Memory Of A Forest Green
                         Prologue
             2054, Age of Glory, Early Summer
    "...And no matter what happens, always do your duty. 
When in doubt, do your duty. When in certainty, do your 
duty."
    "Yes, my lady." The rising of her voice should have 
sent smoke drifting up, Escorie thought, for all that it 
was high summer and the air even in the Sorana Mountains 
was warm enough not to make the breath smoke. But the air 
around her was so cold with expectation that she shivered.
    "Do your duty through the shade and the shadow. This 
is the most important thing that any one of our people has 
had to do since the world Changed."
    "Yes, my lady." Escorie kept her head bowed and didn't 
move her eyes from the feet of the woman who was speaking, 
even though part of her longed to be gone already. She 
understood. Torimona had been the Vision-Bearer for a long 
time. It would be hard for her to give that up, just as it 
would be for Escorie to give up the company and the 
comfort of her people.
    But some things they all did for the sake of the 
eluvori. The spirit of Rodollen had said that Escorie had 
to be the Vision-Bearer, and so she would be. 
    And so Torimona would give up the Vision.
    "Do your duty when you think that you want out of it. 
Do not listen to such impulses. They are only the wavering 
of your mind under a burden that a mere mortal was never 
meant to bear. But bear it we must, until the planting of 
the new Forest where our people shall live in peace and 
safety as in Inviolate of old."
    "Yes, my lady." Escorie shivered again as she felt the 
cold pressure of eyes boring in on her. Did her breath 
really have a faint trace of smoke, or was that just her 
imagination?
    "Rise, then, and accept the touch of the Vision and 
the voice of Rodollen."
    Escorie rose to her feet, tossing her hair back over 
her shoulder and fixing her dark eyes on Torimona's blue 
ones. The older woman frowned just a little, as if she 
disliked something that would ordinarily be called 
boldness in a young one, even though it was a requirement 
of the ceremony, and then reached out and gripped 
Escorie's shoulders in her hands.
    Escorie shivered again and closed her eyes. She could 
feel the heat flooding out of her body, and something else 
coming in to replace it.
    As from a distance, she heard Torimona whispering, 
"Take the Vision, and bear it in wisdom and compassion, 
peace and love, as the Vision-Bearers since the Change 
have borne it. You are the child of more than a hundred 
thousand years of history. Bear it well, and bear it 
wisely, and bear it to plant in our new homeland." Her 
voice dipped just a little as she whispered something that 
was not part of the ceremony. "It will be your duty to 
found that home, and plant the seed. So Rodollen has told 
me."
    Escorie had no chance to respond. The heat flooded 
completely out of her body, leaving her as cold as the 
trunk of a dead tree. She felt herself sway, and she would 
have fallen if not for the grip of the hands on her 
shoulders, holding her up.
    Then the Vision came.
    It was everything that she had been told it would be, 
and nothing like she thought it would be. It filled her to 
overflowing, and spilled onto the forest Elwens who stood 
near her, making them step back in startlement, their 
minds not ready to contain it.
    Stars, her mind was hardly ready to contain it, and 
she had trained for years for this, ever since the Seekers 
had identified her as one who might one day be able to 
bear the Vision.
    She could see the Forest as it had been, before the 
Change came, before the wild magic in the form of white 
flame swept across the world and set the Inviolate Forest 
afire. It was so alive and vital that she shook all over 
again, and crumpled to her knees despite all the hands 
could do to hold her up.
    Then the hands on her shoulders vanished, and she was 
nothing but the Forest.
    She was the trunk rising, the leaves trembling, the 
sunlight slanting, the grass growing. She was the River 
running, the blazebirds strutting, the fruit hanging, the 
moss lying. She was the deer leaping, the bees buzzing, 
the wolf hunting, the egg hatching. She was the endless 
round of life and death and birth that bound the Forest, 
that had made living in it a haven from the rest of the 
world, which dressed up the simple things in terms that at 
last even the originators did not understand. Life had 
been simple there, and more than simple.
    It had been paradise.
    And in the center of it all had stood the great Tree, 
which had grown from no seed. It was all that remained of 
the physical body of Rodollen, the great eluvor lord who 
centuries before had founded the Forest, had woven a 
vision granted from the stars into being and then anchored 
himself, immortal, in the midst of all so that his life 
could sustain it. He could never die, and that was the 
Sacrifice: that he would never rest, that he would never 
have relief from the troubles and pain of his people. But 
he had willingly made that Sacrifice, so great was he.
    And then had come the Change.
    Escorie saw the trees burning, as she had only seen 
them before that time in her mind. No tale could compare 
to the reality of it. No tale could give her the screams 
of the trees as they died, the cries as the animals and 
the eluvori fled only to find a world of even worse horror 
awaiting outside, or the roar as the sea, raised by the 
wild magic, flooded what was left of the Forest and 
destroyed any possibility of rebuilding a place to live 
where Inviolate had stood.
    The eluvori became wanderers that day, and if one of 
them, the Lady Corolra, had not torn back through the 
flame and rescued one leaf of Rodollen, then never would 
they have had a home to call their own again, or a link to 
their past. They would have had to start all over again, 
as so many of those in the Changed World had.
