Cerulean
                         Prologue
            480, Age of the Swan, Late Spring
    Silminja Liluvi lifted her head from the letter she 
had been contemplating, and stared out the window. Then 
she dropped the letter to the floor and ran lightly across 
the crystal floorstones to gaze into the formless white 
light of her world. Magic gathered in her, and she asked 
silently for a vision of what had made the world ripple 
and change about her.
    The light swirled, then cleared. In it she saw a 
winged Elwen man with a grin on his face so exultant that 
it would have made her smile even if she did not know him. 
He circled high above the waters of a bay that she had 
never seen before, but which her powers identified as the 
Gulf of Horallis, several thousand miles to the north and 
west. The waves crashing on the shore and the strident 
shrieks of the gulls could not overwhelm the laughter that 
poured out of the man's mouth. He laughed as if he had 
forgotten what the sound meant until now. He threw back 
his head, and beat his wings like drums, rising like a 
reversed thunderbolt into the clouds. Silminja willed it 
so, and her window followed him, watching him as he 
circled and slid and dipped and soared, then changed into 
a falcon and arrowed down again.
    After a moment, she closed her eyes, and the window 
faded. It didn't matter; she couldn't have seen it for her 
joyful tears even if it had stayed.
    Slowly, Silminja sat back down in the only piece of 
furniture in the room, a crystalline chair softened by a 
pale cushion of white moss, and gathered the letter up 
again. Her cerulean eyes still shining with tears, she 
read the words neatly penned in the golden ink made from 
the para flower one more time.
    My lady Silminja Liluvi,
    Though we have never met, I have heard from several 
sources about your excellent work with crystals and their 
innate magic. I am interested in meeting you and 
discussing a project that will benefit the justice system 
of my city. I do not know if you are familiar with the 
creation of crystal stars, but I would assume so. If you 
require more information, feel free to contact me.
    Here the writing was interrupted for a moment by a 
drawn circle, neatly divided into rings of five colors- 
green, silver, deep blue, silver-white, and gold. The 
writing flowed on again a few lines down.
    The crystal stars would be used for no malevolent 
purpose, and not often at that- only for trying the most 
severe cases. You need not fear that your work would be 
abused or unappreciated. Far from it! I am prepared and 
empowered to offer you whatever sum you may demand, or pay 
any non-monetary price that you can think of.
    I will send an escort for you if you wish, or you may 
come alone. If you accept the offer, please arrive in 
Rowan a little before or after the first day of summer. It 
is imperative that the work begin as soon as possible, 
though once it is begun there is no rush. Politics, of 
course. I am sure you understand.
    We can discuss price and conditions of the work at any 
time you wish.
    Phaean aeri tuso ed,
    May the silver stars go with you,
    Herran Turnlong, Councilmaster of Rowan.
    Silminja raised her head again, and smiled at nothing 
in particular. "Yes," she said softly, in response to a 
question that no one else could have heard. "I think so. 
This is what I will do, and this is what is meant to be. 
Whether my beloved comes now or later, this is what I will 
do."
    The light Elwen laid the letter, bearing the broken 
seal of the dragon and rowan tree, down gently on a table 
and rose to her feet. Walking again to the window, she 
laid her hands on the reassuring, cool slickness of its 
crystalline edge and sent her thoughts ranging. Always in 
her mind glowed the wheel of the five colors, the 
personality it represented, guiding her to the mind of a 
man she had never met.
    Green of creation. Silver of the favor of the stars. 
Deep blue of deep pride. Silver-white of cold rage and 
carefully controlled temper. Gold of radiant spirit.
    The colors flowed and blended in her mind, warping 
until they formed a gate that glowed invitingly before 
her. She stepped past it, and just as easily as that, she 
was in the mind of Herran Turnlong, Councilmaster of 
Rowan.
    ^My lady?^ Though he did not know her, having never 
seen her own colors, he knew her presence for female at 
once, and powerful. Silminja nodded, staring at the white 
light that surrounded the tower. Yes, she could work with 
this man.
    ^My lord, my name is Silminja Liluvi. You have asked 
me to work on the crystal stars. I have decided to accept.  
I wish to know only the price the Council has agreed upon, 
and how long it might take me.^
    Pale silver courtesy and delicate rosy relief almost 
overwhelmed her. ^My lady is most generous. The price 
shall be anything you desire. The duration will, alas, be 
a few months. Will my lady require an escort?^
    ^No, my lord. I can be in Rowan in far less time than 
it will take riders to reach me, even using magic.^ She 
let crystal amusement color her words, and then twisted 
that crystal color into an image of how she planned to 
reach Rowan.
    There was mental silence for a moment, and then Herran 
replied with respect- respect, but no fear. ^I see. My 
lady is most powerful. Quirrin Shennalor did well when he 
recommended you to me. Shall we discuss the price now, or 
would you prefer to wait until you reach Rowan?^
    ^Now, my lord, I think.^ Silminja called up a bit of 
transparent mist and let it swirl around her, the coolness 
quelling the anticipation rising up in her. ^My price is 
rather an unusual one. I hope that the Council will be 
able to pay it.^
    ^The Council has little or nothing to do with this, my 
lady. Quirrin and I will pay the price. It was my idea to 
create the crystal stars, and his to contact you. It will 
remain that way.^
    Silminja nodded, and sent a mental smile. She had not 
misjudged the powerful land Elwen. It would indeed be a 
pleasure to work for him. ^I require a room, or, better 
yet, a small house that I may use for my own. It need not 
be large, but it should be comfortable. I also request 
leave to work on the crystal stars either in public or in 
private. And....^
    ^Yes? The requests my lady makes are most reasonable. 
I will be happy to grant them.^
    ^Have you ever heard the name Zar Feathermaster?^
    Her own crystal amusement came back to her, reflected 
perfectly from a mirror somewhere in Herran's mind. ^Of 
course. An exile from the falcon Elwen realm of Eriaa- 
ollo-Garameyt, he served as a slave to the Lady Eleriad 
Deerfriend for a century, flying scout for her armies 
during the War of Acceptance.^ A slight coolness in 
Herran's tone, and the flaring of the silver-white part of 
the color wheel in Silminja's mind, told her exactly what 
Herran thought of slavery. ^He escaped- or rather, was 
freed- during the Battle of Esshellen. Since then, his 
whereabouts have been largely unknown. He wanders too much 
to leave many concrete records behind. There was a report 
of him from the human kingdom of Carmai- what is it, 
almost two years ago now? Then he created some sort of 
disturbance among his people by breaking his sentence of 
exile, and then he opened a powerful gate in Minamar and 
vanished from the world. No one has seen him since. Is 
there something more my lady wishes to know? Quirrin knows 
more than I do. I could fetch him if it would help my 
lady.^
    Silminja was surprised despite herself. ^No, my lord. 
That is quite enough. I know him very well. He will be 
coming to the city shortly after I do, no more than a 
month at the longest. I was wondering if either you or 
Quirrin Shennalor would raise any objections to his 
presence.^
    ^No, my lady, not in and of itself. We have no ties 
with the falcon Elwens, and the ambassador from Carmai is 
weak. Besides, there is a new king in Carmai now, a good 
man, and land Elwen.^ Approval shone in Herran's voice, 
and pride. Still a land Elwen, Silminja thought in 
carefully hidden amusement. ^Quirrin will watch him, of 
course. That is his duty. But unless he creates trouble of 
some kind, he will not be troubled himself, neither by 
Quirrin's people nor by his old enemies.^
    ^It gladdens my heart indeed to hear that, my lord. 
Let it never be said that Rowan does not treat her guests 
as well as her own.^
    ^May it never be said,^ Herran echoed softly. ^Indeed, 
my lady. No. If that is all your price, we shall be happy 
to arrange it.^
    ^It is, my lord.^
    ^Then you may come to Rowan whenever you wish. I look 
forward to meeting you.^
    There was another flow of pale courtesy, and then the 
gate closed. Silminja opened her eyes and shook her head, 
smiling faintly.
    "A very powerful man," she whispered softly. "I think 
the world will learn that soon, and not to its sorrow." 
She turned and looked around the crystalline tower for a 
long moment, then banished it with a wave of her hand. She 
stood now in a small cabin with neat but bare wooden walls 
and brushed earth for a floor.
    She picked up the letter and held it close, then 
looked up at the ceiling with tears shining in her eyes. 
Almost two years ago now, when Zar Feathermaster had left 
the world, she had wept. Then, six months ago, when they 
met in a dream after not a sight of each other for a year. 
She thought she was entitled to a few tears.
    She gently stroked the letter, then folded it into a 
square and laid it on the table that still remained. 
Reaching under the table, she drew out an exquisitely 
faceted crystal and a small capped vessel in which water 
moved and gleamed. Holding both of them, she moved towards 
one of the walls and nodded.
    The wall dissolved before her, revealing a shining 
world where pale trees trembled beneath a sky as pale as 
light. The stream that flowed nearby was likewise without 
color, except for the rainbows that hide in every crystal, 
waiting only for light to unlock them.
    Silminja looked around the cabin one more time, then 
stepped into the otherworld and walked easily into the 
forest. The door closed behind her, and she did not glance 
over her shoulder. She would never see the cabin again, 
but what of it? Zar would, and then he would know where 
she had gone, and follow her. That was all that mattered, 
that and the tools she carried with her: the crystal, the 
vessel, and the magic inside her. 
    That was all she needed to live.
    For a moment, she wondered if he would come, but she 
knew he would. The bonds that united them, no matter of 
what nature those bonds were, were too strong. He would 
come looking for her because of love, and the curse laid 
upon him by one of his enemies, and because he had all the 
curiosity and pride of one of the raptors he resembled. 
And because, though they had never met in the flesh, they 
had looked into each others' souls.
    Smiling as she remembered clear gray eyes, Silminja 
stepped through another door and into Rowan.




                        Chapter 1
                    The Crystal World
            480, Age of the Swan, Early Summer
    "When choosing a weapon with which to defeat an enemy, 
consider three things: the nature of the weapon, the 
nature of the enemy, and the wielder's level of skill."
