Fleet Away
                         Prologue
           1,999,999, Age of Life, Late Summer
    "A beautiful sunrise, don't you think so, Myyti?"
    Maruss Freewind leaned against air, his steady stare 
fastened to the eastern horizon, where ascending Uunul was 
painting the sky with gold. The beams of light were yet 
faint, but enough to pick out the few tears that glittered 
on Maruss's cheeks. 
    The tears were his only sign of emotion. The rest of 
his face looked carved of the silver his skin resembled, 
motionless as weathered granite. He still hurt. But it had 
been two long months, and the fiery pain had abated a 
little. At least, he hoped it had.
    Though it unnerved the others, it was easier if he 
could talk to her. Never mind the fact that she wasn't 
really there. It was easier.
    "And really, Myyti," said the curalli softly, speaking 
to no one present, "it's not as if you're gone out of my 
reach forever, is it?" His eyes were drawn heavenwards, to 
the fading stars. "Someday we'll be together again. Just- 
be patient. I'll-"
    "Lord Maruss?"
    Maruss dropped his eyes and turned reluctantly toward 
the speaker. Not that he so much minded the shattering of 
his mood- he carried that mood with him all the time, now- 
but Myyti had felt close that time, as if she were 
listening to the ramblings of a heart-broken love instead 
of dancing joyously among the stars. "Yes, Jesartlu?"
    The land Elwen who stood behind him flinched. Maruss 
stared at him with dull curiosity for a moment, then 
nodded in understanding. So used was he to the sound of 
his own flat voice, sharpened only by pain, that he forgot 
how it made others react.
    Jesartlu Durillo took a deep breath and abruptly flung 
his eyes up to meet Maruss's in a surprising challenge. 
The black eyes glittered under his gem-blue hair like 
onyxes beneath a crown of sapphire, and in them blazed a 
fury Maruss had sensed in his friend since waking from 
madness several days before. "Damn you, Maruss! Can you 
not summon the strength to care about anything anymore? We 
are all that is left of the Annihilators; everything may 
depend upon us! Will you not at least hate Destria, so 
that you can lead the fight against him?"
    Maruss's return gaze was calm and level. "Why should I 
hate him?" he asked brokenly, his words limping and 
collapsing like a lute trying to play with one broken 
string. "There's no room in me anymore for hate. You still 
have life, Jesartlu, and Geruth and Jierran aren't far 
behind you in enthusiasm. You can carry on the fight. You 
have no need of a shattered, self-pitying Elwen who is 
more than half-dead already." He pivoted on one heel to 
watch the rising sun again. "Now leave me, if you can. And 
don't address me as 'Lord Maruss' again."
    Jesartlu was snarling, and panting as if he'd just 
sprinted a good few miles. "You fool. We do still need 
you. If nothing else, you're the one fated by the Silver 
Prophecy to destroy the unicorns. How can we win if we 
don't have-"
    "Oh." Maruss spun back, indigo hair flying behind him. 
"You mean I didn't tell you? Well, no, I suppose I 
couldn't have. There was very little time for talk about 
such a thing immediately after the Shattering, and then I 
went mad."
    Jesartlu's hostile return look, his eyes blurred with 
angry tears, said Maruss was still mad as far as he was 
concerned. "What thing?" he asked warily.
    "Fate wanted me to go after Destria," said Maruss, 
still calmly, still using the type of voice he had used in 
the past to calm angry members of his fighting band. "But 
I needed to go to Myyti. I must have torn fate's strands. 
My fate-magic has come reluctantly since that day, if at 
all, and I have felt no compulsion." He lifted his hands 
and stared at them with a satisfied air. The dark rings 
encircling his wrists, only two of the nine marks fate had 
given him, glowed dull and unresponsive, without the 
slightest sheen of silver light.
    Sensing silence, Maruss looked back at Jesartlu. The 
land Elwen was truly crying now, and Maruss could not tell 
whether the look in his eyes was composed of more anger or 
friendly concern. He curled his lips into a smile and 
patted one of the land Elwen's limp hands. "There, there," 
he murmured soothingly. "It's all right."
    "Maruss," Jes whispered, and as he spoke all the tight 
exhausted lines on his face seemed to multiply themselves. 
"We need you- so badly. So very badly. But we need you the 
way you were, not like this."
    "You need a Maruss surrendered to his fate, or at 
least accepting it," Maruss completed easily, "strong 
enough to recover from a loss, charismatic and willing to 
raise another rebellion and try again."
    Jes's face had brightened steadily as he spoke, and 
now he dashed the tears from his cheeks with a trembling 
hand and stared eagerly at Maruss. "Yes. That's who we 
need." His voice grew soft, intent. "You were that once, 
my friend, my brother, that and more! You are so close; I 
can feel it. Come back, come back!" His voice grew 
unsteady for a moment. "If we are ever to challenge 
Destria again- well, I have not exaggerated our need for 
you."
    Incredulous, for a moment Maruss felt something stir 
beneath the placid surface of his being, like a hidden 
fish in a river. Who he had once been?
    Perhaps, perhaps not, but whatever it was, Maruss 
seized it and ruthlessly stuffed it away. He gave Jesartlu 
a cool smile. Once it would have wounded him deeply to see 
the hope drain from the honorable land Elwen's face, but 
no more. "I am that person no longer," he said softly.
    Jesartlu, head down and feet dragging, walked slowly 
back toward the fire still blazing on the open plain below 
the small hill. Maruss glanced back to the sunrise, then 
turned his eyes northward. Beyond the wide, nameless 
valley that stretched before them and another range of 
hills, the Coldor Mountains slanted skywards, frowning 
fiercely at these little intruders in their domain. 
    "Yes," he said emptily to the mountains. "We will 
cross you, I suppose. Perhaps we will even persuade the 
dragons who live beyond you to help. But it will be done 
by others. I am no longer who I once was."
    He followed his friend down the hill, pausing a moment 
to bask in a shaft of sunlight. Staring dreamily into 
space, he summoned the face of his beloved. Green-skinned 
features, unyielding as stone, appeared before him, 
surrounded by a tumbling mass of curls like a flow of 
liquid emeralds. Eyes the deep warm color of greening 
leaves fastened to his, locking his violet gaze in a long, 
solemn stare.
    "Myyti," whispered Maruss. She had been more than 
loved one, she had been friend; more than friend, she had 
been comforter; more than comforter, she had been life. He 
wondered if his friends truly understood what effort it 
took for him to resist the call he heard echoing through 
his sleep, for him to wake to another day again.
    Then he wondered why he bothered. Death and the brief, 
sweet oblivion, then endless joy, it brought, were all he 
desired now. Why should he pull himself back, full of pain 
and paining his friends, day after day, to live beneath 
the sun of a world that no longer held Myyti?
    It wasn't out of a wish to preserve his own life; he 
had tried to commit suicide shortly after her death. Nor 
did he like to torture himself. The more he thought about 
it, the more inexplicable the shackle holding him to life 
seemed to be. Why not save himself the long gray slide 
into catatonia and quiet death, when he could answer the 
insistent call at any time?
    He didn't know. Perhaps he never would.
    He opened his eyes and continued to follow Jesartlu. 
The face hovered at his shoulder like the sunlight, 
bathing him in warmth, more real than the grass beneath 
his feet or the people toward which he now moved.
    Jierran looked up as he approached. Even in his 
declining days, Maruss found a smile for the silver 
unicorn. Jierran, who had turned to the Annihilators to 
fight against his own people, loathing their system of 
slavery- Jierran, who looked like a fairy tale embodied. 
Even now, the sunlight and stargleam and fireflicker 
combined to make his coat shine like starlit water in a 
vessel of silver. The eyes beneath his blindfold, as deep 
a violet as Maruss's own, glowed like the first flowers of 
spring, and the single horn projecting from his forehead 
might have been crafted of ivory. This, Maruss still 
thought at times, was what his people should have been.
    "My lord," said the silverini in quiet greeting, 
bobbing his horn in a brief bow. "How are you today?"
    Maruss sank down beside the unicorn on the grass and 
nodded in return. More than ever, he found Jierran's 
company refreshing. Unlike the other two, who constantly 
begged or demanded him to return, Jierran treated his 
constant grief like a disease the curalli would soon 
recover from. "Well enough, Jier." Looking about, he saw 
Jesartlu standing on the other side of the fire, back 
turned, gazing off into the middle distance, but no sign 
of his foster brother. "Where is Geruth?"
    "Here," said a timid voice- ridiculous, that shyness, 
considering how deadly its owner was- and Geruth looped 
over Maruss's head and landed gently in front of him.
    Geruth was a viaquia, or sunset Elwen, his slender, 
whiplash body covered with deep purple skin and without 
wings. He stood calmly before Maruss, or so it appeared- 
yet Maruss was aware of a quivering tension in his 
brother, muscles pulled tight as a harp string. His mouth 
was surrounded by a ring of crimson, and his fangs 
projected, stained the same color; he must have recently 
been feeding. His deep blue eyes, the color of the evening 
skies that would soon die as autumn advanced, stared 
warily at his brother. "Yes?"
    "I didn't wish to ask anything of you." Maruss lay on 
his back and closed his eyes. "I merely wanted to make 
sure you were safe."
    He could feel Ger staring sadly at him, then slipping 
away. Jesartlu snorted behind Maruss. "What could possibly 
threaten us out here? We haven't seen a unicorn minald for 
a month."
    Jierran chuckled. "No, my people prefer not to build 
their cities in such dense wilderness, nor so close to the 
mountains. They love open plains with the streams running 
through them."
    That started an animated discussion that Maruss could 
tell had only been created to fill the awkward gap he had 
left by dismissing Geruth. Once the curalli's cheeks would 
have outshone the fire with their embarrassment, but 
Myyti's death had left a wound in his heart through which 
emotion dripped like blood. He couldn't summon the 
strength to care about anything anymore.
    A soft sound- how was he able to hear it through the 
conversation?- made him open his eyes and sit up. He was 
ready to shout a warning, but the words died in his 
throat.
    Watching him fearlessly was a slender figure with 
pointed ears and a long, wild fall of black hair. Her skin 
was ebony also, pulled tight over her painfully high 
cheekbones and setting off in stunning contrast her 
gleaming eyes. They were red as an explosion of blood, 
with a gleaming, cat-like slit of blue down the middle.
