Fortune Finder
                         Prologue
            183, Age of Falling, Early Winter
    He balanced on the edge of the wall and watched 
beneath him as the two curalli battled, darting and 
dodging, their arms and swords weaving a cunning, 
intricate web of stunning artistry. They were both equally 
matched...
    To a stranger's eyes, perhaps.
    But he was not a stranger, and he could see clearly 
that Shaunlenn was going to lose.
    Chirrirri Lankon sighed and settled himself more 
comfortably, unnoticed within the darkness, his diamond 
eyes fastened to the battle. He could see it all too 
clearly. Shaunlenn had been a feared fighter from the day 
he had challenged the old gang leader- what had her name 
been?- for leadership and won, which was the day after 
Chirrirri himself had joined the gang, the Moonsingers. 
But he had made a mistake. He had pressed Hautier of the 
Wolfeyes a little too hard, and now he was dying.
    Oh, not dying literally, Chirrirri acknowledged to 
himself, seeing the hopeful expressions on the faces of 
the other watching Moonsingers and dismissing them as 
fools. The gang leader had a slight gash down one arm that 
rilled blood, and he was slightly favoring his left leg. 
That was enough, against a fighter like Hautier. That was 
all that was needed.
    He was dying.
    He was dead.
    Hautier's knife had just slid forward like a bolt of 
steel lightning, and stolen Shaunlenn's left sword from 
him by slipping its curved blade around the straight one. 
The sword clanged off the wall, Shaunlenn's eyes widened 
in panic, and the knife came to rest in his heart. 
    For a long moment, it seemed as if the leader of the 
Moonsingers, who had reigned for a century, might take his 
enemy with him. His eyes opened, and he strained against 
the knife, trying to tug Hautier within reach. But already 
the light was fading from those open eyes. Then Hautier 
pulled his blade free, and Shaunlenn slumped to the 
street, his dark hair splaying all about him.
    Chirrirri shook his head as a moan passed like a wind 
through the Moonsingers. Did they never learn? Many of 
them had come from gangs whose leaders had been defeated 
exactly like this. Shaunlenn had killed- what was her 
name?- the same way. Death was as much a part of life as 
living itself was, in a curalli city. It puzzled Chirrirri 
that none of the others ever seemed to realize that.
    Hautier swung his own dark hair over his shoulder, and 
glared up at the walls and around into the shadows with 
his unusual crimson eyes. Everyone but Chirrirri tried to 
shrink from him, even the members of his own gang. 
Chirrirri, knowing perfectly well that the man could not 
see him, gazed back calmly.
    "Hear me!" Hautier cried in a voice like a bell. 
Whatever his faults, he had always been a speaker. Even 
some of the spectators who had only come for the 
entertainment and were now starting to wander away turned 
back and gazed at him with interest. "I would have been 
willing to let the Moonsingers join the Wolfeyes freely, 
or go where they wished. But Shaunlenn tried to add my 
territory to his own, and that is going too far. Anyone 
who wishes to join the Wolfeyes must swear loyalty to me, 
and swear, as well, by the dark stars, that he will never 
repeat Shaunlenn's mistakes."
    Chirrirri smiled and shook his head. A good fighter 
and a fine speaker, but this one lacked intelligence in 
other areas. If any of those who had been Moonsingers 
until this moment rose to lead their own gangs after 
swearing that oath, they would effectively be under the 
control of Hautier, and his territory would expand. The 
School Masters would never stand for that, and would 
likely find some way to incite a war that would kill the 
streetrunners Hautier wanted for his subjects. The man 
knew no better than Chirrirri's former comrades.
    But here came the first of those former comrades now, 
a young curalli woman known as Moonlight because of her 
unusual aqua hair. She knelt before Hautier, her face 
pathetically eager, and spread her hands in the little- 
used curalli gesture of surrender. Her voice shook a 
little as she repeated the words Hautier had asked for, 
but she did it.
    Hautier nodded his approval, and gazed at her in 
appreciation as she rose to her feet. Rumor had it that 
she had been Shaunlenn's lover. Chirrirri knew for a fact 
that she had been; he had watched them love more than 
once. It would not be long before she was Hautier's, not 
with her unusual (for a curalli) willingness to please.
    Perhaps encouraged by Moonlight's example, the others 
were coming forward now. Chirrirri rolled his eyes and 
dropped easily backward off the wall, to land in another 
alley he could take that led away.
    They did not understand, any of them. It sometimes 
amused him that so many of them had come from outside the 
city, from the farmlands, or from rich families, and had 
only joined the gang when their families were killed in 
street wars or by the School Masters, and yet he was the 
one who stood outside and looked in.
    Easily, he made his way along the alley, towards the 
mansion that had been the Moonsingers'. It would not be 
for very much longer; already Wolfeyes would be heading 
towards it, to separate those weapons and magical toys and 
valuable items that the former Moonsingers could keep from 
those they would be required to give up. He was not 
inclined to give up what was his, especially one treasure 
that he had saved up for such an occurrence as this.
    He paused a few times, to let larger groups sweep by, 
and then resumed his pace, moving swiftly and softly 
through the constant darkness that enshrouded the city. He 
felt the hum of the sword at his side, and sent it an 
irritated command to shut up. Hela did so, swaying a 
little, sulkily. Once again Chirrirri considered 
abandoning the starsforsaken sword in the gutters of 
Shadows, but it did have its uses. It was harder and 
harder to remember them as time passed, of course.
    He reached the mansion, and noticed that someone had 
lit a lamp in his room, a painful precaution that would be 
necessary to see the traps he had left. He smiled slightly 
and began to climb the side of the house, avoiding the 
doors. There would certainly be either guards or new traps 
there, and he did not feel like dealing with either for 
the moment.
    He paused outside the window, just in time to hear 
someone scream and fall to the ground whimpering. He 
smiled again and swung through the window, closing his 
eyes tightly as he entered the ring of light cast by the 
lamp on the table.
    A blade whisked over his head, but it was shaky and 
landed with a thunk in the table instead. Chirrirri rolled 
under it and drew Hela in the same motion, plunging it 
into the curalli's arm. He died, and only then did 
Chirrirri open his eyes, blinking as they adjusted to the 
light.
    The other thief- there had been only two, and that 
must mean that relatively few Wolfeyes were within the 
house so far- was writhing on the floor. Chirrirri sighed 
in satisfaction. The one trap they would not have been 
able to find, no matter how painstaking the search, had 
worked, and that was the reason for his partner's 
shakiness. It was hard to throw a blade steadily at an 
unexpected intruder when your partner was writhing in the 
middle of the floor with half his guts spilling out of his 
stomach.
    Chirrirri moved quickly about the room, flinging 
several spare blades and small packets of foods and 
poisons that he had prepared when he heard about 
Shaunlenn's challenge to Hautier into a pack. Then he 
settled the pack on his shoulders and walked to a corner 
of the room that did not, precisely, exist to retrieve his 
two greatest treasures.
    Both of them were small and simple, almost absurdly 
so. They seemed to be small, beaten circles of silvery 
metal, stamped with the rising sun, and hooked to brown- 
and-white feathers. Nothing unremarkable, Chirrirri 
thought as he knelt and laid one of them in the center of 
the room, not far from the clotheslined man. Yet they 
would send a clear enough message.
    He closed his eyes and took a moment to reason out, 
from the tangle of psychic presences nearby, exactly who 
was in the house. Enough of them, he decided at last. Ten 
Wolfeyes, perhaps as many as a quarter of the gang.
    He leaped out the window and hit the ground running, 
cradling the other amulet close to him, thinking all the 
while about what he wanted to happen. He imagined the sun 
beaten on the circle of metal expanding and growing 
hotter, exactly as the merchant had told him.
    He was about two streets away when a rising fireball 
as hot and brilliant as the sun enveloped the house behind 
him. Shrieks of agony came from all about him, as curalli 
who had been looking unprepared in the direction of the 
Moonsingers' mansion found themselves blinded. Chirrirri 
ducked to evade the ringing bits of blasted metal and 
molten drops of it that fell on the streets all about him. 
When he thought he was far enough away, he halted and 
turned to gaze back in satisfaction. Hautier had killed 
Shaunlenn and destroyed the Moonsingers, but he would 
realize no gain from it.
    He then looked down at the other sunburst amulet in 
his palm. 
    Quite the opposite, in fact.
----------------------------------------------------------
    Some twenty minutes later, when the speechless and 
furious Hautier arrived at the burning ruins of the house 
that had served as the Wolfeyes' headquarters, Chirrirri 
was standing calmly on a wall nearby, highlighted by the 
gleaming flames, tossing colored balls of light in a 
circle. Green, blue, red, and yellow, they fell and then 
settled again in Chirrirri's hands, making him seem an 
accomplished juggler. In reality, the balls were his 
creations- a minor and mild magical talent- and would fly 
without his touching them. He was much better at juggling 
blades.
    Inevitably, Hautier turned and saw him. Chirrirri 
hastened the process by calling out his name, and tossing 
a blue ball out to land on his nose when he turned around.
    The ball hovered there and glowed while Hautier 
promised, in exquisite detail and loudly enough for all 
the others to hear, Chirrirri's punishment: to be racked 
apart, and tortured with drugs and the slower-acting and 
more hallucinogenic poisons after that.
    Chirrirri folded his hands and called the balls back 
to him. They circled his head like a gleaming crown while 
he replied.
    "Do you honestly think that I would stand still for 
that? Or that the School Masters would? They will claim 
the right to torture me for themselves, of course. I have 
killed at least twenty curalli tonight, and none of us are 
supposed to die in those numbers except during one of 
their street wars."
    Hautier paused as if puzzled by Chirrirri's voice. 
Many were. He spoke like a Master of Discipline, but with 
a streetrunner accent.
