She told him, certain now that he was the one for whom
the signal fire was intended and that he was simply being cau-
tious about what he revealed until he found out whom he was
dealing with. She disclosed her background, revealing that she
was the child of an Elf and a Rover, searching for some link to
her past. She advised him of her meeting with the shade of
Allanon and the Druid’s charge that she go in search of the
missing Elves, that she discover what had become of them, and
that she return them to the world of Men so that they could
take part in the battle against the Shadowen.
She kept quiet about the Elfstones. She was not yet ready
to trust anyone with that information.
Tiger Ty shifted and fidgeted as she talked, his face worrying
itself into a dozen different expressions. He seemed heedless of
Garth, his attention focused on Wren. He carried no weapons
save for a long knife, but with Spirit standing watch she sup-
posed he had no need of weapons. The Roc was clearly his
protector.
“Let’s sit,” Tiger Ty said when she had finished, pulling off
his leather gloves. “Got anything to eat?”
They seated themselves beside the now-forgotten signal fire,
and Wren produced a collection of dried fruit, a little bread,
and some ale. They ate and drank in silence, Wren and Garth
exchanging occasional glances, Tiger Ty ignoring them both,
absorbed in the task of eating.
When they were finished, Tiger Ty smiled for the first time.
“A good start to the day, Miss Wren. Thanks very much.”
Wren nodded. “You’re welcome. Now tell me. Was our fire
meant for you?”
The leathery face furrowed. “Well, now. Depends, you
know. Let me ask you, Miss Wren. Do you know anything of
Wing Riders?”
Wren shook her head no.
“Because that’s what I am, you see,” the other explained. “A
Wing Rider. A flyer of the skylanes, a watcher of the Westland
coast. Spirit is my Roc, trained by my father, given to me when
I became old enough. One day he’ll go to my son, if my son
Proves out. There’s some question about it just now. Fool boy
keeps winging about where he’s not supposed to. Doesn’t pay
attention to what I tell him. Impetuous. Anyway, Wing Riders
have flown their Rocs along the Blue Divide for hundreds of
years. This very spot, right here-and back there in the valley-
was our home once. It was called the Wing Hove. That was in
the time of the Druid Allanon. You see, I know a few things.”
“Do you know the Ohmsford name?” Wren asked impul-
sively.
“There was a tale about an Ohmsford some several hundred
years ago when the Elves fought demons released out of the
Forbidding. Wing Riders fought in that war, too, they say. But
there was an Ohmsford, I’m told. Relation of yours?”
“Yes,” she said. “Twelve generations removed.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “So that’s you, is it? A child of the
house of Shannara?”
Wren nodded. “I suppose that’s why I’ve been sent to find
the Elves, Tiger Ty.”
Tiger Ty looked doubtful. “Wing Riders are Elves, you
know,” he said carefully. “But we’re not the Elves you’re looking
for. The Elves you’re looking for are Land Elves, not Sky Elves.
Do you understand the difference?”
She shook her head no once more. He explained then that
the members of the Wing Hove were Sky Elves and considered
themselves a separate people. The majority of the Elves were
called Land Elves because they had no command of the Rocs
and therefore could not fly.
“That’s why they didn’t take us with them when they left,”
he finished, eyebrows arched. “That’s why we wouldn’t have
gone with them in any case.”
Wren felt her pulse quicken. “Then there are still Elves,
aren’t there? Where are they, Tiger Ty?”
The gnarled little man blinked and squinched up his leathery
face. “Don’t know if I should tell you that,” he opined. “Don’t
know if I should tell you anything. You might be who you say.
Then again, you might not. Even if you are, maybe it’s not for