Rebel Fay

Chapter Sixteen

Night wore on as Magiere traveled beside Leesil and kept Wynn close. She cautiously allowed her dhampir nature torise just enough to widen her vision. It accomplished little with the moon hidden from sight.

Leesil said no more about his mother. Wynn was near physical exhaustion, so her bursts of babbling were few. All the Anmaglahk, especially Sgaile, were withdrawn and driven by their purpose. Only in one place in the world did people accept Magiere for who, rather than what, she was-Miiska. But home was far away.

She tried to shut out the vision she'd had in Nein a's clearing, the marks her hands left on the tree, and whatever lay ahead in Crijheaiche. She tried to focus on Leesil.

Leesil was the imaginative one, not she. After facing Nein'a's coldhearted-ness, all Magiere wished was to make him feel wanted-and to let him know he would at least have her for the rest of his days. He reminded her that there was a place for them in this world, where others waited to stand up with them on the day they swore their oath. Annoying as Leesil was at times, he was right.

His words painted a picture in her mind of celebration with Karlin, Caleb, little Rose, and perhaps Aunt Bieja. Magiere imagined Leesil with his hair tied back and wearing a clean white shirt-one he hadn't mended and patched beyond its time.

Yes, she wanted this too.

The surrounding forest began to look familiar, and Magiere caught the soft glow of lanterns among the trees. They passed an enormous oak swollen into a dwelling.

"We're close," she said.

"Oh, for a bath and clean clothes," Wynn grumbled.

Freth traveled just ahead of Leesil, but she slowed and dropped to the rear near En’nish.

Magiere found this odd. Then she saw someone running toward them between the domicile trees, flashing in and out of pools of lantern light or the seeping glow from under a curtained doorway.

Leanalham's yellow shirt stood out in the dark. She smiled and ran straight for Sgaile with her light brown ponytail swishing. Sgaile pulled her against his chest, and Leanalham's eyes wandered about the group until they found Wynn.

"I am so glad you are found," she said with the relief of a lifelong friend. "Urhkarasiferin said you were lost in the forest, but I knew Sgailsheilleache would find you."

Wynn smiled briefly over her exhaustion.

Magiere waited for Leanalham's rush of questions. But when the girl tried to go to Wynn, Sgaile's arm tightened. He held her back, turning slightly away. Magiere knew it wasn't Wynn who he kept the girl from-it was herself.

Sgaile spoke harshly in Elvish to Leanalham, and the girl's mouth dropped open with a flash of hurt in her eyes.

"Bartva'na!" Sgaile half-shouted, cutting off her rising protest.

Magiere understood the word from the little Elvish that she'd heard Wynn translate. Sgaile commanded the girl to stop and obey. Leanalham stared at him with open resentment.

"He ordered her back to their quarters," Wynn said quietly. "She is not to speak with us."

"What?" Leesil asked. "Why?"

It wasn't right for Sgaile to deny the girl so harshly. He didn't want his little cousin anywhere near the unnatural thing discovered among them. But for all the man's fear, he couldn't possibly believe Magiere would harm Leanalham. She'd given her word to watch over the girl whenever possible.

Sgaile's distress ran more deeply than Magiere had guessed.

She glanced carefully about at the other Anmaglahk. Most remained expression less, except for En’nish’s venomous glare and Freth's smoldering silence. But Brot'an now peered about the trees with a strange uncertainty.

Magiere wanted no more confrontations with Sgaile, and hopefully Leanalham would do as he asked.

Leanalham backed away, her features fading in the deeper black beneath a tree in the darkness.

"Shiuvalh!" Sgaile snapped.

That word Magiere didn't know, but his tone made her tense. A shadow appeared behind Leanalham, followed by another to the right. Magiere whirled around to find more closing on the left and from behind.

"Leesil…" she hissed in warning.

He turned, watching dark figures move in the night.

Osha stepped closer to Wynn. Sgaile pulled a stiletto, as did Freth. Brot'an turned about more slowly, the puzzlement in his steady gaze becoming cold displeasure. The first shadow stepped into plain sight.

