watch over the Loden instead-to stay with Gavilan, you and
Dal, to see to it that whatever else happens, the Elves are kept
safe.”
The hard, gray eyes narrowed. “I beg you not to do this,
Lady. The Home Guard serve the queen first.”
“And the queen, if that is what in truth I am, believes you
will serve best by staying here. I order it, Triss.”
Garth was signing angrily. Do what you wish with them. But I
have no purpose in remaining. I come with you.
She shook her head, and her fingers moved as she spoke.
“No, Garth. If I am lost, they will need you to see them safely
to the beaches and to Tiger Ty. They will need your experi-
ence. I love you, Garth, but you can do nothing to help me
here. You must stay.”
The big man looked at her as if she had struck him.
“This is the time we always knew would come,” she told
him, quiet and insistent, “the time for which you have worked
so hard to train me. It is too late now for any further lessons. I
have to rely on what I know.”
She took Faun from her shoulder and placed her on the
ground beside Stresa. “Stay, little one,” she commanded, and
stepped away.
“Rrrwwlll! Wren, of the Elves, take me!” Stresa snapped,
spines bristling. “I can track for you-better than any of these
others!”
She shook her head once more. “The Elfstones can track
better still. Garth will see you safely to the Westland, Stresa, if
I should fail to return. He knows of my promise to you.”
She removed her pack, dropped her weapons-all but the
long knife at her waist. The four men, the Splinterscat, and the
Tree Squeak watched in silence. Carefully she shook the Elf-
stones from their pouch, dropping them into her open hand.
Her fingers closed.
Then, before she could think better of it, she turned and
stalked into the mist.
SHE WALKED STRAIGHT AHEAD for a time, simply concentrating
on putting one foot in front of the other, distance between her-
self and those who would keep her safe. She crossed the bare
lava rock, a solitary hunter, feeling herself turn cold within,
numb from the intensity of her determination. Eowen spoke to
her out of memory, telling her of the vision she had seen so
long ago, the vision of her own death. No, Wren swore silently.
Not now, now while I still breathe.
The Drakuls began to whisper to her, urging her on, calling
her to them. Within, fury battled back against fear. I will come to
you, all right-but not as you would have me!
She passed through a line of silvered trunks, wood stakes
barren and stark, a gate into the netherworid of the dead. She
saw faces appear, gaunt and empty, skulls within the mist. She
brought up the Elfstones, held them forth, and summoned their
power. It came at once, obedient to her will, blazing to life with
blue fire and streaking out into the haze. It took her left along
a flat where nothing grew, where no trace of what had been
survived. Ahead, far in the distance, she could see a gathering
of white forms, bodies shifting, turning as if to greet her. Voices
reached out, cries and whispers, a summons to death.
The blue fire faded, and she walked blindly on.
Wren, she heard Eowen call.
She shut her sense of urgency away, forcing herself to move
cautiously, watching everything around her, the movement of
shadows and mist, the hint of life coming awake. Stresa had been
right, it was growing dark now, the afternoon lengthening to-
ward evening, the light beginning to fail. She knew she would
not reach Eowen before nightfall. it was what the Drakuls in-
tended; it was what they had planned all along. Eowen’s magic
drew them like her own-but it was hers that they wanted, that
was most powerful, that would feed them best. Eowen was bait
for the trap that was meant to snare her.
She shut her eyes momentarily against the inevitability of it.
She should have known all along.