Rebel Fay

Chapter Four

By midmorning, Wynn's fear of becoming lost succumbed to awe as she walked the elven forest. Patchy lime-colored moss cushioned her footfalls as she followed the others. With all her ink and journals gone, it was heartbreaking to witness such diverse flora without a way to take notes.

Fresh food and a night's rest had revived her, and the pain in her shoulder had dwindled to an intermittent twinge, but her improved mood still wavered. This was a desperate search for Leesil's mother, and their guides were now the Anmaglahk. These elven assassins were manifested dark shadows of the Leesil that Wynn had come to know in the Warlands.

Yet, she found them fascinating. Their ways were so different from the elves on her continent. She tried to mentally note everything about them for later records. Once she returned to her guild in Bela, she would write extensive work comparing the two elven cultures of the world as she knew them. And how stark the contrasts were or might yet be, for she had not met any elves here besides Sgaile's caste.

A temperate breeze rustled the foliage, and she pushed Chane's cloak back over her shoulders.

What would he think of this place? His interests lay in distant times back to the Forgotten History, and how societies evolved from unknown beginnings in the aftermath of thegreat war. He was always more interested in studying the past than the present.

Wynn pushed aside thoughts of Chane. He was part ofher own past.

Sgaile led the way with his comrades following behind their guests. The pace was too slow for him, as he often paused after stepping too far ahead, but he made no complaint.

Wynn avoided looking back at En’nish walking at the procession's rear. The woman was no less angry than in their first meeting. Silent and stoic Urhkar walked in front of his bitter comrade, and Osha came directly behind Wynn.

All four elves left their cowls and face wraps down. There was some significance in this, as secrecy seemed paramount to their ways. Perhaps they simply felt at ease in their homeland.

Leesil and Magiere walked ahead, behind Sgaile, and Chap trotted beside Wynn with his head turning at every new sight. His nose worked all the time, and Wynn often heard him sniffing as his muzzle bobbed in the air. She looked about at the lush flora, and more than once her boot toe caught on a root, stone, or depression when she was not paying attention to the trail.

Of all their escorts, Osha betrayed the most curiosity about the interlopers. He was so tall that when he stepped close, Wynn had to tilt her head back to see up to his chin. She felt awkward and rather too short. His hair was white-blond like Leesil's and hung loose to the center of his back. His somewhat horselike face was not nearlyso handsome as Sgaile's, but it was pleasant. Although quiet, he was certainly the most polite of their guides.

They passed a large weeping willow with vivid orange fungus growing up its trunk's northern side. The color was so eye-catching that Wynn wandered absently toward the tree. Chap rumbled at her, following partway, but she ignored him in her rapt fascination.

"Osha, what is this?" she asked in Elvish, and pointed to the shelves of fungus. "The edges look like seashells."

Osha hesitated, looking to Sgaile as if awaiting instructions. He finally joined her.

"It is called woodridge," he answered in Elvish, and he put his hand against the fungus, closed his eyes for an instant, and then broke off a small piece to offer her. "It is safe to eat, though pungent until properly cooked."

His strange conjugations and declinations took time to comprehend. It reminded her of the oldest texts she had been permitted to browse at the elven branch of the guild on her own continent. It made some sense, for these elves had lived in isolation for centuries, while their counterparts of her world interacted with other races more freely.

Wynn put the orange lump near her lips and breathed in its scent. It smelled of wet earth. She snipped it with her teeth. A sweet sensation flowed over her tongue.

"Very good."

The taste thickened suddenly, bitter and pastelike.She swallowed, trying not to grimace, and smiled. Osha nodded in approval with perhaps a little surprise.

"Wynn, what are you doing?" Magiere called. "Did you just eat that?"

"Osha said it is safe."

Chap stood stiff and silent, watching the tall young elf, and then cast a glare Wynn's way.

She knew that look on his furry face. She did not care for his parental disapproval.

Wynn stuffed the hunk ofwoodridge in her pocket and hurried to catch up, as both Magiere and Leesil looked uncomfortable. She stepped back into the traveling line with the others.

Since Osha was the most amiable among his group, she continued questioning him in Elvish. His answers were short, but at least he answered-with occasional glances toward Sgaile, as if expecting admonishment. Sgaile remained silent, not once looking back.

Wynn kept her questions to the world around them, though she wanted to ask of the people here. Intuition told her not to do so. A few times Osha paused after an answer, about to say something in turn. Perhaps he had questions of his own. He seemed intensely puzzled or startled by the way she acted and spoke, but he never asked. They passed an oak so large that its trunk was far wider than Osha’s height.

