Gavilan was on his feet instantly. “Aunt ElI, no! We can’t
just give up! How do we know the Loden even works after all
this time? It’s just a story! And what about the Keel’s magic? If
we leave, it’s lost! We can’t do such a thing!”
Wren heard Barsimmon Oridio growl in agreement.
“Gavilant” Ellenroh was furious. “We are in council. You will
address me properly!”
Gavilan flushed. I apologize, my Lady.”
“Now sit down!” the queen snapped. Gavilan sat. “It seems
to me that we owe our present predicament to indecision. We
have failed to act for too long. We have allowed fate to dictate
our choices for us. We have struggled with the magic even after
it became apparent to all of us that we could no longer depend
upon it.”
“My Lady!” a pale-faced Eton Shart cautioned hurriedly.
“Yes, I know,” Ellenroh responded. She did not look directly
at Wren, but there was a flicker of movement in her eyes that
told the girl that the warning had been given because of her.
“My Lady, you are asking that we give up the magic en-
tirely?”
The queen’s nod was curt. “It no longer serves much purpose
to retain it, does it, First Minister?”
“But, as young Gavilan says, we have no way of knowing if
the Loden will do as we expect.”
“If it fails, we have lost nothing. Except, perhaps, any chance
of escape.”
“But escape, my Lady, is not necessarily the answer we are
looking for. Perhaps help from another source . .
“Eton.” The queen cut him short. “Consider what you are
suggesting. What other source is there? Do you propose to sum-
mon more magic still? Do we use what we have in another way,
convert it to some further horror, perhaps? Or are we to seek
help from the very people we abandoned to the Federation years
ago?”
“We have the army, my Lady,” a glowering Barsimmon Or-
idio declared.
“Yes, Bar, we do. For the moment. But we cannot regenerate
those lives that are lost. That magic we lack. Every new assault
takes more of our Hunters. The demons materialize out of the
very air, it seems. If we stay, we won’t have an army much
longer.”
She shook her head slowly, her smile ironic. “I know what
I am asking. If we return Arborlon and the Elves to the world
of Men, to the Four Lands and their Races, the magic will be
lost. We will be as we were in the old days. But maybe that is
enough. Maybe it will have to be.”
Those seated about the table regarded her in silence, their
faces a mix of anger, doubt, and wonder.
“I don’t understand about the magic,” Wren said finally, un-
able just to continue sitting there while the questions piled up
inside. “What do you mean when you say the magic will be lost
if you leave Morrowindi?”
Ellenroh turned to face her. “I keep forgetting, Wren, that
you are not versed in Elven lore and know little yet of the
origins of the magic. I will try to make this simple. If I invoke
the Loden, as I intend to do, Arborlon and the Elves will be
gathered within the Elfstone for the journey back to the West-
land. When that happens, the magic that shields the city falls
away. The only magic left then is that which comes from the
Loden and protects what is carried within. When Arborlon is
restored, that magic ceases as well. The Loden, you see, has
only one use, and once put to that use, its magic fades.”
Wren shook her head in confusion. “But what about the way
it restored the Keel where the demons breached it? What of
that?”
“Indeed. I appropriated some of the same magic that the
Loden requires to transport the city and its people. In short, I
stole some of its power. But using that power to shore up the
Keel drains what is needed for the Elfstone’s primary use.” El-
lenroh paused. “Wren, you are aware by now that the Elves
recaptured some of the magic they had once wielded in the time