afraid I’ve gotten ahead of myself again. And failed to show
proper manners as well. This is Eowen Cerise, Wren. She is my
closest friend and advisor. She is the reason, in fact, that you
are here.”
Wren frowned slightly. “I don’t understand what you mean.
I am here because I came in search of the Elves. That search
came about because the Druid Allanon asked me to undertake
it. What has Eowen to do with that?”
“Allanon,” the Elf Queen whispered, momentarily distracted.
“Even in death, he keeps watch over us.” She released Wren’s
hand in a gesture of confusion. “Wren, let me ask you a question
first. How did you manage to find us? Can you tell us of your
journey to reach Morrowindl and Arborlon?”
Wren was anxious to learn about her mother, but she was
not the one in control here. She concealed her impatience and
did as the queen asked. She told of the dreams sent by Allanon,
the appearance of Cogline and the resulting journey to the Had-
eshorn, the charges of the Druid shade to the Ohmsfords, her
return with Garth to the Westland and search for some hint of
what had become of the Elves, their subsequent arrival at Grim-
pen Ward and talk with the Addershag, their escape to the ruins
of the Wing Hove, the coming of Tiger Ty and Spirit, and the
flight to Morrowindl and the journey in. She left out only two
things_any mention of the Shadowen that had tracked them or
the fact that she possessed the Elfstones. The Owl had been
quite clear in his warning to say nothing of the Stones until she
was alone with the queen, and unless she spoke of the Stones
she could say nothing of the Shadowen.
She finished and waited for the queen to say something.
Ellenroh Elessedil studied her intently for a moment and then
smiled. “You are a cautious girl, Wren, and that is something
you must be in this world. Your story tells me exactly as much
as it should-and nothing more.” She leaned forward, her strong
face lined with a mix of feelings too intricate for Wren to sort
out. “I am going to tell you something now in return and when
I am done there will be no more secrets between us.”
She picked up Wren’s hands once more in her own. “Your
mother was called Alleyne, as Gavilan told you. She was my
daughter.”
Wren sat without moving, her hands gripped tightly in the
queen’s, surprise and wonder racing through her as she tried to
think what to say.
“My daughter, Wren, and that makes you my grandchild.
There is one thing more. I gave to Alleyne, and she in turn was
to give to you, three painted stones in a leather bag. Do you
have them?”
Wren hesitated, trapped now, not knowing what she was
supposed to do or say. But she could not lie. “Yes,” she admitted.
The queen’s blue eyes were penetrating as they scanned
Wren’s face, and there was a faint smile on her lips. “But you
know the truth of them now, don’t you? You must, Wren, or
you would never have gotten here alive.”
Wren forced her face to remain expressionless. “Yes,” she
repeated quietly.
Ellenroh patted her hands and released them. “Eowen knows
of the Elfstones, child. So do a few of the others who have stood
beside me for so many years-Aurin Striate, for one. He warned
you against saying anything, didn’t he? No matter. Few know of
the Elfstones, and none have seen them used-not even I. You
alone have had that experience, Wren, and I do not think you
are altogether pleased, are you?”
Wren shook her head slowly, surprised at how perceptive
the queen was, at her insight into feelings Wren had thought
carefully hidden. Was it because they were family and therefore
much alike, their heredity a bonding that gave each a window
into the other’s heart? Could Wren, in turn, perceive when she
chose what Ellenroh Elessedil felt?
Family. She whispered the word in her mind. The family I came
to find. Is it possible? Am I really the grandchild of this queen, an Elessedil