    But they had the Leaf, and Escorie would carry it with 
her now, as well as the Vision, as well as the spirit of 
Rodollen, bodiless but seeking a new home. She would found 
the Forest that would be the new home of her people, 
somewhere in the valley that lay on the other side of the 
Sorana Mountains.
    Her people had wandered, slowly but steadily south, 
for more than a hundred thousand years now. And now at 
last they would find the place destined for them, the 
place that would grant them the peace they needed and the 
roots they longed for.
    "No longer the leaves on the wind," whispered Escorie, 
the last part of the ritual. "Now the rooted tree."
    When she opened her eyes, Torimona's eyes were bright 
with tears that might, Escorie thought, mean almost 
anything. Relief, joy, terror, and sadness- all of them 
mingled in her bright blue gaze as she reached out to 
touch Escorie's woody cheek, the first sign of affection 
she had ever shown to the woman trained as her successor 
and picked to replace her by Rodollen himself.
    "I am proud," she whispered. "So proud."
    Escorie bowed gravely to her, not smiling, and then 
turned and moved away, to say farewell to her people and 
receive their good-luck wishes.
    There were not many just for her. All of them wished 
for the success of her journey, of course, to be again 
something of what they had been. But none of them knew her 
well. She had been separated from the other children at an 
early age, and then more and more from the other Trainees 
as the Training progressed and one or another of the 
others chosen was found to be unsuitable for some reason 
or another. She had been Training by herself for more than 
a century now.
    So she had tokens, mostly in the shape of leaves 
crafted of silver and emeralds, from her hesitant, smiling 
mother and father, from her older sister who watched her 
with just a touch of envy in her eyes, from a few of the 
younger men whom, she thought, wanted more the reflected 
glory that would come from marrying the Vision-Bearer than 
anything to do with her. She clasped all their hands, 
gazing into their faces until their smiles faded and they 
turned uncomfortably away from the weight of the history 
in her eyes.
    All of them, every day, lived with the loss of their 
home. But the Vision-Bearer was the only one who lived it, 
who could feel the heat of the flames that had destroyed 
those perfect trees, who would know a personal hatred for 
the wild magic and learn to regard it as an enemy and 
purge it from her body rather than accept it in its more 
harmless manifestations, as the others could.
    No, Escorie thought as she turned away at last from 
the woman and man who had once been her mother and father, 
it was better that she go with no one accompanying her, 
though a few had offered to before Torimona had said that 
Rodollen said she must go alone. 
    She would not have anyone to distract her from her 
duty with conversation that way, or with promises of 
romance, if one of the young men who admired her so 
extravagantly had gone with her. She would keep her mind 
on her duty, where it belonged.
    She paused on the crest that would take her out of 
sight of the camp where her people had lived for two years 
now, raising a solemn hand. She found that she was not 
that sad to be leaving. Even if it wasn't for the 
Training, this place wasn't home to her, and neither was 
any place she had lived in her almost eighteen hundred 
years in the world.
    Only one place could be.
----------------------------------------------------------
    Escorie took a deep breath. The Vision had told her 
that beyond this last rise, she would be able to see the 
valley that would eventually contain the Forest. She knew 
that it had to be more congenial than the terrible 
Kalurmari, the Snowlands, that her people had battled 
their way through before arriving in the Sorana, but still 
she had seen too many of the terrible things that the wild 
magic could do to be at ease with any new place.
    She stepped forward, and looked.
    Her breath burst out of her, and tears filled her 
eyes. It was the first beautiful place sculpted solely by 
the wild magic that she had ever seen.
    The valley sloped downwards away from her, bright in 
the slow morning light, and the first thing she noticed, 
besides the brilliant blue-green of the grass that 
lightened almost to silver in places, was the abundance of 
sparkling rivers, born from the snowmelt of the Sorana. 
Pure water running this way was something that she had 
only heard the very old ones, like Torimona, speak of; the 
forest Elwens had left the places that held running water 
long before she was born. They were even larger than the 
River in the Vision.
    None of them were green as the Eluvorpera had been, 
though.
    But that was made up for by the greenness of the 
valley itself. Escorie let her eyes wander everywhere she 
could, and couldn't see an end to it. She was still too 
high to distinguish grass from trees, but she could see 
that the greenness varied, that some patches were the 
green of the Leaf she carried with her while others were 
almost the color of jade.
    Stars.
    Beautiful.
    Escorie took a deep breath, and closed her eyes. In a 
way, she hated to ask her first question of the Vision 
about something as trivial as this, but all things about 
her people's new home had to be perfect. That included the 
name of the valley where the Forest would stand.
    What is the name of this valley, my Lord Rodollen?
    There was a little silence, and then a little of the 
warmth left her, and a flower bloomed behind her eyelids, 
as the first answer came.
    Audvelyn.
    Escorie let her eyes fly open, and her smile widen 
across her face, as she translated the name from the old 
Primal Tongue in her mind.
    The Valley of Heaven.
