Now it was the city elf's face darkened by fury, but he dared not challenge his ruler. Quithas turned and stalked away, while Silvanos shook his head sadly. "His son was slain in the charge that broke Talonian's line-while Quithas himself was off retrieving the Bluestone. I fear…" The great ruler's voice trailed off, sad and pensive.

"Sacrifices have been made even by the gods," the patriarch noted abruptly. "Did you see the moons these last two nights?"

Kagonos nodded.

Those are the remains of the three gods-those immortals who gave us the means to win this war."

"Why were they punished thus? Do the other gods favor evil?"

"I believe they regret that we mortals have gained the power of magic. Perhaps they should, though we shall endeavor to keep its use under control. But enough of that-suffice to say that the cost has been high to all."

Silvanos sighed, and for the first time Kagonos realized that the elven patriarch was actually subject to mortal failings. "It grieves me to see such divisions among our people, my friend," he told Kagonos. Though he did not want to hear the words, the Elderwild found it impossible to tear his attention away from the patriarch's charisma.

"We are all one folk, under the war paint and the golden cloaks," Silvanos continued. "I would like us to know that oneness through all aspects of our lives on Krynn."

"The hatreds of the House Elves will ever divide us," Kagonos suggested. "Those like Quithas, who cannot grasp the Tightness of freedom."

"Do not confuse living in a city with slavery," Silvanos chided. "We, too, are free-in many ways freer than you of the woodland shall ever be." Kagonos thought there was a trace of genuine regret in the ruler's voice, though the Elderwild was truly mystified by Silvanos's concepts of freedom. How could any walled enclosure hope to offer the breathtaking and unfettered life that he knew in the forest?

"Tonight is not the night for such discussion," the Elderwild chief noted awkwardly. "We have won a victory-and must mourn our dead."

"Indeed. Death has touched us all. I grieve beside you over the loss of your brothers. They died as brave warriors, as elven heroes, and their courage will be a source of pride for many generations-in the cities as well as the forest."

Kagonos tried to suppress his astonishment-the only communication between the two armies had been the flight of Quithas, when he retrieved the stone. Certainly that dour elf had not carried word-had not even known -of the Pathfinder's personal tragedy.

"The grief you struggle so hard to conceal-it shows in your eyes, for one who knows what to look for," said the great patriarch gently. "I have seen that look many times today. My own nephew, Palthios, was killed leading a charge against the ogre flank; my brother's eyes were as haunted as yours. And General Quithas's loss was his only son, his only child. For a time I thought the darkness in his mind would consume him."

Numbly Kagonos nodded, wondering if Quithas might not yet yield to that ultimate despair. The Pathfinder was aware that some portion of himself was terribly racked by grief. Yet why was it, then, that he barely sensed the feeling?

"I invite you, as I have before, to come to the new land of Silvanesti with us," Silvanos declared earnestly. 'There, amid the splendid valley of the Thon-Thalas River, we shall create the greatest city the elves have ever known, and we hope that your tribe shall stand at our side as we do so."

"We have no need of a new land, not now-not when the war is won, when all Ansalon beckons."

"But think of the might we could gather, centered in Silvanesti! All the elves together. Your people, too, as one of the great houses! We shall name you House Servitor, and your people will know lives of productivity and beauty!"

"That is no life for an Elderwild!" Kagonos's voice grew sharp with scorn. "House Servitor, you say-will you make us lackeys to your lords?"

"No-of course not. But tell me, Kagonos-why have vou never accepted my invitations?" asked the great leader, ignoring the hostile tone of the Pathfinder. "Come, 2: least, to visit one of my palaces! Stay as my honored rjest."

It is impossible," Kagonos said with a firm shake of his head

But, why?"

A vow-a pledge I made centuries ago." Kagonos recalled the scene as if it had been yesterday-the Grand- atrer Ram, suddenly become the dragon Darlantan, com- =-2rdinn his obedience and loyalty, compelling him to ocvv:wo rules. In obedience-and, fully in keeping with the Pathfinder's own wishes-he had never taken a wife, and he had never journeyed to a House Elf city.

Vaguely, he felt the patriarch's gaze on him, and when he looked at Silvanos he saw more, even greater, sadness. Instinctively, with a chill, he knew why.

"Darlantan?" asked the Elderwild. Suddenly the numbness was gone.

"He awaits you beside the river," Silvanos said. "He bade me speak to you first, before you went to him. You will find him there, where the twin cottonwood trunks cross."

The Elderwild squinted into the patriarch's face, certain that Silvanos knew more than he was telling-and equally certain that he would learn no more in this conversation.

Gripped by a dire sense of apprehension, Kagonos sprinted through the army of elves, drawing little more than curious glances-and an occasional curse if he came too near a tire, or startled some dozing sentry or grazing war-horse. Soon the darkness of the night surrounded him, but it was not the cool, still quietude of the mountains. Here in the plains the night air pressed against him, warm and stifling. The harsh grass was brittle underfoot, neither solid like the bedrock of a high ridge nor cushioning like the mossy loam of an alpine meadow.

The two trees indicated by Silvanos arched upward, silhouetted against the stars as they joined in a towering apex. Beyond them, glittering like pale crystal, rolled the waters of the eternal Vingaard, alternately silvered and red beneath the flickering reflections of the two visible moons. The great river was shallow here, the surface roiled by rapids across its breadth of perhaps three hundred paces. It had proven an effective backstop against the maneuvering of the ogre army.

And now, the elf saw with a sharp gasp of breath, the mud of the broad bank provided a soft resting place for a massive, terribly wounded figure.

Darlantan's great silver head rose from the mire, the luminous amber eyes blinking several times as Kagonos scrambled down the embankment and knelt beside his oldest friend.

"I am glad to see you alive, Pathfinder," said the dragon, Darlantan's voice a rasping shadow of its formerly powerful timbre.

"And you," Kagonos replied, trying to bite back the sadness that cloaked his words. "You fought the blue dragons, held them off-and lived."

"There is no need for deceit-I will not see the next sunrise," Darlantan demurred. "But that is of little consequence. My time is through, but because of our victory today there will be many families of elves and humans who will live out their lives in peace. That is a worthy knowledge to carry to one's death, I think."

"And I, too, Silver One. But I grieve that you, who have fought so valiantly, should not live to see that blossoming of peace."

"I have seen much in my time-though I did not see the two blue dragons come at me from below. That's when they rended my wing," the serpent declared with a wry chuckle that carried some of his usual resonance. "It was the fall-something more than a mile, I should think- that did the rest." The mild laughter faded into a coughing gurgle that left no doubt as to the severity of the wounds.