Chapter 12

Turi sipped her hot tea carefully that morning. Besides soothing her cold it seemed to do wonders for her bruised heart. The Dirs were beavering away in the office, though it wasn't really clear to her what exactly they were doing. Turi found more solace in a nice cup of leaf tea and some serious self-pity.

In the back of her mind she was replaying last night's scene of lady Reinilian and the elven king. She felt unsure about what she had witnessed. They'd been really close, then the kiss the other day, and now this? Had she been sidelined so easily? So it was alright to be seen with her, huh? She dropped her head and sighed, involuntary balling a fist.

And why was Thranduil not being more forthcoming about a period in history and events that looked to be essential to her investigation? Not like that many elves were around that would recall details about this. In spite of being immortal, elves did not live forever due to disease, accidents, death in battle, and so on.

A stark realization hit Turi. 'Who was on the council 1400 years ago?' she asked the Dirs. She didn't wait for either to answer.

Turi ran out of the office, leaving her team to scratch their collective heads. She bolted out onto the busy walkway, dodging oncoming elves. Turi was shaking with tension as she skipped across adjacent walkways, her mind focused on her light bulb moment.

Turi rapped on Mýlill's door and burst in as soon as the elder let her in. 'I'm sorry my lady' she panted, 'but I need to know.'

The council member seemed to be on the mend now, and without smiling nodded at her. 'Please. I understand.'

'Mýlill, did you recognize your attacker?' Turi looked her straight in the eye.

The council member seemed to hesitate for an instance, doubt flashing in her eyes. 'Yes... and no.' She shook her head. 'So strange.'

Mýlill shook her head as she plopped down into her beige sofa. 'I can't shake the feeling that I have seen his face before' she looked helplessly at Turi. 'But I truly couldn't tell you where. Maybe a likeness.' She hung her head, thinking.

Turi bit back the words ah raich – aw shit, but she didn't let down. 'His words' she asked. 'You betrayed me daughter of snakes?' Angry. Personal.

Mýlill lifted her chin. 'Yes, that was strange.' Questions were still flooding Turi's mind. About who this attacker was. And how was he linked with the mystery female elf? Was Mýlill a victim of opportunity? Or had this assault been personal?

Maybe the elder was missing the point, so Turi pushed her harder. 'Please try to remember' she pleaded 'is there any personal connection you could phantom?'

'Hang on' Mýlill said, her face wrought with uncertainty as she pushed herself out of the sofa. She went to a part of the dwelling that seemed to be used as a study. It looked more like a library of sorts to Turi.

'It was a long time ago' Mýlill mumbled as old scrolls rustled through her fingers 'but we're bound to find something in my family's archive.' With a light ha she extracted a scroll from the pile she'd been leafing through and turned to Turi.

'Here.' She handed a wrinkled manuscript over. 'This scroll is but one of a number of old documents related to ongoing political discussions within the council a long time ago. They pertain to a radical group' Mýlill fingered the pile of dusty scrolls pensively. 'I was not involved, not politically active then... not a council member' she said, a slight smile playing on her lips. 'But your father was?' Turi finished her sentence. Mýlill nodded affirmatively. 'He was head of the armed forces.'

Turi greedily scanned the writing on the scroll. It described a kind of brotherhood, centred on an ascetic lifestyle, isolationist, elitist even. And not too kind to female elves, she noted.

As she settled down in the archive, Turi devoured scroll upon scroll. Finally, she started finding out more.

The group was shut down after some kind of failed coup against Thranduil. This was nothing short of unbelievable. And then Turi's suspicions were confirmed.

Once disbanded, one particularly wrinkly document read, some members were offered asylum, whereas others were exiled altogether. Turi leaned back in her round wooden chair and rubbed her eyes.

She now realised how this was personal: Mýlill's father had helped trial the conspiracy, judge the group members, and hand out the damning sentences of exile. This was why the attacker considered him a snake, an enemy to the cause.

But who used to be members of the group? If indeed they belonged to the highest echelons of power, as Taryan had suggested, and they were granted asylum... Could they still be among the council in this present day?!

None of the current members seemed quite old enough for that. But the sentencing did explain why Thranduil, who was witness to and part of all of this, would be reluctant to point the finger or give any names. Exile equaled death, in a way. But asylum meant a clean slate. He was honour-bound.

Turi pushed her chair back from the wooden table a bit too roughly. Things were clearer now, but only so much. She still had no idea who was involved in this, living or dead. Possibly both.

But king Thranduil knew.