    Nothing daunted, the leader of the Wolfeyes surged 
forward. "Then you will die, still! By which means matters 
not to me."
    Chirrirri sighed. None of them understood. All of them 
clung to ideals, no matter what they did or what death 
took place before their eyes, and all of them clung to 
pride. So far as he was concerned, believing in such 
things- believing in anything- was the most deadly thing 
any Elwen could do.
    "Let me die," he said to the sky, half-chanting the 
words. He heard several helpless sniggers from below as 
some of the Wolfeyes recognized the poem he was quoting 
from, one embedded in a land Elwen drama. The hero had 
been almost as pompous as Hautier. "Let me die, and take 
my enemies with me, and lie at last in the knowledge that 
I have done what I could to defeat them." He lowered his 
eyes to Hautier. "Even when the defeat was not of my 
doing."
    Hautier's face turned slowly silver as his cowardice 
was exposed. Chirrirri shook his head. They used the 
flexibility of ideals to excuse themselves. Why did they 
never realize that those ideals could also be bent to 
entrap better than the best chains the Masters used?
    "I will hunt you down."
    "Why? I am standing here. Kill me."
    Hautier stared at him for a long moment. "Do you want 
to die?"
    Chirrirri let some of his exasperation come out in his 
voice. "Do you want me to kill you?"
    Again there were several helpless sniggers from the 
Wolfeyes. Hautier turned to glare at them in a manner that 
promised death to those who had laughed, if and when he 
found out who they were.
    When he turned back, Chirrirri was gone, trotting down 
the alley behind that wall and sighing now and then for 
the stupidity of the world.
    He climbed the outer walls of Shadows easily, 
unnoticed by the guards. They watched those who tried to 
get in, not those who tried to get out. Chirrirri paused 
on the top of the walls, then leaped into the embrace of a 
black hylea that stood just outside them.
    The tree swayed for a long moment, and the guards did 
look over. But they saw no more than the disturbance a 
large bird would have caused, and looked away with mutual 
shrugs and yawns.
    Chirrirri lay on his stomach on a branch and stared 
out at the starlit country before him. It would be best to 
travel at night for a while, until he was able to train 
himself to resist sunlight. And it would be best to move 
north. The rumors filtering over the walls of late 
suggested that the countryside between Shadows and any 
sister city to the south or west was torn apart by war, 
which was why it was called the Age of Falling.
    North, then, to the borderlands that the land Elwen 
city of Rowan held, but could not hold much longer.
    Chirrirri Lankon leaped from the tree and passed into 
darkness with no more pressure on the grass than a shadow, 
and no more sound than the wind.




                        Chapter 1
                    A Sense of Justice
              183, Age of Falling, Midwinter
    "A sense of justice cripples an Elwen only slightly 
less than the loss of both arms and legs."
    -Lady Ashina of Deathwield, to her adopted son and 
Heir, Elshar.

    Chirrirri stirred from sleep with a start, and laid 
his hand on Hela's hilt. What had spoken to him?
    Nothing, he realized after a moment, but the jay above 
his head, who flaunted brilliant blue feathers and wanted 
to know why the rest of the world was asleep. Smiling 
slightly, Chirrirri came to his feet, shaking snow from 
his shoulders, and looked up at the sun from the shelter 
of his tree. A little past noon. Not ideal, as there would 
be none of the shadows a shadowed Elwen could best use for 
concealment when trouble came, but because of the winter 
sun's weakness, there would be little or no heat to 
disturb him. It was as good a time as any to travel.
    He stepped into the light, grimacing and flinching 
only a little as it struck his skin. It no longer burned 
and threatened to make his tendons explode and caused him 
to weep black tears as it once had, but it was still 
unpleasant.
    Well, the next town was not far away.
    Chirrirri walked with an easy stride, whistling back 
to the birds now and then and listening to Hela's steady 
stream of sulks. The sword did not like being a sword, not 
even one that could kill with only a touch. She wanted to 
be anything else: a bird, a flake of snow, a land Elwen-
    A land Elwen?
    Chirrirri dropped into a squat behind a snowbank and 
gripped Hela, watching intently. Sure enough, a rider was 
coming over the path that led, more or less, over the 
snow, carelessly causing his horse to thrash a way rather 
than helping to break it. He was land Elwen, with pale 
skin instead of the dark silver skin that Chirrirri's kind 
bore, and he appeared to be talking to himself.
    "Stay this when? No, no good. That won't do. Not at 
all." The horse balked for a moment at a heavy drift, and 
he kicked it forward without paying any attention. The 
beast snorted unhappily, but did as commanded. Its 
fetlocks were heavy and soggy with the silver snow 
already. "I have to meet him. Yes, that's it. Meet him, 
and leave this when. Meet him, and leave this when. 
Rinian, Rinian, Rinian Dorolado." He repeated that name to 
himself as if to make sure that he would not forget it.
    Amused, Chirrirri watched until the land Elwen had 
passed out of sight, then took up the road at a cautious 
distance behind him. It led him in the direction he had 
been going in, anyway, and listening to the land Elwen, 
mad though he obviously was, was more entertaining than 
listening to Hela.
    "I don't think so!" That comment was punctuated by a 
sharp slap on the horse's neck, provoking a snort and 
long-suffering whinny from the beast. "I don't think so at 
all. He'll be there. They always know, don't they? They 
have to know. They remember the future, for stars' sake! 
They have to know. They have to be there.
    "I think the sun is green. Really, I do. Why not? It 
would be more interesting than a golden one, or this pale 
imitation that we appear to have right now." A scowl was 
lifted towards the faint gleam of Uunul through the 
clouds, almost directly overhead. Chirrirri followed his 
gaze, but then looked away, blinking. Faint though it 
might be, it was still too bright for a creature of the 
darkened races to look at directly.
    "I think the stars are golden," the man continued, in 
the same serious tone. "I think that I am Maruss Freewind 
reborn. I think the snow will lift today. I think that 
Rinian will be there." He laughed suddenly, and his 
laughter at least was a strong thing, not broken and 
wandering like his voice. Chirrirri found himself grinning 
in tune with it. "Why not? Anything might happen, and 
those two are the most likely." Then he began humming to 
himself, a song that Chirrirri had heard before, though he 
could not remember where at the moment. He relaxed and let 
himself listen.
    When the man began singing the words, a moment later, 
he sang along. The land Elwen gave no sign of noticing, 
focusing intently on his recitation.

    "Oh, there was a maid of Flidley, a maid fair,
     With golden shining eyes and starlight in her hair.
     She went dancing round an alfar-ground-
     Ae, maid of Flidley, you shouldn't be dancing there!

    "She whirled and leaped to the sound of a drum
     That from shadows and darkness seemed to come.
     And she threw back her head and howled with dread-
     Ae, maid of Flidley, the alfari will come!

    "They gathered around her like kings and their queens,
     In their hair copper and black and blue-gray sheens.
     They looked at her with eyes that showed no surprise-
     Ae, maid of Flidley, they know what you've seen!

    "And they took her, and they put on her a spell,
     To dance until the sun should in the sky dwell
     With moons and the stars, behind the night's bars-
     Ae, maid of Flidley, till runs dry Time's well!

    "She howled and she mocked them; she said that the day
     Would come soon to chase all night-horrors away.
     Then the sun did lift, bird-on-the-wing swift-
     Ae, maid of Flidley, but the alfari stay!

    "And then her strength failed; she wept crystal tears,
     And begged them to take her eyes and her ears,
     But not to make her dance forever, resting never-
     Ae, maid of Flidley, your cries no one hears!

    "The alfari melted away like shadows in the morning,
     And left the maid to dance and carry their warning.
     She dances still today, and warns others away-
     Ae, maid of Flidley, your pride died a-borning!"

    The land Elwen finished the song with a chuckle that 
Chirrirri echoed. So what if it had never happened? That 
did not make it any less true.
    Then the land Elwen turned and drew his pearl- 
encrusted blade. He admired the delicate hilt for a long 
moment, then looked up and called, "Who sang with me? I am 
bound to kill all those who sing with me."
    Smiling, Chirrirri stepped forward with Hela in hand. 
She complained about being a sword except during those 
times when she was actually being used as a sword, he 
noted.
    "Is that necessary?" he asked. "I enjoyed singing with 
you. It was a pleasant way to pass the time."
    "I must," said the land Elwen seriously, shifting a 
little as his horse pranced and steamed. "It is a sacred 
oath."
    Chirrirri smiled even more widely. There could be no 
doubt now that the man was mad. He was not having to 
restrain the hereditary hatred of his kind for the 
curalli. He was treating Chirrirri as he would have 
treated one of his own race- taking the madness into 
account, of course.
    "Then I am sorry," said Chirrirri, setting himself on 
guard. "As I said, I enjoyed singing with you. I shall be 
sorry when you die."
    The man sheathed his sword then, and turned his horse 
around, once more heading down the road. Chirrirri 
sheathed Hela, who at once began to sulk again, and came 
up to walk beside him, breaking the drifts a little so 
that the horse would not have to struggle through alone. 
He could have sworn that the mare, a handsome dark gray, 
gave him a grateful look. He reached up to give her a pat.
    "It would be easier if you walked," he told the land 
Elwen.
    The man looked at him as if he had already forgotten 
him, and said, "No, it wouldn't."
    And that was the end of the matter. Chirrirri 
shrugged. Every attempt he made to warn others of the 
consequences of their stupidity failed. He did not know 
why he made the attempts anymore.
    They stopped shortly after the small town that was 
their destination, Luviakeeson, became visible in the 
distance. The land Elwen was checking his horse's shoes, 
it seemed, because they were made of solid silver, and the 
birds of the moons would try to steal them back if he did 
not make sure they were still there. Chirrirri leaned 
against a solitary hylea and watched the man with half- 
closed eyes.
