magic dormant, harmless, and invisible. She studied them in-
tently, wondering at the circumstances that had placed them in
her care, wishing anew that Ellenroh had agreed last night to
take them back.
Then she brushed aside the bad feelings that thinking of the
Elfstones conjured up and shoved the troublesome talismans
deep into her tunic pocket. After slipping a long knife into her
belt, she straightened confidently and walked from the room.
An Elven Hunter had been posted outside her door, and
after pausing to summon Garth, the sentry escorted them down-
stairs to the dining hall and breakfast. They ate alone at a long,
polished oak table covered in white linen and decorated with
flowers, seated in a cavernous room with an arched ceiling and
stained-glass windows that filtered the sunlight in prismatic col-
ors. A serving girl stood ready to wait upon them, making the
self-sufficient Wren feel more than a little uncomfortable. She
ate in silence, Garth seated across from her, wondering what
she was supposed to do when she was finished.
There was no sign of the queen.
Nevertheless, as the meal was being completed, the Owl
appeared. Aurin Striate looked as gaunt and faded now as he
had in the shadows and darkness of the lava fields without, his
angular body loose and disjointed as he moved, nothing working
quite as it should. He was wearing clean clothes and the stocking
cap was gone, but he still managed to look somewhat creased
and rumpled-it seemed that was normal for him. He came up
to the dining table and took a seat, slouching forward comfort-
ably.
“You look a whole lot better than you did last night,” he
ventured with a half smile. “Clean clothes and a bath make you
a pretty girl indeed, Wren. Rest well, did you?”
She smiled back at him. She liked the Owl. “Well enough,
thanks. And thanks again for getting us safely inside. We
wouldn’t have made it without you.”
The Owl pursed his lips, glanced meaningfully at Garth, and
shrugged. “Maybe so. But we both know that you were the one
who really saved us.” He paused, stopped short of mentioning
the Elfstones, and settled back in his chair. His aging Elven
features narrowed puckishly. “Want to take a look around when
you’re done? See a little of what’s out there? Your grandmother
has put me at your disposal for a time.”
Minutes later, they left the palace grounds, passing through
the front gates this time, and went down into the city. The
palace was settled on a knoll at the center of Arborlon, deep in
the sheltering forests, with the cottages and shops of the city all
around. The city was alive in daylight, the Elves busy at their
work, the streets bustling with activity. As the three edged their
way through the crowds, glances were directed toward them
from every quarter-not at the Owl or Wren, but at Garth,
who was much bigger than the Elves and clearly not one of
them. Garth, in typical fashion, seemed oblivious. Wren craned
her neck to see everything. Sunlight brightened the greens of
the trees and grasses, the colors of the buildings, and the flowers
that bordered the walkways; it was as if the vog and fire with-
out the walls did not exist. There was a trace of ash and sulfur
in the air, and the shadow of Killeshan was a dark smudge against
the sky east where the city backed into the mountain, but the
magic kept the world within sheltered and protected. The Elves
were going about their business as if everything were normal,
as if nothing threatened, and as if Morrowindl outside the city
might be exactly the same as within.
After a time they passed through the screen of the forest
and came in sight of the outer wall. In daylight, the wall looked
different. The glow of the magic had subsided to a faint glimmer
that turned the world beyond to a soft, hazy watercolor washed
of its brightness. Morrowindl-its mountains, Killeshan’s maw,
the mix of lava rock and stunted forest, the fissures in the earth
with their geysers of ash and steam-was misted almost to the