But as he reached toward Wynn, she saw a pleading in his gaze that spoke louder than his fatherly words. He was giving her a way out, a way beyond the premin's immediate reach, and she'd better take it.

"Of course, Domin," she said quickly. "And our apologies for this upset."

To Wynn's relief, Chane followed her with only one last glare at the elven guards. Shade scurried ahead, rumbling at the younger archivist until he backstepped in shock.

Gyr reluctantly let them pa.s.s, but his eyes never left Wynn.

Her relief was short-lived. They may have escaped the premin's anger, but they had nothing to show for it.

Chane did not say a word all the way back to their room. Much as he would prefer to let this failure drive Wynn toward home, his thoughts raced elsewhere. He searched wildly for some way to get her into the correct archives. For certainly if he did not, what would she do next, and thereby place herself in even more danger?

None of his abilities, his arcane tools or books, or even his recently mastered concoctions offered a single way to help her. There had to be something, though he could not yet see it.

Wynn shuffled ahead of him through the small common room and up to the pa.s.sage to their quarters. Only once did Chane catch her profile. He expected to see defeat, but instead her features were tense, eyelids half-closed in some deep thought. This made him worry even more.

He wanted to say something, to do something, to make her feel better or divert her from whatever drastic scheme she would try next. Still, he could think of nothing, and it was driving him mad under the constant prodding of this place, this forest, all over his flesh.

Wynn opened the door to their room and stepped inside.

"Where have you been?"

Chane looked over her head to see Ore-Locks standing inside their room. Without answering, Wynn walked past him and sank down on her bed ledge. This penchant of hers was also beginning to worry Chane. More and more, she often shifted between suffering in defeat and rushing into thoughtless action.

"We had a chance and we took it," she sighed.

Ore-Locks crossed his arms. "What chance?"

Wynn looked up at him, hesitating, and then told him everything up to the point where Gyr had come for them.

"We were in the wrong archive," she finished. "Now I have no way to gain the right one."

Ore-Locks grimaced, his anger no better contained than the premin's, though his reason was exactly the opposite. Whatever his ultimate motivation might be, his goal was for Wynn to succeed in finding the lost dwarven seatt.

"We cannot stay here doing nothing," Chane finally said. "Yet we cannot continue until we learn where to go. We are without options."

"I know that!" Wynn nearly shouted, and then shut her eyes. "Sorry," she said more softly, "but I'm well aware of our situation."

Ore-Locks glanced sidelong at Wynn, his broad face thoughtful. His resentment had vanished, which left Chane wary. Dwarves were not quick to real anger, but once it came, it did not fade easily.

"If you cannot access written words," Ore-Locks said, "then turn to truer spoken ones."

Wynn lifted her head, looking at him in puzzlement. Then she dropped her chin back into her hands.

"Oral tradition may be your people's way," she said, "but not for the guild or the elves."

"The elves are long-lived," he went on. "They may not be as oral as my people, but more so than humans. Someone here must know something of use."

Wynn sat upright. Something in Ore-Locks's words must have sparked another wild notion.

"No one here will talk to us," Chane interrupted. "They have been warned against us by now."

"Then find someone who disagrees with them," Ore-Locks stated, looking only at Wynn. "We have already met one such who finds the guild quite distasteful . . . because of Chuillyon."

Wynn lifted her eyes to him and whispered in astonishment, "Vreuvill!"

Chane's chest tightened the instant that name crossed her small lips, for Ore-Locks might be correct. That wild woman-priestess, whatever she was-might tell them whatever she knew simply out of spite, if she knew anything useful at all.

Chane could not bear the thought of going anywhere near First Glade again. The first night had been horrible.

Wynn's soft brown eyes shifted to him, concern and questions on her face, as if she'd read his thoughts. Chane knew it was too late now to stop her, but he raised a hand before she spoke.

"We have no idea where or how to find her in this . . . forest."

The antic.i.p.ation on her face faltered. It crushed him to crush her hope. Yet Wynn would still push blindly forward, now that Ore-Locks had prodded her.

Chane simply hoped he could stall a little longer-long enough to find a better answer. Only then did he notice an oddity from the only silent one in the room.

This time, Shade had not protested at all.

CHAPTER 14.

Sau'ilahk observed a'Ghrihln'na through the tshglh's eyes. Not one elf walking the city's paths noticed the animal darting between sculpted shrubs and bushes. The beast was easy to control, but once it reached the guild's living structure, it paused under Sau'ilahk's own astonishment.

He had never searched the Lhoin'na lands before. Sight of the guild left him briefly stunned before sending his new familiar clawing up the thick bark. It peered through crystal-paned windows in search of Wynn, but found no sign of her. When it scaled the structure's heights, slipping through a tight saddle between treetop spires, Sau'ilahk looked down into a deep inner s.p.a.ce.

The guild was not a solid ma.s.s, as he had first thought. It was a ring, its inner s.p.a.ce left open between them. The tshglh took longer than the upward climb to skitter down into the courtyard's green growth. It ducked in beneath a rhododendron's bulk and hid beneath the large purple blossoms.

Tall elves robed in various colors walked the shale pathways, but Sau'ilahk was looking for any way into the structure. Then he spotted Wynn by pure chance.

She emerged from a door with Shade-and Chane.

A glint from Chane's left hand caught the tshglh's attention, and it began to croon. Sau'ilahk eyed Chane's bra.s.s ring with unsettling envy.