    -From Bmer Hosilin's Tumblao Corra, or Book of War.

    Zar opened his eyes and stretched his wings, then 
slowly sat up, still stretching and yawning. Bedamned 
birds. Why didn't they have the sense to wait until the 
sun was up? On nights like these, he could see reasons for 
eating songbirds other than the fact that they tasted 
good.
    The stars shone serenely overhead, of course, but 
while he had slept the golden moon, Lureth, had risen. 
Full, the Lady was almost as bright as the sun, and he lay 
down again with another yawn. Even if he ignored the 
birds, he was going to lie awake for a while, until a 
cloud or the other moons had come to dim the Lady's light.
    Zar lay there, his wings fluttering beneath him, his 
eyes alternately opening and closing, and enjoyed the 
sensation of simply lying on his back, with real grass 
beneath him and real stone beneath that. The time he had 
spent on Lohtan had been enough to teach him to accept the 
strange silvery growth that took the place of grass there, 
but not enough to inure him to it. It was wonderful to be 
back in his own world once more. 
    Even if he had been forced to stop the first vaguely 
friendly sailor he met and ask him what year it was.
    Zar yawned yet again and turned his head away from the 
direct moonlight. The birds sang almost in chorus, but not 
quite, flitting through the wood whose eaves he was camped 
on, chasing each other towards him. He grunted and put his 
hands over his ears. It didn't help. Damn things.
    Soon he would meet Silminja for the first time.
    The thought seemed to come from nowhere, and it made 
him open his eyes and turn his head without thinking. 
Golden moonlight stabbed him in the eyes, and he swore, 
turning back to the embers of the fire he had lit some 
hours before. If he was going to stay awake, he might as 
well rekindle the fire and use it to drive away some of 
the chill that had swept through him at the thought.
    Why, though? Why should the thought of meeting her 
frighten him so much?
    "Because I'm changed," Zar said aloud, partially for 
the feeling that he was accomplishing something and 
partially to drown out the birdsong. "I killed the A'l to 
the Rune, and the way I did it shook me. The Runeworkers 
didn't thank me, and that shook me. And seeing what Lamara 
is hurt worst of all."
    The fire was finally coming to life. Zar bent over it, 
holding his hands over the flames and breathing gently to 
warm them even further. The birds drifted closer, calling 
to each other like mad things. He debated whether they 
were one of the kinds attracted by light. They might make 
good eating, if so.
    While he waited for them, he Shifted his hands into 
talons and stared into the heart of the flames. They 
shifted and danced, gleaming golden and red, and 
occasionally a fat blue spark would pop as the flame found 
its way into the heart of the dashali wood. The golden 
fire reminded him of her skin and her spirit, the blue of 
her eyes.
    "Admit it," he whispered to himself. "You're 
frightened that you don't love her, that you're doing 
nothing but going to her because of the curse." He shook 
his head, then was forced to brush disordered feather-hair 
from his eyes. "And if that is true, you should be flying 
as hard as you can the opposite way."
    But he knew he would not. He had avoided flying this 
way for two dances after his return, but he could not 
resist the pull of his love and longing any longer. Yet, 
even now he had promised himself that he would only watch, 
not interfere in her life or present himself to her. It 
had been nearly two years since he had left the world, 
after all, though only two months for him. Anything could 
have happened. She could have fallen in love with someone 
else...
    That's about as likely as those birds shutting up and 
leaving, Zar, and you know it.
    The falcon Elwen sighed, and reached for more kindling 
to put on the fire. "Yes, I know it," he murmured, 
remembering their meeting in a dreamworld while he was 
still in Lohtan. It had only been two days for him since 
their last dreamed reunion, but an entire year for her. 
The tears she wept, and the way she looked at him, told 
him the truth. She loved him.
    But did he have the right to act on that love, when 
the curse condemned her to destruction at his hands, or 
him to destruction at hers, or both?
    He had been brooding on that for roughly ten minutes, 
Lureth moving in silent, undimmed majesty across the sky, 
when something within him stirred. Zar started badly. It 
was his Night magic, which he had not felt since leaving 
Lohtan. It whispered in his ear like a living being, 
speaking to him with a feeling of darkness and cold.
    Those are not birds, Zar.
    Zar shuddered and tried to shake off the feeling, all 
the while listening intently to the birdsong. Actually, 
that feeling was correct, he realized slowly. The song 
varied through too many cadences, and it was too cold and 
purposeful. Birds might sing for a purpose, yes; they sang 
to defend their nests, to win mates, to scare intruders 
away. But they did not sing like this, and they did not 
move through the forest in a straight line.
    Those songs came from Elwen throats.
    That fact, and the fact that there were two of them, 
and the memory of where he was, blended together to tell 
him something simple and undeniable.
    Zar sprang to his feet, kicking sand hastily over the 
fire until the last smoldering ember went out. Then he 
patted his pocket, making sure his precious crystal globe 
with the dyfrenin seeds was safe, and swept up the pack 
that lay on the other side of the fire. It was small, 
containing only extra clothes, some dried meat for when 
his hunting luck turned against him, and the rainbowed 
chain that Chilune, Goddess of Chaos, had given him. He 
arranged the straps neatly over his neck and the center of 
his chest, so that it would not interfere with flying, and 
then spread his wings.
    The songs suddenly ceased, and Zar paused, heart 
pounding with fear. Then he began to run, flapping as hard 
as he could.
    The darkness Elwens burst from the trees before he had 
one foot off the ground.
    Zar whirled to face them, a falcon-like cry of 
defiance bursting from him on instinct. Also on instinct, 
he scanned the trees for more. But there were no more. 
This was a hunting pair, as he had known it would be. Two 
young women, elegant and almost unimaginably beautiful 
with their skin darker than the sky above and their 
flowing silver hair, women whose fangs shone as they 
stalked towards him.
    Zorkro, come to eat his soul.
    Zar folded his wings and dropped to the ground again. 
If he took to the air, they would follow him, taking on a 
form in which he could not hurt them. Insane though it 
was, his best chance was to keep them on the ground and do 
his best to take them there.
    His claws flexed, and he hissed beneath his breath, 
preparing himself to kill by emptying his mind of emotion 
and fear, in the way that Dyantel, a human master of the 
knife, had taught him. He had to kill them. He knew by the 
empty look in their eyes and their quick, darting 
movements that they were on reth, a drug that stole the 
conscience and allowed the zorkro to eat the souls they 
needed to live without descending into madness. They would 
not spare him, nor would they retreat. 
    And, worse, through their spirit-song, they were 
linked to his mind. They would know his moves almost 
before he made them.
    Keep them on the ground, the thought beat in his mind 
as one of them moved forward and the other began to circle 
behind. Do it, no matter how much you want to take off. Do 
it. Violate instinct, smother fear, and kill them, but do 
it.
    Then they made their moves. The one behind him rushed, 
while the other darted forward, her fangs flashing for his 
throat as she snarled like a rabid beast.
    Zar folded his wings as tightly to his body as he 
could and tucked his head down to protect his throat, then 
dove at the woman in front of him. He hit her with all his 
strength, and a blast of wind at the same time, knocking 
them both to the ground. The woman writhed as he jumped 
back to his feet. Something was broken, or sprained, in 
her leg, and she could not rise.
    Zar turned back to look at the other woman, who had 
missed her strike but did not seem upset about it. Light 
gleamed on her ebony skin and was swallowed again as she 
walked lightly, easily, forward. Her crystal eyes were 
fastened to his face, and never wavered from it. Her fangs 
gleamed, stunningly white against the black of her skin 
and her other teeth. She was going to kill him, and was 
letting him know it.
    Zar stood still, pretending to be frozen with fear, 
while the farsight he had foolishly not exercised before 
searched behind him and let him know that the other woman 
was crawling nearer, using her elbows and her knees to 
bring her in. She was planning to grab his ankle and trip 
him.
    Zar's initial panic had faded, and he was confident 
that he could win even if he could not fly. He stood still 
and stared at the woman before him, waiting for them both 
to get into position.
    When the dark hand closed on his ankle, he drew the 
silver knife that hung at his belt.
    The woman before him halted warily and stared at him. 
They were not used to prey that fought back so well, he 
sensed. Of course, the terror inspired by their fangs 
probably spared them from having to fight that often.
    He just hoped that confusion would hold long enough 
that he could kill them swiftly and painlessly. He whirled 
on the ankle that the other woman held, and kicked her in 
the face with his other foot, sacrificing all his balance 
to the one she held. She fell back again, but managed to 
tug, offsetting his balance.
    They hadn't fought winged opponents often, either. Zar 
hopped into the air with a strong fanning of his wings, 
tethered to the ground only by her hold. Then he tossed 
the knife he held. Dyantel had given him no formal 
training in the throw, not really, but at this distance he 
couldn't possibly miss.
    He didn't. The knife sliced into her throat, and the 
silver blade was sharp, as he could have attested to. She 
slumped, shivering as if she wanted to speak one last 
time, and couldn't. Her hand opened, and Zar soared up 
into the sky.
    The other woman immediately started to fog into the 
cloud of darkness, like heavy smoke, that would protect 
her against any attack but would still let her blind and 
harass him. Zar didn't give her the chance to fully form. 
He Shifted, another fast change, and dropped on her from 
the sky as a falcon.
    Few Elwens seemed to realize that a falcon stooping 
like that could kill creatures besides mice and smaller 
birds. She was only just bringing her hands up to defend 
herself, so surprised was she, when he slammed into her 
face and sank his talons into her throat. She toppled 
backwards, dead before she hit the ground, but he tore out 
her windpipe for good measure, and made a circle over the 
clearing before landing and turning back into an Elwen.
    By now, he was famished; Shifting and the magic he had 
performed took energy. But he couldn't eat until the 
bodies had begun to burn with the smokeless, sweet- 
smelling silver flames that meant the stars had come for 
them. He watched for a long moment, the only witness to 
their funeral, and then turned away and looked up at the 
moon.