    She found the flower that she had seen behind her lids 
in her hand, and she tucked it behind her ear- a nodding 
purple blossom that smelled like an iris but was about the 
size of a violet. Singing an old Wondering Song softly 
under her breath, that had been used mostly by children 
for most of the time she had been alive- since they were 
the ones with the spirit to dream that a place they had 
never seen before was wonderful- she stepped out into the 
valley of Audvelyn.
    Her first step, and she felt the earth of the valley 
react to her.
    It was nearly instantaneous. She felt a force that had 
been drowsing until then wake up and rush towards her, 
whirlpooling up to her feet and coming out in a spray of 
blue flowers as swift as anything Rodollen could create. 
Breezes that hadn't been blowing just a moment before 
danced about her, and she smelled scents that hadn't been 
there, either.
    Escorie drew back as a flight of butterfly-like 
creatures came into existence and led each other, pairing 
off and then coming together in trios and quintets, in a 
dance of welcome. So many things appearing so suddenly, 
with every seeming of life, could only mean one thing.
    Wild magic.
    But though she looked tensely in every direction, she 
saw no sheet of white flame exploding towards her. Taking 
a deep breath, she at last forced the Vision-born fear 
away. Though she wasn't sure the wild magic wouldn't hurt 
her, for the moment it didn't seem inclined to, and that 
was all that one could ask for in this world of whim and 
caprice.
    And the beauty of the place still tugged at her heart. 
Surely nothing evil could be this beautiful...
    She put out her hands and said, "Faeralra," the word 
for welcome in Primal.
    The butterflies immediately came up to dance about 
her, and the flowers sang, and Escorie smiled.




                        Chapter 1
                  Lord Of The Magewinds
    "A magewind is not only air or the scent of flowers 
you have never smelled before or a vehicle of the wild 
magic, though it is all those things. It is also something 
that you cannot ever imagine."
    -Excerpt from the Lecture Anrheei, or Magewinds, given 
in the ninety-second century of the Age of Magic by the 
Linguist-Historian Amanath Ayende, at the Licalara of Oak.

    Escorie lunged forward, pinning the wing of the- 
thing- to the ground. Then she whirled and kicked at the 
heads that reached for her with ferocity and what she 
could have sworn, were she not above such things, was 
hatred in their eyes.
    Oh, stars, after three days in the Audvelyn, she 
wasn't above any such thing. It was hatred, and it was the 
wild magic that made it behave this way. She connected 
with the snake-like jaw of one of the heads, and it hissed 
and snapped even as it flew backwards, trying to take off 
part of her foot.
    Escorie ducked the teeth of another two heads, both of 
them on snake-like necks but more cat-like than the other, 
and then danced back and threw her other spear at the 
other flapping, leathery wing. If she wasn't careful, then 
all her careful effort at pinning the first wing would go 
for nothing. It was already beating nearly strongly enough 
to pull itself free.
    Success!
    The second wing went down, the spear sticking firmly 
into the earth. Escorie pretended that she couldn't feel 
the soil's scream at being pierced and bent down, panting, 
for a moment before she cautiously approached the flailing 
body.
    It had too many legs, she noted, wrinkling up her 
nose, not to mention heads. Six heads, at least, counting 
the two that she had already managed to down and which 
resembled dogs' heads. The four remaining turned at once 
towards her, but didn't strike. It had already learned 
that she was faster than it was, and it was waiting until 
she got within reach.
    That it learned so fast both frightened and fascinated 
Escorie. Most of the places that the eluvori had walked 
through on their way to get to the valley, the land itself 
had been the dangerous thing. Due to the abundance of wild 
magic in the air and the earth, nothing could live there 
without being Changed beyond recognition. The forest 
Elwens had been forced to leave behind a few of their 
number who had suffered that fate.
    Of course, she should have figured out her first day 
that that much water and grass was sure to attract living 
creatures.
    And she should have trusted her first instincts. The 
wild magic was the enemy, no matter how pretty it looked. 
Charmed by something that appeared to be a unicorn 
yesterday, she had let it get within charging distance 
before she learned that it possessed more strength and a 
nastier disposition than any unicorn she had ever come in 
contact with. She had barely escaped up a tree, and even 
then had had to spend hours in the branches, as it butted 
the trunk and then stood staring upwards for a 
horrendously long time before going away.
    The snapping of the heads in front of her, and the 
clacking of the beak on the fourth neck, reminded her of 
her present problem, and she smiled faintly.
    She meant to see if this thing was edible, if she 
could only kill it.
    The heads arched back as she came nearer. But Escorie 
had used both her spears and broken one of her knives on 
the scales of the body, so she drew her sword instead.
    The first thrust went into the skin that looked 
softest, just under the bird-headed neck. It let loose an 
agonized scream as if it didn't deserve what she had just 
done, and the heads all lunged in her direction at once.
    Escorie jumped on instinct, but she had judged the 
distance right. The sword was long enough that she could 
keep it in the wound and the heads still bit only at air.
    She thrust again, grimacing as the blood bubbled up 
from the wound and bit into the sword. Luckily, though, it 
couldn't score the filyn of the blade as it had the steel 
of the weak knife. It fell back again in harmless, if 
disgusting, blue drops.