Wynn stared at it a bit too long. "How old is this one?"

"As old as the forest perhaps," Osha answered. "The trees are the bones and blood of its body."

At this, Sgaile looked back sternly. Osha fell silent, dropping his eyes as he stepped out ahead of Wynn.

She was uncertain whether to be disappointed or worried. Clearly Sgaile thought the conversation had gone on long enough. Hopefully she had not gotten Osha into trouble.

Leesilslowed, his irritation far plainer than Sgaile's.

"What is wrong?" she asked.

"How could anything be wrong?" he muttered. "I haven't understood a word all morning."

"Leesil… you brought me because I speak Elvish-and you do not."

He sighed, grudgingly. "I know, I know… but I didn't think it would be like this-not understanding anything that anybody said."

Wynn was not sure which would be worse-a Leesil completely inept with the language or one able to proficiently express his ire in Elvish. He remained silent a moment, then looked up thoughtfully at Osha in a way that made Wynn nervous.

"I'll ask him if he knows how far away my mother is."

Before Wynn could grab him, Leesil quick-stepped up beside Osha.

"A-hair-a too bith-a ka-naw, too brah?"

Osha’smouth gaped.

All four elves came to a sudden halt. Any tentative curiosity in Osha’s long face turned to horror. He glared at Leesil, and a stiletto appeared in his hand.

Magiere dropped a hand to her falchion's hilt. Before she could do anything stupid, Wynn scurried in between Osha and Leesil. She turned on Leesil angrily but never got out a word before En’nish thrust her heel into his tailbone.

Leesil sprawled forward as En’nish drew her long stilettos. Wynn floundered out of Leesil's way, stumbling back into Osha, who caught her under the arms. She flinched at the sight of his blade appearing in front of her.

Leesil tried to roll, but the chest on his back hindered him. Even Urhkar was caught off guard as En’nish rushed in. Leesil pulled his own stiletto as he spun around on his knees.

"Bartva'na!" Sgaile barked at En’nish and grabbed the back of Magiere's pack. "Stop this now! He does not know our tongue."

En’nish slapped away Urhkar's attempted grasp and slashed at Leesil's face. He ducked and spun on one knee, swinging a stiletto on his pivot. En’nish bent rearward at her midsection like a willow branch, and the blade tip cleared her stomach. She tried again to close on Leesil.

Chap rushed in and snatched her cloak from behind. He bolted around her side, twisting her in its cloth. In the same instant, Wynn lunged from Osha’s support. En’nish, intent with fury and shocked at a majay-hi hobbling her, did not see the sage coming.

Wynn swung, and her palm cracked loudly against En’nish’s cheek.

"This is your oath at its best?" she shouted in Elvish, and then gripped her throbbing hand. It was a challenge to En’nish, and even to her comrades, for this violent breach of guardianship.

En’nish turned upon the sage. When she raised one of her blades, Urhkar angrily grabbed her wrist. She held her place without resisting him.

Wynn shook with sudden fear as she turned and found Sgaile on guard beyond the tip of Magiere's falchion.

"Is this what the oath of guardianship is worth among your people?" Wynn asked.

"No!" he answered flatly, and his hard gaze turned on En’nish. "You have our deep regret for this shame… it will not occur again."

Osha still looked offended, but his expression melted into shame as Wynn glared at him.

"Leesil does not know what he said," she explained. "It was a mistake, not an insult."

Osha nodded and sheathed his blade as Leesil did the same.

"Please… put up your weapon," Sgaile said. With an open hand he cautiously tilted Magiere's falchion aside and then closed on En’nish. "Ajhdjhva ag'us dicheva!"

En’nish spun away and stalked past all of them into the lead. Osha followed her with his eyes lowered as he passed Sgaile. Leesil stood baffled.

"What just happened?" Magiere asked.

Wynn ignored her, turning all her fear-fed anger on Leesil. "What did I tell you?"

"All I asked was how far to-"

"No, you did not!" Wynn clenched her fists. "You said his mother is 'nowhere', and that he knew it… and you said it wrong, even at that. You called his mother an outcast!"

Magiere let out a deep sigh.

"Wait…" Leesil started. "I didn't mean-"

"Shut your mouth!" Wynn shouted. "And never again speak Elvish to an elf!"

Leesil blinked. He looked down at Chap for help, but the dog just licked his nose with a huff.

"That would be best," Sgaile added quietly.

"Don't blame him," Magiere warned. "However he bungled his words, it had nothing to do with En’nish."

"Yes… and no," Sgaile replied. " En’nish is the daughter of Osha’s mother's sister by bonding… similar to what you call marriage."