    The Lady was still bright. He could hunt, if he 
wished, by her light. He debated for a moment, then nodded 
and slung the pack to the ground beside his knife, which 
had been too hard a metal to be consumed by the flames. He 
preferred to hunt without encumbrances, and encumbrances 
was what they would become, if he hunted as an Elwen with 
them banging about him.
    On second thought...
    He really should move before he began to hunt, or at 
least shouldn't leave his things here. Other darkness 
Elwens might well follow the scent of death. He wasn't 
sure what the limit of their hunting territory was, here 
in the Rivadan Valley. He scooped up the pack and sheathed 
the knife, after cleaning it of black blood; then he took 
to the air with a weary sigh.
    The Valley sprawled below him in dark majesty, save 
for where the golden light of Lureth spangled the treetops 
in changing, dancing pools of light, and where the River 
Lightplay gleamed and moved not far away. Zar soared above 
the River, just in case any darkness Elwens who might be 
flying in their hunt got ideas. They didn't like running 
water, and he could always drop into it if the need to do 
so hit him.
    Of course, it might break every bone in his body if he 
flew high, so he flew only a few feet above the water, his 
eyes and his farsight on guard against danger. His ears 
were worse than useless, distracted and confused as they 
were by the noise of the River.
    Nothing moved beneath him, save hunting depcats and 
other creatures coming to the River to drink. More than 
once, Lureth's light pierced the shallows and he saw fish 
lying in sleep, their fins moving slowly back and forth. 
They showed no alarm, and most natural creatures did when 
darkness Elwens came near. Slowly, Zar began to relax, and 
to wonder why the encounter had so shaken him.
    He had never been hunted by zorkro before, of course. 
But he had killed both of them, and flown cleanly away. 
Could it be that he was irritated with himself for not 
remembering that this was their territory? Could it be 
that he simply found the idea of soul-death so unnerving 
that it would take him some time to get over the shock of 
being close to it?
    Could it be that he was trying to read too much into a 
simple, normal Elwen reaction?
    Zar shook his head, and spread his wings to carry 
himself a little higher as the fear faded and the spray 
from the River began to wet his feathers. "You must be 
getting old," he chided himself aloud. "Nothing to worry 
about, and you insist on worrying about something."
    The cool spray from the River, and the completely 
normal sights of the night, conspired to relax him. His 
farsight would warn him, now that he had it ready, of any 
danger long before it could harm him. He drifted along 
like a feather, watching and listening and at peace with 
himself.
    Even so, that was no excuse; what happened next should 
not have happened, plain and simple.
    Every muscle in his body, save for those that drove 
his wings, locked at once. A whimper clawed its way out of 
his throat, and he could feel his eyes at once darkening 
with anger and widening with fear.
    He saw before him a scene that had to be out of the 
worst nightmare he had ever experienced. If it was real, 
it might well kill him.
    Rhyar's face sneered at him above a still body. "You 
never learn, Zar, do you? I have the power to make your 
life so miserable that you will beg for death, and yet you 
never learn. You still think you can evade me, evade my 
curse, and go to this woman of yours as if nothing was 
wrong in the world." His face twisted for a long moment, 
as if with uncontrollable rage; then he stepped away from 
the body. "Well, now I have made sure that you cannot, I 
think."
    It was Silminja. Her radiant face, framed by that 
gleaming, thick crystal hair, was far too still. It should 
have been alive with emotion, with passion, with the magic 
that sparkled in her eyes and which was the first thing 
that had drawn him to her.
    She should have been alive.
    Instead, she lay dead, with Zar's silver knife plunged 
to the hilt in her heart. And somehow he knew that his 
hand had wielded that knife.
    He knew he was screaming, but he could not hear a 
sound. He knew his hands were reaching out to her, but he 
could not feel himself doing it. All he knew was that she 
lay before him, dead, and it was his fault. He had ignored 
Rhyar's curse, underestimated its power, and this was his 
reward.
    Sensation returned so suddenly that the shock was 
almost as bad as seeing Silminja's face. Water slapped him 
coldly across the face, and he dropped into the River as 
his burning muscles, refusing to support him in his 
hovering any longer, simply dropped him.
    Zar tried to scream, the image of that still face 
before his inner eyes, but his mouth filled with water. 
Desire to survive promptly chased the image and the horror 
away for the moment. He would have to get out of this 
River to deal with it.
    He splashed to the surface, coughing and trying to 
hack up his lungs as well as the water he had swallowed, 
it seemed. Shaking his head and whipping wet hair from his 
eyes with one hand, he treaded water with the other and 
looked around.
    He was some distance from either bank, since he had 
been flying over the middle of the River as a precaution 
against attack. Stupid, he chided himself. He should have 
stayed closer to land.
    Of course, he had had no idea that something like this 
might happen.
    Which brought him back to the idea, again, that it 
shouldn't have happened.
    "Later," Zar hissed at himself aloud, and set about 
stroking his way back to shore. It was hard, going against 
the current, but he was not weak physically, only hungry 
and magically exhausted. And if he was ever going to learn 
what that vision meant, he had to get out of here alive.
    His nails closed on grass at last, and he dragged 
himself up, shaking as much water as he could from his 
face and clothes. Then he sat by the River for several 
moments, busily wringing his tunic and doing what he could 
to dry his leggings.
    His mind was no less busy. Never before had he 
experienced a fit like that, or a vision, or whatever it 
had been. He had had prophetic dreams before, yes, but he 
had always known why he had them. And, usually, they had 
been warnings of future danger- not visions that had 
placed his life in the very danger they were supposed to 
help him avoid.
    What had happened?
    Zar worried at it until he realized that all the 
answers he was thinking of were ones that distressed him. 
With a small shrug, he stood up and stretched his wings. 
They were waterlogged, but he could hunt in other ways. He 
hunched beside the River, in a clump of undergrowth, and 
waited patiently.
    Soon enough, a small deer came down to drink. Zar let 
it pass; it was too much meat for him. But stalking it 
with sliding movements was a depcat, even smaller, who 
might make a good meal for him and spare meat that could 
be carried without discomfort.
    The creature slid forward, its deep blue eyes 
fathomless, locked on the deer, its spotted tail 
twitching. Zar waited until it had almost reached its 
prey, then jumped up with a shout.
    The buck took fright at the noise and ran, tossing its 
antlers. The depcat hissed and turned towards Zar, every 
hair on its tail standing on end. They were as fierce as 
wildcats, and not known to run from fights, even hopeless 
ones.
    Zar let it get close, making sure that it showed no 
signs of being a pregnant or nursing female, and then 
Shifted his hands into talons. Dropping to a crouch, he 
offered his throat, too tempting a target for the cat to 
pass up.
    The depcat slid forward another step, then another, 
and leaped at him with blinding speed.
    Zar dropped to the ground and snatched the cat out of 
the air. It spasmed in his hands, squirming and snarling, 
its claws reaching out to hook into his palm. But the 
tough scales that had replaced the skin were hurt not at 
all. It gave a final retching snarl and was still, head 
hanging and blood trickling from the wounds his claws had 
punched in its sides.
    Zar shook his head and tucked the limp cat under his 
arm as he stood. Brave, but somewhat lacking in sense. 
Just like the darkness Elwens.
    He walked easily through the thin woods that bordered 
the River, searching for a place where he could camp 
without being disturbed. Happening on a secluded ditch 
that opened out into a clearing with water nearby, he 
helped himself. Dashali wood was not hard to find, nor 
were sticks for a spit, and the depcat was soon roasting 
above a fire both bright and hot. Zar was content to feed 
the flames- that was the only disadvantage of dashali 
wood; it burned quickly- and smell the drifting scent as 
he watched the stars. Depcat meat was one of the few meats 
that actually tasted better cooked than raw, at least to 
him.
    It was almost dawn before the meat was finished. Zar 
tore it free and ate, unable to wait any longer, gulping 
it down so fast that he burned his tongue. But the 
bittersweet, tough meat was worth it. It was just the kind 
of meal he was in the mood for, so tough that he had to 
work on chewing it, and had no time to think about what 
had happened to him tonight.
    When his stomach was full at last, Zar buried the 
bones and sliced the rest of the meat into strips, setting 
it out to dry in the growing sunlight. Then he leaned 
against a tree and closed his eyes.
    Sleep, unsurprisingly, would not come. He had a warm 
meal in his stomach and a secure campsite, but that was as 
nothing compared to what could happen if these fits began 
overwhelming him with any regularity.
    He rubbed his arms and shivered, muttering to himself. 
"If only I hadn't been flying above the River..."
    On the other hand, would flying in the air have been 
any better? He might have fallen to his death before he 
could get himself under control again, so powerful had 
that vision been.
    Zar yawned, but opened his eyes and checked the meat 
instead of falling asleep. He would rest here, not sleep, 
and then move on again as soon as the meat and his wings 
were both dry. He had no idea if he was still in darkness 
Elwen territory, and no way to guess. He needed to reach 
the lukalia city of Clearlight and talk to the light 
Elwens there as soon as possible. Only then would he be 
safe.
    Only then could he see Silminja.
    Again, that thought sent a shiver through him, but 
this time he was prepared to fight it, with fresh 
arguments. He could not help but go to her; that was true. 
And if the vision meant that she could be in danger, or 
even that the curse was gathering strength as it drew him 
towards its final victim, he wanted to be there, by her 
side, watching to make sure no harm came to her.
    Fool, whispered a voice in his ear. If you love her, 
fly away as hard and fast as you can.
    Zar closed his eyes and breathed out a low, resigned 
sigh in which more than a trace of misery could be heard. 
He had tried. He had stayed a month with the Nightwalkers 
in Lohtan, attempting to heal his disgust with himself and 
the dislike his ability to change the world inspired. Then 
he had spent another two dances in the forests after his 
return to Arcadia. All of it was to try and make himself 
happy again without her, to test, to see if his love would 
fade.
    It had not. At the least, with her in love with him as 
well, he needed to go to her and explain why it would be 
best if they parted.
