find him, of course-even though he no longer mattered. They
must regain possession of the Ruhk Staff and the Loden or ev-
erything they had gone through to get clear of Morrowindi and
all of the lives that had been given up-her grandmother’s, the
Owl’s, Eowen’s, and those of the Elven Hunters-would have
been for nothing. The thought burned through her. She could
not tolerate it. She would not permit them to fail. She had
promised her grandmother. She had promised herself. It was the
reason she had come-to bring the Elves back into the Westland
and to help find a way to put an end to the Shadowen. Allanon’s
charge-hers now as well, she admitted in black fury. Find your-
self, and she had. Discover the truth, and she had. Too much
of both, but she had. Her life was revealed now, past, present,
and future, and however she felt about it she would not let it
be taken away without her consent.
I don’t care what it takes, she vowed. I don’t care!
She was sleeping when Triss touched her shoulder and
brought her awake again. “Lady Wren,” he whispered gently.
“Go lie down. Rest now.”
She blinked, accepting the blanket he slipped about her. “In
a minute,” she replied. “Sit with me first.”
He did so, a silent companion, his lean brown face strangely
untroubled, his eyes distant. She remembered how he had
looked when she had told him of Gavilan’s treachery. Treachery,
wasn’t that what it was? That look was gone now, washed away by
sleep or by acceptance. He had found a way to come to terms
with it. Triss, the last of those who had come out of Arborlon’s
old life-how alone he must feel.
He looked over at her, and it seemed as if he could read her
thoughts. “I have been Captain of the Home Guard for almost
eight years,” he ventured after a moment. “A long time, Lady
Wren. I loved your grandmother, the queen. I would have done
anything for her.” He shook his bead. “I have spent my whole
life in service to the Elessedils and the Elven throne. I knew
Gavilan as a child; we were children together. I grew to
manhood with him. We played. My family and his still wait
within the Loden, friends, . .” He drew a deep breath, groping
for words, understanding. “I knew him. He would not have
killed Dal unless . . . Could it be that something happened to
change him? Could one of the demons have done something to
him?”
She had not considered that possibility. It could have hap-
pened. There had been opportunity enough. Or why not some-
thing else, a poison, for instance, or a sickening like that which
had killed Ellenroh? But she knew in her heart that it was none
of those, that it was simply a wearing away of his spirit, a break-
ing apart of his resolve.
“It could have been a demon,” she lied anyway.
The strong face lifted. “He was a good man,” he said quietly.
“He cared about people; he helped them. He loved the queen.
She would have named him king one day, perhaps.”
“If not for me.”
He turned away, embarrassed. “I should not have said
that. You are queen.” He looked back again. “Your grandmother
would not have given the Staff to you if she had not believed it
best. She would have given it to Gavilan instead. Perhaps she
saw something in him that the rest of us missed. Yours is the
strength the Elven people need.”
She faced him. “I didn’t want any part of this, Triss. None
of it.”
He nodded, smiled faintly. “No. Why would you?”
“I just wanted to find out who I was.”
She saw a flicker of despair in his dark eyes. “I don’t pretend
to understand what brought you to us,” he told her. “I only
know that you are here and you are Queen of the Elves.” He
kept his eyes fixed on her. “Don’t abandon us,” he said quietly,
urgently. “Don’t leave us. We need you.”
She was amazed at the strength of his plea. She placed her