Dwellings dotted the Valley, though they could not be termed “houses,” for they grew out of the earth itself, their circular walls being formed of tree trunks or flowering bushes. Their peaked roofs were thatched with vivid blue-green feathers. As the travelers cantered slowly down the road, people came out of the houses. Many waved to Alon, and he returned their greeting, but he did not draw rein until they had reached the largest of the dwellings. As Monso halted, the doorway, which was curtained by flowering vines, moved aside, and a man came out, followed a moment later by a woman. Lord Kyllan and Lady Dahaun, Lydryth thought.
Both wore soft tunics and breeches of a spring green, with belts and wristlets of pale gold studded with blue-green gems. Kyllan was tall and broad-shouldered, with the air of one who has ridden to arms many times. In that way he reminded Lydryth of her father, Jervon; he had the same air of one who is accustomed to command. Physically, though, he was plainly of the Old Race, though his jaw was wider and his mouth held more than a touch of humor about it. Lydryth recalled that his father, Simon Tregarth, was reportedly an outlander, who had come from some distant world through one of the legendary Gates.
As the Lady of the Green Silences stepped forward, the girl’s eyes widened in surprise. She gazed at her, blinked, then frankly stared. Never had she seen her like before!
Tall and slender, she seemed as graceful as a willow in her green tunic. Lydryth’s eyes fastened on her face. Her hair was as pale gold as the metal other wristlet… no, it was the color of new-smelted copper… no, it was as black as Lydryth’s own … no, no, it was the green of the new spring leaves. . . .
The harder the songsmith stared, the more the woman’s coloring and features seemed to blur and change. She was many women . . . and all of them beautiful.
“Alon!” Dahaun exclaimed, stretching forth both her hands in warm and gracious greeting. “Oh, well-come indeed! You have returned to us!”
“Greetings, Lady . . . Kyllan,” the Adept said. “I but wish that my visit were simply a visit, but, in truth, I come in haste, on a matter of great urgency.” He turned in the saddle to give the songsmith a steadying grip as she slid off the Keplian, then swung down himself. Catching the minstrel’s hand, he drew her forward. “But first, Dahaun, I must present my companion, the Lady Songsmith Lydryth.”
With a gracious yet courtly air, the Lady inclined her head and reached to take the girl’s hand in both of hers. “Be welcome to our home, Lydryth,” she said warmly. “This is my lord, Kyllan.” As the Lady of the Green Silences touched the girl’s hand, her features steadied, until her face was oval, her eyes grey, her hair black. She now was as plainly of the Old Race as was her lord, Kyllan.
“Good fortune to your home, Lady Dahaun, now and evermore,” Lydryth said, altering the traditional greeting a trifle. In no wise could one call this bower of living trees and vines a house.
The Lady released her guest’s hand, and her features again took on that uncanny shifting, as her lord, Kyllan, also stepped forward to greet the songsmith. Then Tregarth turned back to Alon, who was standing with Monso’s rein over his arm. He smiled with a touch of ruefulness. “If that were an ordinary mount you hold, Alon, I would offer to tend him for you, but perhaps that would not be wise of me.”
Alon grinned. “My foster-mother has told me that you have no reason to love Keplians, having once almost been undone by one of Monso’s breed. I will tend him myself.”
Dahaun (once more her hair was as green as her garb) smiled mischievously at her lord. “Do not forget what a great gift the Keplian brought you that day so long ago, my lord. Had it not been for him, we two might never have met!”
He inclined his head. “For which I give heartfelt thanks every day, my lady. Still, I have often thought that there must be easier ways for a man to first encounter his future bride than to have nearly every bone in his body smashed by a demon-horse!”
Turning back to her guest, the Lady said, “Take off your mount’s saddle and bridle, Alon. Monso will be fine, here, will you not, my beauty?” She reached a slender hand toward the creature’s forehead, then her eyes widened. “What is this?” she exclaimed.
