the same time angry at the responsibilities she had been asked
to assume. Wren Ohmsford, Queen of the Elves? It was laugh-
able. She didn’t care who she was or what her family back-
ground might be, her whole life was defined by how she
perceived herself, and she perceived herself as a Rover. She
couldn’t just wish all that away, forget all the years she had spent
growing up, accept what had happened in these last few weeks
as if it were a mandate she could not refuse. How could her
grandmother say that she had been raised as an Elessedil? Why
would the Elves want her as their queen in any case? She wasn’t
really one of them, her birthright notwithstanding.
Almost without thinking about it, she stalked over to where
Gavilan sat back against a moss-grown stump and squatted down
beside him.
“What am I to do about this?” she demanded almost angrily,
thrusting the Ruhk Staff in his face.
He shrugged, his eyes distant and empty. “What you were
asked to do, I expect.”
“But this isn’t mine! It doesn’t belong to mel It shouldn’t have
been given to me in the first place!”
His voice was bitter. “I happen to agree. But what you and
I want doesn’t count for much, does it?”
“That isn’t true. Ellenroh would never have done this if she
weren’t so sick. When she’s better. . .” She stopped as he looked
pointedly away. “When she’s better,” she continued, snapping
off each word like a broken stick, “she will realize this is all a
mistake.”
His gaze was flat. “She’s not going to get better.”
“Don’t say that, Gavilan. Don’t.”
“Would you rather I lied?”
Wren stared at him, unable to speak.
Gavilan’s face was hard. “All right, then. I realize that you
didn’t plan for any of this to happen, that the Elves aren’t your
people, that none of this really has anything to do with you,
and that all you wanted to do was to find Ellenroh and deliver
your message. You don’t want to be Queen of the Elves? Fair
enough. You don’t have to. Give the Staff to me.”
There was a long, empty silence as they stared at each other.
“The Elessedil blood flows through my body as well,” he
pointed out heatedly. “These are my people, and Arborlon is
my city. I can do what is needed. I have a better grasp of things
than you. And I am not afraid to use the magic.”
Suddenly Wren understood what was happening. Gavilan
had expected to be given the Ruhk Staff; he had expected Ellen-
roh to name him as her successor. If Wren had not appeared, it
probably would have happened that way. In fact, Wren’s coming
to Arborlon had changed everything for Gavilan. She felt a mo-
mentary pang of dismay, but it gave way almost instantly to
wariness. She remembered how Gavilan and Ellenroh had quar-
reled about the Loden. Gavilan favored use of the magic to
change things back to how they had once been, to set things
right again. Ellenroh believed it was time to give the magic up,
to return to the Westland and live as the Elves had once lived.
That conflict surely must have influenced Ellenroh’s decision to
give the Staff to Wren.
Gavilan seemed to sense her uncertainty. “Think about it,
Wren. If the queen dies, her burden need not be yours. If you
had not returned, it never would have been.” He folded his arms
defensively. “In any case, it is up to you. If you wish it, I will
help. I told you that when we first met, and the offer still stands.
Whatever I can do.”
She didn’t know what to say. “Thank you, Gavilan,” she
managed.
She moved away from him then, feeling decidedly uneasy
about what he had suggested. As much as she wanted to be free
of the responsibility of the Staff, she was not at all sure she
should give it over to him. The magic was a trust; it should not
be relinquished too quickly, not when the consequences of its
use were so enormous. Ellenroh could have given the Staff to