"So she takes it on herself to step in?" Magiere asked."Because she's his cousin by marriage?"

"No, not precisely," Wynn added. "Relations are a serious matter among elves-and more complex than Sgaile can state in your language."

Magiere shifted toward Sgaile. "That had nothing to do with kin."

"She is… was… the boijt'ana of Groyt'ashia," Sgaile said pointedly. "The closest term you would know is a 'betrothed'."

The name was unfamiliar to Wynn. She was about to ask when Sgaile turned sharply away to follow Osha.

Brief puzzlement passed quickly from Magiere's face and her gaze dropped as her dark eyes slowly closed. Wynn heard the creak of leather as Magiere squeezed the falchion's hilt.

"Who is Groyt'ashia?" Wynn asked.

When no answer came, she looked down at Chap, but the dog's eyes remained on Leesil. Without acknowledgment, Chap quickly trotted after Sgaile.

Magiere wouldn't look up. She sheathed her falchion and strode after the others.

Leesil just stood there in cold silence.

"What did you do?" Wynn asked, not certain she wanted to know.

Groyt…Groyt'ashia.

Magiere had heard the name once before. It echoed in her head with Brot'an's voice as he had shouted it in Darmouth's crypt. She'd turned to see Brot'an's young accomplice and Leesil trying to kill each other. It ended with Leesil soaked in blood-again-as it spilled from Groyt's split throat.

It hadn't been Leesil's fault. Not that death. But Magiere couldn't stop from wondering. How many women-or men-in Leesil's life path waited for someone who would never return?

It wasn't his fault. Not for what Darmouth had made Leesil do to survive… do for his parents' lives, and all because of what Nein'a made him. Magiere closed on Sgaile from behind.

"It was self-defense," she said quietly, so the others couldn't hear.

"I am aware of the events involved," he answered without stopping.

"You knew… and you let En’nish come with you?"

"It was not my choice to make."

"No more dodging!" Magiere snapped, too loudly, and grabbed Sgaile's shoulder.

He spun about, jerking free before she could get a true grip. "You know nothing ofan'Croan ways," he warned, "with your simple-minded human…"

He stopped himself as his eyes wandered across her face and hair.

Magiere didn't understand the term he'd used, but she grew unsettled under his scrutiny.

She wondered if he noticed her appearance, maybe how it differed from other humans'. Or had Brot'an spoken to his kind of what he'd seen of her during their fight in the crypt? How much did Sgaile know?

"Then tell me a little," she said. "Make it simple for a… human, if you wish."

"You were offered guardianship because of Leshil," Sgaile said, once more composed and formally polite. "That will be honored at all cost. How the events in Venjetz are seen in the end will depend on what status Leshil truly has with our people… and perhaps our caste. It is not my place to speak. You will wait until he has spoken with Most Aged Father."

With visible restraint, Sgaile turned and stepped onward.

Magiere bit back another demand. Regardless of Sgaile's personal feelings, it seemed he would stand by his words and strange customs, obeying his superiors and doing what had been asked of him.

"And what are the sean'Croan?" she asked instead.

Sgaile slowed. "It is the proper name of our people, versus your human labels. Your short companion would say…Those of the Blood."

Magiere's stomach turned. Everything concerning Leesil came back to blood.

Chap walked behind Magiere as she argued with Sgaile. He reached for any memory surfacing in the man's thoughts.

Flashes of human faces surfaced in Sgaile's mind. He was well traveled, from what Chap caught. It was as if the elf searched for a comparison to Magiere's pale skin and red-stained black hair. Nothing came close, and

Sgaile remained perplexed. He did not know what Magiere was and saw her only as some oddly pale human.

There remained the issue of blood. Blood of heritage, of people, and blood spilled.

It was a tangle that even Chap found himself trapped within. Whether it unsnarled or cinched tight to strangle them all depended on how Leesil was viewed by his mother's people.

No matter how many memory fragments Chap gleaned from Sgaile, he could not clearly piece together all concerning this issue and the consequences of killing an anmaglahk. But Chap felt certain that Sgaile would follow his people's ways with as much conformity and integrity as he could.

En’nish was another matter.

Her thoughts were clouded with memories of Groyt'ashia. They shared a like fire that had burned hot in their separate natures. She smelled of blinding anguish and hatred, even from a distance.

Another scent reached Chap as he trotted watchfully behind Magiere. Movement in the trees caught his eye-a flash of silver-gray.

All other thoughts vanished when he saw the majay-hi skirting the path. He watched for them-for one of them-as they wove among the trees, drifting in and out of sight.