Urhkar stood calm and passive. Another anmaglahk came in behind him, and another from beyond Sgaile, and then another. All but the elder anmaglahk held shortbows drawn with arrows notched, their gleaming heads resting over bow handles of silver-white metal.

Magiere found herself ringed in on all sides with Leesil and Wynn by at least twenty Anmaglahk. No wonder Sgaile pushed them all so hard, knowing what waited upon their arrival.

"You split-tongue son of…" Leesil started, his gaze on Sgaile.

Magiere grabbed Leesil's wrist and squeezed hard in warning as she glanced back at Wynn. A wrinkle of the sage's brow hinted at something more beneath her fright-a tinge of anger in the once-timid sage. Magiere saw no course of action that wouldn't end in all of their deaths.

Freth and Sgaile faced inward toward Magiere. Sgaile kept his blade low, but Freth did not.

"What are you doing?" Leesil demanded.

Brot'an gave Urhkar a slow shake of his head, but the other elder returned no reply.

"All of you pull back and allow us through," Brot'an called out.

Not one anmaglahk retreated, and Freth came straight at Magiere and Leesil.

"You will come with us."

Magiere heard Leesil's foot slipback, and the grinding of sod as he anchored it and shifted his weight. Six Anmaglahk stepped in with bows raised. Two were aimed straight at Wynn.

"No!" Magiere whispered."Too many for a fight."

And then Brot'an sidled into the path of the bows aimed at Wynn.

"She is correct," he said plainly. "We must wait to find another way to resolve this."

Leesil turned his head side to side, his eyes moving even quicker as he studied the spread of all those surrounding them. None of the elves lowered their weapons.

"Go!" Freth ordered.

Uncertainly, Leesil moved up beside Magiere, and they followed Brot'an. They were swept away into the heart of Crijheaiche. Magiere grew more uncertain as they entered a wide clearing encircled by domicile trees.

Near to each tree's curtained doorway, she saw more of the Anmaglahk. At the clearing's center rose a massive oak that dwarfed any tree she'd seen since entering these lands.

"They're taking us to Most Aged Father," Leesil whispered.

Wynn stayed close to Magiere as they faced Most Aged Father's dwelling. She looked about for any sign of Chap, but he was nowhere in sight. Neither was the pack or Lily. Sgaile pulled the doorway's curtain aside.

"Down the stairs!" Freth ordered.

Wynn looked up anxiously at Brot'an. He nodded once and stepped through the entrance after Sgaile. Leesil went next, then Magiere, and Wynn followed with Freth close behind her.

Inside, candle lanterns lit the wide barren chamber. A stairway of living wood along the left wall led down into the earth. Wynn reached the bottom, stepping off the last stair of embedded stone, and found herself in an earth-walled chamber. At its center was a root the size of a small domicile tree.

Glass lanterns hung from stone-packed earth walls and cast hazy yellow light upon massive roots arching through the ceiling overhead. Wynn was not certain why they were here, but this underground chamber disturbed her. No elf that she knew would choose to live this way.

"Move!" Freth ordered and shoved Magiere from behind.

Magiere stumbled forward awkwardly, pulling her hand back from catching herself on the center root. She wobbled, and Wynn grabbed her arm, feeling the uncontrolled shudders running through Magiere.

Leesil whirled about, and Freth raised her blade.

"You wouldn't even try," he said. "Your sickly master still needs me."

"Enough," Brot'an warned, but his eyes were turned toward Freth.

"And Chap wouldn't let you," Leesil whispered at Freth.

Wynn's attention was pulled in too many directions. Magiere quaked in a way Wynn had never seen before. She did not usually frighten this easily-and her fear led to fury, not weakness.

A flash of gray on the stairs caught Wynn's attention.

Chap descended, his jaws already open.

Sgaile tried to reach over the stairs and grab the dog. Leesil slammed his shoulder into Sgaile's back, shoving him aside as Chap lunged off the stairs with a rabid snarl.

