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.