The silver-white female appeared briefly and then vanished.

"It is all right, Chap," Wynn said. "Go run with them, if you like."

He had not even realized he had slowed to fall back beside her. He peered into the forest with rapt attention but remained at Wynn's side. A high-pitched chirp made his ears perk up.

It trailed into a song, like someone whistling too perfectly, and then faded. He had never heard any such bird in his infancy among the elves.

Wynn lifted her gaze, searching for what had made the sound.

"What kind of bird was that?" she asked, and turned toward Urhkar at the rear.

Urhkar stopped for a long pause, and Chap did so as well, as the man looked back the way they had come. When the elder elf turned around, his expression was astonished.

He did not answer Wynn's question. And when Chap reached for any memory surfacing in Urhkar's thoughts, he caught only a vanishing glimpse of full black eyes and wings of mottled white feathers.

Six days more, and Leesil still didn't know how far Sgaile intended them to travel. They encountered no other elves and few animals besides the majay-hi among the trees. He once had to pull Wynn back from going after a multi-hued dragonfly and a cloud of shimmering moths. There were a few common squirrels in the trees, and ones colored something like a mink.

And the infrequent song of some bird out of sight.

Wynn's warning about the tashgalh had unfortunately proven valid. They hadn't seen it, but small things were missing from their packs. Including a flint stone, the last tin of Wynn's tea leaves, and several coins, as they'd found their purse spilled on the ground one morning. Leesil took to sleeping with the chest of skulls near his head.

Clear streams were plentiful, and the Anmaglahk produced two decent meals a day for them with little effort. One of them simply disappeared into the forest and returned shortly with necessities for breakfast or dinner. Fruits, nuts, and more ugly little mushrooms served as a light midday meal while they walked.

Every time Leesil thought of Wynn, he felt small and petty. She annoyed him, and he couldn't help it. She might be fluent in Elvish, as she often reminded him, but what good was it? Sgaile barely acknowledged she existed, so the only elf Wynn spoke with at length was Osha, who didn't strike Leesil as particularly bright.

Each day was new torture as Leesil pictured his mother in some elven prison, though shame or anguish always mixed with resentment. Every time he asked Sgaile how many more leagues, the only answer he got was "More days… we will travel more days."

Leesil grew tired of it.

Magiere walked beside him, plainly uncomfortable and as distrusting as always.But more so now with the Anmaglahk. She looked well enough, her black hair shimmering with lines of red in the sunlight, but he'd noticed how sparingly she ate, and at night she had difficulty sleeping. Each day she grewmore tense, a nervous energy building in her.

He'd always viewed Magiere as someone who preferred the night-who felt out of place in the sun-but here, she'd changed somehow.

Leesil tried to remember the last time they'd been truly alone.Too long. Each night, guilt mixed with longing as he crawled beneath the blanket with her and pressed his face into the back of her neck. It was one moment when he forgot why he had come here and what he'd done to achieve it.

On this sixth day, Sgaile put his hand up, and everyone stopped.

"We near my home enclave, where we will spend the night with my family." His features tightened thoughtfully until he pointed to Magiere's falchion. "You are hu… outsiders, and bearing weapons might produce a dangerous reaction. I will carry them for you until we leave tomorrow."

"Not if I were already dead," Magiere growled at him.

Sgaile sighed, gesturing to Leesil's winged punching blades. "You have my word. We enter among my people, my clan. None have ever seen a human in this land. They will not take kindly to your presence. Less so, if you are armed."

"No," Magiere said flatly.

En’nish backtracked to stand behind Sgaile. The corner of her left eye twitched.

"Savages!" she whispered to Sgaile, though she spoke in Belaskian for all to understand.

Leesil's eyes shifted quickly to Magiere, prepared for the inevitable flare of anger, but she was so quiet that it made him even more wary.

"Why did they send you?" he asked Sgaile. "Out of all of your kind, why your

Sgaile slowly swung his arm back until En’nish retreated. "Because I am the only one you might trust… enough."

Leesil would never admit it to Magiere, but a part of him had begun to trust Sgaile-or at least the man's word.

"What if we keep our weapons out of sight?" he asked.

Magiere shook her head in disbelief. "You're not seriously considering what he asks?"

"They have their customs," Wynn warned. "And we are guests here."

Magiere turned to spit out a retort, but she didn't.

"No one else will touch your blades," Sgaile repeated. "And no one will touch you."

