Silver Shadows

It is a rare thing when bardic tales fail to exaggerate the measure of might, and when the speculations»f tavern gossips lag timidly behind the truth. Blackstaff Tower was one such exception.

In a chamber in the uppermost level, Khelben's consort, the archmage Laeral Arunsun Silverhand, stood before a mirror, a tall oval of silvered glass surrounded by an elaborately carved and gilded frame. Fully six feet tall and slender as a birch tree, Laeral possessed a strange, fey beauty that hinted of faerie blood. Silvery hair cascaded to her hips, and large green eyes-the deep, silver-green hue peculiar to woodland ponds- searched the mirror's frame with an intensity that seemed oddly out of place on a face so exquisite. She ran her fingers along the carved and gilded wood, seeking the ever-shifting magic that few could perceive, and fewer still could master. When satisfied that she had found the elusive trigger, Laeral spoke a strange phrase and then stepped into the mirror.

She emerged in a deep, forested glade. A few butterflies fed upon the flowers that dotted the meadow grasses, and the ancient oaks that surrounded the glade were robed in the lush green of early summer. It was such a scene as might be found in the forests of many lands, except for an aura of eldritch energy as pervasive as sunlight. Laeral breathed in deeply, as if she could take in the magic and the soul-deep joy that scented the air of Evermeet, the island home of the elves.

In the center of the clearing stood an elven lady, as tall as Laeral herself and clad in a silken gown of dove-gray, the elven color of mourning. The elf s vividly blue eyes had seen the birth and death of several centuries, yet her face was youthful and the flaming luster of her red-gold hair was undimmed by time. A silver circlet rested on the elf woman's brow, but it was her regal bearing and the aura of power surrounding her that proclaimed her Lady of Evermeet, Queen of All Elves.

"Greetings, Laeral Elf-friend," said Queen Amlaruil in a voice like music, like wind.

Laeral sank into a deep curtsey; the elven queen bid her rise. Having dispensed with the formalities, the two women indulged in a burst of laughter, and then exchanged a sisterly embrace.

Holding hands like schoolgirls, they seated themselves on a fallen log and set to gossiping as if they were carefree maidens, rather than two of the most powerful beings on all of Toril.

But all too soon the conversation turned to matters that demanded their attention. "What news brings you to Evermeet this time, and with such urgency?" the queen asked.

"It's the Harpers again," Laeral said in a dry tone.

Amlaruil's sign came from a deep and ancient pain. "Yes. It often is. What is it this time?"

"It appears that some elves from the Forest of Tethir are attacking farms and caravans."

"Why?"

"How many reasons would you like me to name?" Laeral replied. "As you know, in a time not long past, all the elves who made their homes in the land of Tethyr, including those who dwell in the Forest of Tethir, suffered greatly at the hands of the human rulers. To all appearances, the destruction of Tethyr's royal family brought an end to this persecution. It is possible, however, that the elves are retaliating for past wrongs. Since the land of Tethyr remains lawless and chaotic, it is also likely that human settlements, trade routes, and trappers are encroaching upon elven lands. Perhaps the humans are pressing the elves, and the elves are fighting back."

"As is only natural. What interest do the Harpers have in this?"

"They want to promote some sort of settlement, a compromise that will end the turmoil and address-at least in part-the concerns of both sides."

"Ah, yes." Amlaruil paused for a grim smile. "We made such an arrangement in the forests of Cormanthor, many years ago. How well was that agreement kept, my

Silver Shadows

friend, and for how long? Today, how many elves live among those trees?"

The question was not meant for answering. Laeral acknowledged the queen's assessment of the matter with a slight nod. "I have argued that very point with several of the Master Harpers, but the decline of the elven people is not an issue the Harpers have traditionally addressed."

"So much for their vaunted concern with maintaining the Balance," the queen murmured.

"What is Balance, to those whose lives are not as long as yours and mine?" Laeral pointed out. "The Harpers' concern is genuine, but the span of their vision is decidedly shorter. They are more worried about the disruption of trade and the possibility of increasing the civil unrest in Tethyr."

"Can't you make them understand what these compromises mean to the elven People?"

"Given a few centuries, yes," Laeral replied grimly. *Khelben understands, after a fashion, but his concern focuses upon the affairs of Waterdeep. And he truly believes that a compromise is the best solution, not only for his city's trade interests, but for the elves themselves. He sees it as their best chance of survival. The humans of Tethyr are not so tolerant of other races as they were even ten or twenty years ago. It would not take much provocation to turn them against the elves. There are far too many ambitious men in Tethyr, looking for a rallying cause to aid their rise to power. I can easily envision the destruction of the elves becoming such a cause. You know what happened under the royal family. Given the general lawlessness of the land, it could be far worse this time."

"Then there is only Retreat," murmured the elven queen. She sat silent for several moments, as if letting the decision take root; then she nodded decisively. "Yes, the Sy-TkrQuessir must Retreat," she decreed, using the Elvish word for the forest folk. "I will send an ambassador at once to offer them a haven in Evermeef s ancient woods."

"And if they will not come?"

The queen had thought of that, as well. Then they, like so many of the People, will fade from the land," she said with quiet resignation. "This is the twilight of the Tel'Quessir, my friend. You know that as well as I, We ca

"But may that night be long in coming!" Laeral said fervently. "As for the Harpers, believe me when I say that sometimes the best way of controlling their enthusiasm is to work along with them," the mage added in a wry tone that suggested personal experience with this tactic. "Of one thing you can be certain: the Harpers will act with or without your blessing." "What do you suggest?"

"Send a Harper agent to the elves' forest stronghold to bear your invitation-a Harper who will work toward a Balance that will favor the elven community. In this way, if the forest elves refuse to retreat to Eve

Amlaruil studied her friend. The hesitancy in Laeral's silver-green eyes suggested that there was more to this matter, things of which the mage could not easily speak. Seldom was Laeral reticent about anything. Foreboding tightened AmlanuTs throat, but she waited with elven patience for the woman to find her own way and time.

"Let us say that I would agree to such a plan," the queen suggested calmly. "Have you an elven agent among the Harpers? A forest elf, one known to the community in question?" "No," Laeral admitted.

"Then I do not see how your plan could succeed. Most Sy-Tel'Quessir are insular-suspicious of all elves from outside their tribe. The People of Tethir have not sworn allegiance to me, and so they might not reeejye an

ambassador from the island. Pressed as they are, they would likely kill any non-elf who ventured too near their hidden strongholds. No, it seems to me your Harper would have little hope of survival and even less chance for success."

Laeral did not answer at once, nor did the queen press her. Their silence was filled by the sounds of the elven forest: the rustle of leaves, the soft hum of insects, the blithe call of carefree songbirds. This glade was a place of unparalleled beauty, surrounded and sustained by Evermeet's ancient magic. The island was the last haven of the elves, and its peace and security had seldom been breached. Knowing this, the mage considered her next words carefully. What she was about to suggest trod cruelly upon the elves' painful memories and touched the queen's deepest sorrow.