"Shoes," muttered Giles. "Thousands and thousands of shoes. Stafford is well known for the making of them."

"But not as well known," interjected the professor, "for the gravesite of Sebastian Delacourte, former lover of the elven lady La'laylia." His finger shifted to a tiny etching of craggy spires. "The town lies within the shadow of these stones, a mountain of quartz pulled from the very recesses of the land by the magic of La'laylia's violet scepter. Some even say the lady Annanor of Terrahame had a hand in the unearthing of it."

Giles nodded. Annanor of the brown scepter had the power over the very land itself, and he would not doubt the two elven ladies would aid one another in a play against one of the elven lords.

"It is rumored that Sebastian's grave lies within these very stones," continued the professor, "encased in a crystal coffin, the ring that La'laylia of Stonehame gifted him with still upon his finger. His face as youthful as when he lived." He straightened, his back making small popping sounds. "Many have tried to scale these mountains and all have failed. So if the coffin does exist, we will never know."

"My father may have found it."

"Ah, my dear. I hate to dash your hopes. But no man has ever emerged from those mountains alive."

Cecily blanched, and Giles took her arm and gently guided her back into the chair.

"Tell us the story of the lady La'laylia and her slave, this Sebastian Delacourte," said Giles. "We would like to hear your version."

Unfortunately, the old man's story matched the one they had been told at Sir Robert's, and when he came to the end of it, Giles looked at Cecily. "I suppose you still want to pursue Thomas?"

She tilted her chin. "How can you doubt it?"

He grinned. "I did not. We will leave at once."

"Wait," said Professor Higley. "This place you asked about earlier." His finger moved back to the spot not far from Oxford. "It is a forest of wild magic that no sane Englishman would dare enter. I daresay it would be best if you skirted the area entirely."

"What kind of wild magic?" asked Giles, his attention immediately captivated.

"The locals call it the Seven Corners of h.e.l.l."

"I see. It's the exact spot where the boundaries of all seven sovereignties meet. I imagine the mingling of those different powers would cause some chaos."

"Very good." Professor Higley glanced at Giles as if the cla.s.s dunce had just proven to be the most brilliant. "That is the prevailing theory, at least. That water meeting fire, and earth meeting sky, illusion meeting cold metal, et cetera, has created a confluence of energies that constantly battle one another. Indeed, the entire forest appears to shift before one's eyes, and trees may be replaced with barren desert or a thick mist of clouds or... we have a professor who has studied the phenomenon. And the creatures that occasionally emerge from it."

"Creatures?"

The professor shuddered. "No man who has ever entered that forest has come out alive, but we think the creatures who emerge from it may have once been men... horribly disfigured or altered by the wild magic."

Giles heard Cecily's small gasp of dismay and quickly squelched his curiosity. "We will be sure to avoid the place, although it will add hours to our journey."

"Most wise of you," said the professor.

Giles took Cecily's hand and lifted her to her feet, escorting her to the door. Her fingers felt cold.

"Thank you for the information, Professor."

"Yes," she added. "You have been most helpful."

The old man beamed at her words, but the intelligent eyes behind the spectacles stayed fixed on Giles. "Should you ever weary of adventuring, young man, you should take up the robes. It's a shame to have such a keen mind go to waste."

Giles flushed with pleasure. He had always been proud of his physical prowess, and women had confirmed his good looks with their eyes since he had been a lad. Perhaps he had started believing in his own disguise after spending years pretending to be a thickheaded blacksmith, but he had never considered himself quick-witted. Becoming a scholar had not occurred to him, but he suddenly realized the worlds that books may open for him might be an interesting pursuit.

"Oh," said Cecily, a wealth of sadness in her voice. "He would never give up adventuring, sir. It's as much a part of him as his green eyes."

Later that day, Giles thought Cecily had been more right about him than she knew. For instead of crossing the river and keeping it between them and the forest, he chose the other way around, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"You are incorrigible," she said with a look of annoyed indulgence. "That's the forest Professor Higley told us to avoid, isn't it?"

Giles stared into the thickly wooded forest to his right, hoping to see one of the dread creatures the professor had spoken of. What manner of beast would it be? Clawed, fanged, a complete deformity of human arms and limbs?

"We are keeping well away from it," he a.s.sured her. "I just wanted to see it with my own eyes."

Cecily followed his gaze. "It looks perfectly ordinary-"

The trees suddenly disappeared in a blaze of fire, leaving behind a landscape of gray ash. The earth split; Giles could feel the ground beneath their feet shake from the force of it, making Apollo snort and Belle squeal. The ash flowed down into the chasm and a green mist erupted back out of it.

"d.a.m.n," blurted Giles in complete admiration.

"I should have known better," muttered Cecily.