Freth barely caught sight of the dog before Chap's jaws snapped shut on her wrist. She dropped the stiletto with a startled inhale and jerked her arm free as the blade hit the chamber floor. Chap's snarls rang off the stone-packed walls as he drove Freth backward.

Leesil snatched the fallen stiletto before Sgaile could dive for it. All Wynn could do wastry to keep Magiere on her feet.

Freth scrambled over the bottom stair, braced herself against the wall, and kicked out. Her foot struck Chap's chest, tossing him away. Chap twisted back at her so fast that Freth gained no ground. He lunged at her, jaws opened wide.

Brot'an slipped between them, and Chap's teeth closed fast on his forearm. Chap thrashed his head and dragged Brot'an to one knee.

"Chap, stop it!" Wynn cried out.

Brot'an did not strike back. He crouched there, rigid and waiting as Chap settled to rumbling stillness.

"No more!" Brot'an said sharply.

Leesil held off Sgaile with the stiletto, but his eyes shifted toward Freth. "There's little I wouldn't pay to kill you. Don't ever touch me or mine again."

"Chap… you let him go… now!" Wynn commanded.

Chap unclamped Brot'an's arm with clear reluctance, rumbling as he backed toward Magiere. His gaze remained fixed on the tall elf rising to his feet. Dark stains spread through the gray-green felt of Brot'an's torn sleeve.

He spotted the blade in Leesil grip, and held out his hand. "Please."

"Give it to him," Magiere whispered and straightened herself.

Leesil flipped the stiletto, catching its blade, and slapped the hilt into Brot'an's palm.

"Frethfare…" Brot'an warned, tossing the stiletto to her, "keep your distance-and your conduct."

"And you too," Wynn said to Chap, though relieved to see him. "Where have you been?"

Chap ceased rumbling and the leaf-wing rose in Wynn's mind. Watching.

"This way," Sgaile said as he circled the chamber.

Wynn did not understand until she spotted the opening in the center root. Sgaile stepped through, and Wynn followed ahead of Magiere.

In the shining candlelight, Wynn at first saw only teal and saffron pillows on the floor, but her mouth went dry as she took in the rest of the small chamber.

Curled in a cradle of wood growing from the far wall and floor was the oldest elf she had ever seen. Only vague hints remained in his withered form to mark his race.

An emaciated face surrounded sunken eyes that had lost most of their amber color. Those old eyes never blinked, and patches of scalp showed through thinned hair. He shuddered with either fear or rage when he saw Magiere.

"Why are we here?" Leesil demanded.

"To be judged," Freth snapped from the doorway.

Brot'an's broad frame stood in her way. Sgaile stepped close to the frail form in the living bower and proffered a deep, respectful nod. The old one did not even glance at him.

"Judged?" Wynn said.

Most Aged Father's thin, reedy voice filled the root chamber as he spoke in Belaskian.

"No undead will poison this forest. Destroy it at once."

Sgaile did not answer or look up.

"You'll be bleeding before anyone touches her," Leesil warned.

"She is not undead," Wynn blurted out.

"Truth," Brot'an added, and moved closer to the old one. "And this is not the way judgment is rendered… especially when guardianship and safe passage have already been given. Do you now break your word as well as that of Sgailsheilleache?"

"You are Anmaglahk," said Most Aged Father, and finally turned his attention on Brot'an. "You are sworn to protect the people.Would you leave an un-dead in their midst? I do not know how this one could even enter our land."

"Her heart beats," Brot'an returned. "I know little of the humans' walking dead… but enough to know she is not one of them."

Most Aged Father's eyes narrowed upon Brot'an.

Freth pushed through into Wynn's sight. "Do you question Most Aged Father? Do you deny what we saw in the traitor's clearing?"

"The forest accepts her," Brot'an answered. "And the majay-hido not hunt her."

"Until she showed herself for what she is," Frethfare argued.

"She is not undead," Wynn repeated straight at Most Aged Father. "She hates them as you do. She is only half of what they are, and it makes her their natural adversary."

Brot'an glanced at Wynn, as did the other elves, each with their own mix of suspicion and doubt. Magiere grabbed Wynn's hand with a sharp shake of her head.

