Rebel Fay

Chapter Eight

Wynn walked beside Osha with Leanalham nearby as they passed through an aspen grove filled with low grass and patches of dandelions. Magiere trudged ahead in her studded hauberk, the falchion strapped on her hip. Leesil was fitted with his weapons and hauberk covered in steel rings. Wynn was still uncertain how Magiere had managed all this, but part of her was relieved when she saw the two gearing up that morning, until Magiere forced Wynn to strap on the battle dagger over her short robe.

The last time Wynn tried to use a weapon she had been beaten to near unconsciousness by two of Darmouth's soldiers. The sheathed blade thumping against her side was an unpleasant reminder. She tilted back her head and saw a thousand green leaves haloed by the bright sun. Ahead, she heard the sound of running water.

"We have reached the river people," Leanalham said. "Our journey will be easier."

"Why is that?" Wynn asked.

Leanalham smiled. "You will see. Sgaile will arrange passage down the Hajh."

"The… 'spine'?"

"Yes. The river passes by Crijheaiche, the settlement of the Anmaglahk, on its way to the northeast bay."

Wynn admitted that traveling by boat was more convenient, but it offered less of an opportunity to see this world up close. Still, she might get a thorough overview from the river's open way.

"Chap!" she called, scanning the trees. "Come back here, unless you wish to swim the rest of the way."

Sgaile turned his head with a warning frown, and Wynn fell quiet.

It was not hard to fathom his worry. Soon Sgaile would face another encounter with his people. Anmaglahk he might be, but his social skills were as stunted as Magiere's. Unlike Magiere, this shortcoming appeared to concern him.

"Gather," he called out in Elvish.

Osha and Urhkar took parallel positions at the procession's sides. As the aspen grove thinned, Wynn drew a long breath. Through the trees she saw three broad vessels slipping past upon the wideHajhRiver.

The barges looked like massive flat-bottomed canoes as opposed to their square and flat human counterparts. Laden with twine-bound bundles and smooth, slatless barrels, they rode lightly like leaves in a stream. Two headed downriver, while the other passed on its way up.

Each had a central mast of polished yellow wood. Their sails were furled, but the bound fabric was brilliant white in the bright sun.Where their raised sides turned inward at the pointed bow and stern, single tines sprouted to either side of their hulls like straight, bare branches on a tree's trunk. Wynn could not guess what these were for.

Elves front and rear in the barges held long poles but seldom dipped these. The downstream vessels moved on the current, and although the one headed upstream traveled as smoothly as the others, behind its stern, river water churned softly, like the slow thrashing of a giant fish just below the surface.

"Wynn! Get up here!"

Leesil's harsh shout broke Wynn's enchantment. She had unwittingly stopped while staring at the barges. Leanalham pulled on Wynn's sleeve, while everyone else stood waiting. Their entire procession had halted and not one of them looked pleased with Wynn.

She hurried to catch up as Leanalham outdistanced her. Magiere firmly pushed Wynn out ahead of herself, and Osha sighed some exclamation under his breath.

Chap charged through the aspens, the white female on his heels. Wynn saw no sign of the majay-hi pack, and Chap's companion stopped short, hanging back to shift uncertainly among the trees. Before Wynn tried coaxing her closer, Sgaile urged all of them onward. Just ahead lay a settlement more diverse than that of Sgaile's clan.

A few domiciles were made of stout aspens bent toward each other overhead, with vines of spadelike leaves woven into walls between them. In the upper branches of an elm, wood platforms supported partitions of anchored fabrics as well as shaped vines. One tall building was made of planked wood, grayed with age and weather. Thin smoke rose into the air from somewhere hidden at the settlement's far end.

The elves worked at varied tasks, mostly to do with goods near the docks. Their clothing had morehide and leather than the people of Sgaile's home wore. Many wore their hair cut midlength or even short to the scalp. Dock-workers picked among barrels and bundles, taking stock of goods arriving or awaiting departure.

Few noticed the newcomers at first, but by ones and twos they paused and called or gestured to companions. Wynn saw displeasure and even hatred, as in Sgaile's enclave, but none showed initial shock upon seeing humans. This made her more anxious.

"Is this a center of commerce?" Wynn asked.

"Commerce?" Leanalham said. "I do not understand this word."

"The way you purchase… acquire with money."

Leanalham blinked twice."Money?"

"The people trade," Osha explained in Elvish, "all knowing the value of a thing, by its make and the time and effort involved. We barter, but we do not have…" He stumbled and switched to Belaskian: "Money. And An-maglahkdo not trade."

"Why not the Anmaglahk?" Wynn asked, still baffled.

"Quiet," Sgaile said.

A darker-skinned elf in matching leather breeches and tunic-style shirt rose at the head of one dock from inspecting bales of cattail heads. He appeared neither hostile nor surprised, and Wynn suspected all here somehow knew they were coming.

Leesil and Magiere hung back as Sgaile approached, but Wynn crept a little closer to listen.

