dying light, thinking that she ought to be doing something, feel-
ing as if she were trapped and wondering if she should be fight-
ing to get free. Garth was secluded once again in the adjoining
room, and she was about to seek out his company when her
door opened and the queen appeared.
“Grandmother,” she greeted, and she could not mask entirely
the relief in her voice.
Ellenroh swept across the room wordlessly and took her in
her arms, holding her close. “Wren,” she whispered, and her
arms tightened as if she were afraid that Wren might flee.
She stepped back finally, smiled past a momentary mask of
sadness, then took Wren’s hand and led her to the bed where
they seated themselves. “I have ignored you shamefully all day.
I apologize. It seemed that every time I turned around I was
remembering something else that needed doing, some small task
I had forgotten that had to be completed before tonight.” She
paused. “Wren, I am sorry to have gotten you involved in this
business. The problems we made for ourselves should not be
yours as well. But there is no help for it. I need you, child. Do
you forgive me?”
Wren shook her head, confused. “There is nothing to for-
give, Grandmother. When I decided to bring Allanon’s message
to you I chose to involve myself. I knew that if you heeded that
message I would be coming with you. I never thought of it in
any other way.”
“Wren, you give me such hope. I wish that Alleyne was here
to see you. She would have been proud. You have her strength
and her determination.” The smooth brow furrowed. “I miss her
so much. She has been gone for years, and still it seems that she
has only stepped away for a moment. I sometimes find myself
looking for her even now.”
“Grandmother,” Wren said quietly, waiting until the other’s
eyes were locked on her own. “Tell me about the magic. What
is it that you and Gavilan and Eowen and the Owl and everyone
else knows that I don’t? Why does it frighten everyone so?”
For a moment Ellenroh Elessedil did not respond. Her eyes
went hard, and her body stiffened. Wren could see in that in-
stant the iron resolve that her grandmother could call upon
when she was in need, a casting that belied the youthful face
and slender form. A silence settled between them. Wren held
her gaze steady, refusing to look away, determined to put an
end to the secrets between them.
The queen’s smile, when it came, was unexpected and bitter.
“As I said, you are like Alleyne.” She released Wren’s hands as
if anxious to establish a boundary between them. “There are
some things I would like to tell you that I cannot, Wren. Not
yet, in any case. I have my reasons, and you will have to accept
my assurance that they are good ones. So I will tell you what I
can and there the matter must rest.”
She sighed and let the bitterness of her smile drift away.
“The magic is unpredictable, Wren. It was so in the beginning;
it remains so now. You know yourself from the tales of the
Sword of Shannara and the Elfstones that the magic is not a
constant, that it does not always do what is expected, that it
reveals itself in surprising ways, and that it evolves with the
passage of time and use. It is a truth that seems to continually
elude us, one that must be constantly relearned. When the Elves
came into Morrowindl, they decided to recover the magic, to
rediscover the old ways, and to model themselves after their
forefathers. The problem, of course, was that the model had
long since been broken and no one had kept the plans. Recovery
of the magic was accomplished more easily than expected, but
mastering it once in hand was something else again. Attempts
were made; many failed. In the course of those attempts, the
demons were let into being. Inadvertent and unfortunate, but a
fact just the same. Once here, they could not be dispatched.
They flourished and reproduced and despite every effort em-