Starseeker Prologue 2641, Age of Song, Early Autumn The rain that veiled the slowly changing trees made Anadrel want to weep herself. But she did not. She remained at the window, watching the pulsing tears of heaven, with dry eyes and a heart that shifted and stirred and whispered uncertain things like the leaves that had already fallen. What she was going to do? She had known, once. But the certainty seemed to have flown away like so much else after the events more than a dance ago. She had someone who shared that misery, but she did not want to talk to him. At last, Anadrel Cytheriao turned from the window and made her way listlessly across the room in which she stood. The only room on the upper level of the house, it was meant to be used as a gathering place, a meeting place, a room to be filled with the sound of laughter and merriment. The large, clear, tiled place across which she paced could even have been meant as a dance floor. But none of the four people in the house were inclined to come anywhere near each other at the moment. Anadrel slowly took the stairs, pausing every now and then to listen to the sound of the rain beating slow drums against the house. It was a little more certain than everything else. She halted when she came into the common room on the floor below, usually used as a kitchen and holding the most furniture in the house. Staring in surprise at the woman sitting there, gazing out the window with a melancholy expression on her face, as she had been, she thought for a moment about turning and going back up the stairs again. But then she squared her shoulders and stepped forward. She had always loved a challenge, and she did not fear her mother. "Fair-day," she said briefly to Kaada. "It isn't," Kaada replied, not turning from the window. Anadrel shrugged philosophically and went to help herself to some of the cold meat and bread that Dore had bought in the market yesterday. She had tried. She brought her food to the table, ignoring her mother's blank stare, and began to eat. After a moment, Kaada sighed as if all the sorrows of the world lay on her shoulders and looked out the window again. Studying her as she gulped bread and meat, Anadrel wondered a little at the age in her black eyes. It was made worse by the white hair, as stark a color as Anadrel's but without her daughter's curls, which she had tugged back into a severe knot. It made her face look like a skull, something she usually took pains to conceal. "Mother?" As she had thought it might, that brought Kaada out of her melancholy a little. She even turned and summoned a wan smile from somewhere within her. "Ah, Anadrel, you were always a rebuke to me." Anadrel paused in her chewing to stare at her. The last time her mother had said something like that to her... Well, as a matter of fact, she couldn't remember her mother ever saying anything like that to her. "Why?" she muttered at last, clearing her mouth of food with a few rough swallows Kaada's head tilted slightly; that, and the bright black eyes and hair as pale as feathers, made her look more than a little like a gull about to steal food. "My daughter," she said softly. Then, more softly still: "And his daughter, too." Anadrel's eyes narrowed and her fingers clenched into the bread. She said nothing. Being around Elian had taught her to somewhat conceal what she felt. Damn him, anyway. "His daughter," Kaada said in a whisper, and she was looking out the window again. "Seeing the rain always brings him back to me. He loved it, if you can imagine such a thing. He said the world was a dangerous, sharp place under the sunlight, that it needed rain and even snow to soften it. He was a very strange Elwen. He saw more in the shadows than the light." She paused at that and gave Anadrel a harsh glance, as if she should hear more in those last words than just the obvious. Anadrel was thinking of too many other things to try, though. Kaada never spoke of her father; Anadrel did not even know his name. All she knew, in fact, was that he had been tortured to death by his enemies before her birth, and she only knew that because she had been forced to face down and kill, with Starseeker magic, two Elwens who had said they were enemies of her father's. They had told her a little before they died, but they had not known his name. Kaada seemed inclined to say nothing more, and at least Anadrel's nerve broke. "Well, Mother?" Kaada's eyes turned back to her, distant and sad. "There is nothing more I can tell you, Anadrel. If you knew..." She shook her head gently. "I shudder to think of what you would do." Yet this was said without any particular worry, her daughter noted. "What would I do?" Kaada only shook her head again, and changed the subject. "When will you and Elian start talking to each other again?" Her mother would have to choose that one. Anadrel stared at her hands, clenched before her in the bread. The bread would have indentations by the time she let it go, finger-marks so deep as to almost smash it into a cake. "Mother," she said tightly, "we have had words since then. Many words. They have done no good. He stays in his room, and holds to his stubborn lies and promises." She was aware that her voice was rising, but she did not care. "He lied to me, Mother! Lied so much that I still cannot trust him. Never again." Kaada was staring at her. She did her best to lower her voice. "And he still will not tell me everything." "Does that matter so much? I thought you loved him." "That is why." Anadrel uncurled her fingers one by one. Bits of bread came with them. "I love him, Mother, but love is not enough; it never has been. Rian loved me, and look what happened there. I have to be able to trust him. And it's because I love him that I care about whatever it is he's hiding. But I can't do anything- I can't even talk to him- unless he lets that betrothal he broke go." Kaada reached across the table and touched her arm in silent sympathy. In this matter, Anadrel thought as she wiped her eyes clean of the tears that had gathered there without her knowledge or permission, she stood with her daughter. The sound of an opening door made them turn. Elian stood framed in the doorway of the room they had given him, staring. He had clearly been asleep; his dark hair was mussed, his blue eyes very slightly glazed. And he had just as obviously not expected to find them here. His eyes slid over Kaada onto Anadrel's face, and there was guilt in them. That was something new. Its unexpected presence, and her mother's, gave her the courage to rise to her feet and say formally, her hand extended to him, "My lord, will you join us?" Love shone in his eyes for a moment, and his face relaxed in a cautious smile. Anadrel dared to smile back, willing to forget her confusion when he looked like that, and stepped towards him. His eyes turned to ice. He remembered, she thought as she halted and gazed at him unhappily. Dazed by sleep, he must have forgotten his promise to the woman he did not love but had been betrothed to, the promise that he would not let his love for Anadrel show. He had let it show, but he did not have to express it. Turning his head, he said with quiet, cool force, "I think not, my lady. I should get more sleep. You told me the Ascension often runs late into the night." He started to close the door. Forgoing titles, she said, "Elian." The door shut. Anadrel stared at the undeniable barrier, and felt disappointment and resentment gather thickly in her throat. "Stars damn him for being so stubborn," she said. Kaada sighed. Chapter 1 The Ascension "Na kerenquia in Na puessi joi." (My close friends are my enemies also). -Curalli Proverb. Elian shielded his eyes for a moment, then cautiously lowered his hand. It did not help, but then, neither did covering his eyes. The bright bursts of color, wild and varied as desert flowers, that filled the Elicalara's Ashonna, or Place of Judgment, still swirled here and there, stirred by rippling crosscurrents that he could not feel and did not want to feel. He stepped among them, and several people turned towards him with unfriendly faces that made him decide that there was at least one thing uniting these crosscurrents: hatred of him. He had slain the old Councilmaster, said all the silent, outraged expressions. What was he doing at the Ascension that would choose the new one? Elian ignored them, ignored the looks, the whispers, the way the conversation and laughter sprang up defiantly again behind him. He made his way to one of the many seats along the wall of the vast circular chamber and sat down. The silver Starseeker robes that Anadrel had been insistent he buy were hot and stifling, even with the breeze that flowed through the numerous open windows. It was one of the last really hot days of autumn. That meant abundant sunlight, which Elian regarded as a blessing, and the stink of sweat, which he did not. For a long moment, he closed his eyes and engaged in the familiar fight of the last several days, the struggle to reorient himself. In a life of uncertainty, it was the only thing that was certain. He did not even have to close his eyes to see the flaming circle of the gate before him, the gate that had led to his own time. Once, he would have stepped through that gate without hesitation. He had believed that his presence here in the past was dangerous, that his most minor action could change history. Virita. The name was sharp as acid in his mind, as dangerous as poison, and filled with a silver longing to kill that he had never realized he possessed until the last dance and a half. The time Elwen who had tricked him, lied to him, sent him back to the past for reasons of her own that he still did not entirely understand. And Telandre, of course, who had wanted to marry him only to bear Starseeker children. But Elian had made his peace with his image of her spirit. He could not marry her, but he had given his word that he would not touch any other woman. That ought to satisfy her. If only he knew what to do now... if only it were easier to keep promises than it had proven so far... "There you are." Elian opened his eyes and turned a cool stare on her. That did not disconcert Anadrel, especially not in public. The flashing swords of the doubt and jealousy that lay between them shone all the better when they had an audience to duel for, as far as she was concerned. She dropped into the chair beside him with a hard-edged smile and reached out to clasp his wrist. Elian withdrew. Anadrel shrugged and turned her head, seeming to