she decided. She knew as well that she had not come all the
way to Arborlon to be shut away, that Allanon had not dis-
patched her here to hide, and that she had not been given pos-
session of the Elfstones only to forbear any use of them. The
reality was harsh and demanding. She had been sent as more
than a messenger, to do more than simply learn about who she
was and from where she had come. Her part in this business-
whether she liked it or not-was just beginning.
“Garth and I will come,” she answered.
She believed her grandmother wanted to reach over and hug
her then, but the queen remained straight backed in her chair
and simply smiled instead. What Wren saw in her eyes, though,
was better than any hug.
“Are we really agreed on doing this, then?” Eton Shart asked
suddenly from the other end of the table.
The room was silent as Ellenroh Elessedil rose. She stood
before them, pride and confidence reflected in her finely
sculpted features, in the way she held herself, and in the glitter
of her eyes. Wren thought her grandmother beautiful at that
moment, the ringlets of her flaxen hair tumbling to her shoul-
ders, the robes falling to her feet, and the lines of her face and
body smooth and soft against the mix of shadows and light.
“We are, Eton,” she replied softly. “I asked you to meet with
me to hear what I had decided. If I could not persuade you, I
told myself, I would not proceed. But I think I would have gone
ahead in any case-not out of arrogance, not out of a sense of
certainty in my own vision of what must be, but out of love for
my people and fear that if they were lost the fault would be
mine. We have a chance to save ourselves. Eowen foretold in
her vision that this would be. Wren by coming has said that
now is the time. All that we are and would ever be is at risk
whatever choice we make, but I would rather the risk be taken
in doing something than nothing. The Elves will survive, my
friends. I am certain of it. The Elves always do.”
She looked from face to face, her smile radiant. “Do you
stand with me in this?”
They rose then, one by one, Aurin Striate first, Triss, Gay-
ilan, Fton Shart, and Barsimmon Oridio after a brief hesitation
and with obvious misgiving. Wren came to her feet last of all,
so caught up in what she was seeing that she forgot for a mo-
ment that she was a part of it.
The queen nodded. “I could not ask for better friends. I love
you all.” She gripped the Ruhk Staff before her. “We will not
delay. One day to advise our people, to prepare ourselves, and
to make ready for what lies ahead. Sleep now. Tomorrow is
already here.”
She turned away from them then and walked from the room.
In silence, they watched her go.
WREN WAS STANDING just outside the High Council doors, star-
ing absently at patches of bright, star-filled sky and thinking that
she could barely remember her life before the beginning of her
search for the Elves, when Gavilan came up to her. The others
had already gone, all but Garth, who lounged against a tree
some distance off, looking out at the city. Wren had searched
for Eowen, hoping to speak with her, but the seer had disap-
peared. Now she turned as Gavilan approached, thinking to
speak with him instead, to ask him the questions she was still
anxious to have answered.
The ready smile appeared immediately. “Little Wren,” he
greeted, ironic, a bit wistful. “Do you see our future as Eowen
Cerise does?”
She shook her head. “I’m not sure I want to see it just now.”
“Hmmm, yes, you might be right. It doesn’t promise to be
as soft and gentle as this night, does it?” He folded his arms
comfortably and looked into her eyes. “What will we see once
we’re outside these walls, can you tell me? I’ve never been out