Before them stood the gates of Alleria. The huge silver doors hung open, unguarded. They walked through the gates. None of them were prepared for the sight beyond. They stood in a wide avenue of gleaming white stone. Along the streets lay dozens of decaying bodies. Flies filled the air, feasting on the dead citizens.

"We must see King Kallen," mumbled Deallyona, barely keeping what little of her lunch remained. The elves stopped at the unattended stables, tethering their horses and making sure they had water and oats.

They walked down the street, passing hundreds of deceased elves. Around one particular building lay even more rotting bodies.

"That's the temple of Mystra," Dhenn said quietly.

They continued walking slowly deeper into the city. Ten minutes later they came to the doors of the castle. Made from white marble, the castle shone in the sun, defying the death surrounding it. Deallyona moved to lift the door-knocker, but the door opened, and a feeble- looking female elf peered out.

"Uialelen! You have returned with the gray moon-elf!" the elf said, her eyes opening in surprise and elation. "Come in quickly!" The three stepped into the castle. The old elf glanced around outside before slamming the door closed and barring it.

Brisid looked around the room in awe. Above him rose a vaulted ceiling of white stone. Permanent glowlamps placed around the entrance hall shed a warm amber light. Looking at the walls, floor, and the ceiling again, he wondered if the entire building was made of white marble.

"The king," the old elf wheezed, "doesn't have much time. You do not have much time."

She escorted the three elves not to the throne room, but to the king's sleeping chambers. The three waited outside the door while the old elf spoke with the king. The door soon opened and they stepped inside. King Kallen I lay on his large bed. Only his head and shoulders were visible beneath the sheets. His face bore many lines from both his stressful position and the disease. His white, moon-elf skin was tinged green, a stage of the illness, Brisid noted. The three elves knelt before the bed.

"Oh, get up. I'm tired of all the royal protocol," the king said. His voice was strong, contrasting with his sickly appearance.

"Deallyona Uialelen and Dhenn Duinutinu, welcome back. And you," the king said, turning to Brisid, "you must be the gray moon-elf, Brisid Celebmegil. I trust Deally and Dhenn have filled you in on our situation?"

"Yes, they have," Brisid said, noticing the king's rather friendly reference to Deallyona.

"And you will help us?"

"Yes, I will, yer highness. Except, in Velisa's curse, she said I could bring two people. Deallyona is one. Who is the other?"

On cue, another elf stepped into the room. "I will, Brisid," he said. "Your majesty," he added with a bow to Kallen. He had a deep and strong voice which echoed throughout the spacious room. At the sound of his voice, Deallyona turned around and hugged the new elf. "My name is Coraven Uialelen, Deally's older brother." Coraven, large by elf standards, was quite different than his sister.

Releasing her brother, Deallyona said excitedly, "Brisid's a Bladesinger!" The amazement was immediately palpable throughout the room. After a minute, Coraven whispered almost inaudibly.

"Perhaps we have a chance after all."

The old elf, whom they discovered was the king's mother, led them through the halls of the castle. After conversing for half an hour, the king had grown weary and had dismissed them. The halls were wide and well lit by glowlamps, but they passed not another soul while walking to their rooms. All the servants had either fallen to the disease or gone to their families, their escort explained. The situation was terrible but not as bad as it appeared. The streets remained empty only because the citizens feared the disease. Even then, though, time was short.

When they arrived at their rooms, she spoke.

"Supper will be served at sundown in the main hall. I'll find someone in this place to summon you at that time.

"If you need anything before then, ring the bell for awhile. Someone will come eventually, even if it be the elf before you."

Brisid walked into his suite and glanced around. He made his way to the bed and sat in the middle of it, crossing his legs beneath him. He vaguely noted the huge room with its plush rugs, many paintings, and ornate silver furniture. Closing his eyes, he meditated. He walked in a land of his false memories. He saw his father slaying drow before falling to their foul darts. His uncle led his mother and young sister from the battle. A crossbow bolt, however struck his sister down, and the dark elves fell upon her with twirling blades. His mother turned and watched her daughter's eyes dim in death.

Brisid shook his head. "No, truth bears that not," he mumbled to himself. He then thought of Velisa, speaking in defiance of her captors. She stood on a raised platform in the center of the city. A large crowd of elves filled the surrounding streets. They remained silent as she spoke. She began her address at noon, and did not cease until the sun hid its face behind distant mountains. The royal overseer acknowledged her opinion, following procedure, and then signaled to the archers. She was pierced by the heads of ten arrows. She looked at the shafts embedded in her torso almost with disbelief. Her blood dripped onto the platform beneath her. She closed her eyes and felt no more.

A light tapping on the door roused Brisid from his memories. He heard Dhenn's voice. It was dusk, the cleric said, and time for supper.

The three elves and the cleric, Brisid, Deallyona, Coraven and Dhenn walked silently behind a servant to the mess hall. No one else sat at the table. Both the king and his mother sent their apologies, blaming the disease. They were served breads and roasts, with a fine elven wine Brisid could not place. Indeed, Coraven explained, the drink was particular to Alleria. Agarenurulokim it was called-Dragon's Blood. After that, they spoke little. Between the short smatterings of conversation, the mess hall sounded only when the servants lay plates down or refilled drained glasses. The entire castle, it seemed to Brisid, was an empty wine bottle-once filled with riches, song and laughter, but now empty, discarded and forgotten.

The mood of the palace reflected on their attitudes, and when they finished their meal, one by one they excused themselves and retired to their rooms.