    At last, after more strikes than she liked to think 
about, Escorie killed the thing. She kicked it over and 
stepped gingerly among the motionless, heavily clawed legs 
to retrieve her spears and the hilt of the knife. She 
would keep it until she met up with her people again, and 
have it reforged.
    Or, better yet, replace it with a wooden one. The 
voice in her head had begun to reveal tiny, tantalizing 
promises of what would happen when the Forest was founded, 
and she hoped that some of those glimpses meant that her 
people would be able to work living wood without harming 
it, as they had once been able to do.
    Since the destruction of Inviolate Forest, they had 
been forced to turn to the lifeless metal of the earth. It 
wasn't as good as the wood, but neither she nor any eluvor 
would dream of harming a living tree save in dire need, 
especially for something as violent as making a weapon-
    What was that?
    Escorie's eyes narrowed, and she knelt, ignoring the 
claws that hovered by her head. She yanked the spear out 
of the left wing, and cleaned it in the grass as she 
touched the small, gleaming metal triangle set into the 
bottom of the torn membrane.
    The symbol was one that she didn't know, incised with 
triangles that faded away into each other, the small upon 
the smaller upon the smaller upon the smaller. Escorie, 
uneasy, wondered about prying it from the wing of the 
beast, and then decided not to.
    Well, at least that might give some explanation for 
the unusual viciousness of the creature. It hadn't been 
created by the wild magic just as it was- well, yes, 
actually, it probably had. There was no way that nature 
would fashion something this grotesque and misbegotten.
    But it had also, Escorie thought, probably been 
trained as a guard animal.
    Glancing from side to side, she stood and readied her 
spears as she tucked the sword away, the knife-hilt in the 
side of her sash, and one of the spears in the quiver on 
her back. The other one went away only when she was good 
and ready. For some stupid reason, she had assumed that 
someone living here would be friendly, would want 
visitors. Now she thought she had better not pause to eat.
    The valley was wide and open, she thought a little 
defensively as she moved off, still heading south, 
following the course of one of the major rivers. The grass 
was rich in every direction she had seen, and there was no 
sign of grazing or farms. There were no dams on the 
rivers. Even if someone felt the need to mark something 
off, why not at least make the boundaries visible so that 
wanderers would know not to cross them?
    But then, her people were looking to take some of the 
land for themselves, and they didn't intend to share. 
There were guard beasts bred of the wild magic that could 
be taught to sniff out intent, and who would only attack 
those intruders who meant genuine harm to their owners. 
This might have been one of those.
    Escorie's uneasiness faded, though, when she realized 
what else that might mean.
    The site where she was to found the Forest should be 
nearby, if that was so.
    She glanced from side to side with a different 
purpose, now, expecting at any moment to see a flatter, 
more level stretch where there would be trees or at least 
good soil, a patch that would say to her: Here.
    But no such patch appeared, and the voice that rode 
within her was quiet.
    Escorie sighed, and turned her gaze forward once more.
    So far, there was no end to the beauties and wonders 
of the valley. She had been able to divide all the plants 
that she had ever seen in her life into two kinds: those 
she knew already, and those she had heard of in stories 
from her parents or Training.
    Since she entered Audvelyn, she had been forced to add 
a third category- those she had no idea about- and that 
one was rapidly growing bigger and broader than the other 
two put together.
    Take this- bush, for instance, she thought, passing a 
respectful distance away from it. With the exception of 
the grass, which had shown no inclination to snap when she 
stepped on it, Escorie gave all plants room until she 
figured out if they were normal or magical. It was covered 
with so many deep purple flowers that it looked as if it 
was one huge flower. Escorie couldn't see any leaves at 
all. The only thing that kept her from calling it a flower 
was that the stems had to be going somewhere.
    Didn't they?
    Uneasy, realizing that she might not get the answer 
she wanted when the wild magic was involved, she turned 
her glance away from the bush and hastened past.
    She heard a loud sucking sound from the flowers as she 
went past them. She determinedly did not pay attention, 
and held her breath for a short distance until she reached 
a clearer stretch.
    The land continued its insistent downward slope, 
though the incline was becoming less and less noticeable. 
The rivers that had formed spectacular waterfalls only a 
short distance up now meandered, some of them splitting 
off into tiny brooks that flowered in almost every 
direction, pulled to the roots of the trees or the flowers 
by the wild magic. Some of them even flowed uphill.
    Escorie ignored those as best she could.
    She did halt once, unable to resist, to watch a flight 
of the butterfly-like creatures that had greeted her when 
she first entered the valley dancing about another of the 
purple flower-bushes. The deep-throated blossoms quivered 
after a few moments of dancing and then opened very 
slowly, laying their petals down like carpets. The tiny 
butterfly-like creatures walked inside, and the blooms 
closed up again.
    Though Escorie watched for long moments, they didn't 
reappear.
    Shaking her head, and smiling in spite of herself, she 
went on. There would be so much to learn when the others 
came, she thought. She could spend years studying just the 
plants she had passed today, maybe the rest of her life, 
and never know-
    The thought stopped her abruptly, and she put one hand 
on her forehead and shook her head again.
