"I think they will try to force their way in if we refuse them entry. I think they intend to take the valley away from us. We have to prepare for this, without reliance on the barriers that have kept us safe, and we have to do so now."

Trow Ravenlock c.o.c.ked an eyebrow at Panterra. "You told them where we were, Pan? You gave them that information willingly?"

The boy flushed at the rebuke. "I was a prisoner and under threat of being harmed. I didn't know their intentions at the time. I didn't even know that they were migrating."

"It isn't his fault; they would have discovered the truth easily enough without his help. You should be grateful that he had the presence of mind to deceive them as to your strength of numbers and preparedness." The Gray Man brushed the comments aside. "Concentrate your thinking on what's needed now. The three of you are the leaders of this community. The boy and I have chosen to come to you first because the danger to Glensk Wood is greatest. If the Trolls look to come into the valley, they will come through either Declan Reach or Aphalion. The Elves will set defenses at the latter; you should think of doing the same here."

"We have no army," Pogue Kray pointed out. "We have no skills or training at organized fighting. What can we do?"

"Whatever is needed." Sider Ament held his gaze. "Others will come to help you once they know of the danger, but while you wait for help to arrive you had better do what you can to prepare yourselves. Fortify the pa.s.s. Use your Trackers to show you how; they have training and skills. But if you just sit here ..."

He trailed off and shook his head.

"You make your point." Skeal Eile looked around the room, measuring everyone. "If there were to be an objection to all of this, it should come from me. What Sider Ament says is a blasphemy on the teachings of the Children of the Hawk. But I say nothing against him. It is clear he believes what he says and has seen what he claims. I was wrong to doubt him, and I am sorry for my mistake. We must rethink our beliefs-no one more than myself. I acknowledge this. I believe still that the Hawk will return when it is time, but until then he expects us to help ourselves. Gray Man, as Seraphic of this and many other villages I defer to you and to your best judgment in how this should be handled. I stand ready to help."

As if things couldn't possibly get any stranger than they already were, Panterra thought. Skeal Eile offering to help Sider Ament? Acknowledging that his teachings might be wrong? It was insane.

"My Trackers and I stand ready as well," Trow Ravenlock added, clearly spurred by the commitment from Skeal Eile. "Pogue, surely the council will rally behind us?"

For a long moment, Pogue Kray was silent, glowering at nothing in particular, his head lowered, his shoulders hunched. He looked to be a fighter in search of an opponent, not knowing where to find one. He seemed worn out, suddenly reduced in size in spite of his bulk. He shifted his gaze from one of them to the next, quick looks that refused to linger, as if he were dismayed.

"I don't know what to think," he said finally. "We have no proof of any of this. We have only the word of the Gray Man and this boy, who is already under a cloud of suspicion. How is it that we should believe either?"

"The boy has never lied to me before," Trow Ravenlock said quietly. "I doubt that he does so now. Tell us, Pan. Does the Gray Man speak for you, too, in this matter?"

Panterra nodded quickly. "He does. Everything he says is true. I was there; I saw it. Some of it, I told him myself."

Ravenlock looked back at Pogue Kray. "That's good enough for me. If the Seraphic and I are willing to look further into this, you should be willing to do so, too."

Pogue Kray shook his head, still doubtful.

"What have you got to lose?" Sider asked. "Send men up into the pa.s.s and see what you find there. If the protective barrier is down, you have your answer and can do what's needed about the rest of it. Doing nothing is what puts you at risk."

The big man looked at him, studied him carefully, but not in a good way, and then finally nodded. "I will look into it. Maybe you do speak the truth, although I question if that is possible."

Sider said nothing, but Panterra could tell that the antagonism between them had as much to do with Aislinne as it did with the news the Gray Man had brought. Their rivalry might be buried in the past, but Pogue Kray had unearthed it and set it out for everyone to view.

The Gray Man turned to Skeal Eile. "I want your word that neither you nor any of your followers will harm either Panterra or Aislinne for their part in all of this. If they have done anything to offend, put the blame on me. I encouraged it."