study the milling crowd of people who were still strolling about the floor of the Ashonna, congratulating candidates on their nomination or whispering bits of advice that would probably be useless. She kept enough of her eye focused on him that he could not doubt the hot, harsh, bitter anger that raged just beneath the surface. She was frustrated because he had lied to her, from almost everything about his true identity to where he had come from, and because he still refused to tell her everything. That was understandable. What was not was that she insisted at pushing at the perfectly logical boundaries he had established, as if they should give, as if he should become part of this time, even her betrothed. Even her lover. He felt his face flame, and heard her chuckle, a sound not the less vicious for all its softness. "I will not vanish as she did, Elian." "She did not vanish." It was an effort to keep his voice under control. He had always been exceptionally good at controlling his anger, so good that he often could not use the emotional magic of his people, but since meeting Anadrel, he seemed to have rage closer and closer to the surface. "I forsook her." "For me." "Not for you!" He snapped himself back under control when he saw her mocking smile. He had learned too much of anger from her, and she too much of control from him. Elian averted his face slightly in turn, though he still squinted as sunlight sparked from gold or silver cloth on tunics and robes. "I forsook her because of what she planned to do to me." "Because you learned the truth." "Yes." "Then you should be the last person in the world to insist on hiding the truth." Elian blew out a breath. "I don't know what truths you want." "Yes, you do." She was infuriating. Elian unclenched his curling fists, and met her eyes head on again. "Anadrel, I have told you I love you. I cannot tell you whether or not I want to marry you, because no matter what that truth is, it will never come to pass." "You can tell me why that is." "No." She put her hand on his arm and gazed deeply into his eyes. Reflections of his own tormented pain and love moved in the silver mirrors of those eyes, and some of the lines around her mouth tightened. Shining stars, she was beautiful- not of feature, but when the blaze of her spirit blended with her features. Elian did not intend to let that influence him. "Elian." Her voice was so gentle that one would have had to listen closely to have detected the knife's edge to it. "It is your own stubbornness that is causing this. Nothing else." Her eyes were pained at that moment, whatever her tone of voice. Elian closed his eyes briefly. "I know." When he looked again, she was gaping at him, taken almost completely off guard by the announcement. He had to smile a little. That broke the spell, of course. Clenching her teeth, she spat, "If you know that, why don't you do something about it, you idiot?" "There is nothing I can do." Anadrel eyed him cautiously, as if trying to determine whether that was a bit of truth that she could do something with. She did not ask him a question, but gave what she thought was the answer, though in a tentative voice. "You cannot do anything because you fear that doing something about it would involve breaking your promise to Telandre." Elian said nothing. Anadrel's fingers briefly dug into his arm, and then released him. "That is cruel. And stupid." So scornful was her voice that it actually stung him into answering, like salt water in wounds. "There is something called loyalty, Anadrel," he said, and the harshness of his own voice startled him. "I happen to be fond of it, and to have it in large amounts. Can you say the same thing?" She retorted immediately, with a smirk that said she had been waiting for something like this. "Oh, yes. I can even say that I share your stupidity. I don't intend to fall in love with anyone else, even though I should, even though I deserve better than this. I will wait until you tell me the truth." The words hurt, as she meant them to, but they also kindled something in his heart that he had not felt for a dance: a stirring of hope. "And if I never do?" Her hand shot out, catching him across the face so hard his head snapped back. He felt his nose begin to bleed. Holding a corner of the robe to it, he glared at her. "What was that for?" "If you ever again suggest that I should love someone else, it will be worse." Her stare was utterly cold, even though her anger usually burned hot. Her voice turned soft and lethal on the next words. "I mean it, Elian. You can reserve your love all you like, but you cannot tell me to give up mine. I will not have it." Elian dabbed more blood off his nose with the corner of his robe and said nothing, instead watching the candidates begin to line up. It was not time for the Ascension yet- a bell would ring when it was- but by their intent and nervous looks, it was close. "Did you hear me?" "I did, and I understand, Anadrel." Elian did not look at her, and had to admit to a childish satisfaction at the feeling of puzzlement that emanated from her. For a few moments, there was silence between them, as they watched the spectators begin to withdraw to their seats. Among them were more than a few Starseekers. They were required to call upon their magic, if a candidate's past was questionable, and summon images that would show the truth of whatever had supposedly happened. And one of the candidates was a Starseeker, of course. Rian. Elian could feel a faint smile creeping across his lips as he considered that. The dark-eyed man, with lines of strength that seemed stamped into his face and hair of some color between silver and blue, had once been Elian's rival. But when Elian had told him that he had no intention of acting on his own love for Anadrel, he had become something else. And, as the coronet on his head and the silver half- cloak flowing down his back proclaimed, he was also the Deriad, the Burning Dreamer, the Lord of the Starseekers, and that position he owed to Elian. No, Elian didn't think they would war again. Still, he hoped he was not called upon to judge Rian's past. He would not even have to use his magic to call up some questionable acts; he had witnessed one or two himself. "Did you know that I am to go to Oak with you?" Elian turned, inch by inch, to stare at her. Anadrel did not appear impressed; in fact, she seemed to be intently watching the stage. Only the trace of a smile on her mouth showed how pleased she was. "When was it settled that I was going to Oak?" he asked when he could find his tongue. The gaze she turned on him was both as silver and as serene as starlight. "Since you became an ordinary Starseeker, subject to the command of the Deriad and even the Councilmaster. The High Priest Gerath of Oak has requested you specifically as a hostage before he even looks at an alliance agreement. You ought to feel honored, really." Elian ground his teeth together to keep from replying. In a way, he could understand; Palm needed to ally with the two other great land Elwen cities of the Tableland, Oak and Rowan, to protect itself from the Elfworld War brewing up from the south. And, in a way, this war was even his fault. He could have used his superior knowledge of the past to prevent it, but he had not done so, thinking the knowledge would change history to such an extent that his own time would cease to exist. He regretted that bitterly now, of course. There were many things that he regretted now, and that was only one of the most bitter. Another one of those was that he had ever fallen in love with Anadrel. "But," Anadrel went on, as if disappointed by his lack of reaction, "I am to come with you." "Are you?" His voice was neutral. His eyes were fastened to Rian's face as the young man joked with two of the candidates beside him. His cloak, the Mantle, rippled and shone in the sunlight, which struck dancing silver sparks from it. It made Elian's eyes hurt, but it was easier to look there than into her eyes. "Yes. Does that not matter to you?" Elian said nothing. She knew the truth already; of course it mattered. Why did she need to hear him speak words she already knew? "You will go." The uncertainty in her voice was faint, but real, enough that it almost sounded as if she was asking a question. "Yes." Satisfaction beamed forth from the woman at his side again. He chose to ignore it, gazing steadfastly at Rian and wondering whether he wanted the young Deriad to become Councilmaster or not. In a way, it would be too much power for one Elwen, but in another... Well, Rian was good at knowing his own limitations, at knowing and accepting the inevitable. If he had decided to try and Ascend, then he must feel that he could handle the extra duties and temptations. "And I'll be with you." Elian bit his tongue on the words he wanted to say, and turned to look at her instead. At the sight of her composed face and mocking eyes, the words slid out anyway. "Why, my lady, are you afraid that I would be unfaithful to you?" The smile that had been threatening at the corners of her mouth vanished, and stark pain gazed at him out of her eyes, as the mask she had learned from him dropped. "Elian, this shouldn't be happening." Her voice was a whisper. "Neither of us deserves it." "No," he agreed softly, and gave her a tired smile, the words softening his own mask. Anadrel's eyes sought Rian in turn, then flicked back to his face. In this arena, she was more courageous than he was, Elian thought as he watched her, and it did not shame him to admit it. "Then might we not-" "No." She always recoiled when he spoke in that particular voice, Elian noted absently as he turned away again. It must be his eyes. He had often been told that his eyes were the color of ice, and that they seemed to chill when he did not want to continue a conversation any longer. For a moment, she sat there, hurting. Then she stood with abrupt grace and moved to a different seat, her robes flowing around her. Elian shook his head slowly back and forth. He was sorry for hurting her, but what they said and did, and even the pain, could not change the promise he had made. It was the one thing he could do to make up what he owed to Telandre, and that meant that he would keep it. He was not sure what, if anything, he owed to Anadrel. The crystal notes of a trumpet suddenly stirred the air, and most of those still standing and talking fell silent and sought their seats. The Council would be marching in in a few minutes. It was almost time to begin. Elian's gaze