    A moment only the black alfar watched him, before she 
vanished. Maruss wiped cold sweat from his brow.




                        Chapter 1
             Autumn Dawning, Secrets Dawning
    Images chased themselves through his head- a room 
filled with rainbows, a charging unicorn like a bloody 
image of a silverini, an aqua dragon whirling and treading 
the sky with supreme grace. Overwhelming it all at the end 
was a bright blue-green darkness, like the bottom of an 
ocean, interwoven with soft silver light.
    Maruss lifted his head, breaking himself free of the 
dreams' grip with a convulsive shudder. His bedroll was 
soaked with sweat- again. Though Elwen perspiration 
smelled sweet, no shadowed Elwen liked being wet, and 
Maruss curled his lip as he crawled out from between the 
blankets.
    His diamond-shaped eyes flashed around the camp as he 
changed the liquid tunic and leggings he had been wearing 
for a more comfortable pair. The others lay sleeping 
peacefully. Even Jierran, who had been standing sentry, 
stood with his head bobbing an inch from the grass. Maruss 
smiled slightly, the only expression of amusement still 
common to him, and slipped from the camp.
    He had not laughed since- that day.
    The mountains loomed nearer in his field of vision. 
They had made extremely good time yesterday, coming down 
from the hills to cross three hundred miles of valley. 
Though Jierran had been forced to gallop like a mad thing 
to keep up with the swift-running Elwens, he had not 
complained. He was a good friend.
    It was the quiet darkness just before the dawn, with 
not even a hint of golden light splashing the east, 
scarcely even a breath of breeze to disturb the utter 
peace of the night. The stars blazed overhead, clusters of 
silver and black eyes, good and evil, watching Arcadia 
with gentle indifference. Maruss scarcely glanced up at 
them, though like any Elwen he was aware of the presence 
of his creators. He had been indifferent to them in return 
since the death of so many Annihilators; he had not even 
joined Jesartlu and Geruth in lifting his voice in 
elwensong. How could he sing after the Shattering?
    As always, the memories returned with sickening 
vividness. The yielding carpet of grass beneath his feet 
suddenly felt stiff and matted from the amount of 
remembered blood covering it. Everywhere came the shrieks 
of the dying- both those dying of their physical wounds 
and those dying as the unicorns gazed into their eyes, 
tearing their spirits apart and enslaving them. To his 
ears echoed the faint clash of steel on steel, where a few 
brave ones not taken by surprise yet fought on.
    But it was hopeless. The army he had worked for a year 
to build was scattered to the four winds- those few 
members who might have survived. Maruss believed some had, 
for there were people not accounted for that he could not 
bring himself to believe dead.
    But where would they go? What sanctuary would welcome 
them? An unconscious sigh escaped Maruss as he dismissed 
the memories, All wandering lost and homeless in the wild 
now, most likely...
    Of course, that implied they wouldn't find sanctuary 
where they were going, either. But the curalli was not 
quite sure that he had ever expected to.
    He caught an odd scent in front of him and frowned. 
The weak blade of his curiosity made him stoop and examine 
the grass from which the smell drifted.
    It looked as if a tiny, carefully controlled fire had 
been lit here; the grass was crisped and blackened, bent 
as if by a step. Maruss thoughtfully traced the outside 
edge of it with a finger, noting the lingering heat. It 
was not very old. But what member of their group would go 
apart to light such a fire- and if not one of them, then 
who? They were moving over a land bereft of every sign of 
intelligent life- as Jierran said, his people disliked 
building in such wild, out-of-the-way places, something 
that had permitted the Annihilators' rebellion to continue 
as long as it had. But this looked too strange and small 
to have been started by natural causes.
    Then Maruss noted the shape of the "firepit", as well 
as the series of them that stretched off into the 
distance, and leaped back with a startled hiss. Standing a 
safe distance back, he examined them more warily.
    Yes, now that he wasn't so close, there could be no 
doubt of their shape. A series of pawprints advanced to 
the one he had been tracing, then vanished. Some creature 
had stood here for several long minutes watching their 
camp, then either flown away or-
    Walked backward in its own steps.
    Maruss whistled through his teeth. Whatever had 
studied them had intelligence- and he was afraid it 
wouldn't be at all friendly.
    He also had a suspicion of what it could be- one he 
didn't like either. Destria, Emperor of the Silverini and 
Jierran's father, had a magmacat who was more his friend 
than his slave. Tracker was an experienced assassin- like 
his master, he had lived a million years- and the burned 
patterns on the ground were like the kind a magmacat would 
leave.
    Maruss was still trying to decide what to do when he 
heard a soft snarl in the distance. He jerked his head up, 
eyes narrowing. His gaze swept the open ground before him, 
trying to distinguish the aura of a living being from the 
general confusion of auras his nightsight permitted him to 
see.
    It was useless. The sound was not repeated, and 
Tracker, if it was indeed he, was well-hidden. Maruss 
sniffed hopefully, then cursed lowly. The windless 
condition of the night made it impossible not to smell 
anything directly beside him.
    Abruptly he wanted to smile at himself. What did he 
think he was doing? He could hardly bring himself to care 
about his friends, and now he was trying to ensure their 
safety! Shaking his head in amusement at himself, he 
deliberately turned his shoulder toward the north and 
began to walk east.
    The night around him went still again, peaceful. 
Maruss wandered aimlessly, clearing his mind with 
breathing exercises taught to him by Yuzim, his old elven 
blademaster. He wondered if the dream elf was still alive. 
It was so long since the curalli, occupied with the 
Annihilators, had heard anything of him.
    So many dead, so many gone- or worse. Did everything 
pass? Still, better to pass than to retain the corrupt, 
immortal existence of the unicorns...
    He was doing it again. Anger mended the wound in his 
heart for the first time in a long time. It seemed that 
his curiosity could not be completely stifled, even when 
he wanted inner peace. Could he not simply contemplate the 
stars?
    He sank onto the stump of some long-dead tree, then 
slid to the ground and laid his back against the slowly 
rotting wood. Overhead, the stars still spun solemnly in 
their changeless dance, from the squint-producing 
faintness of the Net to the almost painful brightness of 
silver Laerfren. Maruss watched them, his eyelids 
drooping, his mind hovering drowsily on the edge of sleep.
    As always when he slid into slumber, or even came 
close, a soft, yearning voice called through the darkness. 
It was the most beautiful voice he had ever heard; for the 
first few nights, until he grew used to its presence, 
Maruss had jerked awake with tears in his eyes. It was 
Myyti's voice, but somehow kind, purified, oddly exalted. 
She spoke to him without words, tugging gently at his 
soul, coaxing him to follow.
    And always that unknown shackle- fear? fate? concern 
for his friends?- prevented Maruss from taking wing and 
flying to meet her. He shied back and woke with a wrench, 
running one hand over his forehead.
    To his surprise, the sky was already growing bright. 
He could feel his eyes fill with expectant joy as he 
turned to face the light. He wasn't about to miss the 
dawning of the first day of autumn.
    He could feel his eager anticipation echoed in the 
trees around him. Still no wind stirred the kettle of the 
night, but the branches lifted and quivered, their leaves 
rubbing, their rustles sounding like the subdued voices of 
excited children.
    The light grew in intensity- gold, silver, blue, all 
crashing in a tidal wave to inundate the world with 
brilliance. Maruss leaned forward, trembling slightly, 
nearly sick with impatience. It was the strongest emotion 
he had felt since Myyti's death, save grief...
    But even the burning ache and the sudden flash of his 
beloved before his eyes failed to quench Maruss's elation 
as the sun suddenly broke free of its traces and ascended 
abruptly into the sky.
    Uunul blazed against a sky of soft liquid sapphire- 
for a moment. Then it appeared to sprout extra rays, 
gleaming bars of gold. Carrying yellow with it, still it 
soared upward, the blue succumbing to the yellow more and 
more every moment. At last, the sky was entirely golden, 
golden as the leaves that would soon appear on the trees. 
Maruss felt as if his smile would crack his face.
    Around him, the hylea trees shivered and lifted 
gleaming dark silver boughs. On every branch, delicate 
blossoms as fine as golden lace opened, and a piercingly 
sweet song poured into the air. Maruss flung back his 
head, feeling as if he stood under a cascade of water with 
the sun shining through it.
    The chiming melody at last ceased, its sliding notes 
and heavenly vibrations dying into majestic stillness. 
Maruss heard the quivering tones in his mind for a moment, 
but they faded even as he groped for them. The song of the 
hylea was not meant to stay.
    It seemed his earlier wish for inner peace had been 
granted. He felt the same unruffled tranquility as he did 
after elwensong. He bowed his head and closed his eyes, 
feeling the calm inside him like a quiet second song. For 
a moment, even the unspoiled sorrow that gnawed his heart 
stopped chewing to intertwine a gleaming thread of lament 
with the joy, weaving a bittersweet tapestry.
    Maruss realized when he came back to Arcadia that 
someone was speaking his name, as they had at sunrise 
yesterday. He turned around reluctantly, his movements 
still filled with dreamlike slowness, hoping it wasn't 
Jesartlu again. The land Elwen, unforgiving of Maruss's 
slide toward death and his attempt to kill himself after 
the Shattering, had not been the most comfortable person 
to be around lately.
    He smiled quietly when he saw it was Geruth, peering 
about as if uncertain of his welcome, and motioned for his 
brother to sit down equally soundlessly. The viaquia gave 
him a strained smile and lifted gently into the air. He 
drifted the five yards that separated him from his brother 
effortlessly and sank to the grass.
    "Maruss, I-" He looked down, digging his deep purple 
hands into the grass and running the individual blades 
through his fingers. It seemed to take a great effort for 
him to fasten his eyes to Maruss's face again.
    "I have something to tell you," he said, in a voice 
strangely close to hopelessness.
    Maruss looked at the viaquia placidly, though inwardly 
he wondered why Geruth was showing so much emotion. The 
proud viaquia was generally unwilling to acknowledge the 
Elwen side of himself. "What?" he asked at last.
    Ger looked in the other direction, audibly swallowing. 
He made a visible effort to throw the emotion back down 
his throat with the movement, but his voice when he spoke 
was not- quite- flat. "It concerns the hatred that existed 
between Dustdancer and I."