Alon’s fingers began separating the long strands ofMonso’s forelock. “The crystal I braided into his forelock, so we could open the Gate,” he said. “I forgot all about it in our haste to reach you. But. . . but it has changed! What-?” he broke off in wonder as his questing fingers worked the amethyst-shaded crystal free of the Keplian’s long forelock. “Look!” he cried, holding it out for all of them to see.
Instead of a netting of black horsehair, the shard from the mirror now lay encased in a delicate webbing of purest silver. “It must have transmuted when we leaped through,” Alon whispered.
Dahaun put out a hand, but stopped short of actually laying finger to the crystal. “It is a powerful talisman,” she said. Turning to her lord, she pulled free the silver cord that laced the top of his green tunic. Threading the cord through the net of silver, she formed a pendant from it. This she placed solemnly over Alon’s head, so it hung down beneath the neck of his tunic. “Keep it always, and may it protect you from all manner of evil,” she said quietly.
Then the Lady of the Green Silences turned back to the Keplian. “Leave Monso here,” she repeated. “He will be fine.” The black snorted, then bobbed his head up and down, exactly as if nodding agreement.
Quickly, Alon freed the stallion to graze, then the travelers followed their host and hostess into the dwelling.
Within, screens made of living vines or woven of feathers made rooms, and the floor was carpeted with soft living moss. Light filtered greenly through the roof and walls, making the interior pleasantly restful. When Alon would have launched immediately into their story, Dahaun stayed his words with a swift gesture. “Your story will wait a few minutes more,” she said, waving Lydryth toward one alcove, while Kyllan took the young Adept’s arm and steered him toward another. “You have been on the road for long and long, and need to rest, if only for a short while. Besides, we must summon the scouts to hear your tale firsthand, if they must needs carry it to others.”
Alon nodded, albeit a bit reluctantly.
Lydryth followed the Lady into a room containing two pools, one holding water tinged red with mud, the other filled with clear water. Now that she was actually here, lack of sleep and food made her so weary she stumbled as she walked. Dahaun indicated the red-colored pool, and said, “This one first, Lady Lydryth.”
Stripping off her travel-grimed clothes, the songsmith sank gratefully into the warm pool. Dahaun gathered up her stained breeches, tunic, and jerkin, promising to see that they were cleaned for use on the morrow, then left the girl to her bath. The red-tinged water was blissfully hot, and its touch revived her so completely that she felt all weariness and hunger vanishing. This pool, she thought, must share the restorative and healing abilities of the red mud pools Alon had spoken of earlier today.
Finishing off with a thorough rinse in the clear pool, she then donned the clothes her hostess had left, soft tunics, breeches and boots like unto the ones Dahaun and Kyllan wore.
When the girl emerged, feeling vastly more energetic, it was to find Alon, garbed like herself, sitting with a man of Dahaun’s race, Ethutur, talking quietly. The Lord of the Green Silences also possessed the shape-shifting ability, though not as much as Dahaun. Two small, ivory horns rose from his forehead, nearly hidden by the loose curls of his ever- changing-hued hair.
No sooner had the songsmith been introduced and seated herself upon one of the moss-grown hummocks that served as cushions on the floor than the Lady herself returned. Dahaun was accompanied by two tall children who were carrying plat- ters of food and drink, and by two men who wore the battered boots and light mail of couriers or scouts. One of the men was a giant who towered above the other.
Kyllan introduced the two men as the Valley’s scouts, Yonan and Urik. Yonan was of middle height, and evidently descended from some Sulcar ancestor, if Lydryth guessed aright. The giant was Urik.
The boy and girl (they appeared to be perhaps five years younger than the songsmith herself) Kyllan identified as his and Dahaun’s twin children. Elona, the girl, had inherited something of her mother’s shape-changing ability, for whenever Lydryth gazed upon her, her features gradually took on subtle shifts of shape, and her hair and eyes seemed to darken and lighten, though not to the extent that Dahauh’s did. Keris, the boy, resembled his father, and his features did not change. Nor did he have the horns of the Green Men.