    Those thoughts.
    She had to watch out for thoughts like those.
    They were the ones that would really pull her from her 
duty, more than any conversation or romance could have. 
They would seduce her with beauty, the one trap that her 
people had never been able to resist. She had to make sure 
that she always remembered just what she was here to do, 
and it wasn't to study things that the wild magic had made 
on a whim.
    Once the Forest was made, her people would retreat 
into it, and life would become sane once again. The wild 
magic wouldn't be able to follow. The power of Rodollen 
was too old and great for it. There would be no intrusions 
by things like the six-headed beast.
    And no venturing outside the Forest's borders, either.
    A deep pang of loss struck Escorie, and she frowned, 
biting her lip. She wanted to look around the Valley, to 
linger, and she was appalled and ashamed at herself for 
doing so. Her people were waiting back in the Sorana, only 
a few days' journey distance, with the knowledge that soon 
their long-awaited home would be granted them. Their 
impatience must be growing by the hour.
    She had no right to make them wait because of her own 
selfish desires.
    "This time," Escorie whispered under her breath as she 
picked up her pace, "you go only slowly enough to be sure 
that you aren't stepping right into danger. Don't go at a 
pace whose only purpose is to gratify yourself."
    The voice in her mind spoke then, its tone solemn and 
gentle, like the ringing of a great bell: South.
    Escorie nodded, and hurried south.
----------------------------------------------------------
    Strangely, it was the scent that first woke her.
    Thinking about it later, she wasn't sure why she was 
surprised. Why shouldn't it be the scent that woke her? 
Eluvori could wake to scents as others could to noise. But 
still, she remembered being surprised when she opened her 
eyes the next morning, before the sun was really properly 
up, and smelled the flowers that she had scented that 
first morning in the Valley.
    She sat up, brushing at her clothes. The wild magic's 
weather was congenial, at least. It rained mostly during 
the night, and at least part of the grass's need for 
moisture seemed to be accomplished by a heavy dew, as if 
it didn't want to inconvenience anyone who might be moving 
on foot.
    She turned her head, and found the tiny dell where she 
had spent the night full of wind.
    Two tiny breezes caught her hair and tugged it back 
and forth, separating each green strand by turns and 
wrestling over it, as if they were children arguing over a 
treat. Escorie bit her lips to tamp down a smile and 
pulled her hair from their grasp with her own telekinesis. 
If one encouraged the air, one of the Change's most 
harmless manifestations, it would only get worse.
    And she couldn't do it now, anyway.
    With a pang of regret, she was standing up to move 
somewhere else when she was blinded by a soft flash of 
blue light.
    Blinking, she stumbled backwards, reaching for one of 
the spears on her back, and then stopped. The light was 
gone as if it had never been, and there weren't even 
afterimages on her eyes.
    It was as if the breeze had brought the light...
    She swallowed, tasting fear in her throat, and then 
crouched as she heard hoofbeats.
    They sounded like the hoofbeats of the unicorn that 
wasn't that she had encountered two days ago, but they 
were heavier, she thought as she listened, as if this one 
was larger.
    Or heavier.
    Then it came into sight, and she saw that it bore 
someone on its back, someone turning her head from side to 
side as if looking for something. 
    Ducking her head, Escorie sniffed, and caught a scent 
that she had never smelled before. She frowned. It was 
like a combination of fruit and corn, light and birdsong- 
and until then she hadn't even known that light and 
birdsong could have scents- and leaves and moss. She would 
have said that it was the scent of someone of her own race 
in a trance, but she knew that not even a forest Elwen 
could smell like so many different things at the same 
time.
    Well, good. Maybe the stranger would think she was a 
tree, because that was what she smelled like, and pass her 
by. Stars knew she didn't want to have anything to do with 
anyone who could tame one of those unicorn-like creatures 
enough to ride.
    Come to think of it, he- she was close enough to him 
now to identify the scent as masculine- might even be the 
one who had tamed and marked the six-headed beast. That 
would explain what he was doing here. He had come to see 
what had happened to his border guardian. In that case, 
she really didn't want to have anything to do with him.
    The unicorn pounded towards her, neck bowed and breath 
huffing from the nostrils as if it had been running hard 
for a long time. The horn that projected from its forehead 
was three-colored, red in the base, white in the middle, 
and black at the tip. The coat itself was a kind of dusty 
red that should, Escorie thought, have shown up at a 
distance and done no good at all as camouflage. On the 
other hand, maybe they didn't need to hide.
    The unicorn slowed and stopped not far away. The man 
on its back turned his head slowly, back and forth, as if 
seeking something that he could only sense dimly.
    Escorie stared in fascination. He was taller than any 
eluvor she had ever seen, and his skin was pale- and it 
was skin, like a dolphin's or a fox's under the coat, not 
the kind of woody covering that she was much more used to 
calling skin with her own people. His hair billowed around 
his shoulders, not the mass of curls that a forest Elwen 
would have, and also a color she wasn't used to seeing in 
hair, brilliant red. It looked as if it hadn't seen a comb 
in a few days, at least. But he did wear clothes. If he 
was a savage, he was a very well-dressed one.