The mist swirled and formed columns that flowed like water, snaking about in a mad dance but never crossing the original line where the trees had once stood. Still, Giles guided Apollo farther away from the place.

Black flames erupted from within the mist, creating a wall of midnight that the sun could not penetrate. Twinkles of light appeared within the blackness, sparkling like so many jewels. Giles felt entranced by the display, until he noticed that Cecily appeared even more beguiled.

"Come," he urged. "There is another river up ahead and it will be safe for you to take a swim before we board the ferry."

"Giles, look." She raised a trembling hand toward one of the spots of light. "See, it's growing larger. And there's a figure within..."

Cecily tried to urge Belle toward the light, but the little mare stoutly refused. With that elven speed that made the outline of her body blur, Cecily leaped from the saddle and took off at a run.

His blade rapped him smartly against the thigh, but he hardly needed the warning.

"My fault," snapped Giles, leaping from Apollo as quickly-if not quite as gracefully. He bounded across the tall gra.s.s, catching up with her only because her skirts hampered her legs. He wrapped his arms about her waist and lifted her off her feet, swinging her about from the momentum of their flight. Her petticoats swirled just above the line where the forest had once started.

"Put me down!"

"What is wrong with you? You heard what the professor said."

"But Thomas..."

Giles turned his head toward that ball of light, squinting against the glare. It had grown twice its former size in the short time it had taken him to reach Cecily. And the figure it surrounded looked exactly like a youthful Thomas.

Had he not been holding Cecily within his arms, his devil-blade would have already been in his hand.

Thomas opened his mouth and Giles heard him speak, but so faintly he could make out only the sound of Cecily's name. She struggled against Giles's hold, and from the corner of his eye he could see a wall of blue racing toward them. She had called the river water.

"Cecily," he said, fighting to keep his voice calm. "Stop this."

"But Father wants to tell me something important."

"We cannot hear him. And we cannot venture within that madness. Look!"

Something tore at Thomas's hair and clothes, just like it had done within that circle of stone. A mist curled about his throat, about his mouth, stifling the words he struggled to say. His hair and coat streamed behind him, and despite his efforts to keep his feet planted, they began to slide backward.

Black fire blossomed beneath Thomas's feet and engulfed the ball of light, and within one breath and the next, caused a conflagration that heated Giles's face and hands with sudden pain.

A blanket of water doused his body, pushing him to the ground, Cecily still within his arms.

They both lay still for a moment, breathless and stunned. When Giles finally sat up, a thick tangle of trees met his gaze.

"Good thinking," he said, wiping the dampness from his face. "Although I'm not sure your water would have protected us from the black flame if we had ventured inside of it."

Cecily struggled to her feet, peeling wet cloth from about her legs. "I would have gone to him."

"I know."

"It would have been insane."

"No. It would have been... understandable. But I don't think that what we saw is truly Thomas. A vision of him, or a sending, yes. How could he be alive in such a place?"

"You are right. But he is trying to tell me something, and obviously using any means he can to do so."

"Yes. The magical properties of the standing stones, and now the wild magic of this forest." Giles glanced through the trees. Things slithered between the enormous trunks in the darkness beneath the thick canopy. He caught a flash of red eyes, a slither of a spiked vine. "I believe you are right, and with luck, we will find another place of magical energy that Thomas can tap into. But in the meantime we must find him, and not his sending."

Cecily turned and made a shooing motion. The remaining column of water rolled back upon itself and returned to the river she'd called it from. "Will this alert Breden of Dewhame to my presence?"

Giles frowned. "I don't think you used enough magic for him to sense. And besides, he doesn't know where to look for you now. Lady Ca.s.sandra would not have sent you forth unless her lord a.s.sured her of that."

Cecily c.o.c.ked her head, as if considering something for the first time. "But what if I had used the power of the storm? Surely he would sense that, even if we went to the farthest reaches of England."

"Since Breden of Dewhame is the only other to possess that power, it would not be lost amongst all the other magical energy that permeates England. So yes, Cecily. I believe he could find you that way. But since you have vowed not to use it, we don't need to worry about it, do we?"

A dry, soft nose suddenly b.u.mped his head. Giles glanced up and grinned at Apollo. The beast shivered from fear, but he had stayed near his master this time.

"Good boy," he said, his clothes squelching as he rose to his feet. "What say we get the h.e.l.l out of here, before that forest decides to change its shape again?"

Without waiting for her to answer, Giles swung up into the saddle and held his hand out to Cecily. Apollo might have the training of a warhorse, but Belle had been only a pleasure mount. She stood far off in the distance, her ears c.o.c.ked toward them, but not coming any closer.