En’nish uttered something under her breath. Leesil didn't care for her tone, let alone whatever she'd said. Sgaile held up his hand for silence and waited upon Leesil's reply;

For all Sgaile's calm manner, it was clear that unless Leesil and his companions agreed, they were not going one step farther. Leesil unlashed the sheaths of his winged blades from his thighs. Osha crept closer. Even silent Urhkar stepped around to a better vantage point. En’nish kept her distance, though she watched intently.

Leesil handed his blades to Sgaile and followed with his two remaining stilettos, but he kept his wrist sheaths.

"What use?" Osha asked in clipped Belaskian, pointing to one winged blade.

Before Leesil answered, Sgaile uttered a short stream of Elvish with a lift of his chin toward Magiere as well. Osha’s eyes widened.

"No," he said, then looked to Leesil. "It is… is truth?"

Sgaile fell back into Belaskian. "Pardon… I told Osha of your hunt for undead beneath your city."

Leesil remembered it clearly. He'd been half-crazed to take Ratboy's head. From Sgaile's perspective, it must have seemed bizarre indeed, considering why he'd tracked Leesil into those sewers beneath Bela. The Anmaglahk hunted in silence… hunted the living.

The thought gave Leesil pause. In that, he saw himself-his past-once again halfway between worlds.

"May I?" Sgaile asked, gesturing to the strange weapon.

Leesil nodded, and Sgaile unsheathed one winged blade with a firm grip on its crosswise handle. He held it up, slowly rotating the weapon in plain sight.

Its front end was shaped like a flattened spade, tapering smoothly from its forward point along sharpened arcs that ended to either side of the crosswise grip. The grip was formed by an oval cut into the back of the spade's base. The handle was wrapped tightly in a leather strapping. Theblade's outside edge continued in a long wing of a forearm's length, like a narrow and short saber that ended at one's elbow. Where the wing would have protruded a touch beyond Leesil's elbow, it was slightly short next to Sgaile's forearm.

In place of Sgaile's studious inspection, Osha looked suddenly confused.

"This dead-not… dead-not-dead," he said with effort. "We see… hear… not here, but hear stories small of other place… places. How you kill, if is dead?"

This talkative turn took Leesil by surprise, but it made sense. An unusual weapon captured attention from a caste of killers, even one as young as Osha.

Where some humans might think of undeads as only myth and superstition, Sgaile had stated the issue so plainly. The others accepted his word as fact.

Vampires might be rare enough in human lands, but Osha hinted at something else.

"What does he mean by 'not here'?" Leesil asked. "You have no tales or myths of undead?"

Sgaile seemed to consider his reply with great care. "No undead has been known to walk this land."

A direct though polite response, but Leesil caught the implication.

The undead-noble or otherwise-could not enter this forest.

"How kill not-dead… un…dead?" Osha repeated.

Leesil was lost in thought. "What?"

Magiere clasped her falchion's hilt, which made the young elf tense, but she didn't pull it. With her other hand she drew a slow, scything arc of fingertips across her throat.

Wynn sighed in disgust. "Oh, Magiere."

"Throat?" Osha asked.

Urhkar startled Leesil with a reply. "Not throat-neck. They take heads."

Osha’sface paled through his dark complexion. Further off, En’nish hissed under her breath. Sgaile spoke quickly to Osha. The young elf nodded.

"Forgive his reaction," Sgaile said. "Dismemberment of the departed is repulsive to us… but we understand the necessity."

"Have we finished with our debate over slaughter?" Wynn asked, disdain coloring her face.

Sgaile raised an eyebrow. He sheathed Leesil's blade and turned to Magiere, waiting.

Magiere didn't move a muscle.

"I don't like it any more than you," Leesil said. "But Wynn is right. It's their world… their way."

"All right!" she said." Only because I can't see another way to find your mother. But don't get stupid on me. They're guards, not escorts, and they serve their own goals first."

Her blunt accusation jolted Leesil. In essence, she was right. The An-maglahk might look and even act somewhat like his mother, but he was a stranger here and didn't understand their customs, let alone the way they thought. But it changed nothing.

Magiere finally unbuckled her sword and held it out to Sgaile. He accepted it, and one feathery eyebrow rose a bit at its weight. He looked at her as if not quite believing she could wield it.

Wynn handed him the crossbow and quiver off Leesil's back. Sgaile gave these last items to Urhkar, who slung them over his shoulder. It made sense, as there were more arms than one person could carry efficiently, and Sgaile had promised to guard the blades.

Leesil took his rolled cloak off the pack that Wynn carried and handed it to Sgaile.

"Use this to bundle them… easier to carry and keep out of sight."

Sgaile nodded agreement. He was about to turn and lead on.

"Magiere!" Wynn said.