Most Aged Father's voice screeched in Wynn's ears. "Half undead is more than enough!"

"Truly?" Brot'an asked. "Is a half-blood a human or an elf, let alonean'Croan? And what would that make a three-quarter-blood?"

Sgaile lifted his head at the reference to Leanalham, and Brot'an let the question hang. And it left Wynn wondering if the girl's status among her people was not yet determined. She watched all four elves present, waiting for someone to speak up.

They were not presenting arguments to sway Most Aged Father, for at least Freth and Brot'an spoke from some equal authority here. It was their people's customs and cultural rule versus Anmaglahk authority that was being called into question, as well as anyone's status of mixed heritage. In the end, Magiere's welfare alone might not be all that was at stake, though she would likely be the first weighed in the outcome.

"And still, this is not our decision," Brot'an continued. "As Most Aged Father has wisely stated, we are sworn to protect our people… to serve them, not to rule them or decide for them. We are not a clan."

"You overstep yourself," Freth cut in. "Neither does a Greimasg'ah make decisions for the caste, nor define what it is."

"Yet another truth, Covarleasa," Brot'an answered agreeably. "The people determine what we are… have determined it. We serve them. We are defined by their will-not by ourselves or the purpose we serve. The clan elders are the voice and will of the people. They already gather to address any judgments-as is proper."

Sgaile finally spoke, in a ragged voice. "Usurp our people's ways, and there remains nothing for our caste to protect, preserve, or serve. Father… you would agree?"

Most Aged Father's old eyes were fixed upon Magiere. Wynn's panic rose as she realized that he wanted Freth to murder Magiere where she stood.

"Wise as always, my son," Most Aged Father replied to Sgaile. "The elders will see this woman for what she is. But I withdraw my protection-the outsiders are no longer my guests."

Sgaile straightened and stiffened, staring at Most Aged Father as if some breach had occurred. Brot'an's features clouded. Both men were about to speak, but Most Aged Father held them silent with a frail wave of his bony hand.

"She stands formally accused," he continued, "as does Leshil for bringing her into our land, knowing what she is. All three interlopers will remain under guard. That is within the purpose and service of the Anmaglahk. Do you not agree?"

The final question was aimed at Brot'an. Wynn waited for a denial, some argument that might get Magiere out of danger.

Brot'an nodded polite. "Yes, and I thank you for the reminder. I will escort them."

Sgaile looked ill. Perhaps he had never disagreed with Most Aged Father before.

Brot'an placed a hand on Wynn's back. "Go."

She hurried out to find Freth waiting at the stairs, blade in hand.

Leesil hooked the doorway curtain with a finger and peered out of their living cell. Four armed Anmaglahk stood outside the domicile elm, gripping shortbows with arrows notched. Urhkar was among them, but not Osha. Leesil let the curtain fall back into place.

Magiere slumped upon one bed ledge in the tree's wall, her arms folded across her chest as if she held herself together. Wynn sat with Chap, spreading parchments ofElvish symbols on the dirt floor.

"We have to find a way out of this," Wynn said. "I do not believe Magiere will be given a fair trial. These people are paranoid about humans, let alone a…

She didn't finish, but Leesil knew what she meant. Let alone an undead, half or otherwise, though even that wasn't the truth.

"We wouldn't get six paces out the door," Leesil said in frustration. "What's this council like? What kind of trial laws do the elves have?"

"How should I know?" Wynn snapped. "I have never seen one, even in my land. Chap may know more."

Chap swung his head from side to side and huffed twice for "no." Wynn sighed, sat back, and ceased spreading out the parchments.

Magiere had hesitated upon entering their quarters and remained silent thereafter. Leesil crouched before her and placed his hands on her thighs.

"I never should have brought you here… any of you."

Magiere didn't answer, but Leesil felt a quiver in her legs.

"I am guilty," she finally said. "At least of what they think I might be."

"Don't talk like that!" Leesil said. "You're not some undead."