    Then he turned to regard her, and she sucked her 
breath in, just preventing a noisy gasp.
    It wasn't that he was especially handsome. It was the 
strangeness of the face, the way it looked rather than the 
admiration it inspired in her, that made her gasp. The 
skin was less pale around the sharp features- high 
cheekbones, jutting chin and beak-like nose, and strangely 
wide brow- than on his hands, as if it was burned by the 
sun. But his eyes were wide, though still diamond-shaped 
enough to mark him as Elwen, and his eyes were the color 
of white jade.
    Those eyes met hers, and he gave a smile that seemed 
too wide, as though it was growing to stretch all the way 
around his face and cut his head off. He urged the unicorn 
towards her, one step at a time.
    Escorie stood up, knowing it would do her no good to 
hide now, and then put a hand on the hilt of her sword as 
she saw that that didn't intimidate him. "Come no closer," 
she said, in Primal, the one language she could be sure he 
would understand.
    He stopped, blinked at her, and then smiled again. 
"Why?" he asked in Primal, his voice too musical and too 
silvery to be real.
    Escorie kept a wary eye on him as she scrambled out of 
the shallow dell and retreated a distance. The small 
magical winds kept up with her. She ignored them. He 
wasn't armed, and that had to mean something in a valley 
like this. Either he was insane, or he had a reason to be 
so confident. He was the real danger, not a few playful 
breezes that wouldn't leave her alone. "Because I will 
kill you."
    "You'd try."
    Escorie narrowed her eyes. Reason to be confident or 
not, owner of the territory she was passing through or 
not, she was beginning to dislike him. Most strangers 
didn't discount her this easily. "You have no idea who or 
what I am, do you?"
    "I've heard legends," he said, without moving. The 
unicorn tossed its head and snorted impatiently; he calmed 
it with one hand on the muscular neck, his eyes never 
leaving her face. "I never thought I would see an eluvor, 
but I know that's what you are. I don't know who you are, 
of course, because people clutching their swords don't 
usually introduce themselves. Are you going to, or should  
I give you a name out of the kindness of my heart?"
    "You are insulting."
    He smiled, a smile different from the broad one he had 
given her just a moment ago. This one was more private, 
almost self-mocking, but not enough so to soothe her 
temper. "So are you."
    "I am only passing through your territory," said 
Escorie, deciding that this conversation would only 
circle, possibly forever, if she kept it up in its current 
vein. "I am looking to found a new home for my people, but 
I won't do it on land that you control."
    "How do you know that?"
    "What do you mean?"
    "You have the look of someone who would found her 
people's home on the land of a person she didn't like, 
just for the hell of it."
    Escorie gaped at him, and then recovered herself. At 
least this proved that he had no idea what he was talking 
about. She felt a little better about that. "If my Vision 
tells me to stop here, then yes, I will. But I won't do it 
just for the hell of it."
    "Why do your people need a new home?"
    "We lost our first home in the Change. We need a new 
Forest." Technically, it wasn't a story that she would 
tell just anyone, but if he was to be one of their 
neighbors in the valley, then she would do what she could 
to make peace with him and not antagonize him. She was 
supposed to do whatever she could to not only found the 
Forest but to make it peaceful and happy.
    "You lost your first home in the Change?"
    Maybe she had been right, and he wasn't either 
confident or insane. Maybe he was just stupid. "Yes. I 
know you heard me right. We lost our first home in the 
Change."
    "I just never dreamed that anyone- especially forest 
Elwens- could be so fussy."
    "What's that supposed to mean?"
    He looked highly amused. "Never mind." He looked at 
her hand, which Escorie was sure had firmed its grasp on 
her sword. "Are you going to use that, and are you ever 
going to introduce yourself?"
    "I will if you push me, and my name is Escorie 
Vaultwild."
    "You don't sound too sure about that last."
    "That is the name that the Vision has decreed for me. 
Why I deserve it, I do not know yet."
    "Well." The man nodded to himself, as if she had 
finally said something that made sense to him. "I can 
understand that. My ancestor followed a vision without 
knowing where it would lead him or why it gave him the 
name it did, either."
    Escorie's eyes narrowed still further. His words had a 
sense of truth to them; at least, they weren't buzzing in 
her ears as a lie would. "What is your name?"
    "Damiel Summerfire," he said, and then chuckled under 
his breath and whistled.
    Escorie felt the air stir, and the breezes hurled 
themselves past her and towards Damiel. They danced about 
him, separating his hair and stroking his cheeks. The 
unicorn danced and snorted as its fetlocks rippled with 
their passage.
    "Some call me lord of the magewinds." Damiel looked at 
her as if this should mean something to her.
    Escorie pulled back, revolted. She understood all too 
well now. This- man, she thought; but she couldn't be sure 
of even that now, as he might be just another 
manifestation- had control of the wild magic. He was, by 
definition, her enemy.
    "I should be on my way," she said.
