lifted to trace the outline of the leather bag about her neck. She
had not thought of the Elfstones since they had begun their
ascent of Blackledge. She had not even thought to use the magic
when they were threatened. She shook her head. But then why
should she? Look how much good the magic had done the Elves.
She felt Garth’s hand on her shoulder and saw the question-
ing look in his eyes. He was wondering what she intended to
do. She found herself wondering the same thing.
Go home, a voice whispered inside her. Give this madness up.
Part of her agreed. It was madness, and she had no reason
to be here beyond foolish curiosity and stubborn insistence.
Look at how little her skills and her training could help her in
this business. She was lucky she had gotten this far. She was
lucky even to be alive.
But here she was nevertheless. And the answers to all her
questions lay just beyond the light.
“Stresa,” she whispered, “is there a way to get into the city?”
The Splinterscat’s eyes shone in the dark. “Wrroowwll, Wren
of the Elves. You are determined to go down there, are you?”
When she failed to respond, he said, “Within a ravine that-
hrrwwll-lies close to where the demons prowl, there are tun-
nels hidden. Sssstttpht. The tunnels lead into the city. The Elves
use them to sneak away-or did once upon a time. That was
how they let us out to keep watch for them. Phhffft. Perhaps
there is still one in use, do you think?”
“Can you find it?” she asked softly.
The Splinterscat blinked.
“Will you show it to me?”
“Hssstttt. Will you remember your promise to take me with
you when this is finished?”
“I will.”
“Very well.” The cat face furrowed. “The tunnels, then.
Which of us goes? Ssttpht.”
“Garth, you, and me.
The Tree Squeak chittered instantly.
Stresa purred. “I thought as much. The Squeak plans on
going, too. Rwwwll. Why not? It’s only a Squeak.”
Wren hesitated. She felt the Tree Squeak’s fingers clutch
tightly at her arm. The Squeak chittered once more.
“Sssttt.” Stresa might have been laughing. “She says to tell
you that her name is Faun. She has decided to adopt you.”
“Faun.” Wren repeated the name and smiled faintly. “Is that
your name, little one?” The round eyes were fixed on her, the
big ears cocked forward. It seemed odd that the Tree Squeak
should even have a name. “So you would adopt me, would you?
And go where I go?” She shook her head ruefully. “Well, it is
your country. And I probably couldn’t keep you from going if
I tried.”
She glanced at Garth to make certain he was ready. The
rough face was calm and the dark eyes fathomless. She took a
last look down at the madness below, then pushed back the fear
and the doubt and told herself with as much conviction as she
could muster that she was a Rover girl and that she could sur-
vive anything.
Her fingers passed briefly across the hard surface of the
Elf stones.
If it becomes necessary . .
She blocked the thought away. “Lead us in, Stresa,” she
whispered. “And keep us safe.”
The Splinterscat didn’t bother to reply.
CHAPTER
9
WREN OHMSFORD COULD NOT remember a time when she
had been afraid of much of anything. It simply wasn’t
her nature. Even when she was small and the world was
still new and strange and virtually everyone and every-
thing in it was either bigger and stronger or quicker and meaner,
she was never frightened. No matter the danger, whatever the
uncertainty, she remained confident that somehow she would
find a way to protect herself. This confidence was innate, a mix
of iron-willed determination and self-assurance that had given
her a special kind of inner strength all her life. As she grew,
particularly after she went to live with the Rovers and began
her training with Garth, she acquired the skill and experience
needed to make certain that her confidence was never mis-
placed, that it never exceeded her ability.
All that had changed when she had come in search of the