The leather-clad man scanned them all, with an especially close study of Leesil and then Magiere. His blond hair was cropped semishort and stuck out in bristles. Soft lines creased his brow as if he frowned too often, and his tan skin glistened with sweat.

"Sgailsheilleache," he said. "You are always welcome."

"My thanks, Ghuvesheane," Sgaile answered.

It took Wynn some thought to discern the man's name-Black Cockerel. It matched his demeanor if not his appearance.

"I need passage to Crijheaiche," Sgaile said, "for seven and one majay-hi."

Ghuvesheane shifted his weight to settle on the other foot. "I cannot ask this of any bargemaster. Not even for you."

Sgaile's expression hardened. "Has one of mycaste passed this way?"

Ghuvesheane nodded sharply. "Three days ago.A woman, traveling fast. She took passage on Hionnahk's barge, headed downriver."

"You must try for us," Sgaile insisted."By request of Most Aged Father."

Ghuvesheane's eyesnarrowed, and he closed them.

"Ask them," Sgaile said flatly. "Ask in the name of Most Aged Father. Who among you would refuse the Anmaglahk?"

"Assisting your caste is not at issue," Ghuvesheane returned, eyes still closed."As you well know."

Several elves down the docks stopped in their labors. Two came up behind Ghuvesheane, dressed akin to him. But they looked far more offended, as if Sgaile had asked something shameful-something he should not have asked at all.

"Is it not enough that you bring humans among us"-Ghuvesheane finally opened his eyes, his steady gaze shifting toward Leesil-"let alone a murderer and traitor?"

Wynn bit her lip against a blurted denial. Osha remained passive, but an echo of the dockworkers' embarrassment filled his expression.

Urhkar licked his lips as if they had gone dry. "That charge has not been validated."

Ghuvesheane remained unconvinced."Perhaps not, but you still ask too much, and my answer is the same."

Neither Leesil nor Magiere understood what was said, but Wynn wondered what would happen if Sgaile was unable to procure passage.

A young and thin-muscled elf came up the shoreline. "I will take you," he said, ignoring Ghuvesheane. "No one need ask me." He glanced at

Leanalham, as if he knew her. "We are still loading, but there is space near the front."

Dressed in leather breeches, he wore a goatskin vest with the leather side out and no shirt beneath it. He was barefoot and gestured to a small half-loaded barge down at the end of the next dock.

Ghuvesheane turned away with an exhale tainted with disdain.

Sgaile's jaw twitched as he nodded to the young bargemaster.

The exchange was peaceful enough, yet Wynn felt that it cost Sgaile more than all the rest of the journey combined. Much of their passage seemed to have taxed the Anmaglahks pride.

They were shown to a space near the barge s front where cushions and fur hides were laid out. Wynn made more seats out of their blankets. By the time the barge pulled into the river, everyone was situated, and the settlement slipped away behind them.

Their host's name was Kante-Spoken Word. Though the young barge-master seldom issued commands to his crew, two of four elves always stood post, one rear and one forward, while the other pair rested at the barge's stern, away from the passengers.

They floated down the Hajh both day and night, and Wynn passed the time watching a strange world drift by on the shores.

Trees of various make, flowers of wild color, a small waterfall, a bright flock of birds never ceased to pull her attention this way and that. Two fra'cise drank at the river's edge, until they saw the barge and began jumping and splashing in foolish antics. Parts of the forest grew dense and dim. Then the barge would pass a large meadow spilling its vivid green to the river's shore, where a herd of speckled antelope grazed. Once, Wynn caught a glimpse of a large silver deer with tineless antlers, the same as had bellowed at them the first evening in the forest.

But eventually she grew frustrated and then weary.

All the wondrous sights passed beyond her reach. Landfall was rare. They ate cold meals, with no fire but for the large lantern hung at the bow each night. The simple fare was plentiful-fresh or dried fruit and smoked fish. The river provided clean water for drinking and basic washing. But as Wynn continued to watch the shore slip past, she began to feel slightly dizzy.

Osha remained good-natured, though he sat day after day in the same position.

He explained that this barge was loaded with raw materials. Kante would unload some in Crijheaiche, trading with skilled craftsmen in the community. He would then fill his barge with other materials or goods-pottery, spices, tools, fabric, clothing, and more-for the journey to the bay. Some would be traded with the people of the city there called Ghoivne Ajhajhe-Front of the Deep-while the rest would be bartered with ships bringing goods and materials to and from other coastal communities.

While they spoke, a high-pitched yip carried along the riverside, and Chap looked over, whining softly.

The entire majay-hi pack bolted out of the forest to run along the reedy shore, paws splashing through the shallow water. Shades of silver-blue, steel, and inky gray moved in circles along the bank.

"Magiere, look!" Wynn said. "They are following us."

The white female barked once at Chap. He whined again, and Magiere reached down to scratch his head.

And still they floated onward four more days and nights.

Then as they passed an enormous sycamore with large roots reaching from the bank into the river, Wynn saw an archway in the base of its trunk. She almost missed it, mistaking its gray curtain for part of its bark.

"We are close to Crijheaiche," Leanalham said.

Wynn went numb. She did not know what to feel-relief or anxiety?