    Zar blinked suddenly and awoke with the sun blazing 
above him, to find he had dozed after all. Shrugging, he 
sat up and reached out to the meat. A few strips of it had 
been stolen by wild animals, but not many. The Rivadan 
Valley had few day-ranging predators.
    Except Elwens, of course.
    Zar gathered the meat strips, wrapped them in one of 
the tunics that he didn't care so much about, and spread 
his wings again. He rose off the ground with his ordinary 
speed and grace, and soared to the west, hunting for any 
signs of a light Elwen presence.
----------------------------------------------------------
    As it happened, he heard the light Elwens before he 
saw them.
    He had found a break in the forest and was resting 
beside the small stream that hurried through it when he 
heard a sharp sound, like a whiplash. He sat up, 
unhurriedly, and listened. His nose told him of the 
presence of horses, and dogs, but no Elwens as yet. And 
they would worry him only if they came at him with swords 
in their hands or the fangs of darkness Elwens in their 
mouths.
    The trees at the edge of the break shifted, and an 
enormous golden hound stepped into view.
    Zar swore under his breath in soft admiration as he 
gazed at the animal. It stood almost four feet tall at the 
shoulder, larger than any but the biggest wolves. It was 
not as husky as a wolf; the fine, short, shimmering golden 
fur that covered it outlined a body almost as rangy as a 
greyhound's. But the teeth that shone in its jaws gleamed 
like knives, and the intelligence in its blazing, hostile 
eyes would make it a formidable enemy.
    The whip-like tail moved slowly back and forth, then 
poised, stiff and trembling. That sharp bark echoed from 
it again.
    Zar stood up, his hands spread to show no weapons. He 
didn't know if the hound was intelligent enough to 
recognize the gesture, but if it wasn't, his slow 
movements and utter lack of fear should reassure it.
    The dog shook its head as if in confusion. It had 
probably been told to harass any intruder who came near 
the horses it had been left to guard, but Zar was not 
trying to steal a horse, and he was not panicking or 
attacking. It growled at him, then loped forward, watching 
him as if to see whether this move would make him break 
and run.
    Zar stood still, except for holding out his hand and 
speaking a soft word. The hound sniffed delicately at the 
long, slender fingers, keeping its teeth bared. Then its 
growl died, and it sat down, head cocked to regard him.
    "Where's your master, boy?" Zar asked him softly, 
reaching out to stroke the golden fur. He recognized the 
creature as a Dawn Hound, the pet or ally- depending on 
how intelligent you thought the dogs were- of a light 
Elwen. Where it was, a lukalia would be. But he had no way 
of communicating with the dog, and no idea of how long the 
horses and the dog had been left here. He looked around, 
but no one showed himself.
    Then the trees trembled again, shouldered aside by two 
more Dawn Hounds coming from the west. They growled at 
Zar, but when they saw their brother sitting unconcerned 
in front of him, they paused, giving their tails tentative 
wags and sniffing deeply.
    Behind them, hooves clattered, and a sweet voice with 
a musical accent that Zar recognized called, "Aluthren! 
Wergalis! Where have you got to now, you-" Then the rider 
came out into the clearing as well, and pulled up his 
horse, staring in surprise.
    "Who are you?" he breathed.
    "I might ask you the same question." Zar started to 
take a step forward, but Aluthren and Wergalis growled at 
once, bristling, and the hound in front of him leaned 
forward to clamp his teeth around Zar's wrist. The hold 
was light, the pressure not enough to break his skin, but 
firm. Zar understood the warning and relaxed. After a 
moment, the Dawn Hound released him.
    "Who are you?" the light Elwen repeated, after calming 
the other two dogs with a sharp word in his own 
songspeech. His skin was golden, covered with the faint 
white diamond-patterns that light reflecting off water 
makes, and his eyes, bright in his angular face, were a 
sharp and piercing green. Blond hair fell to his 
shoulders, untamed by anything but a simple headband. He 
shook it out of his eyes more than once as he spoke to 
Zar. "I have not seen you before. And you have resisted 
the Hounds, but you might have come to steal the horse 
that my friend left here."
    The boy knows what's in front of him, anyway, Zar 
thought, but did not say. For all he knew, the Dawn Hounds 
would take offense at the tone of his voice. "My name is 
Zar Feathermaster," he said aloud. "I am a traveler, 
looking to find the home of a lukalia friend of mine. You 
might know of her. Silminja Liluvi?"
    Now the young man was gaping at him. He drew himself 
up in the saddle and demanded, "Who are you to see the 
Lady Silminja?"
    "Someone who needs to find her." Zar might have told 
him more than that, but he found his arrogant manner 
insulting. The boy reacted as if he couldn't believe that 
an Elwen of another race might be on good terms with a 
light Elwen. "I mean her no harm." That was such a direct 
statement that any falsehood he tried would have sounded 
as a lie to Elwen ears, and the boy seemed to know that. 
He relaxed a little, gazing at Zar with more curiosity 
than astonishment now.
    "Well, I don't know exactly where she lives, and I 
have to fetch my friend's horse back to Clearlight, 
anyway. If you accompany me, I will take you to someone 
who can tell you." He made a small motion with his hand, 
and one of the hounds moved forward to join with the other 
dog in flanking Zar. "Aluthren will watch you," he 
explained as he dismounted and walked into the trees, the 
other hound by his side. "I hope you understand."
    "I do, but you might at least tell me your name."
    "Oh, I'm sorry." The young man turned with an 
insincere smile. "It's Peraketh. Silly of me to forget."
    Zar narrowed his eyes, but let it pass. There were 
more important matters at stake than a child's insults. He 
leaned back, and folded his arms across his chest, waiting 
for the boy to complete his business.
    Peraketh came out of the trees a few moments later, 
leading a truly magnificent gray mare. She had all the 
marks of an Elwen-bred mount: longer legs, wider eyes and 
a more delicate face, a deeper chest, and more 
intelligence in her eyes than normal. Slight white flecks, 
almost like the shades on Peraketh's skin, were scattered 
among the dove-gray waves of her coat. She turned her head 
in his direction and gave a friendly snort.
    "Fair-day," Zar greeted her, completely ignoring 
Peraketh. The young man flushed, but said nothing for a 
long moment, patting the mare's flank.
    "Her name is Dilas. She was a gift to my friend from 
his older brother, who had been working for years to breed 
the perfect animal. My friend is very fond of her." There 
was a distinct threat in his words.
    "I wouldn't dream of doing it," Zar said, his eyes 
caressing the mare. Everything about her was beautiful, 
including her name- "Gray Rose," in the Primal Tongue. But 
her luster would only dim if she was stolen instead of 
bought, and he had no desire for a horse. Why ride, when 
he could fly?
    "Then we have an understanding."
    "Of course." Zar did wish he could pat the mare, of 
course, but that was out of the question, with Peraketh 
holding her reins and three Dawn Hounds between him and 
the horse.
    Peraketh still looked at him for a long moment before 
swinging up into the saddle of his own horse, an inferior 
bay gelding. As he tied Dilas's reins to the saddle and 
clucked at the gelding to get it moving, Zar thought that 
the young light Elwen would have more of a reason for 
stealing the gray mare than he would.
    The Dawn Hounds loped after the horses, Aluthren and 
the other nudging Zar to follow with cold noses. The 
falcon Elwen jogged along easily between them, even 
speeding up the pace a little so that he could talk to 
Peraketh as he ran alongside the gelding.
    "Why did your friend have his horse tethered out here 
in the forest?"
    Peraketh scowled at him. "None of your damn business," 
he said shortly.
    "Of course." Zar bowed from the waist, and then 
ignored the lukalia altogether, gazing around at the 
forest as if he had never seen one before. It was 
beautiful, naturally, with the sun slanting through the 
trunks and striking sparks from any color it encountered, 
with the murmur of water and birds always in the 
background, and with the soft breeze that prevented it 
from growing too warm. Still, far more satisfying than 
even the beauty was the feeling of Peraketh seething 
behind him.
    They covered perhaps twenty miles before they broke 
free of the trees to find themselves on the outskirts of a 
large city. Zar looked around, nodding slowly as he noted 
the way the glass towers seemed to shimmer with the 
outline of trees. They blended into the forest so well 
that no enemy would know they were there, from a distance.
    Peraketh said three words in his own tongue, and the 
Dawn Hounds who had accompanied him to the clearing dashed 
off, their golden eyes shining as if lit from within by 
some inner fire of happiness. The Dawn Hound that had 
guarded the horse shook his head and whined uneasily. Zar 
frowned down at the dog, wondering what was going on, but 
received only a look from golden eyes that he could not 
read for his trouble.
    Peraketh rode another few paces, then turned and 
frowned at the other dog. "You, too, Tyreth. Go home."
    Tyreth whined, and stayed where he was. Perhaps he 
thinks I'm going to do something, even now, Zar thought. 
That reassured him a little. However intelligent these 
dogs were, they could not read minds.
    Peraketh's brows slanted sharply downwards, and he 
scowled at Tyreth for a long moment. Then, with a shrug 
and a mutter in the lukalia language, he led Dilas into 
the city, Zar and the Dawn Hound following.
    As Elwen cities went, it was not particularly 
remarkable. They built with glass instead of metal, and 
their spires and domes contained many dream-like curves 
that seemed to flash and change when seen out of the 
corner of the eye, like the buildings in the cheetah Elwen 
city of Glelmari. Zar supposed he had to commend the skill 
of the architects, but he was not really interested in 
sightseeing. He wanted to find news of Silminja, and get 
out of the city again.
    They stopped at a stable to hand Dilas over to a young 
man who seemed very happy about getting his horse back; he 
petted her neck, fed her apple slices, and cooed in her 
ears as if she were his newborn daughter. Dilas accepted 
the treatment graciously, more graciously than Zar thought 
he would have if he had been a horse. He might have bitten 
the young man's face off.
    "Tell me, Elivanisha," said Peraketh in a patient 
voice, when it seemed clear that the young man's reunion 
with his mare would go on all morning, "does Urwen still 
live where he did a year ago?"
