The Simbul’s Gift

She began retrieving the parchments her outburst had scattered. When she'd collected them into an almost-tidy pile, her mind was calm enough to face the mirror again and continue her investigations. Quicksilver was creeping up the crystal when a bronze chime sounded in the palace's audience chamber and, by associated magic, in the back of Alassra's mind. The quicksilver flew away from the dome. Most of it fell back into the shining pool, but a few poisonous drops struck her skin where they clung and burned.

"What now?" she demanded.

Her voice scattered the parchment again and stunned whichever palace servant had stuck the chime. With a curse that made the parchment sheets fall like stones, Alassra reached for a gnarled staff. She spoke three simple words and a heartbeat later was standing in front of the Verdigris Throne. It was her usual way of answering a summons, but it never failed to leave her household retainers flat-footed and gaping.

"Happy birthday, Honored Aunt," her guest, whose arrival had caused the summons, said with a smile.

He was tall, hearty, and wondrously pale; one of the Aerasume, Alustriel's sons who'd dedicated their lives to their mother. He wore a red signet ring on the third finger of his left hand; that meant his name was Boesild, or possibly Tarthilmor. Alassra could do almost anything except keep the names of her sister's twelve sons straight. Perhaps if she'd known them better, she could have told them apart. But she hadn't known them or their mother until after she'd lost Lailomun, after Mystra confronted her with her heritage.

There was no polite way to ask his name, and Alassra Shentrantra, the storm queen who'd face a basilisk with nerves of steel, had a phobic fear of being impolite to her still-unfamiliar family.

She said, "Thank you, Honored Nephew," and hoped he'd think she was following his example. Then she took the gift he offered, a bouquet of fragile snow-flowers.

"From my mother," he added, unnecessarily: Where else but in Silverymoon could anyone grow snow-flowers, and who but Alustriel could grow them in high summer? "I sent my gift directly to the palace kitchen: a fresh-caught string of bluefish. I remember you said they were your favorites. I'd hoped I could share supper with you this evening, Honored Aunt." He was Tarthilmor then; Alassra was nearly certain she'd been talking to Tarthilmor when she mentioned her appetite for razor-toothed bluefish. They schooled off the Fang this time of year, which might tell her something about why he'd come calling—certainly not to wish his storm-tempered aunt a happy birthday. Alustriel must have told him to bring gifts.

Alustriel was five years older than Alassra; she remembered family traditions and kept them alive. After Lailomun and Mystra, it was Alustriel who told her the family history, including the exact date of her birth.

And had the ever-efficient Alustriel also told her tall son to come calling because the private commemoration that Aglarond's queen had planned—a candlelit supper with Elminster—wasn't going to happen? Alassra suspected Tarthilmor knew, but proving her suspicions might start a family war.

"I'd be delighted. At sundown? This storm will have cleared by then. I'll have a supper laid on the balcony overlooking the harbor. It will be very private."

For the briefest moment his eyes narrowed and a satisfied smile tugged his lips: Privacy was important and birthdays had nothing to do with this visit. Then he was Alustriel's son again, with impeccable manners and all the charm of—well, not Elminster or the Zulkir of Enchantment, but very charming all the same. "It will be a supper to remember,"

"I'm sure it will," Alassra replied, ending with an awkward pause where she should have spoken his name. Blue-fish notwithstanding, that fleeting smile reminded her more of Boesild than Tarthilmor.

"May I retire to a chamber until then? Between the storm and the fish, I could use a bath before dining with a queen—unless we want to attract flies as we eat."

Flies. For all her serenity, Alustriel had a keen sense of the absurd and she'd passed it along to the Aerasume.

"Of course."

Alassra clapped her hands and a retainer approached. "Show my nephew to the guest quarters and see to his needs."