    "So soon?" Damiel pouted at her. It took her a moment 
to identify the expression, though, because it so 
astonished her to see it on the face of someone past the 
age of five. And by the time she had identified it, he was 
on to something else. "You would really leave me here, 
intrigued and not knowing more?"
    "Why did you come here?"
    "I felt the valley magic responding to you, and wanted 
to see what was causing it," he said, equitably enough. 
"My breezes found you for me." His hair stirred in a sharp 
gust, and he smiled. "That is, my magewinds," he corrected 
himself. "You'll have to excuse the ones that accompanied 
me today; they're rather temperamental."
    "What could threaten you, master of the wild magic 
that you are?" asked Escorie with a disdainful motion of 
her hand to the air about him.
    Damiel frowned at her, and his hair flapped like the 
wings of a bird. "My lady, if you are going to hate the 
wild magic, you should know that there is more than one 
kind. I never said that I was a master of the wild magic. 
I said I was lord of the magewinds, which is different. 
And not all of my people have the same protection that I 
do. I came to make sure that what you might be doing here 
is no threat to Summerfire."
    Escorie stared at him with her mouth open. While she 
had accepted that he might be real and not a 
manifestation, the idea that he ruled a settled people in 
Audvelyn was too much to contemplate. "You- rule a place 
named for your line?"
    "Yes. Conceited, isn't it?" Damiel asked cheerfully, 
stealing the next words that she would have spoken. "But 
it wasn't my idea. Summerfire has endured almost since the 
Change itself." He smiled at her, disturbing white jade 
eyes glowing. "You see, while your people wandered about 
and fussed in search of the perfect place, we made one."
    Escorie looked at him carefully. Yes, he was of the 
wild magic, and that made her inherently distrust him. 
But, on the other hand, she would need help to found the 
Forest, she was beginning to believe.
    If he could help her, then it didn't matter if what 
she had to in return with his help- or even if just 
associating with him- was personally distasteful to her. 
It was still something that she would do because she had 
to do it.
    "Do you know Audvelyn well?"
    "I have lived in it all my life," he said.
    "So you would know where pure earth lies? Earth that 
would welcome the touch of the eluvori?"
    "I might, yes," he said. "But then, you would have to 
tell me why Summerfire should give up pure earth to you 
and your people, instead of using it for ourselves."
    "Tell me what help I could give you." Escorie steeled 
herself against saying the dreadful words, but he only 
smiled again, the broad smile that she was learning to 
anticipate and deal with.
    "You speak for your people?" he asked, head tilted 
back and eyes fixed on her.
    "Yes."
    "Then we could come to some agreement." Damiel tilted 
his head abruptly. "Over dawnmeal, if you would care to 
share with me."
    "Thank you, but no."
    "Your stomach is rumbling."
    Escorie could feel herself flushing, though he 
wouldn't know she was. His- magewinds- had probably 
carried the sound to him. She would have to remember that 
his hearing was preternaturally sharp. "I wouldn't want to 
take food from you."
    "You mean, you wouldn't trust me to give you food 
without drugging it." Damiel sighed, a long and loud sigh. 
"You are the first eluvor I've ever seen. Why would I to 
drug you, instead of speaking with you and learning a 
little more about you?"
    "We can never trust creatures who adore the wild 
magic."
    "Oh, I don't adore it. It happens to like me, that's 
all, and so I use it."
    "But it's all whim and caprice."
    He looked at her as if wondering what she was getting 
at. "Yes," he said, at last.
    "How can you live, knowing that you can't really trust 
it? Ever?"
    "We live." He didn't allow her to elaborate, saying 
instead, "I'll kill it in front of you. Will that satisfy 
you, my lady?"
    Escorie blinked at the title. She knew what it meant- 
or as well as anyone could whose native language wasn't 
Primal- but she had never heard anyone else call her that. 
"I- yes," she said at last.
    "Good." Damiel turned away and sat still on the 
unicorn for a moment, closing his eyes. Then a bolt of 
light tore from him and passed overhead, arching down like 
an arrow to vanish behind a slight hill.
    "There." The man opened his eyes, looking quite 
pleased with himself. "Killed and cooked, all in one." He 
started to trot off, then looked back over his shoulder at 
Escorie when she didn't move. "Coming?"
    "I want to put some distance between myself and your 
unicorn."
    Damiel laughed. It was a quick sound, strong and 
confident, and as silvery as his voice. "Oh, Wellrun's not 
a unicorn. He's a karkadann."
    "What's the difference?"
    "Stronger, nastier, born of the wild magic- and not 
intelligent, the way that unicorns are." Damiel stroked 
the karkadann's neck for a moment, then turned to look at 
her. "He won't kick and bite at anyone unless he senses 
you mean me harm."
    "Like your other pets?"
    Damiel tilted his head at her, his face quizzical. 
"The magewinds, yes," he agreed. "Come with me. It's not 
that far, I promise." Wellrun started trotting again, and 
Escorie fell into step behind. 
    Reluctantly.
    But still...
    She would only have to deal with him until she could 
found the Forest, she promised the part of herself that 
was still uneasy about trusting a stranger. And then she 
could always turn away, just as she would turn away from 
the rest of the outside world.