She raised only her dark eyes to him-the same look she gave him when she thought he was being thickheaded or purposefully evasive. But her face wasmore weary than annoyed, as if she'd already given up.

"Do not do that!" Wynn snapped. "Not unless I am expecting it. I have had enough of getting sick for one day."

Leesil pivoted to find Wynn shoving Chap away. The dog growled and then clawed at the parchments. But he wasn't tapping out symbols for Wynn to read. He just scattered them in a tantrum as the sage tried to grab the sheets away from him.

"Stop it!" Wynn shouted at the dog. "We are talking the old way, whether you like it or not."

"Keep your voice down," Leesil warned. "What's going on?"

Both of them ceased fighting over the parchments. Chap growled at the sage, barking once for "yes."

Wynn took a long breath, frowning. "I did not want to distract you from more immediate concerns."

"Spit it out," Leesil demanded, and Chap barked agreement.

Wynn rubbed her knees where she knelt, and then crawled closer to Leesil.

"I can hear Chap," she said.

"What?" Magiere asked, her voice hushed.

"And I hear when he communes with his kin," Wynn added."Although it may never happen again. They used him-as much as anyone has used either of you."

Leesil couldn't even form a question. The more Wynn whispered of all that had happened, from hearing Chap with the silver deer to the assault of the Fay, the less he wanted to know. As the sage finished, he stared at her and the dog.

Chap watched him silently in turn.

Leesil understood being an outcast in this world. He'd been alone but for Chap, without a place of his own, until he'd stumbled into Magiere-with Chap's meddling, of course. But now it seemed the dog didn't know everything concerning his own purpose.

Chap had been played by his own kind-one more unwitting tool manipulated by the Fay. Leesil wanted to sympathize with his oldest companion, but right now the last thing he needed to hear was that Chap was almost as ignorant as the rest of them.

And Wynn could hear him?

"The mantic sight," Wynn went on, "which I invoked by ritual in Droevinka to help you track the undead sorcerer… it returns at times. Whatever Chap did to take it from me, something went wrong, and it is getting worse. I was able to call it at will, but then Chap had to lick it away again."

"But you still hear him, even without the sight?" Magiere asked.

Wynn nodded, and then she flinched with a gag and uttered one word."Sorhkafare."

Magiere's leg muscles knotted under Leesil's hands.

Wynn balled up her little fist at Chap. "I told you-not until I am ready!"

Chap ignored her and focused on Magiere, and Leesil turned his eyes on the woman he loved.

That word-or name-did it mean something to her? Magiere's pallid skin made it hard to be certain, but she looked suddenly ill.

"Where did you hear that name?" she whispered.

"Not me," Wynn said. "That wasChap."

Leesil followed Magiere's rapt attention back to Chap, as Wynn slumped inresignation, speaking for the dog and turning a bit sickly herself. For every word Chap spoke through Wynn, Leesil saw his own dread echoed in Magiere's brown eyes.

Most Aged Father had been alive during the war in what the sages called the Forgotten History. How long ago wasn't clear. Even his own people didn't remember where or when he had come from.

The sages still argued over when this war took place, and even Chap couldn't guess, for his memories didn't give him any measure of time. However long ago, Sorhkafare had not been old. Now he was the decrepit leader of the Anmaglahk and impossibly ancient.

What Leesil heard still didn't explain the man's fanatical hatred of humans, strong enough to teach generations of his people to fear them. But how had Magiere known his long lost name?

"What else haven't you told me?" he asked her a little too harshly.

Magiere didn't answer.

Wynn flinched in fear, over and over, at the words Chap poured through her. As the tale swept on to the night following the battle, Leesil saw strange recognition in Magiere's face. More than once she mouthed a name before Wynn even spoke it aloud.

"I know them," Magiere whispered. "I was there… I was him that night… when I blacked out in Nein'a's clearing."

"How?" Leesil asked.

Magiere's voice carried none of its old bite as she glared at Chap. "You've been in my head again."