"How close?" Leesil asked, craning his head around.

Leanalham pointed to two broad elms.

Wynn saw more doorways as the barge drifted by. Soon, every other oak, cedar, and fir was larger than the last, and the spaces between them broadened.

Sgaile stood up when five long docks appeared on the shore ahead, with barges and smaller boats moored along them. Wynn caught a hint of joy on his face.

From what she understood, they would enter one of the largest communities in all the elvenTerritories. But Sgaile did not appear nervous. Was he not worried about their reception?

He put two fingers in this mouth and let out a long whistle.

Kante stood in the barge's prow and dipped his pole into the water. All four of his crew around the vessel did likewise, and the barge turned smoothly toward the docks. Where the docks met land, no trees blocked the view, and Wynn took her first glimpse of Crijheaiche.

The doorways in these trees were larger than those she'd seen elsewhere, and some trunks bulged to impossible size at their bases. She saw stalls of planked wood and shaped flora and colored fabrics. Inside these, occupants were busy at many kinds of work. One place appeared dedicated to the purification of beeswax. She heard rhythmic metallic clanks but could not spot anything like a smithy. There were fishmongers nearer the river, or the elven equivalent of such.

As the barge slowed in order to make harbor, a wild tangle of aromas filled Wynn's head. Beneath the scent of baked and roasted foods were rich spices and the powerful scent of herbs she had only known in the gardens of her guild on another continent.

For all the industry here, everything was still interwoven with the natural world.

Kante set his pole to stop the barge as four Anmaglahk trotted through the open bazaar and down the dock. Their long hair of sandy to white blond blew free in the breeze. None wore his or her cloak tied the way the few Wynn had seen beyond this land.

At first, only a few other elves turned and stared at the new arrivals, for barges landing here would be a common sight. From a distance, Leesil and even Magiere appeared to escape scrutiny. Perhaps their elven clothing obscured their true nature until an onlooker peered more closely. But a few eyes widened at Chap. Apparently, a majay-hl riding a barge was not a common sight.

The first of the four Anmaglahk to reach the barge's side was young, with blunt but prominent cheekbones.

"Sgailsheilleache, well met," he said in Elvish. "Frethfare hoped you would arrive by today."

He did not look at Wynn or Magiere. In fact, he seemed determined to cast his eyes anywhere but in their direction.

"Where is she?" Sgaile asked without greeting.

"With Most Aged Father," the young one answered. "I will tell her you have arrived."

"Has anyone seen En’nish?" Urhkar added.

The young Anmaglahk became rigidly formal at the sight of him and bowed his head in a reverent fashion.

"Yes, Greimasg'ah.She arrived two nights ago."

That one strange word eluded Wynn.A "holder" of something? Perhaps a title, as it certainly was not part of Urhkar s full name.

Sgaile nodded. "Have the quarters been prepared?"

"Yes, of course," the young elf answered.

Sgaile turned to Leesil, switching to Belaskian. "My caste has prepared a comfortable place for all of you. Please follow, but first… you must relinquish your weapons once more."

Leesil snorted. "You want to get us out of sight? Then where is my mother?"

"In truth, I cannot say," Sgaile answered and looked away. "You will soon speak to Most Aged Father, and he will answer in good faith. Nowplease, your weapons."

Wynn unbuckled the dagger, uncertain whether or not she was relieved to be rid of it. She was about to hand it to Sgaile, but turned instead to Osha. He took it with surprise and bowed his head as he tucked it in his belt.

"All right," Leesil said, unstrapping his punching blades. "But I want to see this leader of yours, and soon.Today."

He held out his blades and his stilettos. Sgaile took them with a hint of relief in his eyes. Once again, Magiere was last to relinquish her falchion, but she handed it over without a word. Leesil placed his hand on the back of her neck, combing his fingers through her dangling black hair.

Throughout the community up the slope, and across the other docks, numerous elves in bright clothing went about their business. Wynn noticed the Anmaglahk among them. They stood out like dark pebbles in a clear stream's bed.

Kante picked up Leanalham's bundle before she could do so and held it out to her. The gesture made the girl fidget nervously, and she would not look him in the eyes.

"You have my thanks…" Sgaile said to the bargemaster, but trailed off, unable to say more.

Kante raised a hand in polite dismissal. "No need. You always have my service."

He offered his hand to Leanalham. This made the girl even more uneasy, but she took it as he helped her onto the dock. Leesil lifted the chest of skulls and slipped his arms into its rope harness. Osha and Urhkar handed baggage off to their newly arrived comrades.

As Wynn stepped from the barge behind the others, the first young an-maglahk glared at Leesil and pointed insistently to the chest. When Leesil returned only a silent stare, the young one's expression hardened. Two of his companions dropped their baggage and closed in as he reached out.

Before Leesil could strike, Magiere stepped in front of him, shielding him from any assault. Sgaile shifted instantly between her and the others.

"No!" he snapped. "Move on!"

The young anmaglahk looked at Sgaile as if he had committed some violation. Osha, who had always kept silent behind his elders, startled Wynn with his harsh tone.