again started to go to Rian, but then he found it skewing, almost against his own will, over to something in a corner. No, not something. Someone. The first thing he noticed about her was the white tunic she wore, made of so brilliantly pure and colorless a cloth that it hurt the eyes. It bore the symbol of a silver suulta upon it, a winged and antlered great cat, named after the Goddess Suulta, to whom it was sacred. It was the marking of a priestess of the White Lady, Goddess of Treaties and Calm and Land Elwens. The second thing was her height. She stood as tall as he did, at least, and that was unusual. Of course, the auburn hair that flowed down her back, unbound and falling almost to her waist, could be making her appear taller than she was. The third, and most striking, thing that he noticed about her was her eyes. As if she felt his gaze, she turned her head slowly away from the candidates and faced him. Elian stared, stunned. Her eyes were the color of sunrise, bright and molten gold, with shades of silver and blue and red in them. He was not sure how he could tell that at such a distance; the Ashonna was immense, and she sat on almost the other side of it. But he could see them nonetheless, stunning jeweled eyes, staring at him with grave solemnity, as if she regularly pondered the mysteries of the universe. Well, that would not be so unusual for a priestess, Elian thought, attempting to shake himself free of the inexplicable enchantment that had fallen upon him. He started to look away. Her gaze seemed to sharpen, and now there could be no doubt that she was looking straight at him, not only in his direction. Her eyes were so brilliant that he felt them as a living light on his skin. He pretended that he did not feel them for a moment, and then suddenly turned and faced her squarely. A calm smile touched her mouth, which was wide but appeared perfectly suited to her face nonetheless, and she nodded, the slight bow that Elwens give to their equals. Her lips shaped a word that he knew was his name. Enchantment scattered into sharp, stinging shards. How would she know his name? It was on many lips, true, but relatively few strangers would know him by face. And by the pallor of her skin, she was a stranger indeed, from the north, not used to the burning of the southern sun. And wasn't it convenient that she would be a priestess of Suulta, when Oak, the city which had demanded a hostage, was ruled by the clerics of Suulta... Elian shook his head. He must have been daydreaming. He certainly could not have seen her eyes from this distance. Her face was just one more pale blur, now oriented back towards the floor. He could not have made out the shadows in her eyes, even if they were gold, and he certainly could not have seen the elaborate details of the silver stitching on her tunic. Ridiculous. He turned resolutely back to the Ashonna, just as the first of the Council members stepped through the door on the opposite side. There was a sudden silence, and in that silence significant looks were exchanged. Elian himself felt his face wash of blood, and his hands clench on the arms of his chair. Were they mad? Did they know what would happen now, if there were any spies for the Elfmother in this room? The Councilwoman, whoever she was, had silver clasped at throat, waist, and ankles- silver, the Elwen color of blood, mourning, and war. Around her neck, suspended by a slender string that was only visible because it glittered the color of starlight in the slanting sunbeams, was a dried piece of meat. It was shriveled and desiccated, but there could be no doubt as to what it was. An elven ear. The Council of Palm was making as open a declaration of war against the elves as possible, and the Elfworld War had not even moved north yet. Elian closed his eyes, feeling ill. They didn't even have alliances with the other cities formally concluded yet, for the stars' sakes! The Councilwoman walked to her seat, her white clothes, against which the silver shone and winked like drops of blood, rustling softly. The sound was perfectly audible in the silence, as was the racing of everyone else's heart. The Councilwoman sat down and turned to look at the floor, her face a calm and majestic blank. Her very presence and composure dared anyone to say anything about the dead flesh at her throat, or the killing she must have done to get it. Elian would have said something, were it not for the Ascension, were it not for the fact that they would not have listened to him. You fools, something inside him whispered, laughing. You have damned yourselves, and angered the Elfmother. There will be no turning back from the war now. Why had they sanctioned such stupidity? And then one possible answer came to him, and he stared in silence as the other Council members walked in. They all wore elven ears as well, as well as other, less pleasant pieces of flesh. They did not look to left or right, even when the muttering at last began again, the provocation being too great to ignore. They were not even going to try for peace, Elian knew now. They were going to make war inevitable and peace impossible from the start. Why? All the answers to that question were so disturbing that he was almost glad when the Ascension began, even though he did not know which candidate would be most worthy and did not know what to hope. Perhaps he did not want certainty back in his life after all, not if this was the result. Another trumpet blew, and then a single figure stepped forward and walked over to face the candidates. It was Sheva, the spymaster of Palm, the woman who had been responsible for Anadrel, who had been the Councilmaster during the plague, giving up her position ad power. She had her golden hair braided so elaborately that it hurt Elian's eyes to follow the knots and threads of the strings, and her strange, purple-red eyes were lifted to gaze over the heads of the candidates, at the far wall. She carried a bowl, a glittering jeweled bowl, with some difficultly. Her wrists hung low, ringed as they were with dried elven ears. Elian closed his eyes to keep from being sick. There were no elves in the chamber, most likely, but what they were doing, even so... If only... But, on the other hand, what could he possibly have done to prevent it? Even if his escape from the Elfmother's torture chambers had enraged Her to the point where She would order Her armies to march, how could one Elwen stop it? The only thing he could do was to help fight the war, to insure that Anadrel and Kaada and Rian and others he had come to care for survived. He opened his eyes again, his stomach churning still with sickness, and watched as Sheva proffered the bowl to the first candidate, a young woman with proud eyes and a look that was almost haughty. Without hesitating, she plunged her hand into the bowl to the wrist, into the liquid that Elian could not see or smell. And withdrew it almost as quickly. There was a sick look on her face, and her eyes had altered in a moment from proud to ashamed. She looked away, shaking her head, when Sheva asked her a soft-voiced question. Sheva only nodded, as if she had gotten the answer she expected, and moved on with the bowl. None of the others lasted much longer than the first woman had, except Rian. He held his hand in for a full minute until his mouth widened with the effort, and then he pulled it free, gasping. Elian found it vaguely horrifying that, while the candidates for the Councilmastery were in obvious pain, the liquid left no marks on their flesh. On the other hand, he didn't think he would have wanted to see the marks of that pain. Sheva still showed no emotion, instead turning and pacing away. She set the bowl down on a table in the corner and came back with a glowing, green, faceted gem. Elian's eyes did not want to stay on it; he sensed the presence of powerful magic. He almost looked at the young priestess sitting across the room from him again, but he dragged his eyes stubbornly back to the gem. It was only a rock, whatever strange fires flickered inside it, whatever magic it possessed. He was an Elwen, and he would not be mastered by a rock. The candidates looked into the gem one by one. Elian watched curiously. He knew vaguely what happened during the test for Councilmaster's Ascension; the candidates were supposed to see what they most feared and what they most desired in the stone. But he did not know what they were seeing- they were prevented by law from revealing it at any rate. He did not even know how passage or failure of the test was judged. It was rather boring, and after a few minutes his mind started wandering. He found himself staring at the priestess again. This time, she was looking back, but he could no longer see those impossible golden eyes. He only received an impression of calm from her, unusual in the tense silence. Of course, if she was really a priestess of Oak, and a minor one at that, she might not have cause to care about who was chosen Councilmaster of Palm. But what was she doing here, then? It still seemed too much of a coincidence. "Elian." The soft voice that spoke his name was undeniably musical, but there was a flatness underneath it that made the land Elwen think of great sadness even before he turned his head. There was no one beside him. He looked back at the priestess, who nodded, a motion visible because of the sunlight rippling through her long auburn hair when her head moved. Then she turned back to the floor. Badly shaken, and unable to dismiss that as entirely a daydream, Elian turned back as well. The gem had come to Rian. He looked into its green depths, and for a moment his dark eyes and his face seemed to take on its flashing emerald color. Then he smiled, and nodded as if in response to an unheard voice, though he never took his eyes from the gem's facets. He seemed to do fairly well, at least as far as Elian could see. He did not sink to his knees or whimper in fear as some of the others had done. He only gazed, and now and then smiled. When he came back to himself, he lifted his head and met Sheva's eyes without expression. The spymaster smiled very faintly, nodded, and went on to the next candidate. Elian tried to puzzle out the meaning of that small exchange for a moment, then gave up. There were so many currents flowing in this room, and he was apt to misjudge so much if he tried to interpret them. Better to stand apart from them. If he could. Anadrel had said that the High Priest had called for him to come to Oak as a hostage, after all. For a