by Barb Hendee
"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 b
een 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 se
en 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."