    "What's your name?"
    The land Elwen looked up seriously. He had silver hair 
and dark green eyes flecked with silver that might have 
looked clearer if they were not glazed with madness. 
"Aspen," he replied.
    "Not really?"
    "No, not really."
    Chirrirri nodded.
    Aspen, as he chose to call himself, scrambled into his 
saddle and touched the mare with his heels. Chirrirri 
asked him, "Have the birds of the moons not stolen the 
shoes, then?"
    Aspen stared at him. "What are you talking about? You 
must be touched."
    The man could not even keep his mind on his own 
nonsense. He was harmless enough. Chirrirri nodded and 
fell into step beside him once more.
----------------------------------------------------------
    Luviakeeson was even smaller than Chirrirri had 
thought it would be. Of course, large towns built of wood 
and stone instead of the metal that most Elwens in the 
Tableland of Arcadia used were asking for trouble. 
Luviakeeson had probably escaped burning so far by 
crouching in its unwalled openness and being no threat to 
either side.
    The Elwens coming and going along its street were a 
motley assortment of most of the races, but all of them 
stopped to stare at a land Elwen and a curalli traveling 
together. Chirrirri grinned and gave them waves and bows. 
Nearly all of them turned away in deep offense. That meant 
they would not be bothering him later.
    Aspen slid from his horse in the common yard of the 
tiny inn and gave his reins over to the groom with 
detailed instructions for the mare's care that made him 
sound almost sane for the moment. That was, until he 
peered into the man's eyes and asked him if he had alfar 
combs about. When the man snorted and shook his head, 
Aspen raised a hand to strike him. The man raised a hand 
to hit back.
    Chirrirri seized Aspen's wrist and looked calmly at 
the other land Elwen. For a long moment, the paleskin's 
eyes reflected his blood-hatred. But the blood-hatred was 
actually uncontrollable only when a land Elwen faced a 
battlefield of curalli. With a curt nod, he turned away at 
last.
    Chirrirri let go Aspen's wrist and turned towards the 
inn. The Flower, it was called, simply, and well-named, if 
the snowflowers and silverbloom twining around its windows 
in delicate embrace were any indication.
    Aspen's hand fell on his shoulder suddenly. Chirrirri 
turned. "I don't know where the alfar combs went, but they 
should be back shortly," he said.
    Aspen shook his head, and now the silver flecks in his 
green eyes shone clearly, without any sign of the madness 
that had so recently been there. "I know what I was 
babbling about, and I know that it isn't real," he said, 
in an exaggerated whisper that almost anyone could have 
heard several feet away. 
    Chirrirri stared at him appraisingly. This flash of 
sanity seemed to be lasting longer than the others. 
"Really? What is real, then?"
    "Rinian," said the land Elwen, his eyes moving past 
the curalli to the inn door. There was an odd 
determination in his face, as if he were going to do, and 
succeed at, something that he knew very well was 
impossible. "Rinian Dorolado. That is what is real. He can 
send me back to my own when." He released Chirrirri then, 
and went stalking into the Flower. The curalli shrugged 
and followed.
    The room was almost palpably land Elwen, he knew at 
once. The tables were silver, a metal that curalli could 
not work without causing themselves pain, and the 
travelers slouched desultorily over the tables were 
exclusively pale-skinned. They turned quiet, arrogant 
glances that quickly became stares of hatred on him, and 
then looked away.
    He would be lucky to get out of this room alive.
    Smiling, Chirrirri strode to the bar, which was made 
of wood, and leaned against it. "Ar'dain," he told the 
woman who stood behind that bar, studying him with more 
contempt than hatred, even though she shared the pale skin 
and the delicate features of all the rest.
    She raised her eyebrows- pale green in her case- and 
challenged him with her eyes. "Do you think I keep that on 
hand?"
    "Yes. I smelled it in several glasses."
    For a moment, a flash of annoyance crossed her face. 
Then it was gone. "For curalli, of course. That was what I 
meant."
    "For curalli with money?" Chirrirri raised his own 
eyebrows in turn and laid two silver coins down beside his 
outspread hand. "I think you do."
    For a long moment, she looked hard at him. Chirrirri 
stared back calmly. At last, with a perceptible shrug, she 
turned and fetched him a glass of the bright red wine. She 
swept the coins off the bar with the same haughty 
movement, and then went back to her frozen serenity again. 
Land Elwens in the Tableland of late- since the beginning 
of the Age, at least- were supposed to display no more 
emotion than a tabletop.
    Chirrirri held up the glass and admired the ar'dain 
for a long moment before he drank. It bubbled very 
slightly in his throat, and had the suspicious sweetness 
of blood or sugar. He licked his lips free of a drop, 
nodded to the innkeeper, and turned to seek out the table 
at which Aspen already sat, feeling the hostile eyes.
    Loving every moment of it.
    Aspen studied him curiously as he sank into the seat 
the land Elwen had saved for him and began to sip his wine 
with more attention to detail. "Aren't you nervous at 
all?" he asked quietly.
    Chirrirri smiled at him over the lip of the wineglass. 
"It would be death to admit that, would it not? In here?"
    "Yes."
    "Then I'm not."
    The land Elwen stared at him for a bit longer, then 
turned away and began to scan the room. Chirrirri, because 
he had nothing better to do than savor the wine, turned 
and followed the line of his gaze.
    His eyes had not deceived him; though he had seen the 
members of many different races outside, there were only 
land Elwens within the walls of the Flower. Of course, 
most of the wars in the Tableland of late involved land 
Elwens, and the majority of mercenaries and refugees on 
the road would be them. Chirrirri nodded as he took a 
slightly larger swallow of his wine. That would make 
sense. Land Elwen warred against land Elwen, land Elwen 
warred against dragon, and everyone warred against...
    The curalli.
    Several of the land Elwens were watching him, and 
trying to pretend that they were not doing so. Most of 
them seemed to be trying to decide if they should 
challenge him to a duel, but one or two of the women were 
watching him with a different kind of fascination. At 
those he smiled, and watched their flushes deepen and 
their eyes sparkle with anger more than desire. They did 
not look away, though.
    As they wished. Chirrirri was not very particular 
about what sort of adventure he found today, just as he 
was not sure what would happen, and not particularly 
worried about it, in the Forest. He was going to see the 
world, to find his fortune. What happened along the way 
was mere background.
    Aspen abruptly leaped to his feet and pounded on the 
table. "There he is!" he shouted. "There he is! Rinian 
Dorolado!"
    Everyone, even those who had been watching Chirrirri, 
now turned to look at the new arrival. They might have 
challenged him, because he was no more land Elwen than the 
curalli was, had it not been so obvious that he was more a 
mage than any of them. His seaweed-green skin, large 
golden eyes, and stork-like movements proclaimed it. He 
was a time Elwen, a triltna.
    Chirrirri understood more, now, as he watched him. It 
was obvious that Aspen came from another time, and was 
hoping that Rinian would send him back to his own. He must 
have been driven mad by this year, or had been playing 
mad, to protect himself.
    The time Elwen came gracefully towards them, stalking 
and floating all at once. He stopped and studied Chirrirri 
for a long moment before sinking down into his own chair, 
ignoring the land Elwen's enthusiastic greetings. When he 
was sitting, finally, he looked straight at the curalli 
and spoke as if they had known each other all their lives. 
"There are two curalli following you."
    "I know." Chirrirri took another sip of wine and 
smiled into Rinian's startled look. "I have known that 
since last night."
    "Why have you not killed them?" Rinian asked, after 
visibly taking a moment to choose that question out of 
several that he must have wanted to ask.
    "I would like to choose the battleground," said 
Chirrirri, swallowing the last of the wine and signaling 
for another glass. "The Flower would make an admirable 
one, or some other place where they will be forced to 
attack me, not the other way around."
    Rinian nodded, and then evidently decided that the 
curalli's business was none of his. He looked up at the 
land Elwen. "Are you ready to go back to your own time, my 
friend?" he asked with a gentle smile in his voice.
    "Yes." There was dullness in Aspen's eyes that 
Chirrirri had not seen before as he sat and waved for more 
wine and food. "I thought- I thought it would be 
different, here. It is not, not really."
    "Why not?" Chirrirri asked, as the serving maid put 
another glass of ar'dain beside him with a grimace of 
distaste. He raised it to his lips, ignoring her 
expression, waiting instead for Aspen's hesitant answer.
    "I thought the wars here were just-"
    Chirrirri sprayed wine against the far wall as he 
laughed. The cold looks that everyone in the room gave him 
only made him laugh the harder. "Just?" he asked at last, 
when the coughing fit had vanished. "War? The two words do 
not belong together."
    Aspen had flushed, a little, but he went on in 
determination. "I thought that perhaps they did," he said. 
"I thought I could see it a different way, that it would 
let me feel differently about a war I had to fight. But- 
it didn't. And now I am ready to go home." 
    Rinian nodded. "I will oblige you, my friend. But have 
this last meal first, here. The Flower is well-known for 
the quality of its food."
    "If not its patrons."
    Chirrirri's remark earned him more cold looks. He 
smiled and borrowed a plate of the food that had just 
arrived, putting a piece of bread in his mouth as an 
excuse to listen rather than talk.
    Aspen smiled a little, this time, and looked back at 
Rinian. "You are sure you can do it?" His expression was 
more than a little tense.
    "Yes." Rinian, like Chirrirri, was more interested in 
the food than the conversation. The land Elwen was forced 
to content himself with the meal as well.
    Chirrirri ate thoroughly of the warm bread and the 
warmer butter that had come with the meal, less thoroughly 
of the roasted meat that had accompanied the bread- he was 
tired of meat- and not at all of the soft fruit. He had 
never had much of an appetite for the fruits that was 
magically forced to grow out of season. He took up his 
wine again and leaned back against the chair, watching the 
door.