"He is bearer of the dead," Osha said in Elvish to the others."Leshil, descendant of Eillean."

The young anmaglahk before Sgaile blinked twice. He glanced once at Leesil and Magiere, both still poised for a fight.

"I beg forgiveness," he said.

"Attend your duty," Urhkar added flatly.

The four anmaglahk quickly took up the baggage. Not one of them said anything more.

Solid wood of the dock and then sound earth beneathWynns feet were quite welcome, but Sgaile rushed them all onward. Perhaps he was not so confident of their reception; or he neared the end of his mission and longed for it to be over.

Wynn wanted to study this new place, to poke about the stalls and observe how exchanges were made, but she found herself jogging half the time just to keep up. All around them, elves paused at the sight of Magiere's dark hair and pale skin-and Wynn's own short stature and round olive-toned face.The four anmaglahk with the baggage split into twos, a pair walking at each side of their passage. No one questioned or challenged them for bringing humans into this place.

A way past the shoreside bazaar, Sgaile halted before an enormous elm. He pulled aside the door hanging and motioned them inside. Only Wynn, Magiere, Leesil, and Chap entered, and Sgaile remained in the doorway.

"Be comfortable," he said. "You are safe and my caste will make certain of it. But do not leave this dwelling without Osha or another I designate. I will send food and drink as quickly as possible."

Leesil stepped toward him, and his mouth was taut in anger. Before he uttered a word, Sgaile cut him off.

"Soon," he said, and his expression seemed troubled. "You will speak to Most Aged Father soon. But heed me, Leshil. Do not leave this dwelling until I come for you."

He released the curtain and was gone.

Magiere put her hand on Leesil's shoulder, then began pulling the chest off his back.

Wynn believed that Sgaile would keep his word, though Leesil's impatience was mounting. No words of comfort from her would do any good, so she looked about their new quarters.

The elm's interior was one room, though larger than the family space in Gleann's home. Soft cushions were stacked to one side along with a rolled-up felt carpet of cerulean blue. The floor was bare earth instead of moss. There were ledges growing from the tree walls for beds or seats with cream blankets of downy wool folded upon each. A wide curtain of gray-green, like the clothes of the Anmaglahk, hung from a mounted oak rod across theroom's back. Wynn pulled it aside and found a small stone tub akin to Gleann's.

"Our guest house has been well prepared," she said.

Leesil's amber eyes flashed as he turned on her. "It's a cell."

By early evening, Leesil paced the tree's interior, berating himself for his stupidity.

Magiere and Wynn were captives, and he had no one to blame but himself. A wooden tray piled with fruit and a water pitcher had been brought, but he didn't touch any of it. There was also a glass lantern, prelit, that sent an aroma of pine needles through their cell. Some of their baggage had been delivered-but not their weapons.

To make matters worse, Magiere watched him with that same silent tension on her face that she'd worn throughout their time in Venjetz. She sat vigil on him, waiting to see if he would lose himself again.

Chap was the only one who could walk out if he wished. No elf so far had interfered with the comings and goings of the majay-?. But the dog just lay on the floor with his head on his paws.

Though Leesil seethed over their situation, it was mostly frustration. At least one of his companions might suggest something helpful. Were they any closer at all to finding Nein'a?

"What do you think happens next?" Magiere asked.

She sat on a wall shelf with one leg pulled up, and Leesil's frustration faded.

Magiere was just worried about him-about them all. She looked paler than usual, and the sleeves of her dark-yellow elven shirt were lightly marred from the journey. With her head tipped forward, black hair hung around her cheeks. He reached down and hooked her hand with two of his fingers.

"I don't know," he answered honestly. "Whatever comes, it'll depend on what this leader of theirs wants… this Most Aged Father. He put Sgaile through a great deal to bring us here, so I'd assume this meeting won't wait long."

"He wants something from you," Magiere whispered.

Leesil saw the vicious narrowing of her eyes and wondered if her irises flickered to black for an instant.

"Of course he does," he answered.

She watched him, probably wondering what reckless notion he had in his head.

"And that means he'll pay for it," Leesil added. "Perhaps he wants it badly enough to release my mother. It's been so many days since we left the mountains. I thought surely I'd find her by now… seen for myself that she's all right."

Magiere stood up suddenly, and Leesil flinched, expecting another tongue-lashing.

She slipped her arms around his waist. The studs of her hauberk clicked against the rings on his.

Chap got up with a warning rumble, and the doorway curtain swung aside as Sgaile stepped in.

"Come, Leshil," he said. "It is time."

"Alone?" Magiere said. "I don't think so."

The curtain lifted once more, and another anmaglahk stood in the doorway without entering. Something about her put Leesil on edge.

She was slender like a willow, with thin lips and a narrow face, but her features were otherwise pure elven. Her hair was like the color of sun-bleached wheat and hung in slight waves.

This one wasn't as adept as Urhkar, or even Sgaile, at hiding her feelings. Her loathing of him was plain to the eyes. Leesil nearly felt it crawl on his skin like dry heat from a weaponer s forge.

