finally brought her awake. She pushed herself into a sitting po-
sition and looked slowly around. She was here, she assured her-
self, in Arborlon, in the palace of the Elf Queen, in the home
of Ellenroh Elessedil, her grandmother. She took a deep breath,
wrestling with the idea, working to make it be real. It was, of
course-yet at the same time it didn’t yet seem so. It was too
new, she supposed. She had come looking to find the truth
about her parents; she could not have guessed the truth would
prove so startling.
She remembered what she had said to herself when Cogline
had first approached her about the dreams: What she learned
by agreeing to travel to the Hadeshorn to speak with Allanon
might well change her life.
She could not have imagined how much.
It both intrigued and frightened her. So much had happened
to bring her to Morrowindl and the Elves, and now she was
faced with confronting a world and a people she did not really
know or understand. She had discovered last night just how
difficult things might prove to be. If even her own grandmother
would choose to lie to her, how much trust could she put in
any of the others? It rankled still that there were secrets being
kept from her. She had been sent to the Elves for a purpose,
but she still didn’t know what it was. Ellenroh, if she knew,
wasn’t saying-at least not yet. And she wasn’t saying anything
about the demons either-only that they hadn’t come through
the Forbidding and that the Ellcrys hadn’t failed. But they had
come from somewhere, and the queen knew where that was,
Wren was certain. She knew a lot of things she wasn’t telling.
Secrets-there was that word again.
Secrets.
She let the matter drop with a shake of her head. The queen
was her grandmother, the last of her family, the giver of life to
her mother, and a woman of accomplishment and beauty and
responsibility and love. Wren shook her head. She could not
bring herself to think ill of Ellenroh Elessedil. She could not
disparage her. She was too like her, perhaps-physically, emo-
tionally, and in word and thought and act. She had seen it for
herself last night; she had felt it in their conversation, in the
glances they exchanged, and in the way they responded to each
other.
She sighed. It was best that she do as she had promised, that
she wait and see.
After a time, she rose and walked to the door that led to the
adjoining chamber. Almost immediately the door opened and
Garth was there. He was shirtless, his muscled arms and torso
wrapped in bandages, and his dark bearded face cut and bruised.
Despite the impressive array of injuries, the big Rover looked
rested and fit. When she beckoned him in, he reached back into
his own room for a tunic and hastily slipped it on. The clothes
that had been provided him were too small and made him look
decidedly outsized. She hid her smile as they moved over to sit
on a bench by the lace-curtained window, happy just to see him
again, taking comfort from his familiar presence.
What have you learned? he signed.
She let him see her smile now. Good, old, dependable
Garth-right to the point every time. She repeated her previous
night’s conversation with the queen, relating what she had been
told of the history of the Elessedils and Ohmsfords and of her
mother and father. She did not voice her suspicion that Ellenroh
was shading the truth about the demons. She wanted to keep
that to herself for now, hoping that given a little time her grand-
mother would choose to confide in her.
Nevertheless, she wanted Garth’s opinion about the queen.
“What did you notice about my grandmother that I missed?”
she asked him, fingers translating as she spoke.
Garth smiled faintly at the implication that she had missed
anything. His response was quick. She is frightened.
“Frightened?” Wren had indeed missed that. “What do you
think frightens her?”
Difficult to say. Something that she knows and we don’t, I would guess.