through Qualinesti?"

"Only the outskirts. They were polite, but they wouldn't permit me to go farther. Nothing's changed with them

in the last five hundred years, and provided the rest of the world leaves them alone, nothing will change. As for

the Silvanesti, they are, as far as we know, hiding out in their magical woods under the leadership of Lorac. I'm

not telling you anything you don't already know, however," Antimodes added, pouring himself another glass of

elven wine. The topic had reminded him of the excellence of its taste. "You must have had a chance to talk to

some of their mages."

Par-Salian shook his head. "They came to the Tower this winter, but only on business, and then they were

close-lipped and spoke to us humans only when absolutely necessary. They would not share their magic with us,

though they were quite happy to use ours."

"Do they have anything we would want?" Antimodes asked with a faintly amused smile.

"So far as scrollwork, no," Par-Salian replied. "It is shocking how stagnant the Silvanesti have become. Not

surprising, con

sidering their terrible distrust and fear of change of any sort. The only creative mind they have among them belongs

to a young mage known as Dalamar, and I'm certain that as soon as they discover what he's been dabbling in, they'll

throw him out on his pointed ear. As to their top White Robes,they were quite eager to obtain some of the new work

being done on evocation spells, particularly those of a defensive nature."

"They wanted to pay in gold, which is worthless these days. I had to be quite firm and insist on either hard steel,

which, of course, they don't have, or barter. Then they wanted to palm off on me some moldy magical spells that were

considered old-fashioned in my father's day. In the end, I agreed to trade for spell components; they grow some quite

lovely and unusual plants in Silvanesti, and their jewelry is exquisite. They traded and left, and I haven't seen them

since. I wonder if they're not facing some threat in Silvanesti or if they've divined that some threat is approaching.

Their king, Lorac, is a powerful mage and something of a seer."

"If they are, we'll never know about it," Antimodes said. "They would rather see their people wiped out before they

would lower themselves to ask any of us for help."

He sniffed. He hadn't any use at al l for the Silvanesti, whose white -robed wizards were part of the Conclave of

Wizards, but who made it clear that they considered this a tremendous condescension on their part. They did not like

humans and indicated their dislike in various ways, such as pretending they could not speak Common, the language

of all races on Krynn, or turning away in contempt when any human dared to desecrate the elven language by

speaking it. Incredibly long-lived, the elves saw change as something to be feared. The humans, with their shorter life

spans, more frenetic lives, and constant need to "improve," represented everything the elves abhorred. The Silvanesti

elves hadn't had a creative idea in their heads in the last two thousand years.

"The Qualinesti elves, on the other hand, keep a close watch on their borders, but they do permit people of other

races to enter, provided they have permission from the Speaker of the Sun and Stars," Antimodes went on. "Dwarven

and human metalsmiths are highly regarded and encouraged to visitthough not to stay-and their own elven artisans

do occasionally travel to other lands. Unfortunately, they frequently meet with much prejudice and hatred."

Antimodes knew and liked many of the Qualinesti and was

sorry to see them misused. "Several of their young people, particularly the eldest son of the speaker-what's his

name?" "The speaker? Solostaran."

"No, the eldest son."

"Ah, you must mean Porthios."

"Yes, Porthios. He's said to be thinking that the Silvanesti have the right idea and that no human should enter

Qualinesti land."

"You can't really blame him, considering the terrible things that happened when the humans entered Qualinesti

land after the Cataclysm. But I don't think we need worry. They'll bicker over this for the next century unless

something pushes them one way or the other."

"Indeed." Antimodes had noted a subtle change in ParSalian's voice. "You think something is likely to push them?"

"I've heard rumblings," said Par-Salian. "Distant thunder."

"I haven't heard thunder," Antimodes said. "The few Black Robes I meet these days are a little too smooth. They

act as if bat guano wouldn't ignite in their hands."