Leesil remembered the first time she'd had a vision. In Bela, she'd held cloth from a victim's body. She had walked the place where the corpse had been found and relived the moment that an undead had slaughtered the woman, a nobleman's daughter. Nothing like that had happened in Nein'a's clearing.

Magiere slowly shook her head. "All I wanted was to kill anything that got in the way of finding you. I touched the tree, and I was there… inside Most Aged Father… or his memory, at least."

"You saw undeads?" Wynn asked."Vampires… in the form of risen soldiers?"

Magiere looked at her. "He… they didn't know what was happening. They just ran inland toward On-nis Lo… Lon…"

Wynn sat upright. "Aonnis Lhoin'n?"

Magiere nodded. "I don't know if they made it, though obviously Sorhkafare… Most Aged Father is still alive."

"You are certain you heard it right?" Wynn demanded. "Aonnis Lhoin'n?"

Magiere lifted her head. "Why? Have you read of it somewhere?"

"No," Wynn answered. "It still exists."

The sage looked as if she'd uncovered something astonishing. Her brown eyes wandered, growing doubtful, until a scowl spread across her round face.

"Wait," Leesil said. "You've seen this place… and it still bears the same name?

Wynn shook her head. "It is what the elves of my continent call the cen-termost place in their land-First Glade-but no one in my guild knew it was that old."

She blinked rapidly, lost for an instant somewhere other than this moment.

Leesil wasn't certain what all this meant. "Perhaps the war wasn't as long ago as the sages think."

Wynn started at his voice. "No, we have long tried to determine when the war occurred. Some do not believe it everhappened, that it is all myth and legend spun out of proportion. But I have seen old scrolls and parchments, stone carvings and other things… from centuries back. Malourne, my country, goes back more than four centuries. The king's city ofCalm Seatt is even older. And what we've found was much older still."

"What does that have to do with this…First Glade?" Leesil asked.

"Because my order has been deceived!" Wynn answered sharply. "There are three branches of the Guild of Sagecraft. The first was in my Malourne, decreed by our own kings of old. Shortly thereafter, the elves established their own to match ours. And one is in the Suman Empire along the eastern coast of my continent. It was all to help preserve civilization, present and past… should the worst ever come again."

Wynn turned to Magiere.

"If you heard right, a piece of what was lost has been within reach all along. Its past and history could never have been forgotten-not by the elves. It lay right before our eyes… and they said nothing of it!"

Leesil didn't care for this one bit. It was enough they had to deal with the secrets and lies that had tangled them among the elves of this land. How long had Wynn's far-off elven neighbors kept this to themselves, an ancient place hidden in plain sight?

"They were taken unaware, unprepared," Magiere whispered. "They didn't even know what to do… with what came at them in the night."

Leesil frowned until he caught up. Magiere's thoughts had turned back to her vision in the glade.

"No name," she whispered, as if searching for one, then her dark eyes settled upon him. "They didn't have a name for what they saw."

"I don't understand," Leesil said, sounding exasperated even tohimself.

She grabbed his arms, fingers biting in. "Most Aged Father-Sorhkafare-didn't have a name for what he saw.Undead, vampire, or anything in his own tongue. None of his comrades did. He didn't know… their own dead coming to feed upon them that night."

More disjointed pieces of a past that didn't matter here and now. None of it would help Magiere face the council ofthe an'Croan.

"They had never seen or heard of an undead?" Wynn whispered. She paused, and then exclaimed, "There were no undead… until the war?"

"Dead history can wait!" Leesil snapped. "It's no good to us now, so enough-"

Chap snarled, and Wynn flinched as if her head ached. She looked at the dog and said, "Yes, a good question."

She held up one finger at Leesil before he could argue, and she turned to Magiere.

"I want no more secrets between us," Wynn said pointedly. "I told you, remember, as we sat at the campfire outside Venjetz? You nearly collapsed when we entered Most Aged Father's home. You tell me now-what is happening to you?"

Leesil waited tensely. Wynn had grown far less timid in the moons they'd spent together, but Magiere didn't take kindly to challenges. The last thing he needed was these two going at each other. Magiere dropped her head until Chap snarled at her again.

