and see?”
Par shut his mouth, and they began their descent. When they
reached the valley floor, they found the forest surprisingly clear
of scrub and deadwood. The trees opened into clearings that
were crisscrossed with streams and laced with tiny wildflowers
colored white, blue, and deep violet. The day grew still, the
wind calmed, and the lengthening shadows that draped the way
forward seemed soft and unthreatening. Par forgot about the
dangers and hardships of his journey, put aside his weariness
and discomfort, and concentrated instead on thinking further
about the man he had come to find. He was admittedly con-
fused, but at least he understood the reason. When Brin Ohms-
ford had come into Darklin Reach three hundred years earlier,
Hearthstone had been the home of Cogline and the child he
claimed as his granddaughter, Kimber Boh. The old man and
the little girl had guided Brin into the Maelmord where she had
confronted the Ildatch. They had remained friends afterward,
and that friendship had endured for ten generations. Walker
Boh’s father had been an Ohmsford and his mother a Boh. He
could trace his father’s side of the family directly back to Brin
and his mother’s side to Kimber. It was logical that he would
choose to come back here-yet illogical that the old man, the
man who claimed to be Cogline, the very same Cogline of three
hundred years earlier, would know nothing about it.
Or say nothing, if in fact he knew.
Par frowned. What had the old man said about Walker Boh
when they had talked with him? His frown deepened. Only that
he knew Walker was alive, he answered himself. That and noth-
ing else.
But was there more between them than what the old man had
revealed? Par was certain of it. And he meant to discover what
it was.
The brief flurry of late sunlight faded and twilight cloaked
the valley in darkening shades of gray. The sky remained clear
and began to fill with stars, and the three-quarter moon, waning
now toward the end of its cycle, bathed the forest in milky light.
The little company walked cautiously ahead, working its way
steadily in the direction of the chimney-shaped rock formation,
crossing the dozens of little streams and weaving through the
maze of clearings. The forest was still, but its silence did not
feel ominous. Coil nudged Par at one point when he caught sight
of a gray squirrel sitting up on its hind legs and regarding them
solemnly. There were night sounds, but they seemed distant and
far removed from the valley.
“It feels sort of … protected here, don’t you think?” Par
asked his brother quietly, and Coil nodded.
They continued on for almost an hour without encountering
anyone. They had reached the approximate center of the valley
when a sudden glimmer of light winked at them through the
forest trees. Steff slowed, signaled for caution, then led them
forward. The light drew closer, flickering brightly through the
dark, changing from a single pinprick of brightness to a cluster.
Lamps, Par thought. He pushed ahead to reach Steff, his sharp
Elven senses picking out the source. “It’s a cottage,” he whis-
pered to the Dwarf.
They broke clear of the trees and stepped into a broad, grassy
clearing. There was indeed a cottage. It stood before them,
precisely at the center of the clearing, a well-kept stone and
timber structure with front and rear porches, stone walkways,
gardens, and flowering shrubs. Spruce and pine clustered about
it like miniature watchtowers. Light streamed forth from its
windows and mingled with moonglow to brighten the clearing
as if it were midday.
The front door stood open.
Par started forward at once, but Steff quickly yanked him
back. “A little caution might be in order, Valeman,” he lec-
tured.
He said something to Teel, then left them all to go on alone,
sprinting across the open spaces between the spruce and pine,
keeping carefully to the shadows between, eyes fixed on the
open door. The others watched him make his way forward,
crouched down now at Teel’s insistence at the edge of the forest.
Steff reached the porch, hunkered down close to it for a long