The little sage folded her arms and stared at Magiere's back. Stranger still, Chap gave Wynn a rumble, a displeased sneer, and a lick of his nose. She ignored him.

Leesil was lost. They'd handed over the crossbow, his blades and stilettos, Magiere's falchion…

For an instant Leesil considered saying nothing, but Wynn had already drawn too much attention.

"Give it up-now," he told Magiere.

How one woman could deliver so much spite from the corner of her eye still worried Leesil at times. It made him think of long-lost days in the Sea Lion Tavern, when she grew fed up with his antics.

Magiere reached behind her back and beneath her pack. She drew out the long-bladed dagger acquired before they'd headed into the Warlands.

Sgaile just opened the cloak bundle of weapons and waited. Leesil thought he caught a hint of humor in the man's eyes. Magiere tossed the dagger into the cloak.

"Come," Sgaile said, and gestured to his own companions. "The majay-hi may walk where he pleases, but you must stay inside our circle. Our people may become unsettled at the sight of you."

En’nish remained in front, while Sgaile and Osha spread to the sides, with Urhkar at the rear behind Wynn.

They traveled only a short ways. Leesil caught odd changes in the trees when they passed through an area of dense undergrowth. Wild brush grew higher than his head. There were more oaks and cedars than other trees, with trunks wider than any he'd seen before.

Ivy ran up into their lowest branches, which were just within reach if he'd stretched upward with one hand. Their trunks bulged in odd ways that didn't seem natural, yet he saw no sign of disease. Foliage grew lush, thick and green overhead. In the spaces between trees, the underbrush gave way to open areas carpeted in lime-colored moss. Someone stepped out and turned away as if emerging like a spirit from the bloated trunk of a redwood.

As Leesil drew closer, he saw thickened ivy hanging from its branches. The vines shaped an entryway into the tree's wide opening between the ridges of its earthbound roots.

"Dwellings?" Wynn asked, but no one answered.

Osha fidgeted nervously. Sgaile was as tensely watchful as the first night he'd appeared in the forest. And both made Leesil worry.

They passed more dwelling trees with openings and flora-marked entry-ways. A tall elf peered through a bordering arch of primroses around the dark hollow in an oak. Leesil couldn't make out more than that he was male and would have to duck his head to come out. The large clay dome of an oven sat in an open lawn, smoke rising from its top opening. Several women and two men standing near it stopped, touched their companions, and turned one by one to stare.

Among them was the one Leesil first thought had walked straight out of a tree. He recognized her strange hair. She stood off from the others upon the moss lawn, and a break in the canopy captured her in a shaft of sunlight.

Soft creases in her skin, darker brown than Leesil's own, marked the corners of her large eyes and small mouth. She was slender and tall like his memory of Nein'a, but this woman's hair was like aspen bark, shot with gray that looked dark amid the white blond. Advanced age on an elf seemed strange.

Her narrow jaw ended in a pointed chin tilted down to a slender and lined throat as she fingered through whatever was in her basket. She hadn't yet spotted the new arrivals, but other elves began to gather.

They appeared at openings in the living dwellings or stepped through ivy curtains and around arches of vines and bramble plants shaped to divide and define the community's spaces. A teenage boy in nothing but breeches crouched overhead in an oak's limbs, his brown torso smooth and perfect.

Some faces looked calm and welcoming at first, until they spotted the outsiders walking between the Anmaglahk. Others froze immediately, and fear was tinged with something more dangerous. All stared at Wynn and Magiere. Some even looked at Leesil uncertainly.

Unlike in the human lands, no one here would long mistake him for one of their own. He was short by comparison, his amber eyes smaller, and, though beardless, his wedged chin was too blunt and wide. And his clothing was nothing like theirs.

Chap pushed in to walk close to Wynn.

In a few more steps, their small group was surrounded by people at all sides of the community's center green. A lean man about Sgaile's age stepped out. En’nish halted, but the man wasn't looking at her.

"Sgailsheilleache!" he spit out.

Leesil couldn't catch the stream of Elvish that followed, but Osha stepped back, positioning himself closer to Wynn. Leesil didn't find this comforting as he studied the growing crowd of elves. Their dress differed noticeably from the Anmaglahks'.

A few wore their hair bound in tails upon the crowns of their heads by polished wood rings. Their clothing was dyed mostly in shades of deep russet and yellow. They wore quilted and plain tunics and vests, and shirts of lighter fabric, some white, which shimmered where sunlight struck it. Tangled embroidered patterns marked collars and loose sleeves on a few. Though some women wore long skirts of rich dark tints, just as many had loose tan breeches and the soft calf-high boots favored by the men. Besides the one boy, no other children were visible. No one carried tools or anything Leesil counted as a weapon.

