Ellenroh Elessedil smiled. “It is in your eyes. The magic al-
ways leaves its mark. I should know.”
“I would have used them sooner, Grandmother, but I forgot
what it was that they could do. I’m sorry.”
“Child, there is no need to apologize.” The blue eyes were
kind and warm. “I have loved you so much, Wren-even before
you came to me, ever since I knew from Eowen that you had
been born.”
“You need to sleep, Ellenroh,” the seer whispered.
The queen closed her eyes momentarily and shook her
head.”No, Eowen. I need to speak with you. All of you.”
Her eyes opened, worn and distant. “I am dying,” she whis-
pered. “No, say nothing. Hear me out.” She fixed them with her
gaze. “I am sorry, Wren, that I cannot be with you longer. I
wish that I could. We have had too short a time together. Eowen,
this is hardest for you. You have been my friend all of my life,
and I would stay to keep you well if I could. I know what my
dying means. Gavilan, Triss, Dal-you did for me what you
could. But my time is here. The fever is stronger than I am, and
while I have tried to break free of it, I find I cannot. Aurin
Striate waits for me, and I go to join him.”
Wren was shaking her head deliberately, angrily. “No,
Grandmother, don’t say this, don’t make it so!”
The soft hand found her own and gripped it. “We cannot
hide from the truth, Wren. You, of all people, should know
this. I am weakened to the bone. The fever has cut me apart
inside, and there is almost nothing left holding me together.
Even magic would not save me now, I’m afraid-and none of us
possesses magic that would help in any case. Be strong, Wren.
Remember what we share of flesh and blood. Remember how
much alike we are-how much like Alleyne.”
“Grandmother!” Wren was crying.
“A medicine,” Gavilan whispered urgently. “There must be
some medicine we can give you. Tell us!”
“Nothing.” The queen’s eyes seemed to drift from face to
face and away again, seeking something that wasn’t there. She
coughed and stiffened momentarily. “Am I still your queen?” she
asked.
They murmured yes, all of them, an uncertain reply. “Then
I have one last command to give you. If you love me, if you
care for the future of the Elven people, you will not question it.
Say that you will obey.”
They did, but furtive looks passed from one to the other,
questioning what they were about to hear.
“Wren.” Ellenroh waited until her granddaughter had moved
to where she could see her clearly. “This is yours now. Take it.”
She held out the Ruhk Staff and the Loden. Wren stared at
her in disbelief, unable to move. “Take it!” the queen said, and
this time Wren did as she was bidden. “Now, listen to me. I
entrust the magic to your care, child. Take the Staff and its
Stone from Morrowindl and carry them back into the West-
land. Restore the Elves and their city. Give our people back
their life. Do what you must to keep your promise to the Druid’s
shade, but remember as well your promise to me. See that the
Elves are made whole. Give them a chance to begin again.”
Wren could not speak, stunned by what was happening,
struggling to accept what she was hearing. She felt the weight
of the Ruhk Staff settle in her hands, the smoothness of its haft,
cool and polished. No, she thought. No, I don’t want this’
“Gavilan. Triss. Dal.” The queen whispered their names, her
voice breaking. “See that she is protected. Help her to succeed
in what she has been given to do. Eowen, use your sight to ward
her against the demons. Garth . .
She was about to speak to the big man, but trailed off sud-
denly, as if she had come upon something she could not face.
Wren glanced back at her friend in confusion, but the dark face
was chiseled in stone.
“Grandmother, I should not be the one to carry this.” Wren