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"By Rhais...Siamak, the elves! The Emissary is destroying them!"
Siamak, surprised by Zamara's sudden outburst, looked up at her. "What?" He had been quickly filling Jarult in on the events of the past day or so, starting with Zamara's sudden arrival at the palace. He was certain of Jarult's trustworthiness, and he figured that Jarult would aid them best if he was knowledgeable of the situation. For his part, Jarult listened mostly in silence, nodding as the pieces fell into place. He would have heard the news, of course, but for example Zamara's escape had been a mystery to him. In light of Zamara's recent statement, however, the old Chamberlain was momentarily forgotten. "What do you mean the Emissary is destroying the Elves? How do you know?" He nearly winced at that last question - bad question, best not to know. He knew Zamara wouldn't be lying at any rate, though maybe she was dazed or something after all that stress... "Never mind. Just what do you mean?" Siamak knew he sounded frazzled, and he was - he had finally been relaxing in the relative comfort and safety of Jarult's home when she had dropped this news on him.
"It's what the Orcs were sent out to do tonight," explained Zamara with certainty. "They were ordered to destroy the Elves.” Siamak could see some memory of a horror in Zamara’s eyes, not as something she had experienced but rather witnessed. Not surprising: from what he had seen of Orcs thus far, which was not a lot but enough, they would only be content with utter annihilation.
Siamak sighed. He had thought their part of the excitement of this night was over, but clearly they had more yet to do. “Well, we’ll have to do something. Without aid, the Elves are as good as done for: they will be unwarned and what’s more, they have already been herded into a small section of the city. But… we could be too late. How long has it been since the Orcs came to the temple? They will have had at least that long; surely the assault has already begun. Save being destroyed with them, what is there for us to do?”
In the quiet of the room, Jarult’s voice was heard clearly, “Prince Siamak, there are others beside yourselves who are loyal to Pashtia as it was, as it ought to be. They will support you; you are not in this alone.”
“Could the city be raised?” asked Zamara speculatively. “Do we have time?”
Siamak was thinking along a different line. “The army,” he murmured. “Not the Orcs, but the real Pashtian army. They have been ousted of their positions in all but name, their role having been taken by the Orcs. They are trained armsmen, and can be alerted quickly. And the General, he is Avari, surely he will help-” Siamak faltered for a moment. He is an Elf, the Elves are being destroyed… “I do not know how much time we have, but it is not much. The Elves will fight back; this will give us some time. Both the army and the civilians” – he nodded towards Zamara, acknowledging her previous comment – “need to be raised. This night has led from one risk unto another, and it now may be that this is our last chance – all or nothing.”
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