The Seraphic managed a shocked look. "I have already admitted my failings and promised that I would stand by you. That oath includes the boy and the woman. I give you my word that both are perfectly safe from any who serve or follow the teachings of the Children of the Hawk. I will see to it that my word is kept."

Something about the way he said it was immediately troubling to Panterra, much the way his att.i.tude in all of this had been. But on the face of things, the oath seemed straightforward enough, and Sider apparently took it to be so, nodding in satisfaction.

"Very well," he said. He looked at the other two. "The boy and I will spend the night and leave in the morning for Calling Wells, Porterria, and Mountain View. We will warn the people there, their leaders and councils, and ask them to send you armed help. Two have small armies, as you know, which can stand with you against the Trolls. Will you send word to the small villages while I'm gone?"

"I will see that it is done," Trow Ravenlock said, apparently thinking to speak for all of them. "You needn't worry."

They probably did need to worry, Pan thought, but this was the best they could hope for.

Good nights were exchanged in an uneasy parting, and the boy followed the Gray Man out the door and into the dark.

THEY HAD GOTTEN ONLY AS FAR AS THE EDGE of the surrounding trees when Aislinne caught up with them. "A moment, Sider," she said, bringing him around to face her. "Panterra, stand over there and wait on us."

She pointed to one side, and the boy walked over obediently and turned his head away.

"What did you tell Pogue about running after me like this?" Sider asked at once.

She gave him a look. "Not everything that pa.s.ses between us is about you, Sider. Pogue understands this, even if you don't. I told him that I needed to apologize to both Panterra and you for the way you were treated. I told him that this was in no way a threat to him and he should not take it so-that he and I are married and that whatever was between you and me was over and done with a long time ago. He accepts that."

Sider felt a sharp ache when he heard her speak those words, but he understood the need for them and simply nodded.

"What I want to say to you has nothing to do with an apology," she continued. "You require no apology; you knew what you were getting yourself into, as you mostly always do. But I want to remind you of what I said earlier. Leave Panterra alone. Let him live his life. Do not think to make him your apprentice. Don't try to take him away from Prue. He is not ready for that and neither is she. Find another apprentice or let the matter be until one comes along. I mean it, Sider. I am warning you."

He shook his head. "I wouldn't have thought that matters would ever come to this, Aislinne. Warnings are not required. We have always understood each other better than that. What's done is done between us, but I still read you like a Tracker can read a trail sign. I still know what's in your heart. Your caution is noted. Do not presume further."

She gave him a long, searching look. "I rather doubt you know as much as you think. I would guess you know almost nothing of me, even now. But I will take it that my warning is understood and you will act accordingly." She seemed about to say something more, then shook her head. "Good luck to you."

She started to turn away, then hesitated and looked back again. "Be careful, Sider. I do not trust Skeal Eile's word. You might have noticed that he did not give a promise of safety to you, only to Panterra and me. And I don't trust even that."

She walked away quickly, back toward the house, and he had to fight down the urge to go after her and claim her and take her away with him once and for all. But that ship had sailed a long time ago, and so he beckoned to Panterra and disappeared into the trees.

"SEE HOW THEY TALK WITH EACH OTHER?" Skeal Eile whispered. He was standing close to Pogue Kray, close enough to feel the heat of the other's anger as he watched his wife with the Gray Man. "See how they incline their heads so that they are almost touching?"

Trow Ravenlock was already gone, anxious to get back to his Trackers, already thinking ahead to what he must do on the morrow. But the Seraphic had lingered, sensing an opportunity.

"She has said it is nothing," Pogue Kray replied without conviction.

"She would say that, wouldn't she? I warned you, Pogue. I said she was duplicitous. I said she does not hold you as close as you believe she does. Now this."

The big man had not looked away once from the scene at the edge of the trees and did not do so now. "I believe her," he said.

"Your sense of loyalty is admirable." Skeal Eile let the moment pa.s.s, watching as the two former lovers parted and Aislinne started back toward the cottage. "Well, duty calls. Much needs doing yet this night."