"I haven't slept in eight… maybe nine nights," she said quietly. "And not much before that… since we entered this land."

Leesil knew she was having trouble, but he'd had no idea it was this bad. He hadn't had many restful nights himself.

"But do I look it?" Magiere added, almost as a challenge. "I'm not tired, but I can't stop shaking. It gets worse when I'm inside these trees. I have to force myself to eat because I'm never hungry, not in any real way. Did you see the tree in Nein'a's clearing, the one I touched?"

Leesil shook his head, but Wynn sucked in a sharp breath.

"Your hands.Chap saw in your memories… they marked the tree."

Magiere faced Leesil. "Before I slipped into Sorhkafare's memory, the shaking sharpened. Something ran through me as I backed into the tree, and then I was there, in his past. I didn't know what it was, and only guessed afterward, when I called for you."

She heaved a deep breath.

"I saw marks in the bark, like blight or as if part of it had died… shaped like my hands. I am guilty, though not for the reasons Freth and the others think. A piece of that tree's life ripped away… into me. I think that's what's been happening to me… in this land. I'm not hungry or tired… because I'm… feeding on everything here."

"We keep this to ourselves," Leesil said quickly, hiding the panic he felt. "We can't let anyone know. Not with this council's judgment in the balance."

The doorway's hanging pulled back, and Brot'an peered in. He held a tray with several bowls and a pitcher.

"May I enter?" he asked politely.

"Do we have a choice?" Leesil answered.

"Leesil!" Wynn snapped."Yes, Brot'an. We need to know what will happennext?"

Brot'an's large form filled the entrance as he stepped in. He set down four steaming bowls of stew. He reached back through the curtain and produced four clay cups that someone handed off to him. Crouching down, he poured water for them all, including Chap. But when he offered, no one touched food or drink.

He had changed tunics, and a white cotton bandage was wrapped on his forearm.

Brot'an eyed Chap thoughtfully. "It is safe for us to speak… so long as your majay-hi does not sense any presence that would hear us."

Leesil understood. Magiere's stolen memory hinted that the decrepit old elf had a way of moving about the forest without leaving his home. And Leesil remembered the strange way the majay-hi pack had acted just before Magiere lost control.

Brot'an settled cross-legged on the floor. "Have you finished with my cloak, little one?"

"What? Oh… yes." Wynn crawled to the chamber's far side and returned with Brot'an's heavy green-gray cloak. "Thank you."

He nodded slightly and turned to Magiere. "Are you well?"

"No," she answered.

"What's going to happen?" Leesil asked, though he wished Sgaile had come instead.

"In two days there will be a gathering," Brot'an began. "It has been a long time since a majority of the clan elders came at the same time. Word of your presence spread quickly, and they began traveling here once they heard. There is concern that Most Aged Father took it upon himself to give humans safe passage. This has never happened in anyone's memory. Some believe he overstepped his position. No one outside of certain Anmaglahkhave even seen Most Aged Father in nearly fifty seasons."

"Fifty seasons?" Leesil repeated. "How is that possible?"

Brot'an paused, as if deciding how to answer. "Most Aged Father is revered as the protector of our people, and his word weights heavily with many of our leaders. But the Anmaglahk are not a clan, and therefore Most Aged Father is not a representative of the people-he is not a clan elder. At most gatherings of the elders, he has had no reason to be present. But he will be there this time.

"He might have appeared to defend his decision in giving you safe passage, or he could have sent Frethfare in his place. That issue will no longer be the primary concern of the council. He is now Magiere'saccuser, and a judgment must be made. He must make his claim against Magiere before the council or withdraw it entirely."

"You want them to see him, don't you?" Magiere asked.

"I wish for them to hear him," Brot'an said. "His mind… is not what it once was. It may work in your favor to bring his judgment into question, but in turn may show he was not of sound mind in letting humans into our land."

Leesil sat up straight. "You planned this… to use that old elf's accusation against Magiere as a way to alert your people?"

Brot'an shook his head. "No, I never foresaw this. Though I knew your presence would raise issues to be addressed. That is now of little advantage."