    Rinian tried to make conversation again the moment he 
was finished with his own bread. "You seem to be expecting 
trouble."
    "Yes. I always am."
    "Then why are you drinking wine?" The time Elwen 
dabbed gently at his face with his sleeve, to remove a 
trace of butter.
    "I'm lucky."
    Rinian snorted and turned his attention to the fruit, 
which he seemed to like better than Chirrirri did. The 
curalli slid his own plate over to the time Elwen, who 
seemed to appreciate the favor. Then he closed his eyes 
and went on drinking.
    It was not long before some of the other Elwens in the 
room worked up enough nerve, or had enough to drink, to 
approach. One of the women who had been gazing 
speculatively at Chirrirri earlier stood, and her gaze 
collected two men to follow her. Her hand on the hilt of 
her sword, she came over to stand before the shadowed 
Elwen.
    Chirrirri observed her leisurely. She might possibly 
have been pretty without the jagged scar that had twisted 
half her face to one side; the scar had been made by the 
claws of a beast that he did not think he knew. Her blue 
eyes glared out intently from behind the scar, and that 
did make up for some of it. Her hair was much the same 
pale green as the innkeeper's, though otherwise they 
looked nothing alike. It was bound in a long braid that 
curled around her neck twice before trailing halfway down 
her back.
    She was much as proclaiming that no enemy could use 
her hair against her in battle. Chirrirri yawned and set 
his glass aside as she began to speak. This might be more 
interesting than it had looked at first.
    "You know that your kind are not welcome here," she 
began.
    Chirrirri nodded. "We are not welcome anywhere," he 
said. "Those who see too clearly, but try to live in the 
world like normal Elwens, are very often not welcome 
anywhere."
    "I mean curalli!" The woman's fingers curled around 
the hilt of her sword.
    "I know what you meant, whether or not that was what 
you thought you meant."
    "You are arrogant," said one of the men standing at 
her shoulder, in a clipped accent that probably indicated 
his birthplace to other land Elwens. Chirrirri neither 
knew nor cared, and made that plain with a yawn.
    "Of course. So are you."
    There was a quiver through the room at that, as if the 
other land Elwens had scented the blood on the wind. 
Chirrirri still did not touch Hela's hilt. Land Elwens 
were not always right, and it was not really a fair 
contest, with them still drunk. It was up to them, not to 
him, to dictate how it would go.
    "You are very arrogant to say such a thing," said the 
other man, and his voice was just grotesque, the bray of a 
donkey being sick halfway through. "And stupid as well, I 
think."
    "I thought the wine was doing your thinking for you? 
Or were you stupid enough to forget that?"
    They stared at him, trying to decide what he meant and 
whether that was an insult or not. Chirrirri decided to 
spell it out for them. "You see," he said, slowly, lifting 
his fingers and steepling them before his eyes, "your wine 
is supposed to be doing your thinking for you. That is 
what 'drunk' means. It is, also and incidentally, the 
definition of stupidity. But your stupidity is so great 
that you forgot that, and you are trying to think for 
yourselves when the drink should be taking control. 
Shameful, really, to forget something like that. I would 
think it would be easy to remember, even for something 
like you."
    That was enough. The woman drew her sword and leaped 
for him, while the two men called on magic and sent 
lightning bolts towards his chest.
    Chirrirri tipped his chair backwards, so that the 
lightning bolts missed him and smashed into the wall, and 
the woman's sword hacked futilely into the wood of the 
chair bottom, which split away from it. He came to his 
feet at once, and now his hand was resting on Hela's hit. 
The sword chased the fog in his head away, and he found 
himself calm and alert once more, facing the land Elwens 
as he had so many times faced his own people back in 
Shadows. The main difference was that the land Elwens 
would not be nearly as hard to kill.
    "Do you give up?"
    "Of course not!" The woman heaved her sword. The scar 
on her face wrenched her mouth to the side, displaying her 
teeth. "We have barely begun."
    "Then do you grant the innkeeper the right to take 
whatever money she needs from your bodies in order to 
repair the damage you will cause?"
    "Only if you grant the same."
    "Why should I? I will still be alive." Chirrirri moved 
as he spoke, drawing a throwing knife and taking down the 
man who was trying to step around her. The woman swung 
around with an angry scream. Chirrirri asked her back 
kindly, "Who was that? Your brother? Your lover?"
    The woman turned back to him, her eyes glowing like a 
lion's, and Chirrirri bowed low. "Excuse me. It seems I 
have asked the same question two different ways."
    She charged, but caught her foot in the ruins of the 
chair and went down. Chirrirri touched her in the back of 
the neck with Hela, and that was the end of the matter. He 
then looked at the other man, but the land Elwen had 
already sheathed his sword and retreated to his seat. The 
curalli nodded and bent down to rifle the dead woman's 
pouches. Not finding them in the usual place, he shrugged 
and unlaced her tunic, looking up at the pale innkeeper as 
he did so.
    "How much will you need?"
    He had to give the woman her due; her eyes moved to 
the holes, and she said in a voice that barely shook, 
"Perhaps seven for the chairs. Twenty for the walls."
    The pouches were there. Chirrirri ripped open the 
first one, stared, then smiled and looked up at her. "This 
will be silver, I assume?"
    "Of course!"
    Chirrirri flipped a shiny pyrite piece to her, and 
laughed as she caught it. Then he very deliberately tipped 
the whole fall of them into his hands and tucked them into 
the pouch on his belt. Ten pyrite pieces, enough to set 
him up for most of a century, or even two, if he was 
careful about it.
    "Was there anything you wanted?" he asked Aspen as he 
stooped over the man's body, noticed a rather nice dagger, 
and pocketed it.
    Aspen shook his head, ashen-faced. Rinian sipped his 
wine and gazed at Chirrirri in calm appraisal. The curalli 
shrugged and robbed the man as well, then stood back while 
the silver elwenfire that came for every dead child of the 
stars consumed the bodies.
    "As you will," he said over his shoulder to his two 
companions, and then gathered up the coins and a few of 
the blades that had been left behind. Only metal did not 
burn in elwenfire. There was no trace of the bones, or of 
ashes.
    Everyone and everything was silent as he took his seat 
again and reached for the last of his wine. The silence 
continued to reign, and was only broken when the maid 
brought him another glass of wine. Everyone pretended to 
be very busy at that point.
    "What are you going to do with the money?" Rinian 
asked Chirrirri calmly. Aspen was still leaning back in 
his seat as if he thought the curalli was going to reach 
across the table and gut him. Chirrirri sighed and 
addressed Aspen first.
    "I walked beside you for two hours. Did I gut you?"
    The silver-haired land Elwen shook his head.
    "Did I gut that other man?"
    Another shake.
    "Well, then," said Chirrirri expansively, and decided 
that he might as well eat a little more of the meat after 
all. Munching meditatively on a bit of burned rind, he 
answered the time Elwen. "I'm going to leave it here, or 
lose it along the way, or give it to an alfar. Do 
something with it."
    "Not keep it?"
    "Why should I?"
    "It could keep you very comfortably."
    "No, it couldn't," said Chirrirri, finishing that 
small corner of meat and reaching for another. "The moment 
anyone learned of it, he would try to rob me. Thieves live 
longer than misers, as we say."
    "I see," said Rinian after a long moment, but in a 
polite voice that indicated he didn't, not really.
    Chirrirri shrugged and took another bite. It was not 
his business what a time Elwen did and did not understand.
    "Why did you take it, then?"
    "I wanted to, and I had promised her that I would pay 
her," said the curalli, with a jerk of his head at the 
innkeeper. She started when she saw him looking in her 
direction, then relaxed and smiled nervously. Everyone 
else who had been looking up looked back down into their 
cups or mugs again.
    "This is very strange," Rinian murmured in what seemed 
to be utter absorption. "I have heard tales of people like 
you, but I have never met one."
    "What kind?"
    "Soulless."
    Chirrirri hastily swallowed his wine again before he 
burst out laughing. The innkeeper would probably insist 
that he pay for cleaning the wall if he laughed with wine 
in his mouth again, and there were better uses for ten 
pyrite coins then that. "That is as good a description as 
any, I suppose."
    "You have no beliefs?" Rinian asked, in a crisp voice 
that made the question almost rhetorical.
    "None."
    "You survive as you can?"
    "Yes."
    "Survival is its own goal for you?"
    "No."
    Rinian tilted his head. "There, you have lost me. 
Would you explain, if you can?"
    Chirrirri tiled the glass back to get the last drops 
of wine that he could. "I cannot," he replied, licking his 
lips and thinking about signaling for another glass. But 
even Hela would have difficulty fighting off the effects 
of four for him, and at last he put the cup down without 
waving. The maid looked relieved. He ignored her, looking 
back into Rinian's puzzled golden eyes. "I would explain 
if I could," he said, and he meant it. There was no reason 
to deny a stranger the explanation for something so 
harmless. "But I have never thought much about it. It is 
not a great preoccupation of mine."
    "What is not?" Rinian had the drifting expression that 
Chirrirri had come to recognize. Most people wore it when 
they tried to spend more than three minutes in 
conversation with him.
    "The future."
    Chirrirri watched the time Elwen react to that with a 
start, and a stern look. Of course, he would. His kind 
traveled the years, had thousands of incarnations for 
every conceivable time, and could see through the world 
itself. How else could a time Elwen be expected to react?
    And how could a natural teacher be expected to resist 
an opportunity to lecture?
    "That is a mistake that youngsters of the darkened 
races often make," said Rinian severely, folding his hands 
before him and peering over them, much as Chirrirri had 
when he had lectured the land Elwens on the benefit of 
wine-soaked thinking. "You are young, I assume? You do not 
seem to have much more than-"
    "Nine centuries. That would be about it." Chirrirri 
had heard that time Elwens could tell one's age, which was 
quite a trick when most Elwens displayed agelessly 
youthful faces, but he was not eager to have it proven to 
him. 