moment, he wondered if the young priestess was here to look him over and judge his merits. But, no. The experience had been too strange and magical for that. And why would the High Priest be interested in the relative merits of a hostage? He already knew more about Elian than he needed to, if he could ask for one man so specifically as a hostage. No, it must be for some other reason... Sheva finished with the gem at last, and went back for the third test. Elian felt the tension grow thick and tight as she picked up a silver medallion carved with a palm tree and other designs that could not be seen from this distance. What would happen now? The first woman, now looking broken, staggered as Sheva hung the medallion around her neck, and a small, strangled sound came from her throat. For a moment, her hand came up as if to clutch at the chain, and then she pulled it away. But she could not keep standing. She slipped to her knees and bowed her head. Sheva removed the medallion and gazed down at the woman without speaking for a moment. Then she said in a cold, clear voice, "Lindrella Ferrani is not our new Councilmaster." Lindrella did not try to argue, even though there was a disappointed murmur from one part of the crowd- her family, no doubt. She crept out of the room on her knees, her head still bowed. Elian watched attentively as candidate after candidate failed to stand up under the medallion and was summarily exiled from the chamber. The test was to keep standing, and therefore it most likely tested pride. Daydreaming about what the medallion's magic must be like, he barely noted that Sheva had come to Rian until she hung it around his neck. Rian staggered, and for a moment, his face went pale. When the color returned again, he looked as if he had aged several centuries. But even though his face was grim, he stood and did not kneel. A whisper traveled through the people just in front of him. Elian began to wish irritably that he knew more of Palm's rituals. Sheva removed the medallion from Rian's neck and went on. The other candidates crumpled, leaving the Deriad, tall and proud and gleaming in his silver coronet and cloak, to stand alone. Sheva dismissed the others, with no sound of scorn in her voice but no mercy either. She then turned to Rian. "Will you freely accept the Councilmastery, my Lord Rian?" At the question, a cheer went up from nearly everyone. Elian wondered if they were really glad that Rian had taken the office, or only glad that they would have a Councilmaster once more. Elwens dislike political power, but they hate even more having a vacancy of it just above them, where anyone who cares to might snatch it. Rian's answer was barely audible in that wash of silvery cheering, but his lips could be read. "I will." Another cheer. In the middle of it, the Councilwoman who had entered first rose to her feet and pulled the elven ear from around her neck. She flung it, the silver string spinning and glittering around it, down into the center of the Ashonna to strike Rian in the neck. The Deriad turned and caught it before it fell to the floor, and Elian felt his eyes narrow. That had been just a little too neat... "What do you want me to do with this, my Lady Calera?" he called as the noise of the crowd died once more, this time into shocked silence. "Why did you give this to me?" His voice was calm, composed, and there was no anger in his eyes, or humiliation. He knew she was going to do that, Elian thought in wonder. By all the stars, he knew. "To fight the elves." The Lady Calera's voice was as high and sharp as the sound of breaking glass, but strangely compelling. She turned to look out over the audience as she spoke, gesturing towards Rian. Her gestures looked oddly artificial, as if she normally spoke without them and had learned them only to enhance her speech. "There must be war now, my Lord. The spymaster Sheva has told us of the Elfworld War. The elves have only to bring their soldiers together and then they will come north, as eager as any of us to outrace the storms that will close the Proudking Pass. They must begin the war before the snows fly, which means they must begin it soon- within the matter of a few dances at most. We must be ready before then. Conclude alliance treaties with the other cities, my lord. Do whatever you must. But defend us." It was a plea that would have sounded more eloquent if there was more emotion in her voice, Elian thought. But Rian's performance more than made up for it. "I will do more than that." The new Councilmaster's face was stern with resolve, and determination was etched in the new lines that had come upon his cheeks and brow, making them look less like marks of pain and more like marks of strength, badges of courage. "I will make sure that our city is safe from any attack." He lifted his hand in a grand gesture. "From this moment forward, all elves are banished from Palm, and no elven merchants will be allowed within her gates. I command the Starseekers, of whom I am also lord, to help uphold this Council decree." There was no objection from the Council members, all twenty of whom were sitting in the tiers and gazing down at him. That was all it needed to become law. Elian closed his eyes. If there was some other choice... He hated to move impulsively. And then a single voice curled out over the crowd, a voice that made him open his eyes and watch Rian's face as the question was asked. "My lord, what of the elves who are within Palm at this moment? What is to be done with them?" Rian's face was immobile, so that there was no guessing his feelings, even from his dark eyes, as he answered. "My Starseekers will remove them. They are to be allowed to take only the personal belongings they can carry with them. Nothing else. Any still within the gates after sunset will be killed." Madness. Palm was home to hundreds of elves, perhaps as many as a thousand, and until this moment no evil had been suspected of them. They had trained with the soldiers and guards who would defend the city, and spoken as bitterly as any others about the damage the Elfworld War would do. They would be loyal soldiers, and Rian was driving them away. There was no choice. Elian rose to his shoulder. "My lord, I must object," he said in a voice that was soft, and yet strong, and carried. Heads turned, and there were noises more like hisses than whispers as those who knew who he was told their neighbors, who often did not. The Council members showed no emotion as they looked at him. Rian only glared. "My lord, why?" There was calm in his voice, no anger there, and even a faint smile on his lips, as if this interruption by the most powerful Starseeker in the city were a matter of no import. Elian was not sure why, but that drove him into words he would never have spoken under any other circumstance. "My lord." It was an effort to keep his voice from shaking with rage. "The elves of Palm have never turned on us, or shown any sign of turning. This will make them your enemies- the enemies of land Elwens. They will join with our enemies on the battlefield, and with their intimate knowledge of the way we train, they could prove quite devastating to us." "Yes? And would you not say that leaving a hostile group ensconced in the very center of our city would be more devastating?' Elian shook his head. "As I said, my lord, they have shown no sign of hostility." "Elf will not fight elf." "Just as Elwen will not fight Elwen, my lord?" That caused a silence- only a small one, but it marked something. Land Elwens often fought their cousins the shadowed Elwens, and there had been several bitter wars and feuds between Rowan, Palm, and Oak over the millennia. Elian happened to know that peace with Oak over the last one had been concluded just ten years ago, within the memory of everyone gathered here today. At times, he thought, it was useful to come from another time. Rian flowed on a moment later, as faultless as ever. "My lord, I must think of my own people in a time of such crisis. Land Elwens must come first in a war against elves. I cannot give the enemy succor." "You do not know they are the enemy. My lord." His eyes shone with anger, he knew, and his voice whipcracked. He couldn't help it. This was injustice. "But they may be." Rian shook his head slowly, sadly, but Elian did not believe that pretense for a moment. For whatever reason, he wanted this war, and he would ignore, or try to ignore, everything that Elian could do to undermine his enthusiasm. "Would you want me to take the chance, my lord? When you healed those dying of the plague, could you take the chance that you were wasting your strength, that they would recover without your help?" "There is one difference, my lord Deriad." Best to let him know that Elian did not regard him as any sort of Councilmaster. Rian did not know it was supposed to be an insult, or did not take the subtle hint. He continued to regard the other Starseeker with placid superiority. "Yes? What would that be?" "I healed elves as well." A soft susurration of breath went through all the members of the audience who sat what seemed to be defined as a safe distance from a Council member. They were beginning to remember other things about him, things beyond the suspicious death of the former Councilmaster, Cyrelinde. They were remembering that he had saved several dozen people in the plague, and that he had later destroyed a second version of the disease. They stirred, looking up and towards him with grudging respect. Elian thought that might have been fueled in part by his Starseeker robes, but at the moment, that did not matter. He kept his eyes on Rian. Rian's mouth twitched, and his voice was low and tight. "Very well, my lord. I will give you the task of escorting elves from the city. Will that satisfy your sensibilities?" "No." "Why?" This time Rian nearly snapped; he had noticed the lack of any title of respect. Elian felt he was holding his own, though the taste of rebellion was far more unfamiliar to him than even the southern sun it had taken him so long to get used to, or the hot weight of the Starseeker robes about him. "My lord, you are seeking to command Starseekers as the Councilmaster. That cannot be. You must command Starseekers as the Deriad." He paused, then said softly, "And the Deriad is always more concerned with healing than war, my lord. Always." "You yourself passed the Mantle on to me. Or have you forgotten?" Rian seemed to have forgotten, himself, the presence of their fascinated audience. Elian was not displeased with