"What do you mean by that?" Leesil demanded.

"Magiere has a choice to make," Brot'an answered, ignoring Leesil entirely as he gazed only at her. "Most Aged Father will likely choose Frethfare as his advocate. You must choose your own for the coming proceedings."

"Wynn can do it," Leesil answered. "She's a scholar, speaks fluent Elvish, and she knows Magiere."

"Leesil, I…" Wynn stammered. "I am not certain I could-"

"That is not permitted," Brot'an interrupted calmly. "As a human, her presence is still in question-and she is notan'Croan."

Leesil flushed with rising anger. "You're saying she has to choose one of you… an elf? As if there's even one of you we could trust to-"

"You do it," Magiere said. "I choose you, Brot'an, for advocate… if you're willing."

"No!" Leesil snapped.

"It is not your decision!" Brot'an barked at him. "Only the accused can choose, unless of unsound mind."

"Then she's unsound," Leesil countered. "She's a raving madwoman! What happened in Nein'as glade is enough to prove that. And I choose Sgaile!"

"Leesil, stop this!" Wynn shouted at him.

"That is not how mental fitness is determined," Brot'an said. "And you are suspect as much as your companions. Your involvement in any capacity would draw further suspicion and work against her."

Chap stalked over to Magiere. He sat down before her and cast a narrow-eyed sneer at Bro'tan, then lifted his snout to Magiere and barked once ror yes.

Magiere put her hand on Chap's neck.

"Can you clear me?" she asked Brot'an.

"I accept your selection as advocate," Brot'an replied. "I will serve your interests to my fullest ability. I know you are innocent… of the claim made against you."

Magiere fell silent, as did Wynn, but Leesil was about to explode.

Brot'an turned on him in harsh voice. "There is more at stake here than Magiere's survival… There is your mother's freedom."

Leesil tensed. "You'd better start making sense."

"Most Aged Father is the one who imprisoned Cuirin'nen'a, though it was never argued before the council."

"She was never given a trial?" Wynn asked.

"The clans accepted this," Brot'an replied, "as it was a matter internal to the Anmaglahk. Theelders respect that we serve to protect the people, and anyone accused of undermining our efforts puts all of them at risk. As I have said, Most Aged Father's word carries much influence."

"They don't even know what she did," Leesil said. "They just took his word that she was a traitor."

"The elders still believe him competent," Brot'an added."More than competent-the wisest of us all, and the eldest of our people. In placing ourselves in service, the Anmaglahk not only answer to the laws of the people but also to the rule of our caste. We have one leader-Most Aged Father. If he is seen as having faltered in one judgment, then the elders may find reason to examine other decisions he has made. That bears directly upon Cuir-in'nen'a's freedom."

Brot'an waited for further argument. When none came, he turned again to Magiere.

"Trust me."

Chap barked once.

"Yes," Magiere whispered.

AsChap watched Brot'an leave, he second-guessed his own advice.

In spite of everything Brot'an said, his flickering memories never once strayed to Magiere-only to Leesil, Nein'a, or Eillean. Chap even caught words spoken when Eillean had given him as a pup to Nein'a.

Leesil was Brot'an's true interest, not Magiere.

Still, Chap believed that Brot'an might well succeed. Exposing Most Aged Father's reasoning as questionable could dismiss his claim against Magiere, and his judgment of Nein'a as well. And Chap saw no way to accomplish either of these feats himself.

Magiere still sat shaking upon the bed ledge. He nosed her hand until she ran it across the side of his face.

"I wish you could talk… for yourself," she whispered. "I would have chosen you instead of Brot'an."

Chap desperately wished the same.

Leesil took up one bowl and wooden spoon and brought them to Magiere.

"Try," he said. "Not just for pretense… perhaps eating something might dull whatever you're suffering."

Chap agreed in sentiment. The meat smelled savory, but for once, he wasn't hungry either. Instinct and not intellect nagged him with strange notions. Somewhere in the forest beyond Crijheaiche, his Lily ran with the pack.