It was different from En’nish’s personal and manic hatred. This woman took in the sight of Magiere touching him, and Wynn sitting on the ledge next to Chap, as if she would burn this long-nurtured tree just to cleanse it of any human taint.

"You will come," she said in Belaskian."Now."

"He's not going anywhere," Magiere answered. "Your leader can come here to speak to him."

The look in the woman's eyes almost made Leesil back up and pull Magiere away. She said something to Sgaile in Elvish.

Sgaile stepped close to Leesil, leaning in and speaking softly. "Leshil, you must come. This is Frethfare, the hand of Most Aged Father. He cannot come to you, so Frethfare carries his… request that you come to him-as a courtesy. All will be made clear."

Leesil only half-trusted anything Sgaile said, for one could bend one's word without breaking it.

"And then I see my mother?" he asked.

Sgaile hesitated. "I cannot say. That is for Most Aged Father to decide."

Chap crossed the room in silence. He stared at this woman, Freth, for so long that she finally looked down at him. A bit of uncertainty broke through her revulsion.

Chap lifted his head toward Leesil and barked once.

"All right," Leesil said. He ran his hand down Magiere's back. "Stay here and look out for Wynn."

Magiere grabbed his arm so tight it hurt. "No."

"Chap is coming with me," he said. "Theywon't… can't stop him from doing what he wants. I'll be back when I learn what this is all about."

She was frightened, and a scared Magiere was dangerous. Her fear pulled at him, but he couldn't stop now. If he let her keep arguing, fear would quickly shift to anger. He peeled her fingers from his arm and held her hand for a moment.

Freth backed out through the curtain as if the sight disgusted her.

Sgaile pulled the curtain back again, waiting. As Leesil turned to leave, Magiere tightened her grip.

"You owe me a promise for a promise," she warned.

Leesil wondered what it meant until he glanced back to find that Magiere's eyes weren't on him. They were on Sgaile.

Sgaile glanced at Leesil and nodded firmly to her."Always."

Magiere finally released Leesil's hand.

"I'll be back soon," he said, and slipped out.

He emerged on the outskirts of Crijheaiche again. Freth had already moved off, and Sgaile urged him to follow. He couldn't help but notice how fluidly Freth moved-just like his mother. She turned in the waning daylight to look down at Chap.

"majay-hi?" she said."In Crijheaiche?"

Sgaile spoke something brief in Elvish. Freth's lips were pursed. His answer did not seem to satisfy her, but she walked on.

Leesil looked about, but there were no other dogs in sight. The majay-hi pack that followed the barge had only appeared now and then, always hesitant to come too close. Perhaps they had lived so long in a land where humans weren't tolerated that they were confused by those who walked with elves. But still, Freth's question was odd.

Freth led them away from the riverside, but they continued to pass through populated areas. Many amber eyes watched their passing. Some whispers reached Leesil's ears. He thought he heard someone say "Cuir-in'nen'a." His gaze wandered so much that, when they came upon it, the oak tree seemed to rise out of nowhere in front of them.

Sitting in a wide mossy clearing, it was ringed by other domiciles a stone's throw away. Any one of them would have matched Gleann's home, but compared to the oak at the clearing's center, they appeared small and stunted. Its roots made the earth rise in ridges spreading out from its base. Its breadth would have matched six men laid end to end. It seemed impossible that it even existed. And its mass of branches and leaves rose beyond sight, nearly blotting out the sky.

Five anmaglahk stood near it, and one stepped out, exposing himself to full view.

He was taller than Sgaile, with broad shoulders and a build that seemed too heavy for an elf. To Leesil, he looked rather like a human stretched to a height not of his race. But the man was purely elvish, from hair streaked with silver-gray among the whitish-blond to large amber eyes in a triangular face with-

Leesil stopped and planted himself firmly. Anger made his throat go dry.

Four scar lines angled down the man's forehead, jumping his right eye to continue through his cheek to the back of his jaw.

"Brot'an," Leesil whispered to himself. Memories burned inside his head.

In Darmouth's family crypt, Brot'an had whispered to him; he'd told him that the one elven skull among the warlord's bone trophies was his own mother's. Leesil had rushed Darmouth, ramming his curved bone knife through the warlord's throat, and then watched as the tyrant drowned in the blood flooding his lungs.

Brot'an had done it with nothing but Leesil's own guilt, turning it to anguish with a simple lie. Leesil had finished what this anmaglahk had come to do-assassinate Lord Darmouth and start a bloodbath in the Warlands.

Leesil had taken one more life, just like the weapon he was. The one Brot'an had used.

Chap's rage mounted until it overwhelmed what he sensed from Leesil. Ears flattered, he pulled back his jowls and opened his jaws.

Brot'an'duive-Dog in the Dark.Deceiver!

Chap shook under taut muscles with fur rising across his neck.

Brot'an's white eyebrows knitted, bending the scars on his face.

It did not matter to Chap whether this one shared any feeling for Eillean. Brot'an had used Leesil like a tool and brought Nein'a back to be condemned and caged. This much and more Chap had learned when he had dipped into the tall elf's surfacing memories in Darmouth's crypt.

