Wren was still trying to figure out what the Elves were doing
using magic again. Where had the magic come from? They
hadn’t had the use of magic when they had lived in the West-
land-hadn’t had it since the time of faerie except for their heal-
ing powers. The real magic had been lost for years. Now,
somehow, they had gotten it back again. Enough, it appeared,
to allow them to create demons. Or to summon them, per-
haps. A black choice, if ever there was one. What could have
possessed them to do such a thing?
She wondered suddenly what her parents had to do with all
of this. Were they involved in using the magic? If they were,
then why had they given the Elfstones-the most powerful magic
of all-to her?
“If the Elves . . . created these demons with their magic, why
Can t they destroy them?” she asked, curious still about where
these so-called demons had come from and whether they were
really demons at all. “Why can’t they use their magic to free
themselves?”
Stresa shook his head and picked up the root again. “I haven’t
any idea. No one has ever explained any of it to me. I never go
to the city. I haven’t spoken to an Elf in years. You are the
first-and you’re not wholly elf, are you? Prruufft. Your blood
is mixed. And your friend is something else altogether.”
“He is human,” she said.
“Ssspttt. If you say so. I haven’t seen anyone like him before.
Where does he come from?”
Wren realized for the first time that Stresa probably didn’t
know that there was anyone out there other than Elves and
Wing Riders or any place other than the islands.
“We both come from the Westland, which is part of a coun-
try called the Four Lands, which is where all the Elves came
from years ago. There are lots of different kinds of people there.
Garth and I are just one of them.”
Stresa studied her thoughtfully. His quilled body bunched
as his legs inched together. “After you find the Elves-
rrrgggghh-and deliver your message, what will you do then?
Will you go back to where you came from?”
Wren nodded.
“The Westland, you called it. Is it anything like-grwwl-
Morrowi ndl?
“No, Stresa. There are things that are dangerous, though.
Still, the Westland is nothing like Morrowindl.” But even as she
finished speaking, she thought, Not yet anyway, but for how
long with the Shadowen gaining strength?
The Splinterscat chewed on the root for a moment, then
remarked, “Pfftt. I don’t think you can get to Arborlon on your
own.” The strange blue eyes fixed on Wren.
“No?” she replied.
“Pft, pft. I don’t see how. You haven’t any idea how to scale
Blackledge. Whatever happens you have to avoid the hrrrwwll
Harrow and the Drakuls. Below, in the valley, there’s the Rev-
enants. Those are just the worst of the demons; there are dozens
of others as well. Ssspht. Once they discover you . .
The quilled body bristled meaningfully and smoothed out
again. Wren was tempted to ask about the Draculs and the Rev-
enants. Instead, she glanced at Garth for an opinion. Garth
merely shrugged his indifference. He was used to finding his
own way.
“Well, what do you suggest we do?” she asked the Splinters-
cat.
The eyes blinked. The purr lifted from the creature’s throat.
“I would suggest that we make a bargain. I will guide you to the
city. If you get past the demons and deliver your message and
get out again, I will guide you back. Hrrrwwll.” Stresa paused.
“In return, you will take me with you when you leave the is-
land.”
Wren frowned. “To the Westland? You want to leave Mor-
rowindl?”
The Splinterscat nodded. “Sppppttt. I don’t like it here much
anymore. You can’t really blame me. I have survived for a long
time on wits and experience and instinct, but mostly on luck.
Today my luck ran out. If you hadn’t happened along, I would
be dead. I am tired of this life. I want to go back to the way
things were before. Perhaps I can do that where you live.”