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The next-born son, Chozzaster, showed an early talent for magic and in time aspired to become a High Magi, like his mother. The following spring brought a daughter, a fierce, fire-haired lass that they named Shandalar in honor of the bladesinger Shanyrria Alenuath. Female twins followed, Tira'allara and Hhora, lovely, serious girls who devoted themselves at an early age to train as clerics of Hanali Celanil. Next came Lazziar and Gemstarzah, twin girls who seemed by nature and inclination destined to take the warrior's path.
Amlaruil's days were not all consumed with the raising of her brood, however. The chance to prove herself a worthy consort to a warrior king came all too soon.
Far to the west, off the coast of the fertile and troubled land known as Tethyr, a cluster of islands was drawing pirates as surely as bees to clover. The archipelago seemed designed for stealth, with its myriad small islands and hidden bays, and it lay between the ancient southern kingdoms and the thriving cities of the north. As the pirates grew wealthier and more daring, they turned their sights toward the sunset sky, and to the fabled riches of Evermeet.
From time to time, a pirate ship ventured westward, never to be heard from again. But there were successes, too, although the goods that pirates brought back to port were mostly wonders looted and exotic slaves taken from elven vessels on the open seas. When word came to the Nelanther that the elves of the mainland were secretly slipping away and sailing for their isle, the pirates began to patrol the seas in earnest.
One day in early spring, a young dragon sentinel brought news that an approaching elven ship was pursued by a small fleet of Nelanther pirates. Though the swanship was fleet and agile, the pirates were closing and would capture the ship before she could reach the shields of Evermeet.
Zaor called upon the trio of dragonriders to go out and meet the pirates. He wished to lead the eagle riders in attack himself, but the distance was too great for the giant eagles to fly.
Amlaruil, however, had an idea of her own. The High Magi took to the sky in a chariot drawn by a team of six pegasi. With her she carried the ancient scepter known as the Accumulator, which held High Magic powerful enough to teleport the flagship away from the island. This she did, in a spectacular display of magical fireworks that lit up the sky and was seen from Evermeet to distant Waterdeep.
Exactly where the ship landed, the queen declined to say. That did not stop the minstrels from speculating, and their odes to the queen's bravery joined those that praised her beauty and grace.
But sorrow and tragedy soon befell the royal family. Malar the Beast Lord unleashed upon the elves of the Moonshae Isles his most fearsome creation. The monster known as the elf-eater attacked the once-secure valley of Sy
The princess Ilyrana was among them, but she brought with her terrible news. As she was pushed through the gate by the elven defenders, she caught a glimpse of a blue-haired lad gripped in one of the monster's many tentacles. She did not know which of her twin brothers was slain that day, nor did she ever learn the fate of the other. But Zhoron and Xharlion were lost to Evermeet.
Nor were they the only children of Amlaruil and Zaor whose fate was never determined. The ship carrying Lazziar and Gemstarzah was lost at sea while the twins sailed on a mission of diplomacy.
Even the simple passage of years took a toll. Chozzaster passed on to Arvandor at a young age, and Shandalar, Zaor's pet and favorite, was accidentally slain by a fellow student, a gifted spell-singer, during her training as a bladesinger.
Zaor, grieving and aging, privately began to feel the call of Arvandor. As the years passed, as security of Evermeet made the warrior king feel u
More interested in gardening than in governance, he increasingly abandoned the rulership of Evermeet to his capable and apparently ageless queen.
23
Rapport
Zaor of Evermeet, now aged far beyond the years of most elves, busied himself in the palace gardens. He lowered the clippers and cocked his head to one side as he admired the effect. In the very center of the palace gardens, he had planted a hedge of pale blue roses and shaped it into a crescent moon. In the faint light of a summer twilight, the rare flowers seemed to glow with their own i
"Very lovely," commented a voice behind him, a voice that still had the power to quicken Zaor's heart despite the passage of centuries.
He turned to face Amlaruil. A mixture of longing and pain smote him as he gazed upon her beautiful face. She looked exactly as she had when he'd met her more than four hundred years before. And he? He was an old elf, useless to Amlaruil and to Evermeet, homesick for Arvandor. Amlaruil took a single step forward, her hands clenched at her sides and her face blazing with incompressible wrath. "I would never have thought I'd have occasion to call you a hypocrite!" she said in a cold voice. "Do you not remember the pledge you demanded of me, those many years past? You made me promise that I would remain on Evermeet for the good of the People, for howsoever long I was needed."
"I am old, Amlaruil," he said simply, "and I am very tired."
"Spare me your tales of creaking joints!" she raged at him. "Do you think that it has been easy for me, or always pleasant, to do as you requested? If I could see my youth pass by, each year like a wasted spring day as I endured seeing you wed to another, can you not summon the courage to live your venerable years? You are needed!"
"You are Evermeet's queen, and all the ruler the elves truly need."
"What of my needs, my lord? And truly, what would befall Evermeet if I, like you, were to become so self-absorbed that I did not tend to the future? Which of our children could you truly envision on the throne? Tira'allara? Hhora?"
Zaor slowly shook his head. He loved his daughters, but neither would make a queen. Priestesses of Hanali Celanil, they were both completely caught up in the cult of love and beauty, so much so that at times he worried about them. Tira'allara was involved in a potentially disastrous liaison with a young Gold elf known as a rake and a wastrel. Zaor suspected that the youth's interest in the princess had more to do with her rank and wealth-for Tira'allara happily repaid his gambling debts with her jewels and dowry-than with the princess herself. Yet Tira'allara loved the elf with all her passionate, intense nature. Zaor wondered if she would survive the disillusionment that was sure to come. And Hhora was preparing to sail for distant Faerun, for she was determined to wed a chance-met commoner with whom she'd shared a festival.
"Evermeet is without an heir," Amlaruil continued bluntly. "The sword of Zaor is a warrior's blade, and neither of our surviving children could draw it and live. We must give Evermeet an heir."
"I am old, Amlaruil," he repeated.
She came to him in a rush, framing his weathered face in hands as smooth and unlined as a maiden's. Tears filled her eyes and soul-deep grief softened her angry face. "Do not leave me, my love," she said with quiet intensity. "I could not bear it."
He stroked her bright hair. "You can handle anything. I have never known anyone as strong."
"Together we are strong!" she said urgently. "Do you not see it? What we have accomplished, we have done together. The bond between us is deep and unique, but it could be even more."
Zaor stared at her, stu