    Maruss raised an eyebrow, but his surprise, like 
everything else about him lately, was mild. Geruth 
referred to Dustdancer, the amber gryphon who had turned 
traitor to the Annihilators and helped the unicorns 
accomplish the Shattering. That was the one good thing 
Maruss could say about the stars-cursed battle; Dustdancer 
was dead through the cleverness of his brother, Coalcloud. 
Still, so was Coal- and that brought another swift aching 
of the heart. He had long suspected that the mutual enmity 
between the sunset Elwen and the lion-eagle was simply a 
result of opposite personalities. "Yes?" he said. Not 
encouraging, but not hostile either. His indifference 
seemed to grow daily. He would not care if Geruth told him 
or let it drop.
    The viaquia drew his knees up to his face in a 
childish gesture that hid his eyes. "When you contacted 
the gryphons and asked them to help-" Again he swallowed. 
"Well, that was not the first time I had seen Dustdancer."
    Maruss stared, his attention captivated. Geruth nodded 
solemnly, as if his foster brother and former leader's 
look had been a question. "Yes, it is the truth. We 
recognized each other. I had seen him in the-" He closed 
his eyes and sobbed softly. Maruss reached out a 
comforting hand before he realized what he was doing and 
clasped the sunset Elwen's arm.
    "Nothing is so terrible that it cannot be said," he 
remarked quietly.
    "You're right, as always." Ger gave him the ghost of a 
smile. "I had seen him in the unicorn minalds."
    Maruss felt as if he had been slapped in the face, or 
given a blow to the midriff. He stared at Geruth, knowing 
his jaw hung slack with shock. "The unicorn minalds?" he 
repeated stupidly. "What were you doing there?" But even 
as he spoke he knew, and repeated the words in his mind, 
in tandem with Geruth's spoken ones.
    "Freeing slaves."
    Maruss fell back against the stump, shaking his head. 
He felt stupefied, puzzled, and-
    Relieved. As he realized what Geruth's unknown, 
earlier involvement meant, a weight seemed to fly from his 
shoulders. Few Elwens actively liked leadership, and 
Maruss had taken the mantle with more loathing than most, 
knowing himself to be pitifully inadequate. It was only 
the need of a hero and the romanticized stories spread 
about him that had made them choose him.
    "Geruth-" He shook his head yet again, and the viaquia 
jumped like a startled rabbit. Laughter bubbled beneath 
Maruss's surface like blood beneath a scab, but he could 
not release it. Geruth blinked timidly.
    "You're not displeased?"
    "Displeased?" Maruss hoped Ger could hear the trace of 
amusement in his voice. "Why should I be? Don't you know 
what this means?" Geruth cocked his head curiously, and 
Maruss decided to enlighten him. "It means you should have 
been leader of the Annihilators all along, you idiot."
    Geruth choked on his breath in surprise. He reared 
back as if Maruss had transformed into a lashing snake 
before his eyes. "What?" he demanded shakily, vibrating 
like a bowstring that had just released an arrow. "Are you 
mad? You were a much better leader than I ever could have 
been. Simply because I freed slaves first, and not very 
successfully at that-"
    "You thought of rebellion first." Maruss caught and 
pressed Geruth's nerveless hands in his own. "You were the 
one who decided before I did that slavery is immoral, and 
you acted against it while I was still daydreaming about 
sneaking off to a slavehold."
    "Does that matter?" Anger had sparked in Geruth's 
cobalt eyes; he roughly ripped his hands free. "Simply 
because I happened to hear of your fate from Maana and 
decide I could do that as well, that means the 
responsibility for something as important as winning back 
freedom should have been deposited on my shoulders?"
    "But that's the entire point, Ger." Maruss squeezed 
his foster brother's wrist again. "I broke fate's strands, 
but I cannot believe it would let me escape so easily- 
unless it attached itself to me by mistake! Perhaps you 
should have been Ellosonor, the Bane of Silver, all along. 
Perhaps I simply acted to pave the way for your coming." 
The thought did not distress Maruss. The intoxicating 
taste of freedom for the rest of his life was enough to 
make him forgive any mistake.
    "Too many things make no sense," said Ger stubbornly, 
but with a quaver in his voice. "You were an effective 
leader, Maruss; you gave your heart to it unwilling, true, 
but you acted with all your soul when you accepted that 
you had no choice. I would have stalled, made excuses-"
    Maruss chuckled. He went hastily on before the stunned 
Geruth could make any comment about the laugh. "You don't 
know me, Geruth, and you don't know yourself either. There 
were many times I wished to evade responsibility. I-"
    "But you didn't." Geruth sounded desperate. "I would, 
Maruss- stars help me, I do know myself! I would have 
shirked it, eventually tossed it to someone else. You may 
have thought about that, but you never went through with 
it!"
    "My brother," said Maruss softly, "can you honestly 
say you are not denying this because you don't wish it to 
be true?"
    Geruth's mouth worked soundlessly, making him look 
like a landed fish. He lowered his head at last, soundless 
tears trickling down his cheeks, then said in a voice 
harsh with subdued sobs, "At least you laughed."
    "There is that," said Maruss, not wanting to reveal 
that he was as surprised as Geruth himself and not wanting 
to lose the thread of the subject. Delicately he added, 
"My lord."
    Geruth flushed deep purple and frowned at him, hastily 
scrambling to his feet as he did so. "Will you stop that!" 
he hissed. "I'm no kind of lord."
    Maruss shrugged. "Neither was I. But we need a leader 
now, and I'm not the best choice for the job, as you know 
very well. Jesartlu is angry enough at me to willingly 
follow you, and Jierran trusts you as much as me. He would 
do whatever you asked of him."
    Geruth blinked rapidly, a confused expression on his 
face. Maruss could not tell whether the tears he fought to 
keep back were of sorrow or anger. "Stars take you for a 
fool, Maruss! It's not the same, and you know it!"
    "You'll do it, won't you?" The one ability that had 
not deserted Maruss was his ability to judge people's 
emotions.
    "Yes, stars take you." Geruth looked at the grass, his 
fists clenched, his mouth twisted into a trapped, bitter 
line. "Don't you even want to hear why I was such a fool?"
    "Of course. I simply thought you weren't willing to 
tell it."
    "I wasn't," Ger muttered, "but I'm being coerced into 
doing one thing I don't like already. I might as well do 
another, too."
    For the first time in a long time, something inside 
Maruss flinched at the bitter words. He kept his face 
smooth, though, schooling his self-blame into calm 
acceptance. "Go on. Whenever you're ready."
    Geruth sat back down, but turned his back and cast the 
words over his shoulder like stones.
    "Maana told us about you- that is, told the rest of 
us- when we were about fifteen. By then, she'd had time to 
watch you and confirm that her suspicions were correct; 
you were Ellosonor. Had you been of one blood with our 
foster mother," Geruth added significantly, "you would 
have inherited some of your talents, at least, from her. 
She could tell the truth about people."
    Maruss ignored that, though there were plenty of 
things he could have said. Geruth was embarrassed and 
angry enough already, and would be sorrowful soon at 
recalling these painful memories of the dead verde who had 
raised them. "And? What did you decide?"
    Geruth uttered a sigh that had so many emotions in it 
Maruss couldn't sort them out and touched his mouth. As he 
opened his jaws, his fangs extended, all the way to his 
lower lip. "I had to hunt outside the dell anyway, for 
fear of killing an intelligent creature, and I was already 
spending nights away. I knew I could go for a long time- 
perhaps even several days- without being missed. You know 
Maana. She keeps- she kept- an eye on us, but she knew 
when we weren't children anymore." Geruth smiled sadly.
    Maruss nodded, for a moment caught in memories of his 
foster mother, she who had raised him for the first forty- 
eight years of his life and first told him what he was- 
that is, what they all thought he was. "Did she ever 
suspect? I certainly didn't."
    "No, you were too caught up in your books." Geruth had 
turned fully to face him again, but he seemed unaware of 
it, though his smile was strained. "Even then, I was 
amazed at how much you knew, how good your memory was. You 
dug into the most obscure places- though, of course, Maana 
was always very careful to hide one book of songs from 
you." He broke off and looked in the other direction, 
singing softly:

    "Arcadia now falters in its life's hour.
     The silverini have come to power.

    "Mutaters, destroyers, slayers of kin,
     Breaking laws but holding themselves above sin. 

    "Monsters, in a word, seemingly destined to win,
     And all efforts at resistance vanish on the wind.

    "But no dark can endure forever; from the night,
     The sun yet leaps forth with wings of light.

    "So shall it be, though all resistance fail,
     Though falls the Barren Desert and Areil.

    "Birth ordained since the beginning of time,
     Hope to a world drowned in silver cold, frost-rimed.

    "Bane of Silver, praise from tongues of Elwen and elf.
     Though the Bane of Silver, he'll be silver himself.

    "We pray that this prophecy shall never come to pass,
     But if it does, remember: all things end at last."

    Maruss started audibly gritting his teeth halfway 
through the song, but Geruth continued, until the last 
silvery, quivering, damning note died away. For a long 
moment, curalli and viaquia sat facing each other, violet 
eyes locked to blue, stubborn wills matched.
    "You heard the song," Maruss growled at last, turning 
away. It was hard to protest something wasn't the truth 
when the whole world seemed against you. "All things end 
at last. My tenure of leadership is done. If the Silver 
Prophecy is true, and the unicorns are to be defeated- if 
the sun is to come again- someone else will have to do 
it."
    "Sometimes I think the Prophecy shouldn't have singled 
you out," said Geruth, in a wishful voice. "You would have 
been even better as a bard." His voice grew determined, 
even, with an emphasis on each word. "But like it or not, 
Maruss, you are Ellosonor. And even if you are- 
temporarily- unable to act, I couldn't be the one to take 
your place." He reached over and gripped Maruss's 
nerveless hand, holding up his own free hand beside it. 
"The Prophecy states quite clearly, 'Though the Bane of 
Silver, he'll be silver himself.' The most illiterate 
person in the world couldn't read purple in there."
    From somewhere, Maruss found a smile, even as he 
ripped his hand from his brother's hold. "The most 
illiterate person in the world couldn't read it anyway, 
Geruth." The smile vanished in an eyeblink. "But silver 
could mean anything. Just because I happened to be born a 
curalli-"
    "One with fate-magic, one about whom the Emperor of 
the Silverini has dark dreams, one whom alfari befriend-" 
Geruth nodded at the slender silver chain snaking from 
Maruss's neck under his tunic "-one whom others follow to 
their benefit."
