were yours in that case?
She looked back, hesitant.
Would it have been better to know you were Ellenroh Elessedil’s grand-
daughter, that the Elfstones you thought painted rocks were real, that when
you grew to womanhood you would one day be expected to travel to Mor-
rowindi and, because of a prophecy given before you were born, save the
Elves? How free would you have been to act then? How much would you
have grown? What would you have become?
She took a deep breath. “I don’t know. But perhaps I should
have been given the chance to find out.”
The light was stronger now as dawn broke somewhere be-
yond the pall of the mist and trees. Faun lifted her head from out
of Wren’s lap where she had lain motionless. Triss had come back
from the edge of the dark; he stood watching them in silence.
The night sounds had died away, and the frantic movement had
ceased. In the distance, the sounds of Killeshan’s eruption con-
tinued unabated, steady and ominous. The earth shook faintly,
and the fire of the lava rose skyward into gray smoke and ash.
Garth stirred, his hands moving. Wren, he signed. I did what
I was asked, what I promised. I did the best I could. I wish it had not been
necessary to deceive you. I wish I had been able to give you the chance you
ask for.
She looked at him for a long time, and finally nodded. “I
know.”
The strong, dark face was rigid with concentration. Don’t be
angry with your mother and father. They did what they thought they had
to do, what they believed was right.
She nodded again. She did not trust herself to speak.
You must find a way to forgive us all.
She swallowed hard. “I wish. . . I wish I didn’t hurt so much.”
Wren, look at me.
She did so, reluctantly, warily.
We are not finished yet. There is one thing more.
She felt a chill settle in the pit of her stomach, an ache of
something sensed but not yet fully realized. She saw Stresa ap-
pear out of the trees to one side, lumbering heavily, winded and
damp. He slowed as he approached them, aware that something
was happening, a confrontation perhaps, a revelation, a thing
inviolate.
“Stresa,” Wren greeted quickly, anxious to avoid hearing any
more from Garth.
The Splinterscat swung his blunt cat face from one human
to the other. “We can go now,” he said. “In fact, we should. The
mountain is coming down. Sooner or later it will reach here.”
“We must hurry,” she agreed, rising. She snatched up the
Ruhk Staff, then looked down anxiously at her injured friend.
“Garth?”
We need to speak alone first.
Her throat tightened anew. “Why?”
Ask the others to go ahead a short distance and wait for us. Tell them
we won’t be long.
She hesitated, then looked at Stresa and Triss. “I need a
moment with Garth. Wait for us up ahead. Please.”
They stared back at her without speaking, then nodded re-
luctantly, Triss first, lean face expressionless, and Stresa with
sharp-eyed suspicion.
“Take Faun,” she asked as an afterthought, disengaging the
Tree Squeak from its perch on her shoulder and setting it gently
on the ground.
Stresa hissed at the little creature and sent it racing off into
the trees. He looked back at her with sad, knowing eyes. “Call,
rwwwlll Wren of the Elves, if you need us.”
When they had gone, the sound of their footsteps fading,
she faced Garth once more, the Staff gripped tightly in both
hands. “What is it?”
The big man beckoned. Don’t be frightened. Here. Sit next to me.
Listen a moment and don’t interrupt.
She did as he asked, kneeling close enough that her leg was
pressed up against his body. She could feel the heat of his fever.
Mist and pale light obscured him in a shading of gray, and the
world about was fuzzy and thick with heat.
She lay the Ruhk Staff down beside her, and Garth’s big
hands began to sign.
Something is happening to me. Inside. The Wisteron’s poison, I think.