He went out the door swiftly, moving down off the porch and turning away from the approaching woman, heading toward the center of the village. He had done as much as he could to sow the necessary seeds of distrust in Pogue Kray. The rest would have to wait. He could sense the big man weakening, growing doubtful, less confident of his wife's fidelity. He would continue to doubt her, even though he would hate himself for doing so, and would eventually cease to trust her altogether. The Seraphic would see to that. As her credibility with her husband waned, Aislinne Kray would become more vulnerable and ultimately cease to be a threat. All of which would permit him to proceed with his newly revised plan for domination of the valley's populace without interference from either of the Krays.

But all that was for later. More pressing matters needed his attention just now.

He hurried on through the night, bypa.s.sing the main roadways in favor of the more obscure paths, anxious not to be recognized. Soon he was across the village and approaching its outskirts, the houses fewer and population spa.r.s.er. He was replaying in his mind Sider Ament's words, considering how they impacted his plans, grateful that he had known in advance that the Gray Man and the boy were coming, that he had been prepared for them and able to think through carefully in advance the nature of his response.

Every setback brought fresh opportunity. It was so here. He need only make use of his skill and experience to take advantage of it.

When he was deep in the trees, he slowed, pacing himself, gathering his thoughts anew, wanting to be careful now, to be cautious. He did not want to reveal what he was feeling-the excitement, the euphoria, and the intense sense of possibility that fed his ambitions. Not to the boy, his killing tool.

He reached the dilapidated cottage, walked up to the sagging porch, and stopped. The old man was nowhere in sight, and the cottage was as dark and silent as ever. Yet there was someone inside; there was always someone inside. Even the old man, blind as he was, kept watch in his own way and would know Skeal Eile was there.

But it was the boy who appeared this time, coming silently through the doorway to greet him. "Your Eminence," he said, his smile bright and expectant. "Did things go well for you?"

"You know of the meeting, then?"

The smile widened. "Tell me something of what was said, won't you?"

Skeal Eile ignored the question. "It was helpful of you to advise me of their coming. It makes it so much easier for me to forgive you for your failure to carry out your a.s.signment in Arborlon."

Bonnasaint shrugged. "Sometimes patience is the only alternative to disaster. I did what I could. My disguise as an old woman got me close to their quarters, but not to them. They were away from the city when I arrived and remained gone for several days. When the boy returned, he was alone. The girl never did reappear. The boy was always in the company of others, including the King of the Elves. He stayed but one night, and then he was gone again. An opportunity that would have allowed me to perform my special services never presented itself. My apologies, again, if you are displeased."

Smooth and diffident, as always. Skeal Eile inclined his head. "I am in no way displeased. Matters have taken an unexpected turn, one that makes it wiser to let the boy and the girl live. They will cause no further trouble. The failure of the protective walls and the appearance of this Troll army require that I take a fresh approach. The Children of the Hawk are threatened, but in being threatened they are also offered an unexpected chance to enhance their standing and thereby my own among the citizens of the valley. It requires only a few nudges and a little luck for this to happen."

"You are ever vigilant in finding both," Bonnasaint observed, arching a perfectly formed eyebrow. "What is my role in advancing your special interests, Eminence?"

"My interests and yours run roughly parallel, Bonnasaint." He gave the youth a broad smile. "In the sense that I still have people who are obstacles to my efforts and you still have skills for removing such obstacles, nothing has changed. I still require you."

Bonnasaint executed a perfect bow, a graceful sweeping motion of one arm together with a downward cant of his slender body, an act of deference that could not be mistaken. "I am yours to command."

"Then listen carefully. The Gray Man and the boy travel south from Glensk Wood to the larger villages to enlist support for our own citizens. They do my work for me, although they do not realize it. They set the stage for my ascension as leader of all the peoples of the valley. The Races will be persuaded to stand with me when it matters, although ultimately it will be for purposes of my own. Do you see?"

The boy shrugged. "You seek to increase your hold over them?"

Skeal Eile smiled indulgently. Bonnasaint knew just enough to appreciate the opportunities, but cared nothing for the reasons. It was one of his best qualities. "The teachings of the Children of the Hawk are the way and the life. No other considerations or causes must be allowed to diminish those teachings or my own stature as leader of the sect. Simple enough."

"As you say," the other acknowledged. "It is an honor to serve you, a privilege."

"It is your calling, Bonnasaint. It is your destiny."