    Maruss's temper flared, unexpectedly. "The Shattering 
certainly wasn't to their benefit!" he snapped.
    Answering fires rose in Geruth's eyes, but his voice 
remained irritatingly level. "Shut up and listen to me. 
After all the things that have happened, can you still 
insanely deny that you are Ellosonor? When fate herself 
has healed you, marked you, summoned and spoken to you?"
    "I didn't ask for it," Maruss growled.
    "What sane person would?" Geruth's voice was fervent. 
He shared the general Elwen wariness of fate and its 
tricks, but unlike Maruss, he didn't understand the 
importance of a continuing fight against them. "But people 
need you now, Maruss, just as we needed you before the 
Shattering. Your fate-magic would return if you called it; 
the broken strands would mend. If you'll continue to deny 
us your help, then-" The viaquia let out a whistling 
breath and shuddered, as if he could not imagine what 
would happen. "Then you're just being selfish."
    "I told you I was self-pitying." Maruss rose to his 
feet, doing his best to ignore the stunned, horrified, 
wounded look Ger was giving him. "That doesn't mean I 
don't care for your safety; I do. That's why I'm telling 
you I think Tracker is after us." He nodded in the 
direction of the burned pawprints. "I found his tracks, 
though, with everyone asleep, I can't imagine why he 
didn't simply come and kill us."
    "Are you sure it wasn't a product of your own 
madness?" Geruth asked sarcastically, and Maruss smiled. 
He recognized this tactic. His brother was trying to make 
him care by getting him angry. Unfortunately for Ger, 
words had long been Maruss's tools.
    "If you think I'm mad, why would you want me as your 
leader?"
    Silence. Then Ger muttered, in the tone of one asking 
a question but not wanting to know the answer, "Are you 
mad, Maruss?"
    "I don't know. It's quite likely." Maruss started to 
walk back toward camp."
    Geruth snapped behind him, "You won't even try to 
summon your fate-magic, will you?"
    Maruss pivoted slowly back toward him, with the 
intention of saying something true and infuriating. But 
Ger's strangled gasp stopped him.
    As Maruss stared in disbelief and joy, and Geruth in 
simple disbelief, a silver aura slowly began to glow 
around the viaquia's body. Unlike the auras shed by the 
force of existence, the auras seen by nightsight, this one 
shone brightly in the light of the rising sun. Faint but 
clear to Maruss's ears came familiar sounds: the death 
shrieks of unicorns and pounding hooves as nonexistent 
silverini fled. They were familiar because he had once 
heard them.
    Geruth was Ellosonor.
    The viaquia was still staring helplessly at himself 
when Maruss slid to one knee and bowed his head. "My lord 
Geruth. Bane of Silver."
    He spoke in a tone of perfect respect.
    Geruth stared at him with a twisted face. His voice 
stumbled. "Maruss- I can't be- I'm not-"
    But he fell silent. If he could urge Maruss not to 
deny the fate-magic, then he couldn't deny it either, 
should it choose to come to him. When he spoke, it was 
with weariness and regret, but acceptance- and unabashed 
command. "Rise."
    Maruss remained on his knee for one moment longer, 
then stood and accompanied his new lord back to camp. He 
didn't resent Geruth's leadership, for soon he would be 
dead anyway.
    He felt as if he walked on air, and relief sang a 
giddy song in his veins. He gulped the air as if it tasted 
differently, and perhaps it did.
    He knew now that he was free.
----------------------------------------------------------
    Jesartlu was pacing an anxious circle around the 
campfire, slapping his sword against one knee, and even 
Jierran looked a little upset. At the sight of the two 
figures, however, the unicorn relaxed, and a flash of 
relief darted across Jes's face before he masked it. The 
land Elwen strode toward them, frowning sternly. 
    "Where have you-" The word died in his throat as he 
saw the glimmering silver aura surrounding Geruth. A 
moment only he stared, then bowed deeply from the waist 
and handed his sword hilt-first to the viaquia. The sunset 
Elwen took it, looking still a little ill-at-ease.
    "My life is yours," said Jesartlu smoothly, with great 
ceremony. "Command me or instruct me if you will; I am 
your loyal servant."
    He never swore such an oath to me, Maruss thought, and 
was glad of it.
    Geruth touched the sword lightly to Jes's right 
shoulder. "Thank you for your pledge. I promise to protect 
you, to tell the truth, to do nothing that is immoral by 
your high standards." He shot a narrow-eyed glance at 
Maruss, as if asking for his approval of the oath. Maruss 
shrugged merrily; he didn't know. Though he himself was 
starsworn, that vow had applied only to himself at first; 
he hadn't made it with any witness but the stars.
    As Jesartlu repeated some more ancient, honorable 
nonsense, Maruss's thoughts turned to the staroath. His 
hand wandered to his neck, to the chain welded so smoothly 
to his skin that it felt as if he had been born with a 
metal ring of links there. It had been a thong once, 
holding a shard of starlight- a shard that was a sign of 
the stars' favor. It had become a chain, a symbol of his 
servitude, a few days after making his oath. He had sworn 
not to shirk his duties, not to lie to himself or to those 
who believed as he did, not to tolerate complacency, not 
to-
    The world seemed to drop out from under him, and he 
swayed slightly. As if in response to his thoughts, the 
chain flared with light and heat.
    Oh, absolute starhell.
    Faint and clear, from more than a year ago, words 
spoken in the innocence of youth rang in his mind.
    "I swear I shall not cease to fight the unicorns until 
their blemish is banished from Arcadia!"
    An oath sworn by the stars was unbreakable. But if 
death lured him away-
    Firmly, Maruss clamped a harness on his runaway 
imagination and hooked it to the cart of reality again. He 
knew- he hoped- it wouldn't come down to a conflict 
between Elwen emotions and Elwen duties. After all, his 
fate hadn't made him immortal; he had nearly been killed 
any number of times. If death took over, surely the stars 
would understand. And if they didn't- well, should he 
care? He had never cared greatly for the stars ever since 
he had learned that they, too, apparently obeyed the 
dictates of fate and were content to let things go as they 
were.
    But still, he was Elwen, and something in his soul yet 
quailed at defying the creators of his race so completely. 
For now.
    He returned to the present when Jierran's horn touched 
him lightly on the shoulder. The unicorn seemed to be 
regarding him with concern, but the sight of his eyes was 
masked by the blindfold that also prevented his deadly 
gaze from harming the Elwens. "Lor- Maruss, are you all 
right? We should be moving."
    "I'm fine, thank you." Maruss firmly shoved his 
wayward thoughts away, consigned them to their proper 
darkness. "Aren't we at least going to eat first?"
    "We can eat on the run," Geruth interrupted. "If 
Tracker is ahead of us, Maruss, we can't spare any time. 
We have to get to the Rivadan Valley as soon as possible."
    Maruss nodded and started to walk forward, but was 
stopped by the prod of Jierran's horn in the small of the 
back. Turning, he stared at the unicorn curiously. The 
long, lined face was solemn. "What is it, Jier?"
    "We run fast, and you, if you'll pardon my saying so, 
look even worse than usual. Will you not ride?"
    "Thank you, but it would slow you-"
    "Not greatly." Jierran sounded kind but firm. "Please, 
Maruss, don't argue with me. Ride."
    Maruss looked at Geruth, but the viaquia was speaking 
softly with Jes and didn't return his gaze. He shrugged 
and flung one leg over the unicorn's back, just as Jierran 
started to kneel down to help him. For a moment they 
wobbled; then the silverini regained his balance, Maruss 
climbed fully onto his back, and they cantered forward.
    The curalli, after several long miles, found his 
eyelids unexpectedly heavy. Once he might have worried 
about what the others would say, but now that he was just 
himself and no one more, he only had to worry about the 
people his actions directly affected.
    "Jier?" At the unicorn's listening nod and upward 
flick of his ears, Maruss asked, "Do you mind if I sleep 
for a short while?"
    "Clench your hands in my mane so you won't fall off," 
was Jierran's response. Maruss patted his neck in 
gratitude and did as the silverini suggested, then 
pillowed his head on moonshadow fur and clenched hands. 
Within moments, warm darkness enveloped him.
----------------------------------------------------------
    It seemed he had slept for only a short while- as 
always, he was listening to Myyti's call and debating 
about whether to follow her or not- when a new voice 
spoke. It seemed familiar, but was so utterly out of place 
here that he could not tell who it belonged to. It was 
shrill, or slightly so, and without emotion, but oddly 
beautiful for all that.
    "Wake up and look in your bloodstone."
    The touch of his own hand at his neck woke Maruss. He 
blinked awake sleepily, but kept his head down as he 
fumbled for the gem on a chain around his neck. For some 
reason, he didn't want any of the others to know he was 
awake.
    He drew it out- a jewel shaped like a perfectly formed 
teardrop, red as lifesblood but clear as water. It seemed 
to hold a subtle, flickering, living warmth of its own as 
he held it, and his gaze was drawn inexorably into its 
depths.
    Shadow and light twined and writhed, wove together, 
and an image slowly swam upwards out of it. Emotionless, 
burning eyes studied him first; then he saw the ebony skin 
and hair, the sharp cheekbones and pointed ears set high 
on the head, like a cat's or wolf's. The eyes were 
triangular, burning red with a cat-like slit of blue, and 
when the familiar stranger smiled- really more of a 
stretching of her lips- her teeth gleamed small and white 
and sharp. She looked like a cat cornering a mouse, but 
Maruss was not afraid. Not only did fear seem to have 
drained out of him with Myyti's death; he knew this alfar.
    "Eculindee," he whispered.
    His friend's smile vanished, and she looked at him 
with solemnity- or so it seemed. Possessing only five 
emotions, an unfathomable curiosity, and faces like 
burnished metal, alfari made it difficult for Elwens to 
guess what they were thinking. "You neglect your duties." 
He recognized the voice that had spoken to him in the 
void, now.
    "I do not." Maruss spoke calmly. Arguing with an alfar 
was foolish at best and suicidal at worst, considering the 
literally unlimited power of their magic. But after all, 
what could they do to him now? He had suffered the worst 
pain he could suffer. "They now longer need me. Geruth is 
Ellosonor now."
    "Shall I show you, curalli?"