that. "I passed it on to you because you convinced me that the Deriad must be one truly concerned for the welfare of Palm, my lord. You seemed to think that I did not have that care, that someone else should replace me." Rian's mouth slammed shut as his own words came back to trap him. After a long, steady stare of hatred at Elian- which had no visible effect on the more powerful Starseeker- he said softly, "I swear to you that I issue this command as Deriad. Your dreamflame is powerful- indeed, you are one of only two in the city who can summon it." He did not look at Anadrel. She could also summon it, strongly enough to kill, but there was bad blood between them, and Anadrel, though she had been forced to rely on him, did not trust him. He would be wary to command her. She had an attempted rape charge that she could press, if she chose. "Go and herd the elves from their homes. Kill them if they resist." "No." Rian had already started to turn away. At the word of defiance- and perhaps even more at the calm way in which he uttered it- a shocked hiss traveled through the crowd. Rian slowly turned, something like a death-madness in his eyes. "I do not believe I heard you correctly." "No." "I gave you a command." "I choose to disobey it." "A Starseeker cannot disobey the Deriad." Elian shook his head. "I am not a Starseeker of Palm's Elicalara, my lord, and never claimed to be after I relinquished the Deriad's Mantle. Or will you deny that I came with the Lady Anadrel Cytheriao from the Mountains Eternal?" Silence. Most of the Elwens in the room seemed confused. They were used to heated debates, heady defiance that bubbled and swam in the room like a wine of which all could drink- or obedience to a revered leader. They were not used to this cool, quiet, self-contained rebellion for reasons they could not understand. The silence grew, as heavy as the heat or the Starseeker robes, while the two men locked eyes. Finally, Rian said heavily, "Very well. Then I will not presume to command your Starseeker magic. But if you object to the treatment of the elves, then you must consider yourself, at least nominally, a citizen of Palm, and thus under the jurisdiction of the Councilmaster. And I am now the Councilmaster. Or do you question the way in which I Ascended?" "No." "Then I command you to go to Oak, as the High Priest Gerath has asked." Elian made the lowest bow he could without actually seeming submissive. He had done what he could, he thought miserably as he took his seat again. Few elves were telepathic, and he could not leave the room to take a warning to them. He could only hope his display had swayed some hearts, and those who sat here would not deal with the elves as harshly as Rian might tell them to. Rian began speaking again, but Elian was not listening. His thoughts were unfocused, a swimming pool of murky misery. His eyes went to the windows, and for a moment he wished he could spread his robes like wings and soar away, not ever coming back to the world. What use, if he could do no good in it? Something drew his eyes again. It was the auburn- haired priestess, and she was smiling, and her eyes were blazing. He could see the golden eyes clearly, no doubt of it, and her smile. The smile was dazzling. Against his will, he found himself grinning back. Then the priestess turned to look at the windows, seeming to gaze straight up a sunbeam and into the heart of the Lordstar. For a long moment, there was a heated peace in the room, and Elian, closing his eyes, could almost imagine that it was summer. Then there was a commotion at one of the doors of the Ashonna. Rian turned, his eyes narrowing, and made a sharp motion of encouragement to the guards who stood there, indicating they should come in. They rushed in and knelt, not actually meeting the eyes of the Councilmaster. Elian's heart began to beat faster, and he found himself still smiling. He could feel the priestess's content gaze, as if she knew what was going to happen and planned to take credit for it. Come to think of it, he knew some of what would happen, as well. The leading guard had to stutter and try several times before he could get his breath. "My lord, there is a disturbance at the southern gates." "The river gates? Why?" "The elves are leaving, my lord." Rian's eyes went blank, and he stared at the guard for a long moment. The man began to babble. "My lord- they were saying that you intended to kill them- that there were strangers among them, who looked elven but were not, set to start riots and blame them on real elves. They gathered up their belongings and left." The words were the only sound in the room. Elian again turned and met the golden gaze of the priestess. She smiled, but gestured back towards the guard. Obediently, he turned to look again, and saw Rian just beginning to respond. "Did they say where they were going?" "To the south, my lord. Minamar. Somewhere where the Elfworld War and Elwen cruelties would both leave them alone, my lord." Rian closed his hands and his eyes for a long moment. Then he looked up at the Council members, and said, "It appears that the problem has solved itself." Some of them nodded; some of them appeared to be in shock. The one who really interested Elian, however, was Sheva. He wondered if anyone else noticed the murderous rage in her eyes. Of course, the young priestess probably did, since Elian had the strong feeling that she had put the rage there in the first place. Sheva had planned this. Riots, and death. But to what purpose? Elian wondered, gazing at her steadfastly. To implicate the elves and unite the land Elwens of Palm, even the merchants who would be hurt by the banning of elven goods, against the common threat? It seemed a bloody way to go about it. "I call a Council meeting," said Rian then, formally. "My ladies Sheva and Anadrel, I ask that you stay. The rest of you may go." Elian and the others began rising to their feet at once; he thought he knew the exact moment when the priestess stood. He made his way down the tiers and out the doors without looking at her, but he could feel her, knew she was dropping behind him inconspicuously and then coming forward to catch him. He turned just as she reached out to touch his elbow. "It was you." His words were soft, and touched with wonder. She smiled without answering. Her eyes really were the exact color of dawn, though how he had seen that from across a room he still did not know. The silver stitching on her tunic, as well, was exactly as he had imagined it. Her long auburn hair was threaded with a few glowing silver and white ribbons in homage to Suulta. In the sunlight, she was dazzling. He could only imagine what she would look like lit with the soft lamplight that most clerics of Suulta preferred for the more sacred rituals. "Might I know your name, my lady?" She looked over her shoulder, and opened her mouth to answer. A hand seized his arm, and a rough voice said, with menacing softness, "My lady. Do not speak. If you value your life, do not speak to this man." The clear golden eyes gazed softly, and, Elian thought, compassionately, at the one who held him. Then the priestess turned and walked away without a word. Strange, Elian thought as he watched her, how she seemed to blend into the crowd despite her extraordinary beauty. The same spell that served to draw his eyes to her seemed to serve to deflect others away. He watched her as long as she was in sight, then turned to the one who held him. "What was all that about, Gelana? Has Rian decided to arrest me and put me in a cell already? Is it dangerous for anyone to be seen talking to me?" The panther Elwen stared at him, her yellow eyes striking against her dark skin. The hand on his arm slowly relaxed and retreated, though not before he felt the shallow prick of bleeding from his skin; her claws had been out, at least enough to poke through the relatively thick fabric. "No," she said. "It is dangerous for you to talk to her." "A spy for Oak?" Elian fell in beside the other Starseeker as she began walking out of the Elicalara. She was not really a Starseeker, of course, but he had only partial clues as to her true nature, and it was easier to think of her as something similar to himself. "No. Much more. Much more dangerous. And I may tell you nothing more. You will have to learn it on your own if you are to become what you must." Elian swallowed back his objections. When she made a flat statement like that, she really could not tell him anything. For a few moments, silence lay between them as they worked their way to the outer edges of the crowd. It was already splitting up, people lingering to speak in hushed tones of the new Councilmaster and the mysterious news of the elves, resisting leaving the Elicalara, where few of them ever came, altogether. Elian ignored them, though he watched a few times for a glimpse of the priestess again. He caught nothing. "Why have you and Anadrel not yet declared your betrothal?" Elian blinked at the unexpected question, then smiled a little. Even Gelana, a creature whom he suspected of being immortal and an emissary of the stars themselves, had limits, then. "Didn't you know why I decided to stay here?" "That's obvious. You love her, and want to marry her." There was no doubting the approval in Gelana's voice, the same approval that had been there in Kaada's voice for the first few days. "Love, yes. But there will never be betrothal collars exchanged between us, no words of love, and we will never share a bed." This time, the claws closed on his shoulder, and this time, he knew, she meant for the claws to cut him. "Are you mad?" "No. Loyal to my former love, yes. I could not bring myself to marry her, either, after I found out what she was and what she intended to use me for. But I was betrothed to her. That was a promise. At the least, it was a promise to take no other woman as wife, or lover, or betrothed. And I will not." Gelana stared at him, apparently examining his eyes for some sign of the madness she knew must be there. Elian endured the scrutiny patiently. Anadrel had done the same thing several times, and he already knew that she would find evidence of nothing but sanity. "Why not?" "I just told you why-" "That's not what I meant. I wonder why you refuse, with every part of your spirit and mind, to accept the destiny that you are growing towards even as we stand here speaking." Elian felt his eyes kindle with a light, cool anger, one that seemed more like Anadrel's than his own. His own, when it came, was an explosion