The other inclined his smooth, boyish face. "What is it you require of me this time, Your Eminence?"

"A great sacrifice, Bonnasaint. A great risk that might cost you your life if you are the least bit careless. For I intend to give you a challenge that no other would even dare consider. Does the idea suit you?"

There was a momentary pause as the boy regarded him. From within the cottage, the soft cackle of the old man wafted through the silence. Listening, of course. Always watching over his talented son. "Father," the boy said, an admonishing edge to the word. He kept his eyes fixed on Skeal Eile, and the latter could tell that the hesitation was born not of uncertainty, but of a desire to savor the moment.

"The idea suits me perfectly," he replied. "What is it you wish me to do?"

"To come with me on a journey of our own, the kind you best prefer."

Bonnasaint smiled. "Tell me more, Eminence."

The Seraphic bent close.

TWENTY-TWO.

PHRYNE AMARANTYNE WAS IN SUCH DISFAVOR WITH her father that she was forbidden to leave the city for any reason, a.s.signed instead to work with Isoeld in caring for the sick and injured. Phryne tried reasoning with him, but he talked right over her attempts at an explanation, fixated on his belief that she had not only disobeyed him but lied to him, as well. She thought his conclusions unfair and wrong, but he was having none of it. Her punishment was decided. She was confined to the city for as long as he decided she needed to be confined. When she asked how long that might be, he told her he would let her know.

With that, things quickly spiraled out of control. Her patience exhausted and her back well and truly up, Phryne lost her temper completely. She called her father pigheaded and obtuse. She called him other things, too, much worse things that came out of her mouth in the heat of a shouting match that brought retainers running. They arrived just in time to witness her father break a vase that had been given to him by her mother, sweeping it aside from its resting place on his desk in a wild gesture that was meant to emphasize the extent of his rage.

After that, it was pretty much over. She was sent to her room and told to stay there until she could conduct herself in a civil manner, and she told him that he should stay right where he was in his office until he could do the same. She stormed out, flinging final threats back at him in response to his own threats, and by the end of the day the tale of their confrontation had grown to epic proportions and was being recounted with imaginative embellishments throughout the city.

By the following morning, both Phryne and her father were speaking again, albeit without warmth or much eye contact.

Phryne was not unhappy to be working with Arborlon's healers, an undertaking she had engaged in on her own over the years, and she was rather pleased to be working with her stepmother, hoping that this might present a fresh opportunity to strengthen their relationship. She had all but decided that she had been wrong about Isoeld's infidelity and wanted to make amends. Here was the perfect opportunity, a chance to be with her for more than a few minutes at a time, working side by side in a shared effort to bring a little comfort and relief to those less fortunate. Doing so would allow them to know each other better and to find common ground that transcended Isoeld's marriage to her father.

But right away she noticed that her stepmother seemed less than pleased about her presence. It wasn't anything overt in her behavior or comments; on the contrary, she seemed to want to make Phryne feel welcome. It was mostly in her lack of enthusiasm and frequent periods of distraction. Phryne supposed these might be explained by the need for each of them to concentrate on the care each patient required. But the feeling persisted that something about having to share this time with Phryne was aggravating her. Something about her stepdaughter was nagging at her underneath all the pleasant words and friendly smiles.

Phryne wasn't sure what was going on, but she resolved to talk with Isoeld about it before the week was out in an effort to close this fresh breach that had opened between them. If that failed, she told herself, she might even choose to speak to her father about it, asking his advice on what to do.

But before she had a chance to act on this, she received a message from her grandmother summoning her for tea and conversation.

When it came to her grandmother it was never an invitation, it was always a summoning. Mistral Belloruus was her mother's mother, a formidable woman in her day, never a Queen herself, but the scion of a family of Kings and Queens reaching all the way back into the time before the Elves had uprooted and come to the valley. She had never approved of her daughter's marriage to Oparion Amarantyne, his crown and his impressive family history notwithstanding. She had not attended the wedding and not come into the palace or sat in the Council or attended official functions since. In point of fact, Phryne could not remember when she had last heard of her grandmother even leaving her home. Certainly she had never seen it happen herself.