    "What?" For the first time, Maruss heard a hint of 
uncertainty creeping into his voice. He cursed himself for 
it, but was helpless to do anything about it. Alfari 
changed subjects with unbelievable speed, and it was 
impossible to learn what they were talking about unless 
one asked them.
    "The world as it will be if you do not fulfill your 
duties." Eculindee grinned, as if this amused her, even 
though the closest emotion to amusement alfari showed 
would hardly be appropriate now. 
    "If you wish." Maruss knew it was no good refusing.
    The bloodstone rippled and shimmered, a new image 
forming. Eculindee's face disappeared, save those eyes, 
the fires blazing with strange knowledge. Maruss returned 
her gaze evenly, not yielding an inch. To yield now would 
be to lose. 
    The image that formed was of a green, wide plain, a 
tranquil stream running through it. It was spring, for the 
trees on the river's banks were just starting to put forth 
tender green leaves, and the sky above shone like a bowl 
of liquid emeralds.
    There came the splashing noise of hooves, mingled with 
the bell sounds unicorns always made when stepping. 
Several silverini, adults with foals beside them, trotted 
upstream, stepping as delicately as they could, 
considering the water pulling at their fetlocks. They were 
accompanied by perhaps a dozen Elwens, staggering, with 
glazed eyes. Maruss's muscles tensed despite himself. He 
hated slavery, and two of the slaves were Geruth and 
Jesartlu.
    As he watched, Geruth stumbled, splashing a little 
extra water onto the mane of a silverini foal. The filly 
shied away from the viaquia and whinnied in distress.
    Casually, barely pausing in his stride, a stallion 
behind her reared and crushed Geruth's skull with his 
hooves. The viaquia's head rocked forward, and bright 
purple blood, joined in a moment by less pleasant matter, 
rolled out of the gaping injury. The stallion said 
something calmly in the silverini tongue, and Geruth, in 
his last dying agonies, staggered out of the water and 
onto the bank to die, so he wouldn't pollute the stream.
    The image vanished, leaving Maruss breathing hoarsely. 
He would have screamed, could he have found his breath 
through his horror. As it was, he could only whisper, "No. 
Please, no."
    He glared at Eculindee, when she reappeared again, 
imploringly. "That will happen?"
    "Perhaps," said the alfar with the infinite calm that 
had made Maruss want to scratch out her eyes when they 
first met. "Perhaps not. You have proved not even fate 
controls the future. But are you willing to take the 
chance that it might happen?"
    Maruss shook his head slowly from side to side. "How 
can I prevent it? Geruth is Ellosonor now."
    "Fate's strands fly loose." Again Eculindee's face 
disappeared, but the image that appeared was of a torn 
tapestry, several threads swaying wildly in the wind. 
After a moment, the threads pulled loose from the cloth 
and tumbled away. Eculindee's voice spoke as Maruss 
watched the threads wing into the distance. "They catch to 
whatever they can, but they long to come back to their 
true resting place. Without that resting place, who knows 
what will happen?"
    "I wasn't born to save the world- not even to save 
Arcadia." Maruss spoke with all the calm he could muster. 
"Please understand that. Why make so much depend on one 
person? Why not disperse the responsibility among others? 
I can't-"
    The image changed yet again, the threads wrapping 
around Geruth, making him the center of something like a 
gleaming spiderweb. For a moment the viaquia smiled, 
moving easily; the light, delicate threads wove into his 
motion, rather than hindering it. But suddenly his face 
crumpled like that of a child about to cry, and he tugged. 
The threads ripped, became lashing whips, and coiled about 
him like a cocoon on both sides, pulling. A moment later, 
he was tugged apart.
    Maruss tried to hide his eyes and his throbbing 
scream, but he was helpless to move. His scream burst out 
unhindered, and he felt Jierran buck in surprise. He felt 
the rush of air past his face and struggled, even through 
pain and overwhelming despair, to land on his feet.
    He did, but winced as the landing seemed to jolt every 
bone in his body. For a moment, he returned the startled 
stares of the others, then closed his eyes.
    Stars help me, how can I do anything, be anything but 
Maruss, when I am dying? Eculindee says I must take up the 
burden again, not only because it rightfully belongs to me 
but to spare other people harm.
    But I have never believed in the greater good...
    Will Geruth truly be torn apart?
    "Maruss? Are you all right?"
    The curalli snapped his eyes open and saw Geruth 
regarding him with a worried look. He managed a tight 
smile. "Fine, Ger. A bad dream, I suppose." Indeed, as he 
thought about it, every detail save the direct stare of 
the alfar's eyes was fading away. He must have dreamed it.
    The viaquia looked at him a moment more, as if 
expecting him to behave strangely again, then nodded 
slowly and turned to resume his place at the front of the 
cavalcade. Jesartlu quickly made his way to the viaquia's 
side, one hand clenched on the hilt of his sword and his 
eyes sweeping the valley for danger- but not before he 
flashed a quick, tight, angry look at Maruss.
    I should be walking at your side, the look said, but 
you rejected me. The gift of friendship is given but once. 
I serve another now.
    Maruss wondered dimly as Jierran trotted toward him 
why such a look should cause him such keen pain.
    Jierran looked ashamed of himself. "Maruss, I will 
never forgive myself for bucking like that. If you prefer 
to walk, I-"
    A surprised laugh broke free of Maruss, but it was a 
sound that had only pain in it. The embarrassment on the 
unicorn's face shifted toward pity, the one thing the 
curalli couldn't bear. "I should be the one asking you to 
forgive me, Jier. I must have shouted right in your ear. 
I'm sorry."
    "That's still no excuse for flinging you," Destria's 
son murmured, but he knelt for Maruss to mount without 
further argument, for which the shadowed Elwen was 
grateful.
    When the violet-eyed shadowed Elwen sat on the 
unicorn's back again, he felt something bump against his 
chest. Looking down, he saw that his bloodstone swung free 
on the end of its chain. Even as he watched, light and 
shadow stirred, pulling him down. He was drifting 
helplessly in a burning sea of red...
    No! He seized the bloodstone and stuffed it back down 
his tunic, though tearing his eyes from it brought an 
almost physical pain. He wouldn't dream again- or do more 
than dream, whatever it had been.
    He wouldn't dream again- of anything. Or so he 
thought, and the thought comforted him.
    His mind, that night, didn't seem inclined to listen.
----------------------------------------------------------
    The moment he closed his eyes that night- after a meal 
of roast rabbit at which the only conversation was between 
Jes and Ger- the blue-green darkness came to him. He was 
drifting in some vast void, not either the spirit-void or 
the dream-realm, both of which were familiar to him. And 
yet, tricksy light dodged about him, brighter than 
stargleam, more elusive than moonbeams.
    His poet's soul once would have pursued that rhyme, 
but now he was too dulled by pain to sing...
    No. Wait. Transfixed, Maruss felt the most perfect 
peace flood through him. He seemed, for a single moment, 
to know the answer to all of life's problems. If anyone 
had asked him anything then, he would have been able to 
answer. He had temporarily become something more than 
Elwen.
    The silver light grew brighter, more visible, and 
wrapped him like a blanket. He reached out and drew it 
close, snuggling into its folds. And something, a thought 
that made no sense, spoke into his mind.
    So you live up to your essencename.
    For a moment, he thought it the voice of the 
Wellspring, the pool that had made the unicorns immortal 
and allowed them to resurrect their dead. But no, the 
Wellspring was closed, gone. This thing merely spoke in 
the same manner as the god's blood.
    There came a sensation of falling, but so great was 
the warmth and the tranquil knowledge that Maruss was not 
afraid. Indeed, he seemed innocent of fear. He closed his 
eyes and reached out his arms.
    He fell gently, through slanting beams of aqua light, 
drifting like a shed feather.
    When he landed on earth, a glittering silver web 
briefly wrapped him, then folded itself into a cloak and 
settled on his shoulders- obedient, awaiting his command.
    He strolled forward, a thousand voices seemed to shout 
his name, and-
    He woke up with tears on his cheeks.
    For a long moment, Maruss lay with his cheek on the 
grass, savoring the calmness of that dream. Then he 
frowned and lifted his head, concentrating as a thought 
made itself heard.
    Myyti's voice had not called him through this dream. 
What might that mean?
    Could he have accepted the loss? But no, no Elwen ever 
recovered from such grief, and Maruss did not believe in 
dreams that predicted the future. Such a hope was pure 
nonsense.
    And yet, the dream had seemed so real...
    "Fooling yourself," Maruss murmured to his stubborn 
hope. "It won't change, and you know it."
    He rolled lazily onto his back and looked at Geruth, 
who slept a short distance away. Jesartlu slept beside 
him, back against a tree, hand on his sword. Jes had 
always been the best fighter in the Annihilators, and 
Maruss had no fears for his foster brother's safety with 
such a watchdog beside him.
    A soft sound broke the quiet of the night. Maruss had 
tensed and whirled to his feet before he recognized it as 
one of Jierran's snores. He let out a quiet breath and 
chuckled at his nerves. If Jesartlu hadn't taken alarm, 
there couldn't be anything there.
    He stretched lazily and turned to lay back down, but 
this time, whatever had made the sound was incautious. The 
strange thing broke the darkness again, after Jierran's 
snore.
    Standing with his head down, not daring to dart 
glances from side to side- that would show he was aware- 
Maruss tried to search for the intruder with his other 
senses. It might be something as harmless as a young 
rabbit who had wandered the wrong way. Even a larger 
predator curious about the light of their fire would not 
be too menacing. Elwens were more than a match for many of 
Arcadia's animals.
    Unless it wasn't an animal...
    He smelled, just beyond the fire, an answering heat, 
and stiffened. That scent was familiar to him, and not 
just because it resembled more common scents, either. He 
could truly distinguish it from different things, for he 
had smelled it before.
    Tracker stood at the edge of their camp, gazing in.
    Maruss forced himself to calmly yawn, as if his 
stumbling up had been the result of a bad dream, and lay 
back down again. He needed to stay calm, at least until he 
figured out whether or not he should wake up Jesartlu. 
There was no sane reason for the Cat to stand there and 
simply watch them... yet he had last night. What could he 
possibly be up to? Had Destria ordered his assassin to do 
something besides kill one of them?
    He felt heat pass close by, and the hair on the back 
of his neck rose. To keep the magma that bubbled up every 
time he took a step from burning the ground too much, 
Tracker often moved lightly and quickly, never staying in 
one place for long. He was behind Maruss now, walking back 
and forth, back and forth- or so the curalli assumed from 
the nearly inaudible sound of paws.