    Elivanisha looked up in shock, then nodded. "But why 
would you want to see him?"
    "He knows where the Lady Silminja Liluvi lives, and 
Zar Feathermaster claims that he wants to see her." 
Peraketh waved his hand in Zar's direction, lightly and 
with contempt, as if he was swatting a fly. "I should take 
this man to him."
    Elivanisha smiled. "You don't have to do that. I know 
where she lives."
    Peraketh gaped at him. Before he could say anything, 
Elivanisha had turned to Zar. His guileless blue eyes 
sparkled with wonder as he took in the falcon Elwen's 
wings and feather-hair and alien clothes, but blessedly, 
he didn't say anything except, "She's got a small house on 
the northeastern outskirts of the city, a cabin where no 
one lives except her. You'll find a crystal path leading 
to it. You can't miss it."
    Zar looked for a long moment into the young man's 
eyes, and saw only innocence, as well as hope that he 
could help the falcon Elwen. He smiled slightly, and 
relaxed. "Thank you, my lord."
    Elivanisha chuckled and looked up at Peraketh. "He's 
got manners anyway, Per." His mare snorted just then, and 
he immediately turned back to her. "Although not as many, 
or he would be standing around admiring you, beauty," he 
crooned in Dilas's ear.
    Zar rolled his eyes, but kept his comments to himself. 
He nodded at Peraketh. "If you want to send Tyreth here 
with me as a guard, I wouldn't object. He can come with me 
and see that I mean no harm to the Lady Silminja."
    Peraketh seemed to be upset about something, but also 
trapped, as if he wanted to force Zar to come with him but 
could find no graceful way of making him do so. "Well," he 
said at last, "I certainly see why you would not want to 
come with me. And Tyreth will be able to guard you. Good 
day, then." He bowed his head stiffly, and kicked his 
gelding down the street to the south. The horse tossed its 
head and trotted, its hooves ringing from the glass-like 
but colored material that covered the surface of the 
street.
    Zar shook his head, wondering what was eating him, and 
then put it out of his mind. He nodded to Elivanisha. "She 
really is a beautiful horse."
    "Yes, she is." The young man stroked his horse's 
smoke-colored mane, smiled happily, and glanced over his 
shoulder. Zar turned to follow his gaze, curious, but saw 
only Peraketh's back as the rider mingled with the people 
flowing up and down Clearlight's streets.
    A hand caught his arm, and he looked back. Elivanisha 
was leaning forward, his eyes wide and urgent, and not at 
all innocent any more.
    "Listen to me," he said, with a low hiss that would 
have done credit to a falcon Elwen. "I know why Peraketh 
volunteered to go get Dilas, and I know why he wanted you 
to go see Urwen. Go to the Lady Silminja's house, get her, 
and vanish as quickly as possible. I think you will both 
be hunted."
    Zar felt the smile drop away from his face, and 
struggled to keep his features from collapsing in shock as 
Elivanisha's eyes flickered warningly to an armed light 
Elwen nearby. "I- I see," he said with some difficulty. 
"Can you tell me one more thing?"
    The wary blue eyes fixed on him. "If I can be of help, 
I would be glad to," he said quietly, a warning that he 
might not be able to do more.
    "It seems that I have offended the Lord Peraketh, 
perhaps by offending his god. I would be interested in 
knowing if he serves-" His hands moved in midair, forming 
the curving shape of a leaping dolphin. It was innocent; 
that was one of the symbols of Nystze, Goddess of Emotion, 
used by those wary of attracting her attention by speaking 
her name aloud.
    But the leaping river dolphin was also the symbol of 
the House of Herves, the royal house of Carmai, a 
stronghold of Zar's enemies.
    Elivanisha's eyes met his, and the young man nodded 
very slightly. Zar closed his eyes and nodded in return, 
fighting to keep a pleasant smile on his lips instead of 
having it erupt into a groan. He had chosen Carmai on a 
wild guess, not at all sure that that would be the enemy, 
and had been correct.
    "Thank you," he said. "I shall attempt to make amends 
to him, then."
    "I think you will find that harder than you would 
guess," said Elivanisha, as he swung into the fine saddle 
that Dilas wore. "The Lord Peraketh is most easily 
offended, and not one to suffer an enemy's attempt at 
reconciliation gladly."
    Zar nodded, and watched the young man ride away down 
the street, as rapidly as he could without attracting 
attention. He had taken an enormous risk by warning Zar, 
aiding a man he didn't even know. He would be well within 
his rights to lie low for a while.
    Something nudged him, and he looked down to see Tyreth 
looking up at him with solemn golden eyes.
    "That's why you wouldn't leave, isn't it?" he 
muttered. "You didn't want me to take Dilas, but it isn't 
your way to suffer evil, either."
    Tyreth merely stood there and looked up at him. Zar 
turned away and began walking northeast, one hand on the 
head of the Dawn Hound beside him, the other on the hilt 
of the silver knife that hung sheathed at his side, hidden 
by the flowing folds of his tunic.
----------------------------------------------------------
    The crystal path sprouted off from a side street, 
suddenly breaking free of the city and winding into the 
forest for no apparent reason. Zar shook his head and 
slowed his pace as he passed between the trunks. Though 
Tyreth was alert at his side, the light Elwens knew these 
woods much better than Zar did. This might even be the 
place where they had planned to set their ambush. 
    His eyes moved constantly, carefully scanning the 
shadows, But neither eyes nor farsight picked up a trace 
of a threat. Of course. If they knew him well enough to be 
watching for him like this, and to know that he would seek 
out Silminja, then they must know him well enough to 
suspect his powers, and stay out of his range.
    He longed to spread his wings and soar ahead, but he 
doubted Tyreth could keep up with him. Besides, if he flew 
he would lose the advantage of surprise; they would know 
that he knew, and make new plans that were likely to be 
more dangerous.
    Tyreth barked suddenly, and Zar whipped around. But it 
was only a departing shadow, perhaps a snake that might 
have come out to sun itself. He extended his farsight, and 
saw a rabbit fleeing for its life through the wood, well 
beyond range of the hound's jaws.
    "It's all right," he said soothingly. "It's just a 
rabbit."
    Tyreth growled, and did not stop even as Zar laid a 
calming hand on his head. Then Zar, too, detected what the 
Dawn Hound had- men and horses at the limits of his range, 
back along the crystal path, moving swiftly nearer. They 
carried swords, and what little he could sense of their 
thoughts told him that they burned with impatience and 
desire for battle.
    "Damn!" he muttered, and Shifted. Tyreth danced 
backwards, barking in startlement, as he soared up into 
the tree beside the path, a gray falcon. Zar hissed at 
him, and after a moment the Dawn Hound seemed to get the 
idea. He slunk into the bushes beside the path and 
crouched there, silent and ready, looking like a golden 
wolf.
    Zar watched with farsight for a short time, and then 
with a falcon's keen eyes, as they came into sight. 
Peraketh and three other light Elwens, two male and one 
female, all rode golden horses with sparks of intelligence 
in their eyes. Loping in front of them were the two Dawn 
Hounds that Peraketh had sent away earlier, sniffing the 
trail and giving one of their excited whipcrack barks 
every now and again. The light Elwens laughed and joked 
among themselves, but paid attention to the trail and the 
sky, obviously expecting an attack from one of those 
places.
    Zar ruffled his feathers and almost shrieked in 
frustration as farsight and eyes combined told him of the 
fine quality of their swords and the easy way they rode. 
They were trained fighters, and they had the Dawn Hounds. 
Their mounts might even be trained for battle. It was 
unlikely that he could turn the surprise they intended on 
them, and capture them.
    That left so few options that he had to fight down 
another shriek.
    And he had so little time to decide that he almost 
reacted on instinct. He almost dove at them as they 
passed, intending one or two quick kills and then a flight 
ahead to warn Silminja. He didn't want to kill them, but 
he considered both his own life and Silminja's more 
precious to him than theirs.
    He didn't want to kill them...
    His gaze focused on their horses, and he remembered a 
trick he had played on a young unicorn not too long ago. 
He tensed, and then launched himself from the branch in a 
single swift glide.
    They never saw him coming. The Dawn Hounds were 
running in the spot on the trail from which he had flown, 
and whining unhappily at the way the scent seemed to 
disappear. The woman and one of the other men were 
watching the sky, and Peraketh and the fourth rider were 
discussing tactics for the battle. No one thought to look 
for a falcon launching himself at their horses, and they 
were taken completely by surprise when a harsh, shrill 
scream erupted almost in their faces.
    The golden beasts might be intelligent, but they still 
had the instincts of horses. At the sudden appearance of a 
rushing shape that they could not clearly see, they reared 
and screamed. Zar circled over them, darting between them 
and causing them to shy whenever a light Elwen fought to 
gain control, beating his wings about their heads and 
sending them into new heights of frenzy.
    Once he swept free of the tangle of bodies, and saw a 
Dawn Hound poised to leap, but Tyreth tore free of the 
bushes and hurled himself at the other dog. They rolled 
over, snarling and yelping as punishing teeth found a 
mark. The other Hound stood there and barked, adding its 
voice to the general frenzy.
    Shouting and cursing, the woman pulled a crossbow he 
hadn't seen from her belt and took careful aim. Zar 
immediately began dodging and dipping, swirling expertly, 
gliding around the horses as if they were trees. She swore 
with astounding fluency, which he admired, but she 
couldn't come close to keeping a straight target on him.
    Peraketh shouted and mastered his beast with a vicious 
tug on the reins. He cantered forward, his sword raised, 
his eyes gleaming with hate. He was looking at Zar, but he 
was heading towards the place where Tyreth stood with his 
jaws locked on the other hound's throat.
    One sweep of that sword, and...
    Zar shot forward, his talons thrown out before him, 
clenched into fists. They opened moments before he got 
within Peraketh's range, and then his bared talons swept 
across the horse's eyes.