As soon as he felt Cecily settle behind him, Giles urged Apollo into a gallop. The gelding immediately lunged forward, anxious to expend his nervous energy. Soon Giles heard the pounding of Belle's hooves as the mare caught up to them, but he did not suggest that Cecily switch mounts.

Within a few hours they entered the sovereignty of Stonehame, although they wouldn't meet up with the border patrol until they crossed the river. Giles found a private shelter of trees for them to dismount and eat their afternoon meal.

He winced when his boots. .h.i.t the ground, his feet sloshing within the sodden leather. Their ride had dried his neck cloth and the very front of his waistcoat, but the rest of his clothing still felt uncomfortably damp. He lifted his arms to help Cecily dismount and she fell into them, her riding coat as dry as the rest of her clothing. His brows rose in surprise.

"Shall I dry you, too?" she asked with a hint of mischief in her blue eyes.

"How might you manage that?"

"Oh, 'tis the same as calling the water, only in reverse. I expel it from the fabric."

"Even my boots?"

"Aye. Now close your eyes and hold very still."

He dropped his arms from about her waist but peeked at her from lowered lids, suspicious of her reasoning. And to his infinite joy, discovered he had the right of it.

She started with his hair, which had completely dried from their gallop, but he wouldn't be fool enough to protest when her fingers felt so good against his scalp. He barely felt her touch when she reached his neck, her fingertips nothing but a soft whisper against his skin, like the touch of a dragonfly's wing.

The chill that Giles had taken from his damp clothing burned away from the inside out.

Her palms caressed his coat at the shoulders, slowly traveling down the front of his chest, leaving dry cloth behind. She stepped closer to him to reach his back, and he breathed in the scent of her, fisting his hands against the urge to enfold her in his arms. She stared at him with eyes gla.s.sy with desire, and when she licked her lips Giles thought he would go mad.

Her hands reached his hips and his devil-blade tingled.

He nearly snorted in surprise.

But she quickly pa.s.sed over the scabbard and stroked the fabric of his breeches, and the result of that touch did not surprise him in the least.

Giles sucked a breath through his teeth when she reached behind him and caressed his bottom. He looked down upon her head, that lovely face mere inches from the fall of his breeches. He felt certain she had no idea what that intimated. But when she leaned back and stared at the swelling of flesh beneath it he knew her next actions were intentional.

She molded her hand against him, as if trying to seek out his shape beneath the fabric, rounding her hand over the top of his member and stroking the length of it down to his ballocks.

Giles closed his eyes fully and stopped breathing.

Apparently satisfied she had learned all that she could, Cecily swept her arms down his thighs, pushing at the hard muscle, then over this boots. Giles felt his stockings dry right inside of them.

He heard the rustle of her skirts as she stood. "Now I will go take that swim you promised me."

Giles jerked his head in semblance of a nod. When he heard her footsteps behind him he remembered to breathe again.

"You are a fine figure of a man, Mister Giles Beaumont," she said before she disappeared within a rustle of bushes.

The merriment in her voice caused such a fierce emotion to swell within his chest that it overpowered the raging of his body. What an exasperating, tantalizing, absolutely stupendous woman.

They had little difficulty crossing the border, with only a minimal bribe once the patrol discovered that a woman had come to Stonehame to conduct business. The rumors that La'laylia of Stonehame encouraged the authority of women appeared to be true, although the stories that Giles had been told about the land seemed to be exaggerated.

Perhaps if they had gone as far as Westmorland, where Stonehame Palace stood in Appleby, they might have seen more proof of the elven lady's excavations which had altered the landscape. But this far south, rivers still flowed and heather and greenery covered the hills.

Giles could only feel grateful that he would not have to witness Cecily withering from lack of water. And smug satisfaction that the Rebellion's plans to force Cecily to call upon the power of the sky would be foiled. There was enough water to easily come to her call, should she need it.

Although Giles vowed it would not come to that. She would not need her magic for protection. She had his sword.

They pa.s.sed through Warwick, where he restocked their supplies from the market town, and quickly rode through Birmingham, for it reminded him too much of Bladehame with its iron factories. By the time they reached Wolverhampton the rivers became smaller, mounds of quartz and granite replacing the gently rolling hills, patches of brown earth testament to the mining that had taken place.

But the River Sow still flowed strong in Stafford, and although the marshes that were rumored to once lie hereabouts had completely dried up, Giles felt that could be no bad thing.

They rode through the outskirts of the city, Belle and even Apollo hanging their heads with exhaustion, for he had pressed them during the day and through half of the night. Indeed, since they had crossed into Stonehame, Giles did not call a halt until he saw that Cecily felt ready to drop from exhaustion. He fell into slumber as quickly as she. It was the only way he could think of to keep his hands off her, after she had given him such a bold invitation by the river.