    What was the matter with Jes? Why wouldn't he wake up?
    Ordinarily, Maruss would have challenged the cat by 
himself and not worried about it, but he was unarmed. His 
friends had taken Starsheen, his knife, and all other 
weapons from him during his madness, afraid he would try 
to use them to kill himself, and Maruss knew Tracker would 
smell any magic he tried to use.
    There was no help for it. Maruss called telepathically 
to Jesartlu. ^Tracker's in the camp.^
    He saw the land Elwen give a little jerk, probably in 
surprise, then remain still. But the slight hitch in his 
breathing showed Maruss's message had penetrated the fog 
of sleep in his mind. He was simply considering what he 
ought to do about the matter. 
    There was a soft snarl from behind Maruss. Tracker had 
heard the change in Jes's breathing as well. At the sound, 
Ger rolled in his sleep, mumbling, and even Jierran 
shifted uneasily and stamped.
    And Jesartlu attacked.
    He seemed to lift his sword, rise to a crouch, and 
spring over the fire and Maruss all in one motion. Maruss 
heard the snarl grow horribly louder, and Jes responded 
with a ringing battle cry. There came the swish of a sword 
through the air, and the even lighter movement of a body 
leaping to one side to avoid it. Then that body jumped 
over Maruss and into camp.
    The curalli was already rolling, the instincts of 
battle and his relative alertness making him respond to 
Tracker's presence before the sleepy viaquia or unicorn 
could. The shadowed Elwen had only one thought: Keep the 
magmacat from getting to the fire, burning low though it 
was. The heat could too readily be turned to a weapon.
    Tracker was crouching beside the embers, a dim shape- 
Maruss's nightsight was defeated by the light of the 
coals- and trying to hook a few with his paw. At Maruss's 
sharp tug on his tail, he whirled around, fangs gleaming. 
The ground under him was already cracking open, and 
glittering streams of boiling red magma slid out from 
under each paw, slithering like crimson snakes toward 
Maruss.
    The former leader of the Annihilators responded the 
only way he could: with his own magic. At his gesture, he 
was suddenly enclosed in blackness and silence. A 
deathwall, a dark circular fence of negative energy, had 
appeared around him. Anything touching a deathwall would 
simply disappear into nothingness; unless Tracker came 
perfectly through the open space at the top and down 
without touching any of the sides, Maruss was safe.
    The magmacat did not try. After waiting a few minutes, 
curious, Maruss himself leaped over the deathwall, landing 
on his knees in the tangled blankets of his bedroll. 
    The Cat was gone. Jesartlu leaned against a tree, 
panting as he rubbed his left hand. There was blood on his 
sword- scarlet blood that hissed and steamed- and a trail 
of silver on his palm where Tracker had gotten in a lucky 
scratch. Other than that, neither one, Maruss suspected, 
had gotten hurt; Jes had simply driven Tracker away, 
rather than killed him.
    The land Elwen looked up, his dark eyes glimmering 
like wildfires under his gem-blue hair. The two Elwens 
locked stares for a long, awkward moment. For the first 
time since the Shattering, they had fought together as a 
team, and done it even though there was anger between 
them.
    "Thank you," said the fighter at last, quietly. "None 
of us might be alive now, if not for your warning."
    Maruss shook his head to stop further thanks. "I was 
simply awake, that's all. It was you who did the nasty 
business of driving him away." He faltered and looked away 
as Jes's brows drew down in a frown. His modesty had 
always tended to infuriate the land Elwen who had once 
been his bodyguard.
    "Perhaps so," was Jes's answer at last. When Maruss 
looked back, it was to find the land Elwen stooping over 
the yawning viaquia, but still staring at him, as if at a 
puzzle he could not quite figure out.
    "Is everything all right?" Geruth's question trailed 
off in another yawn, and he started to sit up sleepily. 
Jes clasped his hand in a friendly manner and smiled at 
him reassuringly.
    "Fine, my lord." He spoke the title a little sharply, 
glancing at Maruss as if to gauge the curalli's reaction. 
Maruss stared back stubbornly, wrapping himself in the 
remembered aqua warmth of his dream. Whether dreamed heat 
or cold of approaching death, there were places he could 
retreat to where none of his friends could touch him.
    "I dreamed-" Geruth began, but Jesartlu was already 
shaking his head.
    "Tracker came into camp, but he is gone," the warrior 
said, still looking at Maruss. The curalli turned away- 
not because he could not match Jes's gaze, he told himself 
firmly, but because there was no point in doing so.
    "Ah. Good." Ger still sounded a little confused. 
Maruss heard the blankets shift as he lay back down. "But 
it was the strangest dream, Jes," the viaquia said in 
strangely child-like wonder. "I was flying-" He chuckled 
abruptly. "Not that there's anything strange about that. 
Do you want to hear this. Jes?"
    "I do, Lord Geruth." Though the measured cadence of 
Jesartlu's voice was cool and soothing, Maruss could still 
feel those eyes on his back- burning, burning like hot 
coals.
    "I'm afraid I'm not making much sense..." said Geruth 
muzzily. "But, oh well. What was I saying? Yes, I was 
flying, but not on my own, not like I usually do. A 
glittering web was supporting me- one of fine silver 
strands. Like fate's threads, almost." Maruss felt himself 
stiffen, and he listened in hopeless despair to the sunset 
Elwen's next words. Not terrified, simply wondering, but 
still accusing, still confirming his odd dream on 
Jierran's back.
    "They closed about my limbs, suddenly, and pulled- for 
no good reason I could see. And they pulled, and tugged, 
even after I commanded them to stop." Maruss flinched, and 
knew Jes had seen. "Luckily, I woke up before I could be 
yanked in two."
    "A strange dream, my lord." Jes sounded preoccupied, 
even as he shifted the blankets, trying to help Geruth 
settle back in. "But surely no more than that."
    "Surely," the sunset Elwen said, and curled up again. 
"Good night."
    "Good night, my lord."
    Nothing happened for long moments; then the faint 
sound of snores began again, from two directions. Maruss 
lay back down and squeezed his eyes firmly shut.
    A hand shook him roughly on the shoulder. He mumbled a 
little nonsense and rolled over, pretending to be caught 
in the throes of sleep already.
    A mental voice, one he could not hide from, spoke 
sternly in his inner ear. ^I know you're awake, Maruss. 
Trying to put off what should be said won't make it- or 
me- go away. Both of us need to be faced.^
    Maruss sat up, but didn't react to Jes's triumphant 
smile, drawing his loss about him like a cloak. He was 
surprised how easily now the gray numbness came to him, 
and how distant it made the world seem. He wondered how 
close the day was when the void would surround him all the 
time, and he would slip over the edge into the darkness 
that waited beyond like a patient friend.
    Jes's casual slap made his head rock back, but it did 
not shake the grayness. "I know what you're doing," the 
land Elwen said flatly. "Come out of it, Maruss. I need to 
talk to a sane Elwen, one not half-consumed by grief."
    Maruss didn't move, and Jes's eyes widened in sudden 
fear- and such grief of his own that the grayness did 
tremble a bit. "Maruss." The blue-haired Elwen's tone 
contained more than a bit of pleading. "Please. We do need 
you- if only because you possess knowledge about Geruth's 
dream. Please," he repeated. "I saw you. What did it 
remind you of?"
    "The bad dream I had today while riding," Maruss said 
reluctantly, to stop the growing heat of the chain around 
his neck. "In it, Eculindee appeared and showed me- a 
similar scene." He wasn't about to tell Jes what the alfar 
had said about taking up his duties again- the chain could 
flare like a star if it wanted. Jes was certain to take it 
the wrong way.
    "Eculindee!" Jesartlu breathed, obviously impressed. 
Though wary of the cat-eyed magekind, he seemed in awe of 
them as well, and took nothing they said or did lightly. 
"Maruss, that's serious. Are you sure she didn't tell you 
anything else?" He leaned forward, face imploring. "It 
could be so important, and we might not know until later."
    "It was a dream." Maruss stirred uneasily, remembering 
how his bloodstone had hung free after that dream, when it 
had been under his tunic before...
    No! He threw the thoughts violently away. 
    Perhaps Jes saw the expression of rejection on his 
face. For whatever reason, the land Elwen's own 
countenance grew cold and tight, and he rose to his feet 
with a swift bow. "Thank you," he said stiffly, and turned 
to walk away.
    But not before Maruss saw such sorrow etched on the 
land Elwen's face that he blinked. If Jes now protected 
Geruth, why should he grieve for Maruss?
    Shaking his head, the curalli curled up in his 
blankets and returned to his interrupted slumber. Myyti's 
call, piercing and full of infinitely sweet longing, was 
waiting for him, cascading through the darkness.
    And as always, he awoke the next morning, but that 
night the shackle seemed composed of another voice.
    "Your duties, Maruss Freewind. Your duties."




                        Chapter 2
                        The Offer
    They continued moving for two more days, the routine 
becoming almost boring to Maruss. Wake, eat, break camp, 
ride or walk until the sun hung low in the west, make 
camp, eat, sleep, fend off Tracker. The magmacat entered 
their camp almost nightly. He seemed to do nothing but 
sniff about, but each time they drove him away, Maruss 
received the distinct impression that he was looking for 
something.
    The only thing that changed was the presence of 
Maruss's grief.
    It grew until it cast a pall over everything. The 
first morning after Tracker's attack, Maruss woke up 
looking through a gray veil. He blinked several times, and 
the veil vanished. He mentioned it to no one.
    But it took more effort to make the veil go the second 
morning, and by the third, Maruss had lost enough joy in a 
world without Myyti to let it remain. It did no harm, 
really, even if it did seem to hang over everything and 
breathe like a beast. There was no need for his friends to 
know about it, either.
    His appetite began to gradually slack off, though his 
friends did not notice. He simply ate a little less every 
night, buried a little more with the rest of the 
leftovers. He was, inch by inch, loosening his grip on 
life.
    He had not dreamt since that night, and Eculindee's 
voice had vanished from his sleep. There remained only 
Myyti's call, and the infinitely poised decision about 
whether to choose life or death.
    On the third day, as he plodded along with his head 
down, he heard someone singing in the distance. Puzzled, 
he lifted his head and stared around.