    Screaming madly, the horse reared, and Peraketh 
spilled into the dust. His glide taking him around and 
away, Zar didn't have time to see what happened, but he 
hoped viciously that the light Elwen was trampled to death 
beneath the hooves of his own mount. Killing Zar was one 
thing; killing an innocent Dawn Hound who happened to be 
helping him was another thing.
    The other two males were still hopelessly tangled, the 
woman was obsessed with hitting him with a crossbow 
quarrel, and Tyreth had finished one of the hounds. The 
other one cautiously started to approach him, but he bared 
his teeth, bright and crimson, and growled. The other 
hound backed away and rolled, baring its belly in anxiety 
to escape a fight.
    Even the dogs of light Elwens were cowards, Zar 
thought in some amusement.
    For the most part. 
    He swept over Tyreth's head, screeching a thanks and 
beating his wings, and hoping the dog would understand. He 
seemed to. Zar received one more glance from golden eyes 
that shone with pride and strength, and then the shining 
shape sprinted away, leaping past the stunned pet of the 
enemy and into the bushes.
    Seeing that, Zar rose into the sky as fast as he could 
force himself to do so. Tyreth was safe; with any luck, 
true light Elwens would find him, and protect him against 
any wrath that Peraketh and his friends might bring to 
bear. It was time to fly ahead and warn Silminja.
    In moments, he was soaring out of sight behind a 
cloud, leaving the tangle of trampling horses and 
shouting, startled lukalia far behind. He spread his wings 
and soared, all the while trembling with disgust and rage 
and indignation.
    His friend, the Lord Corraebno, ruled in Carmai now. 
He had made sure of that before he left western Cytheria 
to come here. There should be no more assassins acting on 
the orders of the old King, Asoron, who was half-mad with 
grief and could not forgive Zar for killing his daughter, 
Kalimarina, however much of a monster she had been. He 
should be safe.
    Unless these were orders that Asoron had left in place 
before he was deposed, or unless Corraebno had been forced 
to continue the hunt for him, to keep up appearances.
    There must be a large reward for his head, at least. 
That would be the only thing that could stir those who 
were not even agents of the crown or House Herves to take 
a part.
    Zar hissed and flexed his talons as he began dropping. 
The crystal road ended here, before a neat little cabin 
sturdily built of hylea wood. A grove of hyleas surrounded 
it- strange, mutated trees, with their customary sweet 
scent and golden flowers, but with bark the color of 
crystal instead of a more normal gold-white hue.
    Of course, with the strength of his love's magic, he 
supposed he should not have been surprised.
    He saw a window open to the sky and dived in, as 
precisely as he had ever dived upon a crow.
    He cast a swift glance around the room with farsight 
as he perched on a table, and received his fourth severe 
shock in less than a day. There was no sense of her 
presence. Not only was she not there, but there were no 
magic-working tools, and by the level of the dust on the 
floor, the place had been abandoned for at least two 
dances.
    Two dances. The amount of time he had spent in the 
forests of Cytheria...
    Could she have felt him return to the world, somehow, 
and assumed by his actions that he meant to stay far away 
from her?
    Stunned, Zar finally did what he should have done in 
the first place and tested the curse-bond that connected 
them, the only one remaining now, out of five to begin 
with. He almost couldn't feel her. She was across the 
continent, at the very limits of his range...
    Then he saw the letter on the table, and the seal of 
the dragon and the rowan tree. His feathers swelled, and 
he mantled, hissing. 
    A crossbow bolt whirred past, narrowly missing him, 
and the light Elwen woman, accompanied by the Dawn Hound, 
stepped through the doorway.
    Zar screamed at her and leaped off the table, adroitly 
dodging a leap by the hound. The brute scrabbled as it hit 
the table, knocking it and the letter to the floor. Zar 
Shifted back to an Elwen at once, and reached out to sweep 
up the letter and put it in his pack. It might tell him 
why she had gone, even though he already knew where. And 
it might well be the last thing she had touched in the 
house before leaving. It felt precious to him for that 
reason alone.
    "You are Zar Feathermaster." There was undisguised 
emotion in the woman's voice- satisfaction, and hatred. 
She swept him with one searing glance as she fitted 
another bolt to the crossbow. "You don't look like you're 
worth six hundred pyrite pieces."
    Zar nearly cried aloud. That amount of money would 
keep an Elwen family in luxury for a century. "I didn't 
know I was," he replied in a slightly dazed tone, keeping 
one eye on the woman and one on the dog. It was struggling 
back to its feet, but favoring its left foreleg. It would 
be out of the fight, at least for a few minutes.
    "You are," the woman told him. "That's enough to make 
the others want you. But I serve the Crown of Carmai- the 
true King, not that new land Elwen bastard- and I have 
come to avenge the death of the Princess."
    Zar felt his face flash pale. She had the quarrel 
loaded now, and pointed straight at his heart. There was 
no way he could evade it, save with the magic that would 
send her crashing to the floor with a gust of wind; the 
cabin was too cramped to fly. And he didn't want to kill 
her, or to destroy Silminja's house.
    "Don't kill me," he said softly. "The Princess 
deserved to die."
    "Really?" The woman lifted an eyebrow that might have 
meant nothing and everything as she once again delicately 
leveled the crossbow. "You could have fooled me. I would 
have said that she was far more worthy to live than you, 
her murderer, are."
    Zar hissed beneath his breath, fighting down the 
animal panic and falcon fear of being trapped that 
threatened to overwhelm him. He didn't want to kill her. 
His instincts were going to force him into it, though, if 
he let them take over. Keep calm, he told himself in a 
whisper. Keep talking. There has to be something you can 
do, if you concentrate.
    "She was nothing more than an avatar for the 
Darklight," he said, backing up, his hand feeling behind 
him for anything that Silminja might have left in the way 
of a weapon. The woman stepped forward, her crossbow never 
wavering now, the Dawn Hound stalking and growling at her 
side. "She could never have loved, never ruled. She took 
over minds, to feed on the magic and memories of others, 
and she destroyed them."
    "You made it up," the light Elwen woman snarled. She 
released the crossbow with one hand, and touched a pendant 
about her neck. Made of some kind of pale green stone that 
he did not know, it was carved with a swirling pattern of 
river dolphins surrounding a single, leaping one in the 
center. "I am proud to wear this, and because of that 
pride I will kill you."
    "A rather ridiculous reason to kill me," Zar said, but 
he continued to back up. Then his shoulder blades hit the 
wall. There was nowhere else to turn, nowhere else left to 
run- unless he wanted to kill her.
    "Time to die," she whispered to him, and her crossbow 
fixed on his heart one more time. Her finger curled around 
the trigger. Her eyes shone with joy.
    Zar lowered his head and tried to force Silminja's 
face into his mind. He would have to kill, for her sake, 
if he was going to get out of here alive. Holding that 
face in his mind, he reached backwards and gripped the 
windowsill with both hands, preparing to flip himself 
upwards and use the wind while she was distracted.
    The combination of the face in his mind and his hand 
on the window triggered something. There came a loud sound 
that was nevertheless not a sound at all, and the world 
went blank around him. From a long way away, it seemed, he 
could hear the light Elwen woman's cry of shock and rage.
    Zar lifted his head, but for a long moment mist 
surrounded him and he could see nothing. Then the mist 
cleared, and he stood in a room he recognized. It was a 
room made entirely of crystal, glowing with color and 
cloudy, transparent images. On one wall was a window 
through which white light shone. Zar walked to the window 
and gazed out on a familiar dreamscape: white trees, pale 
sky, tumbling stream ablaze with rainbows where the 
sourceless sunlight hit it. His hands slowly tightened on 
the windowsill.
    There was no sign of the Carmai agent and her dog.
    Zar shook his head dazedly. Somehow, perhaps by 
thinking of Silminja and being in need, he had escaped. He 
was now in the world where he thought his beloved must 
spend most of her time, where she worked her magic and 
went walking in the company of her own thoughts.
    And he had no idea how to return to Arcadia, or even 
if it would be safe to. Silminja had once told him that 
time in her world passed as she willed it to. He could get 
back- assuming he did- before the woman left, or hours 
later, or at the same time he had left, so that a crossbow 
bolt would take him through the heart.
    Oddly, the first thought to cut through his despair 
was a wry one. I thought I was going to keep my feet 
planted on Arcadia, and not go gallivanting through other 
worlds anymore?
    Smiling very slightly, Zar lifted his head and shook 
his hair from his eyes. His eyes traveled once more 
through the dreamscape, and then he Shifted and sped out 
the window.
    There was no point in staying in the tower, at least 
not until he had found out something about this world.
    He circled above the forest, under the sky that was 
either cloudless or else all one cloud, and took in all he 
could see. It was the same wherever his farsight looked, 
even though there were hints of a great pale plain far 
away to the north. That was the only variation. Everywhere 
else were trees with pale blue leaves, water, white grass, 
and silence. If animals had lived here, they had departed 
when Silminja did.
    How was he going to get home again?
    He flew back to the tower room- for it really was a 
tower, a tower of light, looming above the forest and 
gleaming like glass- and circled it as a falcon, since he 
wouldn't have the strength to Shift back to Elwen for 
quite some time. He found no mechanism, no hidden door, no 
magical portal. The room was all as it seemed to be, slick 
and simple crystal. The tower might not even have been 
hollow below it, for all he knew.
    Because there was nothing else he could do, and 
because he wanted to keep despair from threatening, he 
tucked his head beneath a wing and went to sleep on a 
windowsill, in the light of the crystal sun.
----------------------------------------------------------
    He opened his eyes again a timeless time later and 
discovered he was hungry. The sleep had restored his 
magic, so he soared out a short distance, became an Elwen 
again, and ate jerky from his pack. The depcat meat was 
not as good dried as fresh, but he could get by on it, and 
that was all that really mattered. The pleasure Zar took 
in his food came mainly from the hunt to get it, not the 
taste of it afterwards.
    What was he going to do?