As conspicuous as he'd felt among humans, here it felt worse that he looked like an elf at all.

Stunned, frightened, or angry, several of the village elves were now spitting words at Sgaile. The air filled with their noise, until the clamor made it hard to hear Sgaile's replies.

"Wynn," Leesil whispered, "what are they saying?"

"They accuse Sgaile of breaking sacred law," she whispered back. "He assures them he acts for Most Aged Father, that we are under guardianship."

Osha put a finger to his lips and shook his head in warning. Wynn fell silent, and Leesil listened carefully, though he picked out few words.

When Sgaile mentioned Aoishenis-Ahare, half those who argued with him fell silent, some in shock, but their initial anger returned quickly enough.

Leesil took a step forward, watching their faces. He hadn't expected Sgaile to be challenged this aggressively. Part of the reason he'd agreed to follow was so that Magiere and Wynn would have protection in this land. Now he questioned how far this guardianship custom could reach. Gradually, the voices lowered, and Sgaile appeared to convince the others to back away and let him through.

Leesil heard and felt something grate along the chest on his back.

The chest toppled away behind him as severed harness ropes fell down his front.

He whirled to find En’nish behind him, a long stiletto in her hand as she grabbed for the chest's latch. So intent in watching and listening, Leesil hadn't noticed her slip around behind him.

Magiere saw the chest fall from Leesil's back. En’nish dropped to a crouch, fighting with the latch.

"No!" Magiere shouted, and made a lunge for the chest.

En’nish’s hand shot out, flat-palming the inside of her knee.

Magiere crumpled before getting a grip on the chest, and En’nish flipped the chest's lid before Leesil could pull it away.

The cloth bundle within tumbled across the ground, and the two skulls rolled into plain sight.

Someone gasped.

Exclamations followed that Magiere didn't understand. Pain flooded her leg and her heart quickened. Too many things happened at once. She watched helplessly as Leesil rushed for the skulls, to hide these last remains of his father and grandmother from prying eyes.

En’nish kicked into the side of his abdomen. Leesil stumbled beyond reach, gasping for breath, and En’nish began shouting in Elvish.

Wynn screamed out, "Na-no! Na-bitha… it is not true!"

Osha pulled both blades, but he stood in confusion, as if uncertain who to attack or who to defend.

Magiere ignored the pain in her leg and scrambled up to rush En’nish from behind.

A grip like a manacle encircled her wrist, and she was heaved backward. She swung hard at whoever had grabbed her and caught a glimpse of Urhkar's face as he ducked the blow.

He swept one leg against the back of her knees, dropping her instantly, and pinned her to the ground. Anger gave way to shock as she fought to get free. Urhkar bent her wrist hard, with her arm twisted around his grounded leg, and she was pinned facedown on the village green. He remained crouched over her.

"Stay," he said calmly.

"Get off!" she ordered.

He didn't even respond. Anxiety stronger than rage filled Magiere.

With one cheek against the moss, she tried to look for Leesil.

Chap darted in front of En’nish, snarling and snapping. She backed away, and Wynn made a dive for the skulls.

" En’nish told them you came to hunt elves!" she shouted to Leesil. "For trophies!"

Magiere's stomach clenched.

Leesil either didn't understand or didn't care as he grabbed Gavril's skull. Wynn beat him to his grandmother's and placed her hand on it. She burst intoElvish, voice full of fear as she shouted to Sgaile. The only word Magiere caught was "Eillean."

Leesil dropped to his knees, clutching at his grandmother's skull in Wynn's arms.

"Stop!" Wynn cried. "Be still, or they will kill you!"

Magiere bucked again, trying to pitch off Urhkar, but he was like a stone statue above her, unmovable.

Wynn's words didn't matter to Leesil-only the skull. He wrenched it from her, crouching with the remains of a father and grandmother wrapped in his arms.

Sgaile's eyes were wide, and Leesil thought he saw his own torments mirrored in those amber irises.

"Eillean?" Sgaile whispered, pointing to the elven skull.

Leesil quickly pulled it aside.

A woman in breeches and an old man in a robe stepped from the crowd, their expressions hard. Chap snarled and rushed out with wild howling barks, and they stumbled back in a startled retreat. The dog cut a wide circle around the green before all those gathered, rumbling with menace.elven villagers were bewildered-a majay-hi turning on them to defend an outsider.

The village glen grew quiet but for uncertain whispers. The ring of onlookers cast confused glances from Chap to Sgaile and then back to Leesil. His skin crawled with their fixed attention.

