They turned at the sound of the unfamiliar voice.
A hunched figure crouched on all fours, cloaked in a long gray robe, worn from travel but still richly embroidered. Sonder had never seen anything like it.
Its face was veiled, but the voice had a masculine tone—at least by human standards.
Vell frowned. "And who told you that?"
"No one needed to," the figure said softly. "It's in the songs. In the wind, when it hums and thinks no one hears."
The sea folk delegate sneered. "What would a lurker know of elven affairs?"
The stranger flinched.
"Don't call him that," Vell said. "The Velathi are a noble people—if anyone bothered to speak with them. Like the queen once did with yours."
"Gracious words," the Velathi murmured, bowing his head even lower to the ground.
Sonder tilted hers. "What did you mean by 'a broken heart'? Who could break a queen's heart?"
"They say she bound herself to the world like no other kalandir dared. She loved it too deeply. When she saw its pain—its suffering—it overwhelmed her. And so, she followed her fate."
"That doesn't kill a person," the sea folk delegate scoffed.
The Velathi speaker looked at them. "Doesn't it?"
As the mist drifted low around the sea folk, another delegation was quietly ushered to their lodgings.
This time, it was the dwarves with silver-ringed beards. They followed their guide with quiet dignity, though not without casting a few sharp glances back at the other guests.
The Velathi speaker watched them go, then turned back to Vell and Sonder. "The high queen held peace longer than any would have believed. But peace takes a toll. Some say she gave too much."
Suddenly, from the white tree, the king of the Eosan spread his vast wings and glided down to them. He landed with grace and strode forward.
"I've listened and heard," he said. "And I wonder—did someone help her along the way to depart from this world?"
The sea folk delegate stiffened. "You think she was killed?"
"I think I don't know," the king said, folding his feathered arms. "And that's what troubles me. How else could she have died? And if she was killed, who knows how to end a kalandir?"
"Conspiracy? You're accusing her kin?" Vell asked.
The king nodded only once in response.
Silence fell.
The Velathi's head stayed bowed. "If it was family," he said slowly, "that's a wound that doesn't heal. Not even with centuries, or until the end of the world."
"You're suggesting the unthinkable. Her own blood?" the sea folk delegate whispered.
"I'm not accusing," said the king. "Just asking. Maybe a warning. There are old powers—silent ones—that have always feared peace. Or hated it."
Vell spun his staff. "Who was with her at the end? Who found her?"
"Her court," the king said. "The inner ring. Her guard. Though the one to find her was her handmaiden. Still in her bed. Bereft of all life."
"What about the elven healer?" the Velathi added. "If there was sickness or signs, they must have known. Unless... they are gone too."
"She's not," said the sea folk. "We saw her. Near the amber pools. Alone."
Vell turned to Sonder. "Shall we go looking?"