    Even as he thought that, something seemed to glow and 
beat warmly against his chest. Surprised, he looked down 
at the pack, which he hadn't bothered to unsling. He would 
have to move soon, one way or the other, through this 
strange world, and thought it best to keep his possessions 
close.
    But the thing continued to warm and beat, and after a 
moment Zar drew it forth.
    It was the rainbow chain that the Goddess Chilune had 
given him. Once it had held a mirror born of Rune-fire 
around his neck. Now it thrummed urgently, as it had not 
done since he went to Lohtan, and reared like a snake to 
point to the east.
    "East?" he asked it. "Can you really lead me out of 
here by following her footsteps?"
    The chain thrummed. Zar stared at it a moment, then 
stuffed it back in his pack. He suspected there would be a 
price for this aid, but he already owed the Goddess of 
Chaos an unspecified debt. This would only add another 
part to the bargain.
    And besides, what the starhell else could he do?
    He crossed the river, and started to spread his wings 
to fly, then paused and looked down. The white grass was 
not like normal grass, and he could see it still bent 
where a foot had pushed it down. 
    Not many people were likely to pass this way...
    He looked up and saw a clear footprint then, pressed 
firmly into the damp earth beside the river. And there 
were more areas of bent grass, leading into the woods.
    Elation and hope and relief and love exploded in him. 
Laughing aloud, Zar spread his wings and took to the air 
again, flying to the east. The footprints seemed to 
continue in a straight line, so he felt confident that he 
was following them even when he could not see them.
    Bless his love, for leaving a trail for him to follow!




                        Chapter 2
                       Evil Dreams
    "Dream magic is so little understood that when dreams 
come hunting us, we still react with superstitious fear. I 
am sure that the Dreamdancers know more than most, but 
they will not share it. So, when you ask me if we are 
doomed to live forever in the shadow cast by our 
ignorance, I would say yes. We cannot escape dreams; even 
more, we cannot escape our nightmares."
    -Response of Elshar, Lord of Deathwield, when asked by 
his daughter Fimina what dream-magic was.

    Zar looked up at the single moon moving across the sky 
and shrugged to himself. He had thought the light would 
never alter, never change, and that he would keep moving 
through this world forever beneath it. But darkness had 
suddenly fallen, and overhead hovered a moon the color of 
crystal. Who could tell what laws the world at the heart 
of the crystal obeyed?
    He looked one more time around the campsite he had 
chosen. It was one of the very few places that was any 
different from other places he had come across- sheltered 
in the lee of a hill, as if Silminja had at last tired of 
flat ground. It would keep out any wind that might come 
through this world, and he had water and sufficient 
kindling to build a ring of fire if he had to. He would 
start the night out with just one fire, however. 
    He prayed that it would be enough.
    He moved forward and laid one more stick on the fire. 
The branches of the crystalline trees burned well enough, 
although they shed a pale flame and less warmth than 
usual. But the light was spectacular, pushing the 
crouching darkness back to a comfortable level.
    At last, Zar felt secure enough to lie down beside the 
fire and close his eyes. The grass crackled beneath him as 
if it were dry, but when he dug his hand into it, he felt 
soft, moist earth and vegetation. Shaking his head, he 
wrapped his wings around himself and shut his eyes more 
tightly, concentrating on his breathing and the crackling 
of the fire to chase out the visions of night-terrors 
threatening to haunt him. He was alone in an unfamiliar 
world, yes, but he was going to see Silminja. That ought 
to be enough to calm him.
    It wasn't, of course, and he lay awake for another 
timeless period of time, his body aching but unable to 
rest, before he heard a soft sound.
    Zar opened his eyes and sat up, staring into the 
forest. Nothing moved there, and the sound had come from 
nearer at hand, anyway- from somewhere in the small white 
meadow that swept away from the hill before the trees 
began again.
    Shivering, he persuaded himself to ignore the sound, 
which might have been that of an animal feeding, and lay 
down again. It moved nearer, but he could see nothing, and 
he would not waste his time looking for invisible threats. 
He shut his eyes to resist the temptation.
    Then they snapped open despite himself, and he had to 
work to restrain a shout of fear. The sound had suddenly 
resolved itself into one he recognized. Someone had spoken 
his name, softly but insistently.
    It came again as he sat there and wondered if it was 
real, or a dream, and if that mattered.
    "Zar." It was a command, a threat, and a plea all at 
once. Whoever spoke wanted him to come to- her? The voice 
had a lightness of sound and a beauty that he 
automatically assumed was feminine, if only because all 
male falcon Elwens had such harsh voices. But he couldn't 
be sure.
    Almost worse than his inability to be certain of the 
speaker's sex was his feeling that he should know the 
voice, but his mind was blocking recognition from him in 
order to keep fear from overwhelming him.
    That kindled annoyance, which turned to anger. He 
stood up and listened again. His name was repeated, this 
time with the pleading note uppermost. The speaker's voice 
was rising into the regions of hysteria.
    "Where are you?" Zar asked at last, plucking a burning 
brand from the fire. If it came to a battle, his magic 
would actually protect him better than the makeshift 
weapon could, but he felt better with the solid weight in 
his hand.
    According to every law of magic that he knew, the 
voice should only have gone on mindlessly repeating his 
name. But instead, it thrilled with hope, and answered him 
rationally. "Here! Here, Zar, here! Come to me, please! 
Help me!"
    Zar hesitated one more time, and then the silence was 
filled by a ringing scream. Swearing, he sprang forward, 
swinging the branch so that the pale flame scattered the 
darkness before him.
    The voice did come from the trees after all, and he 
made out the shape of an Elwen woman, a dark shadow 
against the pale light of the flame, with her back turned 
to him. She held a sword before her, aiming it at a 
darkness that surged and moved and shed a hunger that 
tingled a kindred response from Zar's Night magic. He 
forced that down and came slowly forward, trying to judge 
the best way to handle this without getting himself 
killed.
    The darkness turned to face him, and resolved itself 
suddenly into the form of a great black cat with burning 
green eyes. For a long moment it stood its ground, 
snarling at him. Then it turned and bounded off into the 
trees, lost to the night in moments.
    "Thank the stars!" The Elwen woman stood with a sigh, 
pushed thick blond hair from her neck, and turned, 
sheathing her sword. "None of my blows were hitting it," 
she explained as she came forward. "It wouldn't retreat, 
for some reason. I don't think it was really trying to 
hurt me, but-"
    She stopped, staring at him. "Zar, what's wrong?"
    Zar backed away, shaking his head. "It's impossible," 
he whispered.
    "I assure you, that cat was very real." She watched 
him as if she didn't understand, the torchlight sparkling 
in her azure eyes. "What's wrong?" she repeated more 
firmly. "Did you think I was going to hurt you? That's all 
over and done with, I promise." She tapped the hilt of her 
sword. "I'm going to keep this sheathed from now on."
    "No," Zar said, backing a step. His branch wavered 
wildly, but he had seen her face in its clear light and 
could not dismiss that face as a trick of shadows or of 
light. "I saw you die. You fell to pieces in my arms. I 
killed you." The words stuck in his throat. He thought he 
had forgiven himself the crime of killing her, but at the 
sight of her, all the pain rushed back upon him.
    "No," said Dhandra, shaking her head and speaking 
calmly as she moved towards him. "No, Zar. You don't 
understand. You only thought that happened. It was only an 
illusion."
    "This is illusion!" Zar hissed at her, bringing the 
torch up between them to stop her from advancing any 
further, his fear dimmed by rage.
    She halted and gazed at him with some amusement, then 
spread her arms. "If you say so," she said calmly, and 
then stood still, her eyes fastened to him. "What will you 
do now?" she added, almost as if it was an afterthought.
    Zar looked away from her and shook his head. "I saw 
you die. And even if you lived, I can't forgive what you 
did. You're not part of my life now, Dhandra. You never 
will be again."
    "I love you, Zar. How can I not be a part of your 
life?" The bounty hunter tilted her head, her blond hair 
sliding thickly along her shoulders. "Touch me, if you 
don't believe this is real." She held out her hand, 
slender fingers spread, towards him, as if inviting him to 
make sure that she held no weapon before he clasped her 
wrist.
    "I saw you die." Zar put all the force in the words he 
could, wanting to make sure she understood. He had to make 
sure she understood, or she might come after him. And he 
did not think he could stand to have her touch him again, 
even if she was only an apparition.
    "What does that have to do with it?" Dhandra shrugged, 
her hand still extended, her lips curving into a charming 
smile. "We can still be together, Zar. Reach out and clasp 
my hand, and I will show you what I mean."
    Zar took a deep breath. It would be terrible indeed to 
have his hand pass through hers, but it would prove, at 
last, to his dreaming mind that this was not real. He 
reached out and clasped her wrist.
    It was real. There was the slight warmth her skin had 
always given off, like the heat from a banked fire. There 
was the silky feeling of the inside of her wrist, and the 
harder calluses that came from holding a sword for hours 
on end. There was the strength that her hands had always 
displayed, the infrequent times she touched him. This was 
Dhandra, the real Dhandra-
    A choked sob escaped him. What was happening to him? 
Could his eyes have lied to him, that day he saw her 
collapse into a pile of foul-smelling black mold? Could 
his eyes be lying to him right now? Or his sense of touch?
    Then the fingers clasped about his wrist, and she 
pulled him close to her. Zar looked up into her azure 
eyes, and shook his head at the warmth and passion that he 
saw there.
    "No, Dhandra. I love your sister Silminja now. And I 
never loved you; you know that. It's why you tried to kill 
me."
    "No. I tried to kill you because of as promise I had 
made my employer." She drew him still closer, her other 
hand rising to rest on center of his throat, where his 
pulse beat. "But this time..."
    Her fingers suddenly and cruelly squeezed, pressing so 
tightly that he could not breathe. Choking, he swept the 
branch up into her face.
    She dodged like the fighter she was, and went on 
pressing, her blue eyes mild and sweet and bright with 
love. She gazed at him as if she were drinking in his 
features, rather than his life.