of temper that terrified most around him, one reason he usually kept it strictly under control. This was rage, yes, but it enabled him to stare at her and say, "My lady, I rejected one destiny that my magic fated me for. Would you have me take this one so unhesitatingly?" Gelana looked a little uncomfortable, and slowly released his shoulder. "But this is the right one..." Her voice was a mumble. "Would it be right if I accepted it without struggle, without challenge?" Gelana shook her head slowly. "It would not. You are right. This destiny has to do with the very nature of Elwenity, as does Starseeking itself. As your magic is twined with the essence of our kind, so is your life." "You understand my magic better than I do. Surely you cannot believe the same lie that the Elfmother does." "I do. But it is not a lie. I believe the same truth, Elian. She was right when She thought She would have to destroy the Starseekers if the Elfworld War was to have any chance. She nearly succeeded in that, too. But She made one serious mistake." Gelana's smile was suddenly bright, her eyes warm as she regarded Elian with pride and a kind of awe. "She did not kill you when She still had you in Her power." Elian frowned at her, and did not reply. "You do not even know what you will do now, do you?" Gelana asked softly. "No. All the more reason not to believe the first thing that anyone says to me, or to marry Anadrel." He ignored the way her mouth tightened with exasperation, insistent on having his say. "Our marriage would falter, if nothing else. We both need certainty, and that is something neither of us has right now." "When you find your road, then there will be more certainty than you ever had." "That is useless. It is like saying that when you bathe in water, you will be clean." To his surprise, Gelana only laughed at that, and stepped away. "True enough," she said, her chuckles dying a little, her eyes glowing as she watched him. "I look forward to having you among us, Elian, when you finally learn who and what you really are." Then she turned and walked away. Elian let out a soft breath and turned away in turn. He would have to return to Anadrel's house and begin preparing his belongings for the journey to Oak. Belongings. It was strange to think about that, since he had arrived in Palm with nothing but the clothes on his back, though his talents at healing and music would have earned him all the money he needed. Virita had cautioned him about revealing the Starseeker magic, though, and so he had hidden his talents except when he absolutely needed them. Now, he seethed, wondering what would have happened if he had used them. There wouldn't be this rift between him and Anadrel, for one thing. Anadrel. Frowning, he looked over his shoulder at the Elicalara, which made an odd splotch on the mostly tree- shaped horizon of Palm. It was a spare, square building, even though the great doors were certainly impressive, as were the windows made of glass and inlaid with shining white stars. He could see no sign of anyone else coming out of it, not even Anadrel. Why had Rian asked her to stay for the Council meeting? And why had she stayed? He snorted as he realized the second question, if not the first, was perfectly answerable. She was a good citizen of Palm and a Starseeker of Palm's Elicalara, subject to Rian in both of his official capacities. She would obey. And he would not. It was another barrier between them, one of a set that would seal his love up until it died from lack of food and air, like any trapped beast. But that was what he wanted. It would be far more comfortable to live without his love than with it. He turned to walk away from the Hall of the Stars, but found himself turning back again. Standing in front of it, shining like an apparition in the sunlight, was the priestess. For some reason, Elian found it difficult to breathe as he looked at her. It was not her face; she was not even as beautiful as Anadrel, who was more properly called striking than lovely. It was not her eyes, unusual though they were, or the look in them that revealed her solemn and seemingly sweet spirit. It was something else, a trace of magic as he had... As he had first believed it to be, he thought suddenly. Visions of distant glens and forests so green as to blind the eyes and shatter the heart. Blue mountains in the distance. Golden dragons, morning dragons, soaring, their sweet voices booming, the sun flashing from their wings. Unicorns sharpening their horns against tree bark. Something strange stalking its prey through the darkness of a winter's night. All that, and more, lived in the visage of this seeming priestess of the Goddess of Calm. She gazed at him with a very slight smile, the shadows in her golden eyes shifting and dancing. Once again, her lips formed his name, though he did not hear her voice speaking it this time. She seemed to be trying to tell him something, but if so, his heart heard the message and not his mind. Then, as his eyes filled with aching tears and he felt his magic stir, he knew what part of the strangeness was. She was spirit-wounded, struck with some deep melancholy or anger or heartbreak. He had a talent for healing such things, and now his Starseeker magic was reaching towards her, seeking to ease it, to draw him to her and into speech. He might have gone, too, but Gelana's warning and something in her eyes held him back. The priestess continued to smile, but now the smile grew wider, as if she were being forced to appraise him in a new light, and liking what she saw. Then she was gone, turning as insubstantial as a beam of sunlight, and vanishing in much the same way. Elian blinked, and drew a shaky breath. It was a long moment before he could return to the world enough to remember the way to Anadrel's house. For the first time in days, his thoughts were not occupied with self-pity and the thought of his problems as he walked. Instead, his mind was full of gold, his heart of magic, his eyes of the eyes of a young priestess. Chapter 2 Attacks "No allies means vulnerability means battle means death." -Curalli Proverb. Anadrel shifted in her seat and tried to keep from sighing aloud in boredom. There were so few people in the room now, and the acoustics of the place were so good, that they were certain to hear her. On the other hand, did she care if they heard her or not? She sighed. At once, Rian turned towards her. He was keeping his face blank and practiced, but even now he could not keep desire out of his eyes when he looked at her. "My lady? Is there something you wish to say?" Anadrel rose slowly to her feet. In one way, having so many eyes focused on her- there were still twenty-two pairs- was uncomfortable. But it was good to stretch both her legs and her voice. "My lord, is there any point to this? You have spoken of what we already know- that the Elfworld War is coming north, that we must make alliances with the other cities, that the Lord Elian is going to Oak." She concentrated, and kept her voice from cracking on that last one. She had honestly not expected Rian to Ascend to the post of Councilmaster, and now she would be forced to ask him for permission to go with Elian. It was not a prospect that she relished. Rian stared at her for a moment, then bowed his head. "My lady is correct. There really is no point in repeating what we all know, simply for the sake of hearing my voice." There was a faint chuckle at that, odd to hear; all the other Council members seemed to be keeping their faces as blank as flint. "We will proceed to the matters that those here will not have heard." Bastard, Anadrel thought miserably as she sat, a moment before he could nod her back into her seat. He had taken the fun out of it. "I am indebted to Lady Anadrel in many ways," Rian continued, "but not least because she served this city faithfully during the Elfmother's plague, and did her best during the early days of the War. She was also wise enough to surrender her power when she realized that she could not lead in a time of war." He stared down Sheva, who had seemed about to say something uncomplimentary. The spymaster shut her mouth and said nothing instead, though strange currents seemed to float the red islands in her purple eyes. "Therefore, I think it only fair that I should let her decide where her talents will be needed." Anadrel felt her heart begin to pound. This was her chance- but she must not seem too eager. Rian was still jealous of Elian's love for her, never mind the fact that the other Starseeker had not yet acted on it. He might forbid her to go if she simply asked. "What are my choices, my lord?" she asked, making an attempt to look composed. "South," said Rian without hesitation. "I would hate to risk you among the elves, but we desperately need a Starseeker there, one who can question such prisoners as we capture and fool any small bands our soldiers encounter with expert illusions." Anadrel had to interrupt then. "You already have soldiers in the south, my lord?" She tried hard to keep her disbelief from her voice, as she had fought down her scream of outrage when Rian had condemned the elves. "Yes. Of course." Rian sounded surprised that she did not know, or rather that she had not guessed. "Spies are one thing, my lord, but soldiers..." Anadrel shook her head slowly, and kept from looking at the dried elven ears around the necks of the Council members. How many other plans did Rian have in motion that she knew nothing about? How many plans that no one knew anything about? Now that she thought back on it, he had been ominously prepared for the Councilmastery. As if- "They will not find you, should you choose to go," Rian said, scattering her thoughts. "The camps are well- hidden, and well-protected, and the defenses will only be strengthened when you go among them. There will be elves to kill." He smiled, but the smile grew a little strained when Anadrel remained silent. "Come, Anadrel, think of it- a chance to kill those who killed our people!" Anadrel clenched her lips over her teeth to keep from answering. Did this pompous child- a child whom she had thought of as her equal only a few months ago, one of the few Starseekers whose presence she could tolerate- understand nothing? It was not the elves who were behind this. It was the Elfmother. For the thousandth time, Anadrel swore vengeance on Her. But how could one ever take that vengeance, when She was immortal, with a Garden beyond the worlds and hordes of mortal servants to do Her bidding? "If that does not