    His puzzlement grew even greater when he realized that 
none of his friends appeared to hear the music. Jierran 
trotted with sweat pouring down his coat, glaring up at 
the sun and muttering how unseasonal this was for the 
beginning of autumn. Jes and Ger were discussing, as they 
had been for the past day, the best way to cross the 
frowning barrier of the Coldor Mountains rising in front 
of them. Cytheria, and the Rivadan Valley, lay beyond that 
treacherous, snow-coated border.
    Then Maruss realized the voice was only in his own 
mind- and after that, he recognized it for Myyti's.
    He knew the end wasn't far, now.
----------------------------------------------------------
    Maruss sat on the grass, arms folded on his knees, 
staring at the stars starting to peer out above the blood 
of sunset painting the west. Did one shine brighter than 
the others? Was he only imagining it, or could he hear the 
voices of the stars mingled with the song that had sung to 
him endlessly all day, like the music of a running river?
    "Maruss!" Geruth called faintly. "Vespermeal's ready."
    Maruss rose to his feet and walked slowly to the 
distant gleam of the fire, not without a longing backward 
glance or two. The fire created a darkness that shut the 
stars out, and at that moment, Maruss wanted to be close 
to them.
    He ate even more sparingly than had become his habit, 
listening to the music, and moved away from camp as soon 
as he could, to be alone in the darkness with the stars.
    It was not long before he heard Jesartlu and Geruth 
begin to sing.
    Jes started first. His silvery-accented voice, a thin, 
solitary warble of sound, rose into the air, startling as 
the sunrise of three days before. It wound into the sky, 
flashing like light on water, then deepening with a slow, 
solemn, majestic sorrow that seemed to hold the promise of 
the night. It had no words- unless the words were in a 
liquid language that Elwens had long ago forgotten.
    Neither did Geruth sing with words when his deeper, 
wilder voice joined in. For long, timeless moments, they 
serenaded the stars, which hung closer like ripe 
gemstones, and the pricked ears of a valley that could not 
have known elwensong for countless generations.
    At last, the sound died. Maruss became aware there 
were tears on his cheeks, and hastily wiped them away. 
What was the matter with him? Why should the music of this 
world enchant him so?
    As if in response to his thoughts, Myyti's stilled 
voice began again. Maruss lay back, closed his eyes, and 
slipped a little closer to the brink.
----------------------------------------------------------
    He woke to a tingling pain on his temple. Frowning, 
the curalli sat up and scratched at the old scar that lay 
there, a scar over which his hair grew a darker, finer 
indigo. He had been scratched by Jet, the Feline Lord, 
during that god's time on Arcadia before his death, but it 
had never bothered him. Jet had said it wouldn't be 
removed until he gazed into oblivion, or some such thing.
    Maruss's heart leaped with a sudden, odd, painful 
mingling of joy and regret. Unless oblivion were near, and 
he was to die now...
    The pall over his vision was not so noticeable in the 
night; it only seemed to be there if he consciously looked 
for it. At the moment, he was expectantly staring around, 
waiting for Myyti's spirit to appear before him, or 
whatever it was that happened when one died.
    Something did stand before him, but it wasn't Myyti's 
spirit.
    Tracker.
    Maruss drew back with a startled hiss, for the first 
time remembering he had fallen asleep outside of camp, but 
then steeled himself as he severely scolded his instincts 
to live. Silly, simple things! He would be passing beyond 
soon...
    Tracker stepped forward, head lifted, muscles rippling 
sleekly under his coat. This time, he stood by no fire, 
and Maruss could see him clearly in the glow of his aura. 
A powerful, cougar-like Cat, built low to the ground, his 
coat scarlet as the red parts of a fire, as spilled 
unicorn blood. His eyes gleamed like golden wheels of 
flame themselves, and the fangs he exposed glittered long 
and sharp and perfect. Maruss gazed at him calmly.
    "Well, go ahead and kill me."
    Tracker stopped, blinking. He seemed puzzled; then a 
wide smile spread across his face. "Ah, it is even as my 
master said." The assassin chuckled and sat, coiling his 
tail around his forepaws. Half his left one was missing; 
his gaze drifted to it. "Though I wish I could kill you...
    "But that is not what my master sent me for." The 
golden gaze snapped upward again, pinning Maruss with 
glowing intensity. "No, he sent me to you to make an 
offer."
    Maruss stared and licked his lips. The scene, already 
rendered unreal by the pall and Myyti's insistent song, 
turned even more bizarre with the addition of Tracker's 
words. "An offer? What kind of offer?"
    "A very attractive one." Tracker eyed him critically 
as he leaned forward. "Or at least I should think so, 
given your present state. You hover on the edge of death, 
do you not? But you are afraid to fly over."
    "I know not what binds me to life," said Maruss 
equably, ignoring the furious flaring of the chain about 
his neck, ignoring the compelling urge to fling himself at 
the magmacat. "It could be fear, I suppose."
    Tracker smiled, as if Maruss had said something 
pleasing. "That it could. Well, then. You know that my 
master is a powerful mage?"
    "Of course. He has had a million years to practice."
    "There is that." Tracker seemed to be growing more 
amused with each of the curalli's responses. His tail did 
a little dance along the ground, and he did not even seem 
to care that bright trails of molten rock snaked along and 
scarred the ground, leaving a spoor that would be hard to 
mistake. "How much do you value your present leadership 
position, and the Annihilators?"
    "I am leader no longer." Maruss saw no harm in 
confessing it. Perhaps Destria would stop pursuing them if 
he knew that Maruss could not raise a rebellion against 
the Empire again.
    Tracker looked to the east, where Lureth, the golden 
moon of autumn, was striding into the sky, bathing all the 
night in brilliant light. "Lady," he murmured, "your 
cousin the Blue Moon is surely beneficent tonight." He 
turned back and looked Maruss straight in the eye. "What 
If I told you you could have your lost love back again?"
    The world shifted and flung Maruss away. Myyti's song 
faltered. Maruss stared at Tracker, shivering, then shook 
his head. "No." He tried not to take note of how shrill  
his own voice was. "You can't do it. You're lying."
    Tracker cocked his head in seemingly offended dignity. 
"What reason would my master Destria the Glorious have to 
lie? He studied long with the Wellspring on the arts of 
making things immortal and-"
    "Myyti would not have wanted to be immortal!" Despite 
Maruss's best efforts, the shrill tone remained in his 
voice. He clenched his fists in the grass, trying to will 
calm, but it didn't work. "No Elwen does."
    "You did not let me finish." Tracker's level gaze and 
voice might have been those of a god to the shaken Maruss. 
"He has also studied the art of bringing things back from 
the dead."
    "And he would pass a shambling corpse off as my love, 
I suppose," Maruss spat, already cursing himself for his 
earlier outburst. Myyti's name was too pure to be sullied 
by uttering it in this monster's presence. "Or some other 
monster..."
    "I did not say resurrection," Tracker snapped, showing 
impatience for the first time. "Besides, that would be a 
little difficult, considering that Elwen bodies burn after 
death. No, it is a special process- reversing time on one 
person, I suppose you could call it. Myyti will be at your 
side again as if she had never worn the exploding crystal, 
as if her life had continued on as it was from the day of 
the Victory." Even in his helpless longing to hear, Maruss 
was disgusted at the name the unicorns had given the 
Shattering. "In return, you need only act as a spy on your 
friends, pass along a little information from time to 
time."
    "Myyti would not have wanted me to do such a thing," 
said Maruss, then cursed himself a second time for again 
uttering her name. Tracker merely tilted his head, this 
time in curiosity.
    "How will you know-" his voice was low, compelling 
"-if you do not see her, ask her?"
    Maruss put his hands over his eyes. Myyti's face 
floated before him, warm and beautiful, alive and laughing 
and loving. "I- I know," he faltered. Myyti running in the 
sun. Alvied, the true name of her soul- with the sun. "She 
was good, honorable." Myyti dying, pleading with him to 
let her go. "She was as dedicated to the fight as I was." 
Myyti, becoming pleasantly flustered as he proposed 
marriage. "She knew death was a risk." The children he and 
Myyti might have had, children with silver skin and green 
eyes, children with green skin and indigo hair. "No!" It 
came out as a long, tormented wail of loss and pain.
    From behind him came the sounds of someone awake and 
stirring. Tracker hissed softly, and when Maruss dropped 
his hands, the Cat was crouching, tail swishing and fangs 
bared as he stared in the direction of the camp. He swung 
his head, and those blazing eyes locked once more with 
Maruss's.
    "Think about it," he hissed. "If I were you, I would 
think about it very carefully." He turned and bounded into 
the night, moving as lightly and swiftly as a scarlet 
shadow. He was gone in moments.
    Maruss started to follow, then staggered to his knees 
and started to weep.
    His friends found him there, crying as he had not 
cried since Myyti's death. They couldn't get any sense out 
of him, and put him to bed with tears still coursing down 
his face.
    But behind Maruss's eyes the face of his beloved 
hovered, and, might all the stars help him, it did not 
look disapproving.
    The song sang like a siren now, with a new and more 
compelling undertone.
    Myyti might be alive again.
    All he had to do was betray his friends...
----------------------------------------------------------
    When Maruss woke up the next morning, he found it very 
hard to meet anyone else's eyes. Not that he had decided 
anything, but he thought his guilt must be splayed across 
his face, for anyone who wanted to see.
    "Are you all right?" Geruth asked him as he passed him 
a dish of stew. The viaquia had become a surprisingly good 
cook since their flight from Minamar; he had even made 
clay bowls like the one Maruss now held. "Did Tracker hurt 
you in some way?"
    "Hurt?" Maruss fought hard to keep the guilty look 
from his eyes. He felt that way from even listening to 
Tracker- and yet, it burned in his mind. He could not 
fling the thought the magmacat had given him away. "No. I- 
was tired. And I had a lot to think about," he added 
truthfully.
    That was another thing, truth. Elwens could detect 
lies, and none of what Tracker had said had been a lie, 
not in any way. That odd, painful hope he didn't dare hope 
swelled in Maruss's heart. A horrible thing to hope for, 
and yet so sweet.
    He kept his eyes on his meal when Jesartlu came 
walking in from the sentry duty he had insisted on taking 
after finding Maruss. If anyone could see or guess what 
had happened, it would be the land Elwen.