    "Nine centuries, yes," said Rinian, with a little nod. 
"Nine centuries. What can you know of the future? You have 
lived always in the present, and in the darkness of a 
curalli city, no less, where to think about the future or 
the past instead of the present is to die because you are 
not paying enough attention. Have I described the 
situation accurately?"
    Chirrirri shrugged. "As far as I know," he said. "I 
told you, it is not really a subject in which I have much 
interest, or on which I have done much thinking."
    "That is obvious," snapped the triltna, and then had 
the grace to look embarrassed. "Forgive me. But it is true 
that you are not in a curalli city now, and you must think 
about the future."
    "Why?" Chirrirri did his best to conceal a yawn. He 
might as well listen, since he had nothing else to do, but 
this was boring him.
    "Because- well, because there are consequences to 
actions here that would not exist in a curalli city." 
Rinian, Chirrirri thought in amusement, spoke the words 
"curalli city" as if he were speaking of some strange and 
distant world. "There are legal consequences. There are 
land Elwens outside this room who will not be afraid of 
dark silver skin or skill with blades, and they will call 
it murder, and I think they will come hunting you along 
with the curalli already on your trail."
    "And should I not have defended myself then?"
    "You could have disabled them without killing them."
    "That would not have been defending myself." Chirrirri 
pointed a knife at him; Rinian did not appear to know how 
a blade could have appeared in Chirrirri's hand so 
quickly, and eyed it a little uneasily. "Never leave an 
enemy alive behind you, or you are cooperating in your own 
death sentence."
    "The authorities-"
    "Would they have called it murder had Scarred and her 
companions killed me?" the shadowed Elwen asked as he 
sheathed his knife again.
    Rinian nodded, very slightly. "Good. You have a point. 
They would not have. They would understand that the land 
Elwens' blood-hatred drove them to do it."
    "And I understand that stupidity led them to face me 
and fall on my blades," said Chirrirri, stifling another 
yawn. He had slept most of the morning, but he had walked 
all night and for two hours this afternoon, and that was 
really not enough to make up for it. "We have different 
understandings. In this case, I chose the understanding 
that allowed me to live."
    "I don't understand something." Aspen broke in, his 
voice harsh and demanding. "Why did you leave an enemy 
alive behind you to send these curalli on your trail, if 
you really live by that dictum? It does not seem to make 
sense."
    "He is not my enemy. His wounded pride is, and there 
was nothing I could do to kill it. I will kill his 
trackers until he either stops sending them, or brings his 
pride within reach and allows me to set it on the pyre 
where it belongs."
    Rinian laughed. "You are most unusual!"
    Chirrirri nodded in silent agreement. He was, in the 
depth and the clarity of his vision. He thought he had 
always known that; what amazed and often amused him was 
that others could not see as he did, and that they seemed 
to prefer it that way.
    "Aspen," said Rinian then, "I trust that you would 
like me to send you back to your own time now?"
    "Yes," Aspen muttered in a voice thick with disgust, 
his silver-flecked green eyes on the curalli. "I would 
like you to do that. Anything to get away from this- this 
murderer."
    Chirrirri snickered in surprise. "Did you really 
expect me to be anything else? Your own ideals should have 
told you that I would kill land Elwens who tried to kill 
me. For once, the truths that your people hold so dear 
were right. Why would you abandon them now, just to try 
and see goodness in me?"
    "You did not deride me for my madness, and you stopped 
the groom from striking me," said Aspen in the same stiff, 
amusing voice. "I was justified in assuming that you had 
some scruples."
    "No, you weren't," said Chirrirri, and yawned again. 
"Never trust anyone, and never assume anything about 
anyone, who does not wear his ideals on his face. It is 
always a bad business. Always."
    Aspen turned away, and nodded to Rinian. The time 
Elwen stood. "Let's go outside, then," he said, shooting a 
glance at the innkeeper. "I doubt Mistress Harla would 
like us opening a door to another time in her inn."
    The woman's face flushed, but she lifted her chin. "I 
wouldn't mind if the curalli paid me again," she said. The 
silence that followed her words was half-shocked and half 
highly amused.
    Chirrirri dug out another pyrite and flung it to her. 
She caught it and shot him a charming look of confusion.
    "For that performance."
    The woman seemed as if she might argue, and then she 
looked at the place on the floor where Scarred and her 
companion had died, even though nothing remained there. 
She swallowed the protest, and her hand and pouch 
swallowed the coin.
    Everyone continued to watch their table, but now the 
attention was more on Rinian and Aspen. A few of the land 
Elwens even looked as if they might like to come and watch 
the gate being opened. It was not every day that something 
like that happened, Chirrirri thought as he closed his 
eyes and snatched a few seconds of rest. It would be 
something to see.
    Were he not so tired.
    And were his pursuers not at the inn door in this 
moment.
    He opened his eyes as the two curalli sprang into the 
room, and drew a knife with an economy of motion that the 
land Elwens would not have seen even had they been looking 
for it, flinging it into the arm of one of the two leaping 
shadowed Elwens. The man took the blade because he had 
thought they would take their prey by surprise, but 
Chirrirri knew they would be more careful in the future. 
That was the one lucky hit he would get. These were 
curalli, fighters who fought every day of their lives, and 
they were as merciless as he was.
    But he did not fear death.
    He rose to his feet and drew his sword. The eyes of 
the woman who stood behind the man snapped to the blade, 
and an expression of deep shock came over her face. She 
put out a hand to stay her friend, looking straight at him 
and speaking slowly.
    "You know what you carry?"
    "Yes." Chirrirri swung Hela slowly, amused as ever by 
the sword's attentive silence. The times when she should 
most complain, if she truly disliked being a sword, were 
the times when she didn't. "I know what it is, and I know 
how to use it. Come and kill me if you can. You cannot, 
but it will be fun to try."
    The woman and the man traded glances, and then she 
looked back at Chirrirri again. "We did not know this, and 
neither did Hautier. We are sure that he would welcome you 
if he hid."
    "You are saying that, if I come back with you, I will 
be given an honored place in the Wolfeyes?" Chirrirri 
lowered Hela.
    "Yes."
    The next moment, the woman, whose guard had relaxed, 
was dead. Hela could kill just as well when hurled like an 
arrow. Chirrirri snorted at her corpse and at the man, who 
had bared his teeth. "I know you don't have the authority 
to offer that," he said in a bored voice as he drew the 
dagger he had taken from the dead land Elwen. "Only 
Hautier can offer that, and he is not here. Let's fight."
    The man came slowly forward, favoring his arm but 
otherwise not slowing. He did pause by the woman's corpse 
to snatch up Hela. Chirrirri nodded to commend his good 
sense, feeling his eyes light up. Perhaps this battle 
would be more interesting than he had thought it would be 
at first.
    Swinging Hela in his wounded hand- a good choice, 
because the sword only had to scratch or touch in order to 
kill- the man advanced again. He stood there for a long 
moment, meeting Chirrirri's eyes with every sign of 
contempt and hatred. He had crimson eyes, like Hautier's, 
like a rat's. Chirrirri bounced the dagger up and down on 
his palm and waited.
    The man rushed.
    Chirrirri dodged to the left, around the deathsword, 
and accepted the dagger hit that he took high in his side. 
The man had been aiming for the heart, but the blow 
glanced off Chirrirri's ribs instead, leaving a bleeding 
but shallow gash. The man only had a moment to blink 
before Chirrirri snatched the knife from his hand and 
turned it against him. When Chirrirri aimed for the heart, 
he did not miss.
    The man, too, died.
    Chirrirri stepped back, shaking his head. "I am 
disappointed," he said to the room at large. "Is this the 
best he can do? I would think that he would know better 
than that."
    Of course, Hautier hadn't known about Hela. That might 
explain some of the stupidity, but not all of it. 
Chirrirri shook his head, then slipped the sheath from his 
belt and slid it over Hela, hooking the sword's hilt 
easily into his hand.
    The sword began complaining again almost at once. 
Chirrirri shut it out and looked at the innkeeper. "How 
much do I owe you for damages on the floor?" he asked, 
indicating the liberal spray of white blood that had 
resulted from his dagger strike.
    The woman was now looking at him with more loathing 
than fear. "None," she said, curling her upper lip when he 
bowed to her. "Leave the Flower- now."
    Chirrirri bowed again and did so. Rinian and Aspen 
followed him out, apparently assuming that the two pyrites 
he had given the innkeeper more than paid for their meals 
as well. It must be so; the innkeeper did not call after 
them.
    Chirrirri yawned again, and decided to find a cool 
place to rest the moment the opening of the gate was done. 
It seemed that he was going to see it after all, and he 
did not want to miss it.
    He turned, and saw Rinian already deep in 
concentration. Aspen stood there for a long moment, gazing 
at the time Elwen, then turned and met the curalli's 
diamond eyes. At once, his face darkened with the rush of 
blood, and he clenched his hands.
    "Are you proud of yourself?"
    "If I were, I would have allowed myself to be insulted 
first," said Chirrirri. It seemed that nothing interesting 
was going to happen for a few moments, but he was not 
interested in speaking to the land Elwen, either. "What 
does it matter?"
    "I don't understand you, I am disgusted by you, and 
yet you did not try to kill me when we met on the road, as 
you could have done."
    "I do not kill unless there is a reason." Apparently 
there was some hope within him yet, that he could make 
someone understand, Chirrirri thought. It was certainly 
not the part of his soul that knew better speaking these 
words.
    "But then, the killing does not trouble you."
    "No."