appeal to you, we might send you north, to negotiate with Rowan." There was a very slight disdainful expression on Rian's face, not the proper emotion to use when speaking about the most powerful city in the world, Anadrel thought. "The Councilmaster there is- young. She needs a guiding hand." "Where do you want me to go, lord?" He blinked at her, coming out of his trance of scorn. "One of those two places." Damn all the stars for it, she would have to suggest it herself, it seemed. "My lord, I would like to go to Oak with the Lord Elian." For a moment, the Council members seemed to stiffen, and Rian's eyes darkened with jealousy. Anadrel glared. "Are you suggesting, my lady, that your help will be needed in Oak?" Rian was already seeking to turn this to his advantage, or at least Elian's disadvantage, Anadrel thought in fury. His whole posture was a picture of concern as he gazed at her. "Do you think that Elian will not be loyal, that he will turn against us and betray Palm's interests in the matter?" "What matter? He's a hostage." For a moment, the Council members seemed about to say something, or several things, but Rian ignored all of them. He might not have seen them, of course. It was hard for him to see something when he was staring into Anadrel's face with such determination. "He could still be used. Do you think he will be? Do you think you must go to keep him honest?" "No." "Then why? I had planned to send you where you would be needed, my Lady Anadrel. I had not planned for you to spend your time watching or covering for or caring for a traitor." Anadrel smirked at him. He had gone too far. He did not yet understand the limitations of his new power; he was used to commanding Starseekers, who would often listened to the Deriad first and their own common sense later. Some of the Council members, even the Lady Calera, were exchanging doubtful glances. The Lady Calera even made some attempt to speak. Rian overrode her again. "Anadrel, I would prefer you to stay here, rather than go with him." Anadrel only grinned, and waited for the condemnation to begin. It did not take long. "My Lord Rian," said the Lady Calera in a stiff voice, brittle and sharp as broken glass, "the former Councilmaster gave up her power because her personal concerns were beginning to interfere with her concerns for the city. Must we accuse you of doing the same?" At least she got his attention. Starting, and looking visibly guilty, Rian turned. "What! No. Of course not." "Then I think it would be an excellent idea if the Lady Anadrel went with the Lord Elian." For a moment, Calera's eyes darkened when she spoke that title; they had been very nearly as happy about Elian's giving up the Mantle as they had been about her leaving office, Anadrel thought. "They could keep an eye on each other, or she on him, and tell us what happens in Oak. Elian, if he is not loyal to us, may not tell us anything, and as a hostage he will be permitted little freedom of movement in any case. It will be best to send Anadrel along with him, so that we can see the city for ourselves, through our eyes." Anadrel did not care whether the reason that Calera had just given was the real one, or if the Councilwoman simply wanted both of these potential great troublemakers gone from the city. The truth did not really matter. The result was the same, and that was all that Anadrel cared about. "Very well," said Rian after a moment. Anadrel nodded in grudging respect despite herself. The new Councilmaster had seen very quickly that he could not outfight those who now opposed him. He would have to wait and do the best he could latter. "The Lady Anadrel shall go with the Lord Elian to Oak." He paused a moment, then added, "She will not be a diplomat, but she will be a messenger. She will carry our greetings to Oak and the High Priest Gerath. And she will do what she can to see what there is to see in Oak and let us now." His eyes found Anadrel's, challenging her silently to object to being used as a spy. It was her turn to disappoint him. She rose to her feet and gently bowed. "My lord, that sounds a fair idea. A fair price." Any price would have been fair if it had allowed her to go with Elian, but she saw no need to mention that, and most especially not to them. "Very well," Rian repeated, as if seeking to solidify his will. "You may go, Lady Anadrel. And please tell the guards of my orders concerning the elves." Anadrel paused at the door. "I thought, my lord, that the elves were out of the city?" Still wary as to what the Council might mean or do with this sudden declaration of war against the elves, she did not want to issue the orders unless he could convince her there was a reason for them. "I know, but they may return. And the guards have not yet been told of the orders concerning the elven merchants." Anadrel nodded and took her leave, glad to be out of the Ashonna, though she was curious about what he had evidently not wanted her to hear. She walked quickly through the silver corridors, stopping every few moments to pass the news to a chattering Starseeker or a guard in the bright silver- white livery of the Council. She raised her voice each time, so those spectators who even now lingered in the corridors, hoping to hear some news, would not be disappointed. Rian's play for power, if that was what it was, must be curtailed before it began. It had to be. She found herself outside at last, under unexpectedly late sunlight. Blinking, Anadrel decided that her impression that hours were passing, which she had attributed to her boredom, had been accurate after all. She set off towards home, not looking at those who swarmed around her. She was not sure she wanted to look at these people who seemed happy to have Rian Denfroi as a Councilmaster. Already, his name was spoken on many lips with hopes of peace and rest. Anadrel shook her head and snorted. For whatever reason, Rian wanted this war. There would be no peace with the elves as long as he ruled, or guided, or did whatever it would be in Palm. For a moment, she seriously entertained the thought of killing him. Unlike Elian, she was a loyal citizen of Palm, and if Rian was bad for the city, then she might have to get rid of him before he could do any great damage. Elian would say that was her own hatred talking, that she was wary of the secret plans he seemed to have, that her imagination was distorting something innocent into something malevolent... Damn Elian! Anadrel did not realize she had spoken aloud until she realized that some of those going past had turned to stare at her. They glanced away quickly, though she had seen recognition in many different eyes. That only made her all the angrier. They knew who she was; they had to. She had served as their Councilmaster for a little while, and she had helped Elian to heal the city. But now, wanting to forget the days of the plague that had devastated them, wanting to forget everything about the debt they owed to Starseekers, they turned away from her. How much worse must it be for Elian? How much must he be hated? Damn it, she didn't want to think about that. But think about it she did, as she began the relatively long walk from the Elicalara to her own home. She had no better idea of what to do than ever before. She only knew that she had to do something, that she could not abandon this love as Elian seemed so willing to do. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever felt, or was likely to feel. She clenched a fist beneath her heart as if that would stop it from aching, and grimly considered whether she would make it worse by going with him to Oak. No. She didn't think so. There was little else that could get worse. They held each other to blame for separate crimes, did not speak, did not allow their love to shine through. She had little choice; she had to hope that proximity to her, sight of her life, would shatter his stubbornness at last. The slanting shadows made her thoughts all the darker. Anadrel was wandering in almost a haze of misery by the time she left the last marketplace behind and came in sight of her house. The autumn flowers glowing all about it, as golden as the sky, made her smile, but not much. Elian was there, and she knew that she would have to apologize for backhanding him earlier. She didn't look forward to it. There came a soft sound as she stepped towards the gates, a sound that she thought she recognized but was not sure of. She turned slowly, her eyes moving through the shadows as she called on her magic. It had been a growl, and there would be few wild beasts loose in Palm, but the past few months had taught her to be a little warier. Standing not far away was a husky shape that she recognized. It resembled a wolf, but was taller, heavier, and far quicker, with a flexible spine and hand-like forepaws. A Lureth's Child; its golden-touched coat and golden eyes, now waxing to scraps once more as the golden moon grew again, proclaimed that. It gazed at her with those blank, burning eyes, and did not move. Anadrel paused before blasting the life from it, partially because she was not sure she could, partially because there was something familiar about this particular one. She became surer of it the longer she looked, but she could not have told what it was if doing so would have saved her life. The Child did not move, did not even walk away or speak. It was still standing there when she turned her back on it and went into the house, still there when she glanced back over her shoulder, still there when she eased the door shut. Anadrel accepted Dore's offer of meat and cheese gladly, still shaken by the strange encounter. Lureth, the Lady of the Golden Moon, the Goddess of the Lureth's Children, seemed to respect Elian and would not pursue him as she had been. But would that prevent her from sending her Children after Anadrel? Anadrel didn't think so. "Who was appointed Councilmaster?" Dore asked as she took her own seat and began to eat. The woman who served them was relatively young, though older than Anadrel, and pretty enough, with her green hair and clear blue eyes, that Anadrel sometimes felt jealous when she looked at her. This time, however, her mistress only flopped into a chair and began listlessly to eat. "Ascended," Anadrel corrected, then had to repeat the word, since her mouth was full of cheese. Bits of it sprayed on the table before she could control them, and she gathered them hastily in again, hoping Dore hadn't noticed. "Rian Ascended to become Councilmaster." "Rian?" Dore exclaimed in