    "Nothing," the land Elwen reported, accepting the 
viaquia's offered bowl of stew with a nod of thanks. 
"Either we scared him off, or he accomplished his purpose, 
whatever it was."
    Maruss nearly dropped his bowl, and had to pretend a 
fit of coughing to cover for it. Jes's words made him feel 
ill, though they were true enough. Accomplished his 
purpose, yes- if his purpose was merely to deliver his 
message and make Maruss feel the lowest of the low.
    Still, the curalli knew it was ridiculous to feel 
bitter against the magmacat. Tracker had merely planted 
the black seed in the fertile soil of Maruss's love-torn 
mind. It was up to the curalli to grow the clinging black 
vine... or uproot the seed before it could sprout.
    The curalli threw at the stubborn, grief-torn part of 
himself the image of a soul choked with dark creepers of 
corruption, rotting, but his love refused to consider it. 
And if that came true, answered the native defiance he had 
always possessed for the stars. what did it matter? If he 
became a ghost doomed to wander for the rest of eternity, 
he would still have had his living time with Myyti.
    And after all, why had the stars given the Elwens free 
will and such powerful emotions, if they did not mean them 
to choose once in a while?...
    Maruss recalled his words to Geruth three days ago and 
smiled darkly. Yes, it was quite likely he was mad.
    And, after all, didn't the old songs say that nothing 
done out of love was wrong? Certainly it would be better 
than doing something out of hatred- continuing the fight 
against the unicorns. He had once been innocent of that 
dark emotion, but he could deny no longer that he hated 
Destria for what the Emperor had done to the Annihilators. 
And, of course, Jes and Jier and Ger had never made any 
secret of the fact that they loathed him. Wouldn't 
stopping people who hated be a service to love and good?
    Damn. Maruss set the bowl down and withdrew into 
himself. He was trying to justify something that wasn't 
justifiable. Love wasn't the greatest good; he knew that. 
There were some things worth more than that, and loyalty 
to the fight against the unicorns was one.
    So, then. Maruss exhaled a breath. He would have to 
rebel against the dictates of his conscience, without the 
comforting cushion of rationalization, or condemn himself 
to death. No, worse than that- he had already been 
resigned to death, and had long ago lost what little fear 
of it Elwens were born with. This would be dying knowing 
he had pridefully flung away a chance to live.
    And which would be worse? Which would Myyti's spirit 
blame him for the more? Bringing her back, or following 
her so quickly? One of the two was going to happen. There 
was no third alternative.
    None.
    "Maruss?"
    Blinking, he looked up to see Jierran standing in 
front of him. The unicorn looked even more concerned for 
him than usual, if such a thing were possible. "We should 
be moving soon," he said softly.
    Maruss nodded and stood, then turned back as the 
unicorn moved away and carefully emptied the unfinished 
stew onto the ground. It steamed and smoked as it bubbled 
into the grass blades, not nourishing water, but something 
far different, something that would eat into them.
    For a moment, he saw a truth there, but Geruth called 
him, and he lost it.
----------------------------------------------------------
    It was that afternoon that Maruss realized there might 
be a third alternative- if his friends would permit him to 
take it.
    He had wrestled with the problem all day, and made no 
further headway. The two sides seemed perfectly poised in 
him, keeping the scale at an immaculate balance. It would 
take something odd to upset either one.
    And then it hit him, so simple he could only shake his 
head in wonderment at himself.
    If he asked for his old leadership position back- if 
the others would let him have it- he would bind himself 
firmly to life. He would be unable to die until he'd 
fulfilled his duties, and by the time he did that, he 
would have passed from the madness that was making him 
consider betraying his friends.
    Yet, how could he ask Geruth to return the power of 
the fate-magic and leadership- even assuming the viaquia 
wanted to get rid of it? Despite his loathing for it, 
Maruss remembered the tingle of the magic washing through 
his blood, of his wonder the first time he had used it. 
The viaquia was a mage, and more used to such power. 
Couldn't he better handle it, after all?
    But each time his mind started to convince him that he 
didn't need to take it back after all, he saw the two 
visions Eculindee had presented to him: Geruth enslaved 
and Geruth torn apart by fate's ultimately hostile 
threads. Maruss couldn't ignore the chance to take them 
back, if either one were true.
    And still the pall remained, accompanying him like a 
cloak, and Maruss found himself growing more and more 
indifferent. Perhaps Tracker's offer would soon become 
irrelevant.
    "Maruss, are you all right?" When the curalli looked 
up, blinking, Geruth walked beside him, watching him 
intently. Jesartlu scowled at Maruss from the other side 
of his new lord, hand clutching at the hilt of his sword 
fretfully.
    "I- yes, my lord." No matter how hard it might be to 
make the decision Tracker offered him, Maruss knew he 
couldn't tell his companions about it. They would be 
disgusted and horrified that he had even considered such a 
thing. "Please excuse me. I haven't slept well for the 
past several nights."
    "That's easy enough to see," said Geruth lightly, but 
the curalli sensed an odd tension in him that couldn't be 
dismissed. The viaquia started to speak, then cast an 
impatient glance at Jesartlu that he quickly changed into 
one of cool command. "If you will leave us for a short 
while, Jes?"
    The land Elwen paused, conflicting emotions wrestling 
on his face. Then he shook his head, but with more than a 
hint of hesitancy in the motion. "I prefer to stay where I 
am, lord. You shouldn't be left without protection-"
    Geruth half-bared his fangs, controlling himself with 
a seeming effort. "We are on an open plain," he said 
levelly, "in the middle of the day. The only threatening 
thing we've seen for a month is Tracker, and however he's 
following us, we've never seen him during the day. I have 
my fangs, my magic, and Maruss by my side. I should be 
safe enough."
    Jes's face was unreadable. "As my lord wishes." He 
sidled away, but not before he cast an odd look at Maruss. 
The curalli's puzzled eyes followed the warrior back to 
the front of the line. If he served Geruth now as 
completely as he seemed to, why did he act as if it were 
Maruss he thought he should be guarding?
    Ger claimed his attention again with a slight tug at 
his sleeve. "You've studied maps," he said. He whispered 
it, and spoke as if he had committed a terrible crime- or 
were in the process of committing it. "Where, exactly, is 
the Rivadan?"
    Maruss hid his amusement beneath a carefully stern 
mask and pretended to scan the horizon intently as he 
answered. He knew, of course; what amused him was Geruth 
being so secretive in seeking out help. "Once we're in the 
Coldors, we should aim west. We don't want to cross the 
Frigid Waste, even in autumn, so it might be better to 
remain in the mountains, at least until we're on the 
slopes of the Evils. They form the southern border of the 
Valley."
    Geruth relaxed and smiled. His eyes slightly glazed as 
he repeated the instructions, then cleared. "Thank you. 
Now, onto other things. What kind of help do you think 
we'll find in the Rivadan?"
    "I don't know," Maruss answered absently, trying to 
work up the courage to ask for his old position back. 
"Seasinger simply told me to come to the Rivadan if I ever 
came to Cytheria. He wasn't very specific."
    Geruth nodded reluctantly, then sighed, like one about 
to ask an unpleasant question. "Maruss, have any of your 
dreams lately involved alfari?"
    Maruss, having been prepared for something quite 
different, blinked. "Yes. Several. Why do you ask?"
    "I thought I saw Ramasten last night," Geruth 
admitted, naming the alfar who was husband to Eculindee- 
or however the alfari handled such matters. He rubbed his 
face as if to clear sleep from his eyes. "He didn't say 
anything, simply stared at me, but he made me so nervous I 
didn't get back to sleep until after we found you. When we 
came back, he was still there for a short while, but no 
one else seemed to see him."
    "That is often the way of it," said Maruss softly, 
remembering Rarentee, the daughter of the alfar pair. 
Rescuing her from the unicorns had first won him their 
friendship, and Ramasten had walked through a cell wall in 
broad daylight to get her, once Maruss had removed her 
from the heavily warded blanket.
    Geruth seemed glad to find confirmation that he wasn't 
mad, flashing a relieved smile. "Good." His face changed 
slightly. "I- I realize they were your allies, Maruss, but 
I- I almost hope they won't be mine. Forgive me-" he 
darted a suspicious look around, as if he thought the 
alfari might be watching him right that minute "-but I 
think them too strange to trust."
    "They're not, really," Maruss assured him. "They 
simply seem that way. They've been loyal allies, and more 
to the Annihilator cause than to me. The personal 
friendship they've showed was- well, something that 
happened." He shrugged helplessly.
    Geruth snorted wryly. "As you said, that often seems 
the way of it." He looked up as Jesartlu called his name, 
then abruptly laughed. "Look at me! Supposedly the strong, 
indomitable leader, and I'm leaning on you for information 
and comfort." He shook his head, as if at his own native 
frailties, and started to move away.
    He would never have a better chance.
    "Geruth?" Maruss called softly, stopping him. The 
viaquia looked back at him with compassion, as if he 
thought Maruss would ask him a favor. In a way, the 
curalli supposed, he was going to, though driven to it by 
necessity.
    "Yes?"
    The shadowed Elwen took a deep breath, and reminded 
the part of him that wouldn't speak about dark creepers. 
Now or never. "Would you consider yielding your leadership 
position back to me?"
    Jierran's head snapped around as if pulled, and he 
stared at Maruss with what seemed heartfelt joy. Jesartlu, 
too, lifted his head, as if hearing a trumpet call, but 
his black eyes were wary. Ger simply looked stunned.
    Then the viaquia's face assumed a patient look that 
Maruss knew only too well, and he realized dismally that 
he knew what the answer was going to be.
    "Maruss, I can't. I'm sorry to have to say this, but 
you're not in the best position to lead right now, as you 
yourself pointed out. Besides, you forsook the commitment 
once." Geruth's blue eyes were full of pain, but the rest 
of his face was gently unwavering. "May all the stars 
forgive me for saying this- how should we stand it if you 
betray us again?"
    I stand on the lip of a betrayal more profound than 
you can know! Maruss cried silently. He didn't know what 
the expression he showed Geruth was, but it might have 
been pleading. "I won't," he whispered.
    Jesartlu had been looking angrier by the word, and now 
broke in with some heat before the viaquia could speak. 
"We have only your word for that. And you broke your word 
once before."
    At the words, some of the strength the pall had 
drained from Maruss seemed to return. He hated two things: 
being used, and being unjustly accused.