    Silver explosions flashed before him, bright pulses of 
light that he could not see through, and bright darkness 
swirled up to engulf him. He was aware that he had dropped 
the torch, aware of Dhandra stamping it out. Then he heard 
her voice, as low and warm as it had been on the last 
night of her life, the night had had refused her advances 
because he had realized that he did not love her.
    "Farewell, Zar."
    The darkness was everywhere now, and a numbness was 
beginning to overtake the panic that his lack of breath 
was causing him. He tried to raise some spark of magic, 
something, call on the Night or the stars...
    There was nothing. He was too close to death. The 
darkness was everywhere now, reaching inside him with 
clammy hands, destroying the last flicker of bright, 
believed blue eyes. He sagged against Dhandra's arms, 
feeling the sensation for only a moment before that, too, 
faded.
    He was dead.
    He awoke beside the campfire, rolled tight in his 
wings, shivering and whimpering, without another soul in 
sight.
    Zar climbed to his knees and felt his throat. He could 
feel raised ridges of flesh, but that was all. He stumbled 
over to the small stream and stared into it.
    No. There were no fingerprints on his throat. There 
was only the flesh, pressed and raised from his hold. 
Somehow, the feeling that it had all been a dream only 
made it worse. He sat back on the bank, breathing harshly 
and fighting the temptation to fill his lungs with as much 
air as he could.
    He had not been strangled. He had not died.
    But he could remember the feeling of dying so clearly, 
too clearly. He could remember the blankness, the numb 
emptiness, the horrible feeling that all his fighting had 
been for nothing. He had died, and had not even put up a 
struggle while she was killing him.
    The beautiful face of his killer flashed in his mind, 
and he shuddered.
    Dhandra.
    A bounty hunter hired by Rhyar, his enemy, to entice 
him to fall in love with her and thus kill him when she 
betrayed him, she had fallen in love with him instead. And 
he had always regarded her as a friend, despite her 
flirtation, despite physical attraction, despite his 
feelings for her becoming so strong that he had thought it 
love for a little while. Now, he knew better. What he had 
felt for Dhandra was a candle's flame compared to the 
raging fire in his heart whenever he thought of Silminja.
    He had killed her- an accident- when she decided that 
she had to keep her word, and had come after him. His wind 
had sent a dart coated with Elwensbane whirling back into 
the hand which had thrown it. He had watched in helpless 
horror as her skin turned black and spongy, as the fire of 
the deadly plant corrupted her organs and heated her 
blood. She had died as if she were a human corpse that had 
putrefied for weeks. It had been days before he forgot the 
feel of that mold on his hands. Even now, he could still 
recall it, if he tried...
    So. He had seen- and felt- her die. But why the dream? 
All the dreams he had had of her had been grieving ones 
that left him sick with blame and self-hatred. He had 
never dreamed that she had returned from the stars to try 
and kill him.
    Why now?
    Was it related to his vision of Rhyar standing 
triumphantly above Silminja's body in any way? Could it be 
the curse gathering its final strength?
    That seemed right to him, but he had no way to prove 
it. He knew only that many reams like that would probably 
kill him eventually, from shock and the extremely 
realistic feeling of death if nothing else. And they would 
distract him at crucial times, which could be as good as 
killing him, if they kept coming like this.
    He did not know what to do.
    At last, he stood up and made his way slowly back to 
his campfire. He might as well try to get some real rest, 
much as he feared sleep now, and concentrate on reaching 
Silminja. It might be childish, but he thought the dreams 
would die in her presence, wither up and blow away like 
Rhyar's soul.
    He fell asleep with her face in his mind, and opened 
his eyes to find the crystal light ablaze above him once 
more. No more dreams had troubled him, and he whispered a 
prayer of thanks as he stood up, ate, drank, and then 
prepared to fly on.
    He had not gone far that day, however, before the 
trail he had been following so faithfully stopped.
    Zar circled above the trees for a long minute, then 
swooped down to make sure there was no mistake. No. He 
could see no more footprints beyond a certain point, as if 
Silminja had walked that far and then grown wings like his 
own. There was nothing to be seen.
    Frowning and worried, Zar swooped down and landed in 
the crystal grass beside her last footprint. Staring 
indecisively, he at last stepped on that footprint, in the 
hopes that his foot touching the place where hers had 
would work as a charm to let him follow her.
    Nothing happened. Zar was still staring at the bent 
grass, and the fresh, unbent growth just beyond that 
point, when the swift nightfall dropped over the forest 
like a cloak once more. And this time, with no more 
warning than a swift, soft hiss, and a crackle in the 
distance, rain began to fall. It was warm rain, meaning he 
wouldn't freeze, but it was heavy. When he looked skyward 
in hope, he saw lightning spring from treetop to treetop 
in glittering play. He shook his head. He wouldn't be 
traveling any further tonight...
    Or today... or whatever it really was.
    Sighing, he sought shelter in another little dip in 
the land. The trees sheltered him from the heaviest drops, 
but he wasn't directly beneath one, so he didn't have to 
worry about a lightning-struck branch falling on him. The 
rain fell gently but steadily, with no sign that he would 
be able to leave anytime soon.
    Again, he ate, and noted with mild worry that only 
half the depcat meat he had brought was left. He would 
have to start rationing soon, or else try to hunt as best 
he could. He had better start now, in fact. He packed away 
a little more that he would have liked to eat, then lay 
down, this time on his side. He didn't know if his 
position while sleeping had anything to do with the dream, 
but he was willing to try almost anything to dismiss them.
    This time, it was silence rather than sound that kept 
him awake. He found himself listening intently for the 
smallest noise, and uncertain if he would welcome or fear 
some other sound than his own breathing and heartbeat, and 
the soft crackling of his fire. Several times he started 
up, a shriek building in his throat and his heart pounding 
furiously, to find that the sound had been nothing more 
than a wind stirring the leaves, or produced entirely by 
his own imagination.
    Each incident caused sleep to slip further away from 
him, pulled him away from sleep and towards wakefulness. 
On the other hand, that was to be welcomed. If he did not 
sleep, he could not dream.
    It seemed to be days before the nightfall finally 
vanished and the crystal sun blazed out again. Fighting 
back his yawns, Zar ate sparingly, drank thirstily from 
the stream that ran nearby, and went back to the place he 
had investigated with such scant success yesterday. He 
really had no other choice if he wanted to leave; beyond 
the trail, this was the only clue that Silminja had left 
him.
    What could it mean, that the footprints simply 
stopped? That she had returned to Arcadia, as he hoped? 
That there was some kind of door here that he could use, 
too? Or had something caught her? An otherworldly 
creature, perhaps, or even her own magic, gone awry?
    He had no answers, and the more he paced in circles 
and stared at the grass, the more fretful he became. At 
last, he spread his wings and rose into the sky, telling 
himself firmly not to come back until he could calm down a 
little.
    He sounded like his mother, he realized as he flew in 
circles. Then he smiled grimly. No, he didn't. His mother 
had turned her back on him, as had everyone from the Haven 
except his sister.
    Such thoughts were melancholy, out of place in the 
brightness of this world, but at least they kept him from 
worrying about the fact that he could make no sense of 
this riddle.
    He had no way to judge the passing of time, but still 
he thought the night fell too swiftly this time. He landed 
and stared suspiciously up at the sky. Was it just because 
Silminja wasn't here? Or was something else going on?
    More questions, and he could no more answer them than 
he could say where his beloved had gone. He spread his 
wings and took flight for the area of bent grass once 
more.
    Nothing had changed. He looked at it in the light of 
the moon, and could see nothing different. He looked at it 
with his magic, probing and testing it. There was no sign 
that magic had been worked here- or, if there was, it had 
been obscured by the relentless magic of the otherworld 
itself. Indeed, Zar was soon forced to stop looking 
through his power's eyes. So strongly did everything 
radiate power here that it was akin to gazing into the 
heart of the sun; he could be driven blind.
    Heartsick and weary from his sleepless "night," he 
returned to his camp and checked carefully through his 
possessions. Nothing had been stolen, and nothing could 
help him. He resisted his stomach's grumbles and slumped 
against a tree, watching the heartless moon as it tracked 
across the sky.
    He blinked and yawned several times, and caught 
himself nodding once, but always he opened his eyes in 
time. He was ferociously determined not to sleep here 
again, unless he spent more than a dance of real time in 
this world, and was thus forced to rest by his own 
exhausted body. Elwens could only go ten days without 
sleep before they collapsed.
    Deep in the forest, something began singing.
    Zar trembled. The sound was gentle and sweet, but some 
of the notes were flat. Like the screaming, it was in a 
voice that he recognized, even though he could not 
understand this language.
    The voice of Kalimarina, Princess of Carmai, whom he 
had killed when she tried first to enslave and then to 
kill him.
    He sat up and listened intently for long moments. The 
singing moved no closer to him. It remained where it was, 
beckoning, calling him to it.
    Zar fought away his curiosity and fear both, and 
concentrated on the serene blue sky that was the image he 
used to chase away outside distractions when he needed to 
work magic. For long moments, it seemed to be working. He 
drifted in a trance nowhere near as restful as real sleep, 
but fear did not touch him.
    Then a hand touched his shoulder. His eyes flew open, 
and he stared up into a face he knew too well.
    Kali's smile was sweetness itself, sweetness and 
light. She knelt beside him and reached out to clasp his 
hand. "Why are you sitting here all alone, Zar? Why won't 
you come and join me and my father? We are celebrating, 
and there's too much food for us to eat all by ourselves." 
She cocked her head, sending her long red-gold hair 
spilling over her shoulders, and smiled charmingly. "We 
would welcome your company."
    "I destroyed you," Zar whispered, remembering how 
still she had been, lying on the ground with a chain of 
linked silver stars closed about her throat. Her eyes had 
stared lifelessly at the summer sky, perfect mirrors of 
it. They were a stunning shade of blue, amazing in their 
purity and innocence, young and lovely. Even though he 
knew what she was- no more than a facade for a monster 
that did not stop at controlling Elwen minds- those eyes 
had made his heart ache.