surprise, setting down a slice of the beef or whatever the meat was that she had prepared tonight. "But I thought he would have been a bad choice. Did no one object?" "He withstood the tests," said Anadrel, this time taking a bite of the meat and swallowing it before she tried to speak. It was good, but after a few moments, she gave up identifying it. Food on a day like this was Dore's concern, not hers. "No one had a protest, no. There was really nothing to protest?" "Would they have let a rapist become Councilmaster, had they known?" Dore's voice carried some heat. Anadrel shrugged her ignorance and went back to eating. She didn't really care about Rian's Ascension now; she was trying to decide how and when and where she should try to speak to Elian again. It was not a task that she relished, but best to have it over with before she tried to do anything else, anything more important or serious. Of course, there was nothing more important or serious in her immediate future. The meat turned to ashes in her mouth at the realization- the realization that she would never again be really happy unless she made her peace with Elian. "Oh, stars curse it," she said softly, and put the food down. But still she delayed, looking up at Dore. "Where is Mother?" "She said there was someone she had to talk to, someone at the Elicalara." That was unusual, but it was of little import compared to the other question. "And Elian?" Speaking his name was an effort. Anadrel never knew whether it would come out scornful or filled with longing. Today it was fairly even, which pleased her well enough. Dore led Anadrel's eyes to the closed door of the room they had given him, and nodded a silent encouragement. Then she stood and left the room with light steps, pausing to look back only once. Her eyes were filled with a mixture of determination and wistfulness. ^You two were meant for each other,^ she said to Anadrel telepathically. ^If not, I would make a try for him myself.^ Anadrel nodded, managing to keep her face calm until Dore had gone, and then turned to look at the door. There was no sound from behind it, but there often was not. Elian made little noise, whether he was sleeping or packing or eating or sitting there, his spirit glowing in his eyes, preparing to argue with her. Her heart was singing, though whether with fear or exhilaration Anadrel was not sure. Possibly it was with both, as it had been the first few times she had flown on dragonback. The flight itself was exciting, but the initial plunge, and the fall beneath the madly beating wings... She took a breath, and stepped up to the door, rapping gently at it. There was no answer, but now that she was close enough, she could smell him and hear the soft sound of his breathing- and feel him as well. There was some kind of link between them, perhaps caused by the mysterious tirshoon that had sent her to the southern Mountains to find him, perhaps created by the magic they shared and which had occasionally linked their souls. It rarely seemed to work any more, but just now, it was letting her know that he was indeed inside that room. And that... Anadrel frowned, and nudged the unlocked door a little further open. Elian was curled in his bed, still clothed in the Starseeker robes, as if sleep had struck him down like an eager assassin before he could change. He was murmuring restlessly, tossing and turning; it must have been the pressure of the nightmare in his mind that she had felt through their link. His eyes were pressed together more tightly than a sleeper's should be, and tears flowed down his cheeks with astonishing regularity, in crystal pulses like the chimes of a clock. "I'm sorry," Anadrel thought she heard him say. "I couldn't let her do it. You understand that, don't you?" A frantic appeal to someone Anadrel could not see, an appeal that the unknown one seemed to reject, judging from the way that Elian shrank into himself. For a moment, his voice became pleading. "No. No, I didn't mean it. How could I not mean it? I'm not sure. But I didn't. Really, I didn't." The last whisper was soft, filled with pain that Anadrel regretted ever wishing to see him with his masks gone. Something told her that she should leave, that this was private, that she should not see it. But she could not leave him to suffer like this, not when it would be the work of a moment to wake him. And she would not have the courage to face him again for a very long time... If ever. She put her hand on his shoulder and shook it gently. "Wake up, Elian. You're having a nightmare." Her voice was tender again, and her hand did not immediately leave his shoulder. She found herself reaching out again as if to caress his cheek, and reluctantly drew her hand back. Her eyes remained to trace the lines of his face, though, until his eyes opened. For a long moment, he stared at her without recognition. There was a dazed pain in his gaze that reminded her of a hawk she had once seen snatched from the nest by a falconer. It had looked shocky, unable to believe in its sudden captivity. Similarly, Elian could not believe that he was really awake. "Anadrel?" he asked, low-voiced, the question a desperate search for reality. "Here." He caught her suddenly in an embrace as rough as his voice, bowing his head against her shoulder. Anadrel embraced him quietly, wise enough to say nothing, feeling a slow warmth and triumph spread all through her. This is- what I want, she thought. WIthout the tears, of course. This is why I want to follow him to Oak, whatever his role might be there, whatever is likely to happen. I love him. At last, Elian drew back. His eyes were regretful, but grateful. For perhaps only the second or third time since she had met him, not counting the times when magic bonded them, his masks had been shattered. "I am sorry, my love. I did not mean you to see that." "Why not?" She asked it in a voice that she hardly recognized as her own. Probably because there was no anger in it, she thought with some humor as she let him pull away and sit up. "If I had known that you were having these nightmares, we could have tried to reconcile some days ago-" "That is what I feared." All Anadrel's irritation flooded back in a moment. She glared at him as he sat up more fully and ran a hand through his disordered hair, trying, without much success, to straighten it. "You were afraid that I would try to help you? Why?" "You would not be reconciling because you thought I was right, Anadrel, or that you were. You would have tamed your anger and held your tongue because you felt so sorry for me." Elian spoke precisely around the working of his jaw muscles to bring saliva into his mouth. He almost ignored her, looking at the wall and speaking so softly that she had to work to separate the words from the sound of his tongue. "What is wrong with that?" He turned his head and looked evenly at her. His blue eyes were free of sleep-haze now, were clear and merciless and unforgiving. and before them, her silver gaze dropped to the bed. "You know better than that." "Yes." Anadrel sighed, and tried to find some comfort in the fact that they were speaking to each other without screaming. Who was it who told him that her favorite verses were from a hymn by Terlin Deerfriend about the Elwen spirit, pride and rebellion, after all? He was only holding her to that. But... Her eyes rose again, and she studied him thoughtfully. Straightening his clothes and rebuilding his masks as he was, he did not notice, or did not seem to. What standards did he hold himself to? It was not a question she had ever thought to ask, because she had thought she understood him for too long. Only recently had she realized that she did not. And he wants to make sure that I never do, she thought, seething. Her voice when next she spoke was a whisper that was somehow worse than a shout, taut with anger and love and all the other things that she could not express freely because Elian would not express them. Throwing rage in his face when he would not rage, throwing love in his face when he seemed content to let his own love die, felt childish. "Elian, will you even tell me what the nightmares are about?" He turned back to look at her, and he actually seemed amused, though only faintly. "You should know the answer to that, Anadrel, better than I do, even. Simply because you know about them is no reason for you to know what they are about." Anadrel had never met anyone else who reasoned like Elian did, or anyone who argued as he did, either. He got his will, in the matters where he was insistent on having it, by listening and then quietly doing whatever he wanted to anyway. Thus, she felt that she never won any argument with him, except the ones he did not care about or wanted her to win. It was infuriating. "I think I have a right to know." She retreated into shaming him and startling him at the same time, as she often did. It was the only tactic that stood a chance of working with him. "I will be your traveling companion to Oak, after all, and if my nights are to be disturbed by whimpering, than I doubt that I will sleep the easier for not knowing what they are about." Elian gave her a dark stare, for a moment with rage blazing beneath the surface, and then more blandly. But there was too much interest in his voice when he asked, "Who said that you will be accompanying me? I thought that Rian would want you to stay here, and he is both Deriad and Councilmaster, after all." "He is, but he thinks I should go with you." Anadrel smiled. She could be of the sweetest temper in the world when she was winning. She was also determined not to let him distract her this time. "Now, what the nightmares are about? I do think you owe that to me." If there was one area where he could be stung, it was in the matter of the debts he owed. For a moment, he glared at her, visibly upset. Anadrel only smiled, and patted his hand. Elian sighed, and looked away. With early starlight coming through the window and touching his face with bars of pale silver radiance, he looked softer-featured than he actually was, and even more handsome. Anadrel would have choked to death before she told him so, largely because he would only stare, wondering why it mattered to her. "My father and my sister," he said, unwillingly, at last. "And Virita, of course." Anadrel wondered if he even noticed the fists his hands clenched into when he spoke the time Elwen's name. "All of those who would know me best, have the most chance to cause me pain." "Not me?" He gaped at her, then smiled.