Sometimes good scenes are cut for reasons of length, or because they do not advance the main plot.  The following scene was removed from The Betrayal for such reasons. 

This scene takes place after Eliani's arrival in Glenhallow and before the Council convenes. 

This bonus scene from The Betrayal appears exclusively at Book View Cafe. The Betrayal, from Del Rey Books, is available in print, ebook, and Kindle formats.  Learn more at http://aelven.com.

Copyright © 2009 by Pati Nagle. All rights reserved. No part of this text may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission of the author. Exceptions are made for downloading this file to a computer for personal use.

"The Whispering Walk"

The morning before the Council was to begin, Eliani slipped away from her chambers in the palace and went down into the fountain court.  Sunlight glinted off the myriad cascades, dazzling her eyes as she made her way toward the Whispering Walk.  The air was cool and filled with floral scents from the gardens interspersed among the fountains, a last burst of vitality before winter sent the plants dormant.  Eliani breathed deeply, sighing with pleasure. 

A number of other guests were strolling in the court.  Eliani smiled at them in passing, but did not pause to converse.  When she reached the Whispering Walk she looked down its length, and was pleased to find it unoccupied. 

A small bench of whitewood sat nearby, one of many scattered throughout the court.  Eliani carried it into the walk, going down to the far end where she hoped to be undisturbed.  She set the bench down and took the flute Turisan had given her out of the sleeve of her tunic. 

Soft, smooth in her hands.  Resonant with whispers of Turisan’s khi, even here, where the dancing arcade of water confused its tone. 

Eliani sat down, set her fingers over the holes, and raised the flute to her lips.  She played, low and soft, and the very music seemed to draw her heart out of her.  She let the melody create itself, fed by her longing for comfort, for decision. 

The notes rose higher, higher in plaintive yearning, then softly fell to quaver around the base of the little flute’s range.  No resolution.  No answer, at least not yet. 

She paused, realizing she had been playing with eyes closed.  She opened them and looked up at the water arcing overhead.  Mist fell lightly down from it, scarcely enough to moisten her brow.  She inhaled deeply, then glanced back down the walk toward the fountain court. 

Turisan stood a few paces away, smiling at her, dressed in a long, formal robe of pale green broidered richly in silver.  Eliani sat up, startled and embarrassed.  Had he followed her yet again?

“Fair music, Lady Eliani.”  The voice was deep, gentle.  “I hope you do not mind my listening.” 

Eliani hastily stood, nearly tipping over the bench as she realized her mistake.  “Lord Jharan.  Forgive me, I did not hear you approach.” 

“The music drew me, but I have no wish to disturb you.  Shall I go?” 

“No.  No, please stay.” 

She saw now that his hair was a shade darker, the lines of his face somewhat leaner than Turisan’s.  There was also a slight tautness about his eyes, as if he were about to frown even though he was smiling. 

“My son makes flutes rather like that.” 

“He gave this one to me.” 

“Ah.”  Jharan’s smile widened. 

Feeling awkward, Eliani glanced at the bench.  “Will you sit?” 

“Let me fetch another.” 

He smiled again, and to her surprise he stepped straight through the wall of water, out into the garden, scattering water over the walk.  In a moment he returned the same way with a second bench in his hands.  He set it down across the walk from Eliani’s, and shook water from the sleeves of his elegant robe. 

The Lord Jharan she had heard described in countless fireside tales, indeed the Lord Jharan she had seen preside over Glenhallow’s court the last few days, would never have done such a thing.  Her astonishment must be writ on her face, for he glanced up at her and grinned as he sat down. 

“One day when we were young and this fountain was new, your father and I nearly flooded the court, playing at that game for an entire afternoon.”

Eliani laughed.  Suddenly more at ease, she sat down again, holding the flute in her lap. 

Jharan sat across from her.  “I am glad I found you here.  I have regretted not yet having a chance to better our acquaintance.” 

“You have many visitors to attend to.” 

“A great many, and some are more demanding than others.” 

Eliani hid a smile, thinking she knew to whom he referred.  Lady Pashani, the Steppe Wildes’ governor, was forceful to put it mildly. 

“Allow me to tell you, belatedly, what immense pleasure it gives me to welcome my shield-brother’s daughter to Glenhallow.” 

“Thank you.  It is a beautiful city, far beyond my imaginings.” 

Jharan nodded.  “We are highly blessed.” 

Eliani thought of the kobalen at Midrange, of the risk to Glenhallow she had taken in not immediately alerting Jharan, through Turisan, of the danger.  She felt color creeping into her cheek. 

Jharan shifted on his bench.  “Highstone has grown, I imagine, since I last saw it.” 

“A little, perhaps.  The public circle was widened in my youth.”  Highstone’s circle, which would have fit twenty times into Glenhallow’s. 

“Not at the expense of Tishani’s lodge, I hope.” 

“Never that.  On the forest side.” 

“Ah, yes.” 

Eliani searched in vain for some pleasantry to offer.  She was still intimidated by Jharan, and could not but find his resemblance to Turisan distracting. 

He came to her rescue.  “My son told me of your Evennight celebrations.  He enjoyed them much more than he would have done ours.” 

“Why so?” 

“He is not fond of large, stately gatherings.  On Evennight we hold a number of ceremonies and dedications throughout the day, followed by a formal dance in the evening.  Very grandiose, I fear.” 

“Then I fear I would not like them either.” 

Jharan laughed softly.  “I will try to remember that.” 

She had insulted him.  Stupid blunder.  She cast him an apologetic glance, but he looked more amused than offended. 

“Turisan was much admired in Highstone.” 

“Was he?” 

“Yes.  We see Greenglens there so seldom.  And—and his grace and courteous manner won him many admirers.” 

“I am glad to know he comported himself well.” 

“He did.  He was most gracious.  Most kind.” 

Most patient.  Intolerably understanding.  Why was she talking of Turisan to his father?  She felt her blush deepening. 

“He had nothing but praise for Alpinon.  I suspect he will visit you again.” 

A burst of chatter broke forth in the gardens beyond the water.  Jharan glanced that way, then stood up.

“I believe I should attend to my other guests.  Thank you for allowing me to sit with you a while.” 

“It was my pleasure.”  She watched him pick up his bench and move to carry it down the long tunnel of water.  “Lord Jharan?” 

“Yes?” 

Eliani swallowed.  “Has there been any word from Fireshore?”

His pleasant smile faded, and the tightness near his eyes increased.  “No.” 

“Will you postpone the council?” 

He gave her a serious glance, then shook his head.  “We will proceed.  We cannot afford to wait.” 

That was true.  Eliani glanced down.  When she looked up again, Jharan was at the far end of the walk, about to emerge into the court.  She watched him go, turning the silent flute in her hands.