The messenger was a Qualinesti known to Gilthas. A former silversmith, he was meticulous and careful by trade and not one to spread false alarms. Gilthas climbed down at once.

Although he took pains to hide it, the climb was not an easy one for him. His hands trembled as they grasped the crudely shaped rungs of the ladder, and pain like hot needles stabbed through his ribs. He had taken a blow to the back from a nomad tribesman just before the elves entered the valley. His people put his continuing weakness down to that cowardly attack and he allowed the mistaken impression to stand. Only a handful of elves knew the truth. Consumption, true to its harsh human name, was eating him from the inside out. The sickness had only worsened in the damp, chill air of Inath-Wakenti. By the standards of his long-lived race, Gilthas was still young, but appeared decades older, cheeks sunken and eyes deeply shadowed. He slept little, ate less, and worked as steadily as his failing health would allow.

When Gilthas reached the bonfire in the center of camp, he knew immediately what the trouble was. Only five griffon riders stood by the blazing fire. Two were missing.

“Where is Lady Kerianseray?” he asked immediately.

“I’m here,” she answered, arriving at a jog. She stripped off her gauntlets and took the cup of water offered by a nearby elf. She drank it quickly, but before she could finish, the other riders were clamoring for permission to seek their missing comrade.

From the darkness another voice asked, “What has happened?”

Gilthas turned. The newcomer was Porthios. Covered as always by a shapeless, ragged robe and cloth mask, he halted at the edge of the firelight. Porthios was brother to Lauralanthalasa, Gilthas’s mother, who had perished in the fall of Qualinost. Each was very nearly the only family the other had left, yet there had never been much love between uncle and nephew. Proud Porthios had not approved of Lauralanthalasa’s choice of husband and felt Gilthas carried the taint of his half-human father, Tanis. Formerly Speaker of the Sun, Porthios had been horribly burned by dragonfire during a battle. The fire that had nearly killed him seemed to have hardened his emotions further, scarring him inside as well as out. Gilthas doubted Porthios cared for anyone, save perhaps Alhana, his wife.