely sniffed, but his brother, a stripling youth known as Tamsin, had no shortage of opinions on the matter.

“How can there be truth, where there is no honor?” he blurted out. “Humans have no knowledge of either! And if perchance the People have been pushing back the invaders, what of it? If I had my way, every human who stepped beneath the trees of Tethir would be greeted with a bolt through the heart, and may the silver shadows gnaw upon their bones!”

“Spoken with typical restraint,” Foxfire told him lightly, but instinctively he lifted one hand and formed the traditional elven sign for peace. One never knew when the silver shadows might be watching. Only a very rash elf would speak lightly of these mysterious beings or risk incurring their rare but deadly ire.

The Elmanesse and the Suldusk were not the only elves in the forest. There were, among these trees, People even more fey and secretive. The lythari , shapeshifting creatures who were more wolf than elf, had been living in Tethir when Foxfire’s ancestors still walked beneath the trees of Cormanthor. Although it had been centuries since anyone in the Talltrees tribe had seen a lythari in elven form, from time to time they caught a glimpse of silvery fur or heard the lytharis’ haunting songs soaring upward in search of the unseen moon.

“You are among friends, Tamsin, but I would take care before casting those seeds to the wind.” continued Foxfire. “Think what might occur if such words took root, and the People came to regard all humans as enemies!”

The young elf shrugged and turned aside, but not before Foxfire noted the smoldering flame in his eyes. Suddenly he understood the true nature of his friend’s brother. What Foxfire had taken to be yet one more outburst from the impulsive youth was something much more deadly: hatred, blind and unreasoning and implacable.

For a moment the elven leader was stunned by the sheer force of Tamsin’s emotion. Foxfire did not like to think what might result should the hearts of too many of the People’s young follow that narrow path.

“Less talk, more walking,” Korrigash suggested grimly. “Night’s not long to come.”

The words were not meant as a distraction, but as a simple statement of fact. Although the three elves could see as well in darkness as in daylight, there was a certain practical need to reach Council Glade before nightfall. The forest was full of dangerous creatures: ogres, giant spiders, wolves, stirges, wyverns, and even a dragon or two. Many of these grew hungry with the coming of darkness, and there was every possibility that the elves, themselves hunters, might become prey.