Nor had Phryne gone to visit her grandmother or been invited-or summoned-to do so since the remarriage. It was as if their family ties had been so thoroughly severed that there was no point in even considering an effort at rebinding them. She accepted that she was as much to blame for this as her grandmother, since she had made virtually no effort to correct the situation, but whenever she had thought of trying to do so she had always come up with an excuse for putting it off to another time.

Now, it appeared, that other time was here.

The message was delivered as such messages always were-by one of the oldsters who still cl.u.s.tered about Mistral Belloruus like suitors. All of them were men of dubious origins and even more dubious purpose. Everything they did seemed to revolve around her grandmother. Phryne seldom saw any of them except when they were delivering her grandmother's messages. Such messages were frequent and always couched as admonitions to which she was advised to pay heed. They arrived at odd times and never included even a suggestion that a visit might be nice. But the oldsters were the same, some four or five of them in all-she could never remember which-and the messages were always handwritten on stationery inscribed with her grandmother's name.

This one was no different: To Phryne Amarantyne: Please attend on me this midday at my home.

Come alone. Give notice to no one of this meeting.

Be discreet. Be prompt.

Mistral Belloruus She did not use exclamation points, but she might as well have. Phryne could practically hear the emphasis her voice would have put on her words had she been present to speak them. The oldster conveying the message stayed long enough to be sure that Phryne had read it through and then, without waiting for a reply, he departed. Apparently it was a.s.sumed that once she knew what was required, she would act appropriately.

Phryne dawdled a bit that morning, trying out various scenarios for what she imagined might take place at this unexpected meeting. The one that made the most sense revolved around her grandmother's curiosity over why she was working with Isoeld. Mistral Belloruus knew well enough that Phryne did not care for her stepmother, and that there was no good reason evident that she would suddenly agree to work with her. Given this sudden change of heart, her grandmother might have deduced that something important had happened.

Or maybe she had simply decided it was time for her granddaughter to visit her.

Or maybe anything.

Phryne decided to dress for the occasion, choosing feminine, loose-fitting clothes of which she knew her grandmother would approve. She picked flowers from the garden, arranged them in a basket, added fresh apples, and with only minutes to spare set out.

It was a short walk down a main road diverging off into smaller byways, then into worn paths, and finally into trails that wound through the forest trees until they disappeared and you couldn't find your way unless you knew exactly where you were going. Her grandmother did not encourage visitors of any sort, limiting such to those with whom she was familiar. In most cases, even those weren't welcome without having either received a prior invitation or provided acceptable notice of an intended visit.

Her grandmother lived in a large cottage east and south of the main city in woods dedicated to her personal usage and jealously guarded against encroachment. Phryne wasn't sure who did the guarding, since all she had ever seen back there were the oldsters, but she had a feeling that it wouldn't be wise to try to find out. It was rumored that Mistral Belloruus had use of magic. Since Phryne hadn't visited for months, she couldn't really know if anyone was doing the guarding these days. It had been enough to know that her feisty grandmother was alive and well and still dispensing unsolicited advice to her granddaughter.

Still, she felt a certain pleasure in making this visit, knowing that by the time she left she not only would have made some sort of amends for her failure to visit earlier but also would be able to rea.s.sure herself that all was well with her grandmother.

She had not told her father where she was going. She had not told anyone, adhering to the admonition contained in her grandmother's message. But afterward, she would tell her father, because even if he wouldn't admit it, speaking only now and again of Mistral Belloruus, he cared about her and worried that they had become so alienated.

Phryne walked up to the porch of the cottage, finding one of the oldsters sitting in a rocker by the door, aged eyes fixed on her as she approached. She couldn't remember his name, although she had known it once. He was small and hunched over and wizened to the point of being dried out completely. His head inclined as she climbed the steps, and he whispered the word "Princess" by way of greeting. She inclined her head in response and walked past him through the open cottage door.

Inside, the rooms were gray and shadowy, curtains closed over windows, shutters canted against the sun, the whole of the interior as still and airless as a crypt. If felt to Phryne as if her grandmother might be trying to acclimate herself to being dead, but that was an unkind thought and she quickly dismissed it.