to be, he had told her. If you are always frightened for yourself
you can’t act, and then life loses its purpose. You just have to
tell yourself that, when you get right down to it, you don’t
matter all that much.
But the Owl had mattered more than most. Alone with her
thoughts, the others either asleep or pretending to be, she al-
lowed herself to acknowledge exactly how much he had mat-
tered. She remembered how Ellenroh had cried in her arms
when Aurin Striate was gone, like a little girl again, unashamed
of her grief, mourning someone who had been much more than
a faithful retainer of the throne, more than a lifetime companion,
and more than just a friend. She had not realized the depth of
feeling that her grandmother bore for the Owl, and it made her
cry in turn. Gavilari, for once, was at a complete loss for words,
taking Ellenroh’s hands and holding them without speaking, im-
pulsively hugging Wren when she most needed it, doing nothing
more than just being there. Garth and the Elven Hunters were
stone faced, but their eyes reflected what lay behind their masks.
They would all miss Aurin Striate.
How much they would miss him would become evident at
first light, and its measure extended far beyond any emotional
loss. For the Owl was the only one among them who knew
anything about surviving the dangers of Morrowindl outside the
walls of Arborlon. Without him, they had no one to serve as
guide. They would have to rely on their own instincts and train-
ing if they were to save themselves and all those confined within
the Loden. That meant finding a way to get free of Eden’s Murk,
descending the Blackledge, passing through the In Ju, and reach-
ing the beaches in time to meet up with Tiger Ty. They would
have to do all that without any of them knowing the way they
should travel or the dangers they should watch out for.
The more Wren thought about it, the more impossible it
seemed. Except for Garth and herself, none of the others had
any real experience in wilderness survival-and this was strange
country for the Rovers as well, a land they had passed through
only once and then with help, a land filled with pitfalls and
hazards they had never encountered before. How much help
would any of them be to the others? What chance did they
have without the Owl?
Her brooding left her hollow and bitter. So much depended
on whether they lived or died, and now it was all threatened
because of a fluke.
Garth slept closest to her, a dark shadow against the earth,
as still as death in slumber. He puzzled her these days-had
done so ever since they had arrived on Morrowindl. It wasn’t
something she could easily define, but it was there nevertheless.
Garth, always enigmatic, had become increasingly remote, grad-
ually withdrawing in his relationship with her-almost as if he
felt that she didn’t need him any more, that his tenure as teacher
and hers as student were finished. It wasn’t in any specific thing
he had done or way he had behaved; it was more a general
attitude, evinced in a pulling back of himself in little, unobtru-
sive ways. He was still there for her in all the ways that counted,
protective as always, watching out and counseling. Yet at the
same time he was moving away, giving her a space and a solitude
she had never experienced before and found somewhat discon
certing. She was strong enough to be on her own, she knew;
she had been so for several years now. It was simply that she
hadn’t thought that where Garth was concerned she would ever
find a need to say good-bye.
Perhaps the loss of the Owl called attention to it more dra-
matically than would have otherwise been the case. She didn’t
know. It was hard to think clearly just now, and yet she knew
she must. Emotions would only distract and confuse, and in the
end they might even kill. Until they were clear of Morrowindl
and safely back in the Westland, there could be little time wasted