Sanctuary

Dinner with the Speaker of the Sun and Stars was an austere affair, at least as far as the menu went. consigned to the magnificent past were banquets of twelve courses. Gone were dishes such as crystallized dew collected from the royal rose gardens airy pastries, and delicate seasonings. Not only were such things out of reach, but the monarch of the elven nations did not condone pretentious luxuries.

Seated at a low, round table were the Speaker, Kerianseray, the senior surviving archivist of Qualinost, Favaronas Millanandor, and a Silvanesti cartographer named Sithelbathan, formerly personal mapmaker to Queen Mother Alhana Starbreeze. Attending the diners was Planchet, an amphora of wine in his hand and a slender dagger tucked into his sash. Dinner consisted of fish, rice, roasted pine nuts, and an oily paste popular in Khur. Known as feza, it was a puree of seven vegetables, mixed with nut oil and garlic. On the table were clay pots containing Khurish stick bread, stiff rods of dough baked by sunlight until they were dark brown and nearly as hard as wood. Next to the Speaker’s plate rested a white pottery pot and a tiny, matching cup. The pot contained kefre, the strong black beverage so beloved by Khurs. Gilthas was one of the few elves who had acquired a taste for it, and the only one who drank the bitter brew without the addition of sugar, cinnamon, or other flavorings.

“Ah, for some decent fruit,” said Sithelbathan, eyeing his half-eaten fish. Khurish waters yielded many kinds of fish, all bony and strongly flavored.

Gilthas had finished his own small servings and was pouring himself a cup of kefre. “There are dates and figs for dessert,” he said. “I’ll have them brought in if you like.”

The cartographer politely declined. He’d eaten enough of both to last a lifetime.

Small talk persisted a while, until the Lioness broached the subject that had brought them all together.

“So, Master Cartographer, what of this valley?”

Sithelbathan pushed his plate away. “There is undoubtedly a valley at the location on the Speaker’s map, lady,” he said.

Gilthas asked Favaronas, “The temple annals brought back by Lady Kerianseray-do they offer useful information?”

The archivist leaned back, clasping his hands across his belly. It was a rather prominent belly, for an elf, testimony to his habit of drinking the local beer and to his lavish eating habits. Unlike his choosy colleague, Favaronas had cleaned his plate and now munched on stick bread dipped in feza.

“Perhaps, Great Speaker,” the archivist said, after swallowing. “They relate a tangled tale, full of allegory and legend. As a modern scholar, I hesitate to pass along such fables.”

Making his rounds, Planchet leaned in, refilling the archivist’s cup yet again. Favaronas thanked him, and lifted the cup to drink.

Tartly, Kerian said, “You’re not here for the hospitality. Tell us what, if anything, you’ve learned.”

Gilthas reproached her with a look, and she subsided, taking a stick of bread and biting into it with a snap. The speaker regarded the archivist expectantly.

Favaronas said, “According to the temple chronicles, Inath-Wakenti was the first place on Krynn where the gods set foot in corporeal form. it became a kind of neutral retreat, where they could stand on solid soil and enjoy the world they had created. To keep their haven free of internecine strife, they agreed none were allowed to speak within its confines. Hence, the Vale of Silence.

“Whether that is true…“ He finished the last bite of his bread, and shrugged. “But I can confirm that the area in question was part of the Silvanesti realm, prior to the First Cataclysm. Sithelbathan said the territory was part of a large grant of land given by Silvanos Goldeneye, first speaker of the Stars, to his general and comrade Balif. It was mostly desert in those days, too. The plain south of the desert was infested with fierce nomadic human tribes, who were gradually driven out by Balif’s legions. The furthest outpost of the elven kingdom was in or near the Vale of Silence, at a place called Teth-Balif—Balif’s Gate.”

“Fascinating,” the Lioness drawled.

“Yes indeed!” her husband agreed, overlooking her ironic tone. “It may be that we have a legal claim on the Inath-Wakenti. If we could find remnants of Balif’s stronghold, that would bolster our case!”

“This was all five thousand years ago,” she said. “If anything remains, it would be rubble. I doubt Sahim-Khan will cede us land on the basis of a few ancient stones.”

The diners debated the issue as the plates were cleared, and the dessert course was served. Favaronas helped himself to slices of fresh fig, licking the sticky juice from his fingers. Sithelbathan regarded his colleague with fastidious disapproval.

“There is one cautionary tale about the Vale,” Favaronas said, now taking a handful of dates. “According to the priestesses of Elir-Sana, a powerful wizard was exiled there early in Speaker Sithas’s reign. The temple records call him Wethdika.”