"You took her remains from the keep's crypt?" Sgaile asked.

It sounded strange in Leesil's ears-a fervent statement hinted within a question. Sgaile said something loudly in Elvish, and the words carried the same tone and inflection. Reactions from those around the clearing changed little. Some became wary and startled, while others glowered in disbelief.

"You brought her home to her people… yes?" Sgaile added.

The words barely registered. Leesil didn't care what they wanted. His dead were no one's business but his own.

"Answer him!" Wynn insisted. "He is trying to save your life… and ours!

En’nish growled something, and her voice rose to a near screech. Leesil twisted about.

Urgent anticipation twisted her sharp features, as if she'd finally cornered some animal long hunted. Fury rose in Leesil, but he remained still.

Tears began to run down En’nish’s eager face and drip from the wedge of her chin. Urhkar barked at her in Elvish. She snapped around at him, and twisted hope vanished from her face.

Urhkar had Magiere pinned, but his expression remained passivelystoic. Magiere was barely able to lift her head from the ground, and her dark eyes locked on Leesil.

How long before he saw those irises blacken and her teeth elongate? He wanted it to happen, to see her tear into the elf.

Urhkar leaned down and spoke softly to Magiere. She ceased struggling, and he glanced beyond Leesil. The elder elf nodded sharply once to someone, and then leaped backward, releasing Magiere. She scrambled about, facing him as she rose, then backed slowly to Leesil.

"It's all right," Magiere whispered, crouching with one hand braced against the earth. "No one will take them… I won't let anyone take them from you."

The roar of rushing blood in Leesil's ears began to ease under her voice.

"Please," Sgaile pleaded, "tell them all… tell my people I speak the truth."

Leesil saw pain on the anmaglahk's face-and fear.

"Erin'n," Sgaile whispered, "'truth'… say it!"

Leesil didn't understand, but Sgaile's urgency crept into his muddled mind.

"Ay-rin-en…" he saidonce, and then again with force.

Sgaile sagged in relief.

Magiere reached for the fallen cloth, but Sgaile picked it up first. He opened it, draping it over his open hands like an offering.

"You shame me," he said quietly, and dropped his gaze to Eillean's skull. "You should have told me. I would have… begged to carry her.Even for a little of the way."

Sgaile hesitated at the sight of Gavril's skull, but then he held out the draped cloth. Magiere snatched it away and laid it carefully over the skulls in Leesil's arms.

He quickly wrapped them, hiding them from all prying eyes and stood up only when Magiere coaxed him.

Some of the elves gathered around still looked angry, but others lowered their heads in rising sorrow. Leesil didn't understand why his grandmother's return and oneElvish word had caused such a change.

Magiere slid her arm around his shoulders, but she looked behind him toward En’nish.

"You touch him again," she said coldly, "and I won't need a sword to take your head."

Leesil heard no answer from En’nish, but she came into sight around his right side, circling wide as she approached Sgaile. Urhkar strode into Leesil's view and cut her off.

Without the slightest emotion on his face, the elder Anmaglahk raised an empty hand, palm outward. He waved it between them, as if brushing some annoyance from the air.

Anger drained from En’nish’s face. She flinched as if struck suddenly by someone she cared for. She backed away from Urhkar, turned, and fled from the clearing.

Wynn climbed to her feet as Osha tucked away his stilettos and hurried to assist her. When he offered his hand, the sage pulled away and wouldn't look at him.

"We should get out of sight immediately," Wynn said.

Chap still paced before the elves, glancing every so often at Leesil.

An elderly man in a quilted russet shirt pushed through the crowd. His unruly hair was darker than the others' and shot with steel gray. Chap turned on him with a snarl. The old man froze just inside the ring of onlookers but would not retreat.

"Sgailsheilleache?" he called.

In an unguarded moment, relief flashed across Sgaile's narrow features. "Foirreach-ahare!"

"Chap, stop! Leave him be," Wynn called; then she whispered to Magiere, "Sgaile called that man his grandfather."

Chap turned a hesitant circle back toward Wynn, his eyes still on the new arrival. The older man approached, eying the dog. He didn't appear angry or frightened, only a bit startled and worried.

Sgaile spoke rapidly in Elvish, and his grandfather's answers carried a tone of polite admonishment. Leesil wondered at what was said and looked to Wynn. The sage followed their words with fixed attention but offered no translation. Sgaile gestured Leesil forward and kept his voice low.

"Hurry. Come to my home. You will be safe there."

Leesil bit his tongue to keep from snapping. Sgaile had made this promise before, and his assurance had proved false. Leesil wondered how much worse things could get.