He should have never listened to Magiere-never let this man leave that place alive. He should have torn off Brot'an's scared face, there and then.

And now, here was Brot'an, waiting as Leesil came to the patriarch of the Anmaglahk. How much had this assassin told his own kind of Leesil and Magiere?

The others near Brot'an moved a few steps toward Chap in surprise. One of them said, "majay-hi?"

Chap reached out quickly from one to the next, searching for any surfacing memory. All he caught were images of majay-hi in the forest mingled with a few from various inhabited settlements.

He had learned from the memories of Lily and her pack that the majay-hi occasionally bore their young among elven communities. They wanted their children to be aware of and accustomed to the elves before they returned to life in the forest. Chap was uncertain why these four and even Brot'an found his presence here so baffling.

Then it struck him. Of all the forest packs these anmaglahk had witnessed, none had ever seen a majay-hi in this place-in Crijheaiche.

Why?

He heard Frethfare's sharp voice but did not catch her words-all his attention returned to Brot'an.

Let instinct take all reason from him. Here and now, all he wanted was to tear into Brot'an.

But Chap held his ground. Where would that leave Leesil?

Brot'an stood his place with only a puzzled frown on his long, marred features. The four behind him took hesitant steps froward, two shifting to either side of Chap and just out of his lunging reach.

"Greimasg'ah?" one said, looking to Brot'an, but the elder elf gave no reply.

Chap had heard this word, though he did not know its meaning. At the docks, it had been used for Urhkar as well.

Sgaile dropped to one knee before Chap, holding his palms out.

"No," he said in Elvish."No… violence… here."

He spoke with slow emphasis, as if to make certain Chap understood.

"Leshil, make him understand!" Sgaile added in Belaskian.

Brot'an's eyes shifted with keen interest at this strange demand. Chap held his ground.

"Is this the real reason you took my weapons?" Leesil asked, but it sounded more like an accusation.

"No," Sgaile answered. "But it is now just as good a reason. This is neither the place nor the way for whatever grievance you and the majay-hl have with Brot'an'duive."

Reluctantly, Chap agreed. He circled back around Leesil's legs, coming up beside him to face the others. Let the deceiver breathe for now.

As far as Chap was concerned, Brot'an'duive was dead, though the man did not yet know it.

An exclamation erupted from one of the other anmaglahk. Chap followed the man's astonished gaze out between the domicile trees at the clearing's edge.

A white blur darted from one tree to another, reappearing halfway around the next trunk.

Lily peered out at Chap and looked hesitantly at the others.

Chap's rage softened at the sight of her. Without thinking, he yipped, hoping she would join him.

Lily shifted nervously. She took two steps toward him but then backed away, half-hiding behind a domicile tree.

Chap knew her reluctance to be near humans and often sensed her concern and puzzlement that he did so. But as he reached for any memories surfacing within her, an image of the central oak appeared in his mind.

Its doorway was but a dark hollow he could not see into, and the sight of it was coated in Lily's fear.

He turned his attention back to the Anmaglahk as Brot'an raised an arm toward the tree and stepped out of the way.

"Go inside, Frethfare," he said in Belaskian. "Most Aged Fatherawaits." His face took on a more pleased expression. "Well met, Sgailsheilleache. Your journey was swifter than expected. Come and tell me of it."

Sgaile hesitated. "I have taken guardianship for Leshil and his companions."

"And my word holds all others to your purpose," Brot'an said. "No one will touch him or his. You will come with me."

Sgaile seemed only half-satisfied, but relented."Yes, Greimasg'ah."

Events were not playing out to Chap's liking, but he saw nothing he could do. He and Leesil were surrounded by their enemies for now. Frethfare headed for the behemoth tree, and he nudged Leesil forward, keeping himself between his companion and Brot'an.

Brot'an's head turned sharply and fixed upon a point at Chap's rear. Something sharp clapped on Chap's right hind leg. He whirled to snap but quickly stopped.

Lily held his leg firmly in her jaws. She tugged, trying to pull him, then let go and began barking wildly as she backed across the clearing.

Chap saw the center oak and its black hollow doorway in her thoughts. She wanted him to leave this place, but why? And how could he tell her that he could not do as she asked?

He barked twice at her and trotted toward the oak. Lily did not follow.

Frethfare pulled the doorway curtain aside, and Chap entered first into a large empty space within. The only fixture was a wide stairway of living wood to one side, but it led downward into the earth, not up as in Gleanns home.

Chap descended watchfully and emerged into a large earthen chamber. He stood in a hollow space below the massive oak. Thick roots arched down all its sides to support walls of packed dirt lined with embedded stones for strength. Glass lanterns hung from above, filling the space with yellowed twilight. In the chamber's middle was the trees vast center root. As large as a normal oak, it reached from ceiling to floor and into the earth.

Leesil stepped down beside Chap, his tan face paled by the sickly light. Leesil hated not having control, as didChap, and they had long since lost hold of their own path.