    Aspen shook his head and drummed a fist softly on one 
leg. "Why that way? Why not one way or another? If 
shedding blood does not trouble you, then killing should 
not. But if killing does, then shedding blood should. 
Instead, you avoid killing, but do not care about it when 
it does happen."
    "I cared nothing about them until they attacked," said 
Chirrirri, squinting as he thought he saw a faint golden 
shimmer appear around the time Elwen. Those were sounds of 
the sea, weren't they, the slap of sails and the shrieks 
of gulls? "I care less about them now. I do not mind 
killing, and I do not go out of my way to avoid it. 
Neither do I relish it and seek it. It is not my way. I do 
not care."
    "About anything?"
    Chirrirri shook his head.
    Aspen could not seem to leave the subject. "You must 
care about living, or you would not fight to defend 
yourself."
    "Living and death are the same to me. Living is simply 
the state I am in at the moment, the one I know best. I 
will fight to defend it if I can, but not care greatly if 
someone takes it from me."
    Aspen took a step back from him, staring at him. 
Chirrirri cocked his head. He had never seen that kind of 
fear in someone's eyes before. He had not been considered 
the best fighter, certainly not one to be feared, in 
Shadows, and he had not been a gang leader. Why should 
anyone fear him?
    "What is it?" Chirrirri asked at last. So intense an 
expression did the land Elwen wear that he glanced over 
his shoulder, thinking that the man must have seen 
something coming from that direction.
    "I find you frightening." Aspen spoke as if he were 
choking. "More frightening than any curalli in the stories 
that my parents told me. You are not evil, and yet- you 
are frightening. You do not care about anything. You are 
not happy, you do not love, you do not hate."
    "Or regret."
    "I would not pay all prices to keep myself from paying 
that one."
    Chirrirri stared in turn, and then smiled. This was 
the first time he had been puzzled in several centuries, 
aside from his usual despair at others' refusal to accept 
his wisdom. He did not understand what the land Elwen 
meant, and that was wonderful. "What do you mean?" he 
demanded, his eyes shining.
    Aspen looked at him narrow-eyed. "I mean that you have 
spared yourself regret, yes, but at the price of 
everything else."
    Chirrirri's interest collapsed with a rush. He shook 
his head and looked back at Rinian. The time Elwen was 
shining a soft gold now with light that came through his 
skin, but he did not seem to be doing anything else. "You 
still do not understand," he said, in a voice softer than 
the clouds that were beginning to move over the festering 
sun. "I am not afraid of regret. It is simply not 
something that I feel."
    Aspen backed away from him once more, and this time he 
did not speak.
    Chirrirri was more than content to listen to Hela and 
watch Rinian. The time Elwen was adding other colors of 
light to the initial golden aura that had enveloped him, 
sparkling opalescent shells and brilliant blue-green 
patterns like stars or pinwheels. There was even a lurid 
pink tinge from the clouds in the west, where the sun 
shone around them. Chirrirri studied it all quietly, 
soaking it in.
    Aspen tensed and opened his mouth, but closed it when 
the curalli glanced at him.
    The golden light was growing richer and thicker, 
stronger; it reminded the curalli of something, though he 
could not think what. The opalescent shell was expanding 
behind it, quivering and dancing like water stirred by the 
entrance of a stone. The aqua patterns were growing deeper 
and more numerous.
    The whole pattern shimmered in agitation, danced for a 
long moment, and then exploded. Chirrirri put a hand over 
his eyes. He was still unused to light, at least a little.
    When he could look again, a shimmering gate hung in 
the air, an upright oval edged with golden, glimmering 
fire that crawled at the edges. Rinian stood beside it, 
one hand resting on the fire, looking exhausted but 
triumphant. Chirrirri eyed the room that waited beyond it, 
and decided it was land Elwen- stern, austere, and largely 
silver. Not very interesting.
    Aspen sighed in relief to see it, though, and stepped 
forward to take the time Elwen's hand. "Thank you," he 
said, in a voice that sounded choked. "I will never forget 
this, I swear!"
    The time Elwen merely waved him away, nodding. Aspen 
stepped through the oval and was gone. Rinian closed his 
eyes and spread his hands, and the fire flared, once, then 
began to close in upon itself. Within moments, the portal 
was gone.
    "It doesn't take very long to close, does it?" 
Chirrirri asked, still studying the spot in the air where 
it had been.
    "No." Rinian opened his eyes and glanced at the 
curalli with something in his face that intrigued 
Chirrirri all over again, because it was something that he 
could not read. "And no, I will not open it again and let 
you go through it."
    "Why should I wish to? This is my world."
    Rinian smiled slightly, but it faded within an 
instant. He walked towards the shadowed Elwen and halted a 
foot away, staring hard at him. Chirrirri looked back with 
a silent shrug, his hand resting easily on Hela's hilt. 
The man was no fighter, and he had just shown how long it 
took him to do magic. There was no danger from him, none 
at all.
    "I do not understand you," said the time Elwen at 
last.
    Chirrirri hissed and released Hela's hilt. "Do you 
have anything new to say? If not, then I commend you for a 
good performance." He turned to walk away, only to be 
balked as the triltna stalked around in front of him. He 
folded his arms and eyed the man with his eyebrows raised. 
"Yes? Was there something you wanted?"
    "But I think we are alike," Rinian continued, as if he 
had never been interrupted. "You seek knowledge, 
challenges- your fortune. I seek much the same thing, 
though I count my treasure as knowledge I have gained."
    Chirrirri nodded. "That would be a fair description," 
he said, even as he knew that the time Elwen had to have 
worked thought-reading magic. There was no other way that 
he could speak the words that Chirrirri had been thinking 
earlier that evening.
    "Will you-" Rinian said, then stopped, shaking his 
head. "The wrong words," he murmured, smiling slightly. 
"Will you permit me to ask you questions that might help 
me find what I am seeking?"
    "Of course. It is rare that I meet with another of my 
kind. I do not know how helpful my answers will be, or if 
I can give you all of them." Chirrirri settled his pack on 
his shoulders as it shifted and looked expectantly at the 
time Elwen.
    "You are looking for something new," said Rinian. "New 
knowledge, new places, new people. Your quest is more 
generalized than mine. Would that be fair?"
    "You need not be so cautious," Chirrirri said. "I will 
not attack you unless you try to use magic or a blade 
against me. I do not fight for words. Yes, that would be 
fair, as far as I know."
    Rinian continued with more confidence. "And you do not 
really think about the future?"
    "No." These were questions that Chirrirri knew Rinian 
had already asked, but if he wanted to confirm the answers 
the shadowed Elwen had already given, that was all right. 
Everyone else in the world whom Chirrirri had met so far 
needed to confirm the answers.
    "Why not?"
    "It is not of much interest to me," said Chirrirri. "I 
do not spend a great deal of time on anything that does 
not challenge me."
    "And, of course, you are the one who decides whether 
or not it challenges you?"
    "Of course. I see clearly, and I hear what there is to 
hear. Whose judgment should I trust, if I am not to trust 
my own?"
    Rinian whistled quietly to himself for a long moment 
before he asked his next question, and this was a new one. 
"There is a reason that this incarnation of mine remembers 
this meeting with you. And I think I know what it is. How 
are you at accepting gifts?"
    "Will it try to kill me or not?"
    Rinian started to laugh, then stopped when he realized 
the curalli was serious, and tried to turn it into a 
cough. "Ah- yes. This gift will not try to kill you, I 
assure you." Then he hesitated, and a shadow fell across 
his face. "Of course, it does depend on what you mean by 
kill."
    "Being slain."
    "In soul or in body?"
    "I think we have already established that I do not 
have the former."
    Rinian ground his teeth very slightly, but his smile 
stayed fixed. "I do not like arrogance," he said softly, 
his golden eyes sparkling like deep pools with the wisdom 
of countless years.
    "You would not. It is one of your own great failings."
    "It is your arrogance that makes you assume you are 
right," Rinian continued, as if the curalli had not 
spoken. "It is your arrogance that makes you ignore both 
future and past, certain you have nothing to learn from 
them. It is your arrogance that makes you so certain that 
you do not have a soul."
    Chirrirri listened to him quietly. It was no different 
than what others- though only others outside the city of 
Shadows- had told him. He knew that, and they were 
presumably right, since they would know him better than he 
knew himself; he had no interest in self-knowledge. He did 
not understand why they would want to repeat it again, but 
Rinian seemed to find it important, and this was one of 
the rare times where another's enjoyment in something was 
enough to satisfy his restless mind.
    "I am minded to destroy that arrogance," said Rinian, 
meeting his eyes again. "Would you count that as slaying?"
    "No, because it would not work."
    "That is arrogance," said Rinian. "Assuming you are 
right without even questioning it. Taking your abilities 
for granted. I watched you." He made that sound like an 
accusation. "You made no preparations for those fights. 
You did not care. You assumed that you would win them, 
without even trying."
    "And you," said Chirrirri with quiet amusement, 
feeling an early-rising night wind ruffle his dark hair, 
lifting it above his eyes. "You do not like things that do 
not fit the world as you understand it. That is why you 
are trying so hard to understand me."
    There was a little silence, and Rinian flushed. "You 
did answer my question," he said at last. "You would not 
count slaying your arrogance as slaying, and that means 
that I am free to give this gift to you."
    "Certainly, if you wish."
    Rinian closed his eyes and bowed his head. "You will 
not even ask what it is?"
    "You would not tell me."
    The time Elwen nodded in agreement, then folded his 
arms and murmured something that sounded less like words 
than like the sound of flowing water. Chirrirri thought 
another voice murmured in his ear, repeating those same 
flowing sounds. For a long moment, the impending night 
filled with something that he did not understand, 
something wild and sweet and strange. He smiled, enjoyed 
it while it was there, and bid it a fond farewell when it 
went. He hoped to find something like it in the Forest.