The ring had to be how Chane had breached the forest. No other explanation would justify a mere dabbler in conjury achieving such a feat as an undead. The ring became all the more desirable.

Ore-Locks came out behind the trio.

Sau'ilahk exerted will upon the tshglh, stopping it from chasing after the object of both their obsessions. He held the creature back until certain of Wynn's destination, another door across the courtyard. To follow, the animal had to do so at the correct instant.

He directed it ever closer from bush to bush. As Wynn pulled open the door, the animal bolted toward the wall to the portal's right, ducking behind a hedge. When Ore-Locks stepped inside last, the tshglh slipped through before the door closed. It darted into the dim entry chamber's nearest corner and curled in the shadows, waiting to follow unseen.

Chuillyon paced his outer room beneath the southern spire's base. He was not precisely worried. He was simply waiting-and waiting-for news.

Too much talk had spread among the domins and masters concerning an illicit entry into the Naturology archives. For such quick gossip, there were very few useful details. Naturology was the last branch of the archives Chuillyon would have guessed Wynn would seek. What, by Chrmun's grace, was she doing in there?

"Domin?" a lilting voice called from above.

"Yes, come!"

Hannschi appeared at the chamber's entrance.

"What have you learned?" he asked immediately.

"The journeyor and her companions left the grounds and headed north, out of the city. They eventually took the Birth Path, likely all the way to First Glade."

Chuillyon was dumbstruck. There was no telling what Wynn Hygeorht might do next.

"Wait, go back," he said. "What happened in the archive? Have you learned anything new?"

For a mere journeyor of Metaology, Hannschi's skills were exceptional. She could bend light by her thaumaturgy, creating simple illusions, or twist what it did or did not illuminate. She never attained the complete elimination of light, but her abilities made eavesdropping much easier.

"I could not get close enough," she answered. "I waited nearby in an unoccupied side pa.s.sage. Premin Gyr is furious about the letter. He believes someone broke into his office and used the council's seal."

Hannschi offered Chuillyon the most irritated glare her elegant face could portray. He forced himself not to smile.

"I caught up with the premin," she continued, "as he closed himself inside his office with the master archivist. I amplified any sound within the wall's wood. His first instinct was to suspect you."

Chuillyon almost rolled his eyes. That much would be obvious.

"But there was doubt," she added. "He still believes you are his ally, yet he a.s.sumes none of the other premins would dare such an act. He is frustrated in not finding an answer."

"Good enough for now."

"He will not let this go," she warned, as if shocked by his satisfaction. "Tomorrow morning's gathering will be difficult."

Hannschi had a polite way with euphemisms. "Difficult" would hardly describe it. Chuillyon would not be at all surprised if Gyr called an emergency meeting tonight.

"What about Journeyor Hygeorht?" he asked. "What was she after?"

Hannschi shook her head. "I suspect she did not realize that the archives are divided by the orders into five separate locations."

Chuillyon digested this notion. At least it explained Wynn's baffling choice of destination in using the pa.s.s. However, not only had she used up her chance, and a hard-won chance at that; she had wasted his capability to a.s.sist her further.

"And she is heading for First Glade?"

"Yes."

It was not difficult to guess why. The place itself held nothing useful for Wynn, even in seeking Chrmun's grace. As a somewhat typical human sage, she would have only scholarly wonder and curiosity in the tree.

Something-someone-else had been present there on Wynn's first brief visit.

Chuillyon let out a tired exhale. "Oh . . . rotted roots!"

Hannschi's eyes blinked rapidly at his near obscenity.

"I had better follow her," he muttered, more to himself than to Hannschi. "I should make certain-"

"Chuillyon!" a deep, angry voice called from above.

Hannschi jumped slightly at the sound, her eyes popping wide, and Chuillyon's neck muscles tightened.

"Yes, Gyr," he called back. "What may I do for you?"

Wynn pressed on along the narrow path to First Glade. With the sun crystal staff in hand, she followed Shade's lead, and Ore-Locks brought up the rear. Chane once more held on to her shoulder under the forest's growing influence, and she felt him tremble through his grip. When she glanced up, his eyes were closed. His face was covered by the same sheen as the last time they'd come this way.

Chane's gaze darted about. He flinched twice, as if something had jumped out of the dark at him.

At the rear, Ore-Locks was watching him closely.

"Almost there," Wynn whispered.

Chane's grip tightened briefly.

She wished she knew of a way to help him, but had he possessed an ounce of sense, he would have stayed behind. Really, how much protection could he provide in his current state?

They reached the path's strange three-way split, only this time Shade came to a dead stop. Her ears p.r.i.c.ked as she raised her head high, nose in the air.

"What's wrong?" Ore-Locks asked.

Shade turned a tight circle and lowered her head as she appeared to search the forest. She suddenly huffed, and Wynn heard something in the distance.

A lone howl carried from far off.

Chane's grip tightened again.

A second howl rose, a little longer than the last. Wynn was still uncertain where it had come from.

Shade turned, looking between the trees. As another howl came, she wheeled around, and a single word sounded in Wynn's mind, in her own voice.

-Follow- Shade bolted into the underbrush.

"What's she doing?" Ore-Locks called.

Wynn grabbed Chane's belt to pull him along, but he gripped her wrist and hauled her back. His colorless eyes shifted in every direction.

"Not into the trees!" he rasped. "You are not going in there."

Wynn couldn't see Shade. She heard the dog huff twice and that was all as she peeled off Chane's fingers and took his hand.

"Close your eyes and trust me," she said.