Frethfare descended behind them as a thin voice filled the earthen chamber.

"Come to me… here."

It came from the wide center root.

Chap stepped through the earthen chamber, around the center root, and found an oval opening that at first had been too hard to spot in its earth-stained wood. Leesil hesitated, but Chap inched forward to peer within. He froze at what awaited them.

The oak's vast center root held a smaller room more dimly lit than the outer chamber surrounding it. And its inner walls appeared alive even in its stillness.

Hundreds of tinier root tendrils ran through its curved walls like taupe-colored veins in dark flesh. The walls curved smoothly into a floor of the same make, and Chap was reluctant to even place his paw on its surface. Soft teal cushions rested before a pedestal flowing out of the floor's living wood. The back wall's midpoint flowed inward as well to support it.

Wall and floor protrusions melded together into a bower… or was it more a crude cradle? Among the clumps of fresh moss therein, two eyes stared out from a decrepit form.

Once he would have been tall, but he now curled fetal with his head twisted toward his visitors.

Thin, dry white hair trailed from his pale scalp around a neck and shoulders barely more than shriveled skin draped over frail bones. His triangular elven face was little more than jutting angles of bone beneath skin grayed by want of daylight. Deep cracks covered features around eyes sunken deeply into their large slanted sockets. His amber irises had lost nearly all color. All that remained was a milky yellow tint surrounded by whites with thread-thin red blood vessels. Cracked and yellowed fingernails jutted from the shriveled and receding skin of his skeletal fingers. His once peaked ears were reduced to wilted remnants.

"Father," Frethfare said.

She stood away from Leesil, bowing to the ancient elf. The old one ignored her and studied Chap and Leesil.

"Majay-hi," he said in a reedy voice. "I have not had such a visit in long years." He raised a hand to Leesil with slow effort. "Come closer… my son. Let me see you."

Chap reached for the memories of Most Aged Father.

He saw nothing. Not one image rose in the old one's mind. Chap remained poised and focused as he entered behind Leesil, and Frethfare followed.

Leesil tensed beside Chap as he took his first clear look at their host.

"I see your mother in you," said Most Aged Father. "And I know she trained you in the ways of our caste. You are Anmaglahk."

"Not in your oldest dreams," Leesil croaked, finding his voice. "Where is she?"

At that question, Chap caught the flicker of a glade in Most Aged Father's mind. Before it vanished, he saw a tall elven woman seated upon the grass. Beside her was a basket of moth cocoons, which she had been using to spin strands for raw sheot'a cloth.

Chap swallowed. Nein'a. But he caught no hint of where she was held.

"She is with us," Most Aged Father said, and lowered his hand. "She is a traitor to her people… to your people, Leshil. You are Anmaglahk, so I have brought you here to help her."

"Stop saying that!" Leesil answered. "I am not your son. You're nothing to me. Release her, and I'll take her far from here, where she'll never trouble you again."

Most Aged Fathernodded, his head rubbing the moss on which he lay. A stale scent like dust flooded Chap's nostrils.

"In good time," he said. "First you must do a service for your people… yes, you are of the people, and you would not turn your back on your own. Not on your kin and blood."

Leesil's voice rose. "Make some sense, old man! What do you want from me?"

Frethfare spun toward Leesil, as if she wished to strike him down. Most Aged Father remained calm and unaffected.

"There are others like your mother." A long silence followed before he went on. "She was misled-misguided-so she could not have acted alone. Your birth was a violation of our ways, but that is no fault of yours. But the idea of… a half-blood child… it could not have come from her. No, she was misled… yes?"

Chap saw a flash in Most Aged Father's mind-another woman,an an — maglahk. The resemblance to Nein'a would be clear to anyone, though her face was harder, her eyes colder.

Eillean.

"My sole concern is to protect our people," Most Aged Father continued. "Now you are honored to serve them as well. Most of the Anmaglahk are true in their hearts. But a few… just a few have fallen from our way, like your mother. They will see you as the son of Cuirin'nen'a. They will seek you out. Find them, Leshil-help me shield our people-and I will release Cuirin'nen'a toyou."

Chap could not help looking up at Leesil. This offer was nothing more than a trade of flesh, the dissidents for Leesil's mother.

Sweat now matted Leesil's blond hairs to the sides of his face, but his expression was guarded.

"Let me see her first."

"No," Most Aged Father answered softly.

"Then you get nothing from me. I talk to her first… then you and I might come to an arrangement."

Chap could not believe what he heard.

Most Aged Father seeded violence among humans. Did the Fay know of this ancient elf hidden in this shielded land? And if so, why had they never spoken of him? So concerned with keeping Magiere from the enemy's reach, had they no interest in why Leesil had been born and trained?

And now Most Aged Father sought to use Leesil for his own purpose, and Leesil had half-agreed.

Chap stifled a growl.

"We are not bargaining here," Most Aged Father said. "But there is no need for haste. I have given you so much to think on. I understand that you need time to consider. In the end you will do what is correct for your people… as I do. Go now. I will call for you again soon."