    Rinian opened his eyes. "There," he said with great 
satisfaction, staring hard at Chirrirri. "That should do 
it. That should kill this arrogance, and even give you a 
soul."
    Chirrirri chuckled. "If you say so."
    "I say so. Where are you going?"
    "North."
    "The Forbge Forest?" A smug smile widened across 
Rinian's face. "That is right. You will find things there 
that even you cannot ignore."
    "That is my hope, yes."
    Rinian scowled, and turned back towards the inn. The 
noise of the Flower, which seemed to have returned to 
normal, swelled around him for a moment as the door 
opened, then was shut in again as it closed.
    Chirrirri snorted, then turned and stared across the 
snow that stretched unbroken to the north, past the town's 
roads. No paths, now. He would be going across wild 
country that he did not know.
    Hopefully, there would be something new.
    Smiling, he broke into a run.




                        Chapter 2
                         Ormismal
             183, Age of Falling, Late Winter
    "When someone offers a haven, always make sure you 
know where the back entrances are."
    -Curalli Proverb.

    Chirrirri blinked his eyes, and tried to decide what 
had awakened him. He was lying on his back in the high 
branches of a black hylea, supported by several of the 
thickest boughs, so it was unlikely to have been one of 
the branches cracking beneath him. And the birds were no 
louder than usual.
    He never dreamed, and he had the impression that he 
had. That might have been what had startled him awake, he 
thought with a smile. The sheer unexpected and unwelcome 
experience.
    No, it was voices.
    Even as he thought that, the voices spoke again. 
Chirrirri rolled over onto his stomach and gazed down at 
the newfallen snow between the branches, shifting a little 
to keep himself safely out of sight. He thought he had 
recognized the accents, and that could mean only one 
thing; there was only one kind of accent that mattered to 
him.
    Yes. Curalli.
    They made their way through the snow, arguing softly 
and continuously. Chirrirri could only make out scattered 
individual words here and there, none of which made much 
sense by themselves. All of them seemed to be carrying 
bows and knives, but as they also wore swords strapped to 
their sides, it was unlikely to be a hunting expedition.
    Chirrirri studied them with interest. They were the 
first of his kind he had met in the Forbge Forest. After a 
moment, however, his interest faded, and he was forced to 
concede that they really looked no different from anyone 
back home. The same dark hair, the same dark silver skin, 
the same intent expressions in their eyes. They were going 
to kill, and not because someone else was trying to kill 
them. Chirrirri yawned and closed his eyes again.
    Something pulled him back to wakefulness. This time, 
the branches near him had creaked. Sleepily, he opened his 
eyes and met the dark indigo gaze of another shadowed 
Elwen. Shifting his eyes a little let him see the arrow 
she had nocked and pointing straight at his chest.
    "Intruder," she said softly. "I have you now." Her 
eyes sparkled with hatred that Chirrirri had seen only 
land Elwens give him before this. He smiled and shifted a 
little so that he could rise if he had to.
    "Why am I an intruder?"
    "You are in the territory of the Marukusi, and without 
our leave," said the woman, her eyes never leaving his 
face. She blinked less often than a snake. "You will come 
with me now, and our glorious leader will decide whether 
you should be condemned to death or allowed to live."
    Chirrirri fought to keep from bursting out laughing, 
and managed to hold everything but a chuckle in. The 
woman's eyes narrowed, and she reached down to tap the 
arrowhead against his chest. "I mean what I say," she 
hissed between her teeth. "I assure you."
    "Of course." Chirrirri got a grip on his hilarity. 
Yes, curalli trying to act like land Elwens were funny, 
but it would have to wait. He would have to get himself 
out of this first. "But that doesn't mean I will let you 
take me to your leader."
    "Why not?"
    "I am probably a better fighter than you are," 
Chirrirri told her calmly. "Now. You is your leader's 
name, and what are you doing?"
    The woman frowned at him, but either she was too young 
to know better or she had not specifically been told to 
keep the plans secret. She struck a triumphant pose. 
"Faiened is leading us to destroy the land Elwens of 
Ormismal," she bragged.
    "Ah." Chirrirri knew the laughter was gleaming in his 
eyes now, but with any luck at all, she would be too young 
and too proud to read that. "And when do you plan to 
accomplish this slaughter?"
    "In a few hours." The woman looked stunned about 
something, enough to relax the grip on the arrow and draw 
a knife instead, laying it across his throat. "It will not 
be slaughter! It will be victory."
    Chirrirri yawned in her face. "Slaughter," he said. "I 
suppose you are still going to take me to Faiened?"
    "Of course! I obey orders."
    "Are you part land Elwen?"
    The knife drew a drop of blood, and she hissed in his 
ear, "Come! Now."
    Chirrirri shrugged and fell easily from the branch, 
landing on his feet and shouldering his pack as she 
dropped beside him. "If you say so."
    He had nothing better to do, after all. And he was 
eager to see a little more of the Forbge.
    The girl eyed him for a moment longer, then gestured 
curtly into the Forest. Chirrirri moved that way, with her 
behind him every step, holding her knife and waiting for 
him to try and escape.
    He was not going to escape, even though he did not 
bother telling her that. She would not have believed him. 
He turned his head from side to side, seeing and 
absorbing, appreciating the beauty all around him as much 
as he would a good meal.
    The trees were all at least three times taller than 
he, and many soared to a hundred feet or more. Their 
trunks were wound with green that gleamed like emeralds 
amid the snow and almost made up for the missing leaves- 
moss and ivy and holly. Now and then, a jay or chickadee 
would flash bright or somber amid the branches, and now 
and then a pine would appear among the lesser trees, 
clinging to its sweet-smelling needles. But for the most 
part, it was barren and dark and so silent that Chirrirri 
thought he could hear the trees growing.
    But, for all that, he thought he could feel some sense 
of curalli in it, stronger and more definite than it had 
been around Shadows. And there was wildness and sweetness 
and magic, like the spell that Rinian had used on him near 
the Flower. Dark things lurked just out of sight, these 
airs suggested, and had he not been curalli they would 
have destroyed him at once. This place had belonged to 
shadowed Elwens for so long that they had made it shadowed 
Elwen in some way that he did not really understand, but 
delighted in.
    So absorbed was he, and so thirsty for what he was 
seeing, that he almost tripped over the other curalli when 
the girl pushed him into the clearing where the rest of 
her friends were gathered. Chirrirri knew he should think 
of them that way, as ordinary curalli playing at being 
land Elwen, or he would start laughing. To think of 
calling them the Marukusi, the Children of Freedom, was 
simply too ridiculous.
    They turned cold glances on him, mostly from eyes as 
dark as coal. Yes, they were everything that shadowed 
Elwens were supposed to be, without even pale eyes like 
his own, which some said represented the land Elwen blood 
that had crept into the curalli over the years. Chirrirri 
shook his head, amused all over again. The only curalli in 
the world, perhaps, who could reasonably be said to be 
real curalli, and they were not content with that; they 
had to act like land Elwens.
    "Who are you?" demanded a voice that made him wince. 
There was too much of everything in it: music, passion, 
emotion, and indifference. The music did not produce 
beauty, but a clashing dissonance as it ran like scum over 
the top of everything else.
    "I found him, Faiened," said the girl, poking him in 
the back. "He wouldn't tell me what his name was, or his 
business."
    "You never asked," Chirrirri protested mildly, not 
looking away from the woman who had begun to force herself 
through the others. She was taller than normal for a 
curalli, almost as tall as himself, and she had black hair 
arranged much like the hair of the scarred land Elwen 
woman he had killed those dances ago back at the Flower, 
wrapped around her throat and hanging almost to her 
ankles. She wore hunting leathers almost the same color as 
the silver snow; they did not flatter her. Her eyes were 
the same intent, dark, piercing color as a falcon's.
    "Who are you?"
    "Chirrirri Lankon, late of Shadows, at your service," 
said Chirrirri, with a bow that was greeted with a curling 
of her lip.
    "We do not stand on ceremony here. That is reserved 
for the land Elwens."
    Chirrirri laughed. "If you intend to purify 
yourselves, you are not doing a very good job. You look 
like curalli, but you act as if you want to be in the 
light dancing to the silver stars."
    Faiened flushed, and there was a low and very nasty 
murmur that traveled the length of the circle before she 
raised a hand and let it die. Her eyes never turned from 
him. "Tell me what you are doing here."
    "Wandering," said Chirrirri, hitching one shoulder, 
drawing on memories of his conversation with Rinian for 
the answer. He could not really have given the reason 
himself, but he knew that would trouble these other 
curalli as it did not trouble him. "Going where I wish. 
Seeing what lies over the next hill-"
    "That, too, sounds land Elwen," said Faiened. "I think 
you may be an ally of Ormismal."
    "If I were, would I have allowed myself to be brought 
here?"
    "Tana?" said Faiened.
    "I brought him!" the girl standing behind him 
protested in a hurt voice. "Look at the blood on his 
throat if you don't believe me."
    "I still allowed myself to be brought," said 
Chirrirri, ignoring the way the girl gasped with outrage. 
He touched Hela's hilt, noting the way their eyes all 
jumped to the sword, and their suddenly wary expressions. 
Yes, he could fight his way out of this if he had to, 
though he would prefer not to. "Do you really think that I 
could have been forced? At the end of an arrow, or even a 
knife?"
    Faiened shook her head, ignoring Tana's second protest 
in turn. There was a smile in her eyes now, and she 
continued to look at his deathsword. "No. And I think that 
I will forgive you for pale eyes and rude ways and 
wandering into the middle of a battle. You could be of use 
to us."
    "In your fight against Ormismal?"
    "Yes," said Faiened. "They will fall to us, of course. 
