fresh fruit that resembled a pear, and a cup of ale, and then
Continued on. The Owl took them behind the palace into the
Gardens of Life. They walked the pathways in silence, losing
themselves in the fragrance of the flower beds and in the scents
of the hundreds of colorful blooms that lay scattered amid the
plants and bushes and trees. They came upon a white-robed
Chosen, one of the caretakers of the Ellcrys, who nodded and
passed by. Wren found herself thinking of Par Ohmsford’s tale
of the Elven girl Amberle, the most famous Chosen of all. They
climbed to the summit of the hill on which the Gardens had
been planted and stood before the Elicrys, the tree’s scarlet leaves
and silver branches vibrant in the sunlight, so striking that it
seemed they could not be real. Wren wanted to touch the tree,
to whisper something to it, and to tell it perhaps that she knew
and understood who and what it had endured. She didn’t,
though; she just stood there. The Ellcrys never spoke to any-
one, and it already knew how she felt. So she simply stared at
it, thinking as she did how terrible it would be if the Keel failed
completely and the demons overran the Elves and their city.
The Ellcrys would be destroyed, of course, and when that hap-
pened all of the monsters imprisoned within the Forbidding, the
things out of faerie shut away for all these years, would be
released into the world of mortal Men once more. Then, she
thought darkly, Allanon’s vision of the future would truly come
to pass.
They went back to the palace after that to rest until dinner.
The Owl left them inside the front entry, saying he had business
to attend to, offering nothing more.
“I know you have more questions than you know what to
do with, Wren,” he said in parting, his lean face creasing sol-
emnly. “Try to be patient. The answers will come all too soon,
I’m afraid.”
He went back down the walkway and out the gates. Wren
stood with Garth and watched him go, saying nothing. The big
Rover turned to her after a moment, signing. He was hungry
again and wanted to go back to the dining hall to see if he could
find the kitchen and a bite to eat. Wren nodded absently, still
thinking about the Elves and their magic, thinking as well that
the Owl never had answered her question about why there was
a moat inside the Keel. Garth disappeared down the hallway,
footsteps echoing into silence. After a moment she wheeled
about and started for her room. She wasn’t sure what she would
do once she got there other than to think matters through, but
maybe that was enough. She climbed the main stairs, listening
to the silence, caught up in the spin of her thoughts, and was
starting down the hallway at their head when Gavilan Elessedil
appeared.
“Well, well, cousin Wren,” he greeted brightly, flamboyant
in a yellow and blue cross-hatch weave with a silver chain belt.
“Been up and about the city, I understand. How are you today?”
“Fine, thanks,” Wren answered, slowing to a halt as he came
up to her.
He reached for her hand and lifted it to his lips, kissing
softly. “So tell me. Are you glad you came or do you wish you
had stayed home?”
Wren smiled, blushing in spite of her resolve not to. “A little
of each, I suppose.” She took her hand away.
Gavilan’s eyes twinkled. “That sounds as it should be. Some
sour and some sweet. You came a long way to find us, didn’t
you? It must have been a very compelling search, Wren. Have
you learned what you came to discover?”
“Some of it.”
The handsome face turned grave. “Your mother, Alleyne,
was someone you would have liked very much. I know that the
queen has told you about her, but I want to say something, too.
She cared for me as a sister would when I was growing up. We
were very close. She was a strong and determined girl, Wren-
and I see that in you.”