"I'm not going anywhere." Leesil's voice rose with every word. "My mother couldn't possibly be a threat to you now. Your Anmaglahk… they may look at you like some saint, but I'm not one of them. And with all those like Sgaile, following you blindly… what could you possibly fear from a few dissenters?"

As these words left Leesil's lips, a rapid barrage of memories emerged in Most Aged Father's mind and assaulted Chap's awareness. The room went dark before his eyes.

Out of the darkness came black scaled coils-circling and writhing.

Chap's legs began to buckle.

He heard screams as the battlefield took focus.

Bodies of elves and dwarves and humans of varied race lay mingled among those of other creatures that walked on two or four legs. All mutilated and left to rot beneath a dying sun.

Two seas of the living had crashed together on this open plain of rolling hills. The battle's remains were so mangled and mixed that Chap could not tell which direction either had come from. Broken armor and lances and every other thing were spattered in blood that had already begun to dry or soak into the earth. There were so many…

So many that Chap saw not a blade of grass for as far as his sight could reach.

The growing stench thickened until it choked him.

On the ground at his feet-for he saw elven boots of forest green suede, and not his own paws-lay the broken body of what the humans called a goblin. Two-thirds a man's height, these pack animals walked on two legs with cunning enough to use a weapon as well as their teeth and claws.

Wild spotted fur covered its apish body and caninelike head of shortened snout and muzzle. It had clothed itself in motley pieces of armor, likely stolen from the dead in previous battles. Foam-matted jaws hung open, and its tongue sagged in the dirt. Dead eyes with sickening yellow irises stared unblinking at Chap's feet.

A jagged rent in its throat exposed the ends of its severed windpipe.

Perhaps one of its own had turned on it in their frenzy for slaughter. There was strangely too little blood on the ground beneath it.

Dusk rapidly closed in on Chap.

At first he noticed stars along the horizon. Then they moved.

Not stars, but glints from some light… on black scales that writhed all around him…

"Chap!"

Strong hands gripped his shoulders until his forepaws almost lifted from the floor. Leesil knelt before him, glistening face wary and awash in concern.

"Chap, what's wrong?"

Chap lifted his head, his legs still shuddering, and looked over Leesil's shoulder. Most Aged Father watched him in suspicion. He whined and pushed his head into Leesil's chest.

"You are dismissed," Most Aged Father said. "Leave now. We will talk again."

Leesil carefully released Chap and stood up. "Until I see Nein'a…don't bother sending for me."

He turned and, with a brush of fingertips across Chap's neck, strode out for the stairs, not waiting for Frethfare to usher him out. Chap did not look back to the old elf as he followed on unsteady paws.

Thegreat war was but a myth to some. What he had seen and felt in that flash of the old elf's memory left him shaken.

The humans called it the Forgotten History… or just the Forgotten. Some believed this war had covered the known world.

And Most Aged Father had been there.

Most Aged Father settled in his moss-padded bower, neither worried nor distressed. The meeting with Leshil had progressed as expected. After so long a life, there was little he could not easily anticipate.

Leshil would struggle in anger and denial, until he realized no other choice remained. He could not leave this land without permission. He could not stay indefinitely. He could not find his mother without assistance.

He would realize the truth soon enough and accept it.

Most Aged Father was patient. The names of the dissenters would be uncovered. They would join Nein'a, each in his or her own separate solitude unto the end of their days. And he would turn his full attention to the human masses once again.

Only one thing troubled him. He had not anticipated the majay-hi.

None of its kind ever came here. He knew their history better than anyone, for in the end days he had fought beside a few of the born-Fay, who had come into flesh in the war against the Enemy. But their descendants never neared this place. He felt no blame toward them. No matter their ancestry, they did not understand why he clung to life for so long.

The Enemy only slumbered and would return.

It would always return.

But this majay-hi with Leshil had walked into his dwelling and looked him in the eyes.

Most Aged Father would learn more of this one. He did not care for being in the dark on such matters. In his long years, he'd learned that nothing ever happened without purpose.

But the conversation with Leshil had exhausted him. He placed withered hands against the wood of his home, his life's blood. Slowly, the forest's life flowed toward him. In recent years, it took more to sustain him another day. His moments of strength and vitality shortened ever so slightly.

His Anmaglahk thought him omniscient and eternal. They honored his sacrifice for remaining among them rather than joining their ancestors in rest. They believed his presence could reach to all living things that thrived and grew from the earth. But this was no longer true.

He could reach out through the trees and hear words spoken anywhere in this land, but long distances now took great effort. And remaining aware of just one place at time was all he managed. It drained him quickly.

Today it was necessary. Today he must hear what was said between Leshil and his companions.

Some time had passed, and likely Frethfare had returned Leshil to the quarters prepared for him and his companions.Comfortable quarters but lacking in any luxury or pleasing distraction that might make waiting easier. Lacking enough to keep Leshil always on edge and wanting to leave.

Most Aged Father closed his eyes, his feeble hands still resting upon the bower's living wood, and reached out through the roots of the trees. Through the wood and leaves of a domicile elm, he heard Leshil's voice.