They do not know how to prepare a town for battle, any 
more than they know how to live in the Forest. But it 
would be nice to have someone helping us." She made it 
sound as if she were granting him an honor.
    "It sounds better than being killed."
    Faiened nodded, pleased. Then her face turned serious, 
and she motioned for him to follow her to the far side of 
the small clearing they stood in. Two other curalli flowed 
to their feet and accompanied the pair, too casually for 
anyone less attentive to notice it. Her guards, of course, 
Chirrirri thought, and grew more interested, Bodyguards 
were another land Elwen idea. Those curalli leaders who 
could not fight their own attackers did not generally last 
long, and it said something that Faiened was strong enough 
to think she could do this and get away with it.
    "There are things that you must know, if you are going 
to join us," she told Chirrirri when at last they stopped. 
She sank down onto a fallen log and arranged herself as if 
she were trying to make herself comfortable on a throne.
    I never said that I was joining you, Chirrirri 
thought. You made that assumption. But he said nothing, 
folding his arms and looking at her attentively instead.
    "The land Elwens have been living in the Forest for 
the last century or so," said Faiened, her eyes intent and 
not quite looking at him anymore. "They have been scouring 
our land for silver, chopping down trees, and scaring off 
the animals. They also kill the curalli whenever they find 
any. It is time that all this was ended. I have formed the 
Marukusi to do that."
    Chirrirri nodded, even as he had to fight against 
inward laughter again. The land Elwens were losing their 
grip on the borderlands, but that was because of the wars 
in the south, not because of any curalli activity in the 
north. He was not about to tell her that, of course.
    "Ormismal is the closest of the border towns, and one 
of the largest," Faiened went on. "It will demoralize the 
others when they learn how easily we will destroy it, and 
that will clear the way for us to take the others over. 
Then they will learn who is truly master in the Forest, 
who belongs here!" Her voice soared in triumph.
    Chirrirri decided that he had a question to ask. He 
made some effort to understanding the stupidity of those 
around him whenever he possibly could. It might help him 
to really understand them some day, and not only in the 
superficial way he did now. It might permit him to figure 
out that great and enduring mystery- why so many people 
looked at the world with their eyes closed, and even liked 
it that way.
    This might not be the question that would tell him the 
answer to that mystery, but it would help.
    "My lady," he said, and nodded as he saw her accept 
the title with pleasure. Even that title was land Elwen, 
but he doubted that she would see it that way. She was too 
entrenched in the ways of the paleskins to realize that 
she was entrenched anymore. "My lady, would not the Forest 
destroy them on its own, given time? I have never seen or 
felt a place more suited to curalli." Even as he spoke, he 
took a moment to savor that. He found belonging somewhere, 
or at least having magic tell him he belonged in a place, 
an intriguing sensation. "Is there really a need for the 
Marukusi? You will see the land Elwens run soon enough, 
because of problems in the south and because of the 
Forest. There is no need to kill."
    Her face had darkened as she listened to him, and now 
she shook her head briskly. "Perhaps Tana was right, and 
you are with them. There is no other reason why you would 
be defending them."
    "I am trying to understand why you wish to kill them, 
when you do not need to waste the effort."
    "We have to kill them! We are defending our land and 
our honor. There is no other way to behave, as you would 
know were you a real curalli." Faiened's face reflected 
suspicion as well as scorn now.
    Chirrirri met her gaze. One of those, he thought in 
disgust. Even the word for honor that she had used was a 
land Elwen one. "My skin is as silver as yours," he said 
aloud. "But I do not wish to die for an unnecessary cause, 
or for any cause at all, if I have the choice. Let me go, 
and I will travel farther into the Forest, not stopping to 
help either of you."
    "When the battle comes, you will fight for your life, 
even as we will," said Faiened, rising to her feet. "The 
matter is settled." She turned to one of her two guards. 
"Dancer, watch him." Then she was gone, whipping away into 
the snow like a sleek silver wolf.
    Chirrirri looked after her. I did try to warn her, of 
course, he thought, and felt Hela tremble in agreement, 
breaking her stream of sulks for a moment to do so. She 
will learn when the battle begins, I suppose. Not in 
enough time to do anything about it, but she will learn.
    And at least fighting beside land Elwens will make for 
something unusual.
----------------------------------------------------------
    Chirrirri sat on his heels in the snow and watched the 
Marukusi prepare for battle. The more he saw of them, the 
more he was sure that they could not be the people who had 
caused the Forest to feel full of shadows and sympathetic 
to them as it did. They might as well have been land 
Elwens, for all the color of their skin. They were doing 
everything from polishing swords of land Elwen make to 
painting their faces with swirls of red and blue berry 
juice. The shadowed Elwens who had forged the Forbge would 
never have done anything like this; he was sure of that.
    Oh, well. He closed his eyes and relaxed. Faiened had 
made her mistake, and he was going to teach her better. 
There was really nothing else to do but wait for that time 
to arrive.
    One of the guards whipped him to his feet when it did. 
Whips were a land Elwen innovation, too, just like 
slavery. Chirrirri stood and wiped snow from his tunic, 
only to find Tana standing sullenly in front of him, 
thrusting a silver outfit like the ones that other 
shadowed Elwens wore at him.
    "She says you have to wear that."
    Chirrirri shook his head. "It wouldn't fit me."
    "What?" Tana was poised on her heel, having already 
turned to go. She listened to him with the nervous look of 
a bird about to spring into flight. 
    "Look," said Chirrirri, with all the patience he could 
muster. Really, he should blame Tana less than he blamed 
Faiened. Faiened's words and beliefs were the products of 
deliberate and very blind stupidity. Tana was young and 
ignorant. But in battle there was no place for ignorance. 
"It's too wide in the shoulders, and not long enough in 
the legs. It'll sag if I try to wear it, and I certainly 
can't run in it."
    Tana glared, but did not try to make him wear it, for 
which Chirrirri was grateful. She turned away and stomped 
towards Faiened, shouting an explanation as she went that 
was probably meant to embarrass Chirrirri.
    Not much could have embarrassed him, save acting as 
they would have him act, Chirrirri thought as he made sure 
his pack was secure. He would have to change sides and 
positions very quickly during the battle, and he did not 
want the pack to tumble from his shoulders while he was 
doing so. It seemed all right, so he went to join the 
growing circle of the Marukusi, who were gathering about 
Faiened and looking to her for a speech, as land Elwens 
would have looked to their leader. Chirrirri stood and did 
not listen while she went over everything that she had 
told him earlier, adding some new and even more boring 
platitudes about the impossibility of curalli and land 
Elwen living in peace together. He was busy planning his 
movements.
    To kill Faiened would be too easy; besides, he had the 
idea that the Marukusi would only reform if their leader 
died or walked away. The best course was to capture her, 
then, preferably at a key point in the battle, just as her 
soldiers were looking to her for answers. Chirrirri smiled 
blissfully to himself. Yes, that should work, and then she 
would see the error of her ways, and he would be on the 
good side of some land Elwens, which they should remember 
when they were killing the rest of the curalli.
    At last, Faiened finished her speech, and they began 
to move. At least these false shadowed Elwens knew how to 
move like shadowed Elwens; they flitted through shadow and 
snow more swiftly and more silently than deer could have. 
Chirrirri gave them points for trying, but it would not be 
enough. Not against him.
    He worked his way carefully forward through the ranks 
as they walked, an easy thing to do. Any one of the 
Marukusi only knew where a few other Marukusi were at any 
given time. Soon, he was hugging the shadows just behind 
Faiened.
    She did not even look around. Apparently, she trusted 
in the blade in her hand, and in the blades of those 
around her, to protect her.
    Well enough.
    Chirrirri glided through the shadows, and waited for 
his chance.
    They came in sight of Ormismal after cresting perhaps 
five of the small hills that seemed prevalent in this part 
of the Forest, rising and falling across the ground like 
small waves beneath the surface of a grassy sea. The land 
Elwen town nestled in the lee of a hill that would protect 
it from the killing bite of the north wind, the most 
common wind in the Forbge. The snow had been cleared in a 
wide circle leading away from the wooden palisade that 
surrounded the wooden and stone buildings, and there were 
no trees for at least half a mile away from it. No curalli 
would easily be able to approach it unseen. Even on the 
hill, there were no trees, only a broad expanse of snow- 
covered grass.
    Of course, there were shadows, because the Jretirmon 
sun was filtering weakly through the branches, and that 
was all a true curalli really needed.
    Faiened lifted a hand, and the other curalli began to 
spread out, slowly moving to encircle the town. Chirrirri 
stood invisible in the shadow of a tree, and waited as 
patiently as it did.
    The town seemed silent, he noticed then, too silent. 
There was no smoke drifting up from the houses, and the 
edges of the palisade did not tremble as they would have 
if guards had been pacing just behind them or on top of 
them. There was something strange going on.
    After a moment, Chirrirri, studying the snow to the 
sides of the palisade- or the slush that remained- began 
to smile. It was trampled, as if many people had moved 
past the town. He looked back at Faiened, and his smile 
grew wider.
    It seemed as if their small party was expected.
    Chirrirri grinned, and waited for Faiened to notice.
    She did not, however, but continued ordering her 
people into position as if she expected them to handle 
anything the land Elwens could throw at them.
    Chirrirri's grin faded. Capturing Faiened was one 
thing, but allowing others to suffer the consequences of 
her stupidity was another. In his view, stupidity's 
consequences should be restricted to that person. 
    Particularly in this situation, where he might be one 
of the ones hurt.
    "Faiened," he said softly, his eyes on the trampled 
snow.
    "Hush."
    He stared at her narrow-eyed. She was regarding the 
town with an expression of stupid satisfaction, as if she 
could not see the danger signals, and perhaps she could 
not. Perhaps she really was stupid enough to think that 
the land Elwens would have had no warning of a force this 
size.