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The machinations displayed during the kingmaking at the previous summer solstice had opened her eyes to the nobles of Evermeet. The Lady of the Towers kept a careful watch on the multilayered affairs of the court. The more she learned, the deeper became her concern, not only for Zaor, but for all of Evermeet.
"Really, Montagor, I find your offer singularly ignorant, even considering that it came from a Gray elf," sneered Vashti Nimesin. "You are of less use to me than Lydi'aleera is to clan Amarillis! Surely you know that any offspring of Zaor will be accounted part of clan Moonflower. You can evoke every long-dead Amarillis hero whose name you can recall, and it will not change that fact!"
The Amarillis heir sipped at his goblet of feywine, buying time to collect his thoughts. He had spent many days currying the favor of the wealthy and increasingly powerful Nimesin clan. Finally, he had finagled an invitation to one of Vashti's elite parties. Judging from her disdainful tone, it would clearly be a mistake to count his successes too soon.
"Perhaps my sister's child will be a Moonflower," he allowed, "but Lydi'aleera is still of House Amarillis! There is much that a queen can do to influence royal policy."
Lady Nimesin snickered. "And you're claiming she has the wit to do so, I suppose? That little twit?"
"Lydi'aleera has always been guided by me," Montagor said stoutly. "I tell you, there is much that can be gained from an alliance with Amarillis."
The matron's appraising gaze slid over the young Moon elf. Vashti Nimesin was well aware of Montagor's ambitions, and in fact she approved of most of the steps he had taken to consolidate his clan's influence and power in the newly established court. Foisting that insipid little wench upon Zaor Moonflower had been a masterful stroke. It was to Montagor's credit that he also sought out ties with the members of powerful Gold elf clans.
But it was patently clear to Lady Nimesin that Montagor was not quite up to the standard of his illustrious ancestors. In his naked desire for power, he was vulnerable-and more of a willing tool even than his insipid little sister.
Vashti Nimesin smiled. "There is in fact a service you can do for me. My son, Kymil, shows great promise in both magic and arms. I would have him trained at the Towers of the Sun and Moon. Perhaps you could escort him there, and present him to the ruling mage?"
Montagor bowed deeply. "It would be my great pleasure," he said sincerely, though he had little illusion about the reason for Lady Nimesin's request. She clearly disliked the fact that a Moon elf ruled in the Towers and was unwilling to submit herself in the position of supplicant to Amlaruil Moonflower. In sending the Amarillis heir as an errand boy, Vashti would make a statement of her high position and her contempt for Moon elves.
So be it. It was a price worth paying for Nimesin's favor. Montagor turned his gaze upon Kymil Nimesin, who stood talking with a small group of young Gold elves. He was a singularly handsome youth, with the golden skin of his race contrasting with the ebony luster of his black hair and eyes. Yet he was still a child, far too young for admittance to the tower.
At that moment, Kymil turned and met Montagor's curious gaze. The Moon elf recoiled, stu
"Montagor Amarillis will escort you to the Towers, my son," Lady Nimesin said in a satisfied voice. "You will leave at first light. See that you are a credit to your people and your house."
"Yes, mother," the boy said automatically. There was nothing in his face or voice to suggest he was other than a dutiful son, and there was no mockery in the bow he gave the Moon elf noble. Yet Montagor felt deeply uneasy as he contemplated the young elf.
From time to time, Montagor caught a glimpse of what might yet be. He had not claimed the moonblade because he suspected that he would not survive the attempt. Now, looking at young Kymil Nimesin, he had the same feeling of impending death. There was something stirring in the mists of this boy's future, something that Montagor could neither see nor grasp. It reached out to him, all the same, taunting him with dire possibilities.
The Moon elf quickly brushed aside his unease. A moonblade, with its powerful and killing magic, was something to be feared and respected. This boy, however, was a mere stripling. Surely Montagor Amarillis was more than Kymil's match.
And so the two left for the Towers the next day, as Lady Nimesin had decreed. Kymil rode well, but he was strangely silent during the northward trip, with none of the questions or chatter that Montagor would have expected from a boy his age.
Finally the silence began to wear on Montagor. "I trained in the Towers myself, briefly," he said. "If there is anything you'd like to discuss, I'd be happy to oblige."
The boy slanted a look at him. "Thank you, no," he said politely. "I shall do fine."
"Have you friends at the Tower?" Montagor persisted. "I don't imagine there are many elves your age."
"There is at least one," Kymil said in a dark tone. He grimaced, as if even that terse remark was more than he had intended to say.
Montagor was intrigued. "I had not known that the Tower magi accepted children."
"From time to time, children are born to the Tower magi," the boy said matter-of-factly. "And sometimes a prodigy is accepted at an early age. Tanyl Evanara, a distant cousin of mine, is much my age and nearly my equal at arms and magic. We will learn together."
"Ah. And what use will you make of the magic you acquire?" the Moon elf asked in the patronizing tone often used toward the very young.
A hard smile played at the corner of the Gold elf's lips. "What would you say, Lord Amarillis, if I told you that I would use what I learn to do away with the travesty of a Moon elf royalty and restore the Elven Council?" he said softly. "Just for argument's sake, of course. Naturally, I would never attempt such a thing. No one but a fool would harbor such treasonous thoughts, or express them to the brother of the queen-not even considering that you yourself would profit from such a course of action. Amarillis will never hold the throne, but certainly you could become High Councilor were the Council restored. Again, just for argument's sake."
Montagor blinked, astonished by the levels of intrigue in the boy's words. He was being warned, courted, and threatened-all at once.
But even as he regarded the young elf, the sly hard look disappeared beneath the smooth golden mask of Kymil's handsome face.
A chill passed through Montagor, swiftly followed by a wave of bitter remorse for his part in delivering this child to the Towers. Whatever came of it, he would have a part. Kymil had implied as much.
Suddenly the Moon elf was less certain of his ability to control, or even to fathom, the ambitions of this Gold elf clan. But the spires of the Towers were now clearly visible to all in the escort party.
Come what may, it was too late to turn back now.
Several years passed before Montagor Amarillis was again summoned to the mansion of Lady Vashti Nimesin. He found the matron in a state of high excitement.
"It has begun," she said bluntly. "The first of the Gray elf pretenders to the throne has been slain. And you, my friend, have made it possible!"
Montagor stared at the Gold elf. "Zaor is dead?"
Vashti laughed scornfully. "Not even your sister could get close enough to the king to accomplish that wonder! No, I speak of Zaor's daughter."
"My sister the queen has no children," the Moon elf said, his brow furrowed in puzzlement.