    Besides, the voice in her head had issued just one 
sound since she had met Damiel: a murmur of approval. That 
would do, she decided, until she saw evidence of 
wrongdoing on his part.
----------------------------------------------------------
    Escorie leaned back, sighing. The venison- from a deer 
whose magical aspects, if any, had vanished in death- had 
been surprisingly good, and nothing was happening to her 
so far as a result of eating it, and the voice of Rodollen 
in her head wasn't saying anything negative about it. She 
could wait to comment until anything happened, she 
supposed.
    She turned a curios glance on Damiel, who was licking 
the blood from his fingers with great relish. The 
karkadann stood at his shoulder, snorting when it caught 
Escorie's eye but not really making trouble otherwise, 
chewing the scraps of meat that its rider handed to it 
with evident pleasure. Escorie caught flashing glimpses of 
the fanged teeth in its muzzle and was doubly glad that 
she had outwaited the wild one in the tree.
    "So, what are you?"
    Damiel looked up at her, sucking the last of the juice 
from his fingers before replying. "I'm surprised that you 
don't recognize me."
    "The fame of Summerfire hasn't spread that far," 
Escorie said.
    "No, but I rather thought that the fame of the land 
Elwens might have."
    Escorie gasped, all the comfort vanishing as if 
snatched away by a magewind. She fought her way backwards, 
striving to get to her feet, though she wasn't sure what 
she would do once she got there.
    The look on Damiel's face stopped her. It was a 
mixture of pain and the self-mocking smile that she had 
seen before.
    "Will you listen to me?" he asked quietly. "Please?"
    She sat down again, but a further distance away than 
before. The karkadann watched her for a moment longer, and 
then lowered its head and bumped the short horn against 
the land Elwen's shoulder. Damiel stroked its mane, 
without taking his eyes from her.
    "I meet people every day who blame my people for what 
happened," he said quietly. "It was- pleasant, for a short 
while, to be with someone who didn't blame me- not because 
I was the Lord of Summerfire and they knew me as that, but 
because they didn't know what I was."
    "I would have more sympathy for you if the land Elwens 
hadn't caused the Change," said Escorie, tucking her arms 
around her legs and shivering.
    "Strictly speaking, it was the shadowed Elwens and not 
the land Elwens-" Damiel began, and stopped on seeing her 
expression. "All right, you don't care. But at least hear 
me out on this."
    "Why should I?"
    "Because you want to. I can see it in those lovely 
dark eyes of yours."
    Escorie flushed again, and then damned herself. If he 
really was land Elwen, then he would know what she had 
been feeling the entire time. That was one of the gifts of 
the paleskins, reading emotions. "So talk," she said. "And 
don't try to flatter me."
    Damiel blinked at her. "Was I? I didn't realize it." 
He shook his head. "Spend all your days in a court, and 
eventually it catches up to you."
    "I don't need to be patronized, and I don't know why 
you think I'm interested in it," said Escorie, considering 
standing up and just walking away. Yes, he probably could 
help her, but she wasn't sure that she was interested in 
that kind of help.
    "I can see it in your eyes," said Damiel, his voice 
sharpening. "Yes, I know you don't like me, but can we 
stop lying to each other, Escorie? You do want to hear me 
out, and you want my help. So sit down, and stay sitting 
down until I'm done."
    Escorie gaped at him. His face had altered as if he 
had managed to put on a mask without her noticing. All 
trace of the smiles, no matter what kind, was gone. He sat 
bolt upright, his eyes fixed on her, his entire body 
vibrating as if he was the string of a bow drawn tight.  
That tense, pale face was filled with a look that she 
recognized now might come from commanding others to do 
things.
    She nodded slowly, never taking her eyes from his 
face, feeling once again the strange thrill that had run 
through her when she saw the strange plants in the valley.
    "Good." Damiel relaxed a little, losing some of the 
look but not very much. "As I have to keep explaining to 
the victory Elwens and the never Elwens- not that they 
listen to me- land Elwens are not all responsible for the 
Change. It was a very stupid war that some of our kind, 
not all, fought against the shadowed Elwens. The land 
Elwen leader threatened the shadowed Elwen leader with the 
extinction of all curalli. It was a stupid thing to do, 
just like the rest of the war. Curalli are unbelievably 
loyal to their kind, and this particular leader thought of 
a way to defend his people. He called the pure magic up 
from the center of the world, the magic the gods had used 
in creating the world, and he set it free." Damiel closed 
his eyes, and his face changed back to what it had been 
again, looking very tired. "And that is all that happened. 
All. Yes, we are to blame in one way. In another, the 
curalli are.
    "And in another way, it doesn't matter, because it was 
so long ago, and everyone who was alive then is dead. 
Certainly the two leaders who were most responsible died 
in the Change itself."
    Escorie sat still, weighing his words. Perhaps they 
would have meant more to her if she had heard them before 
she saw the Vision, but now-
    With the vision of the burning trees in her head, the 
trees of Inviolate Forest that had been the most beautiful 
and perfect place in all the world, and the opportunity to 
punish a child of the race that had made the Change 
sitting before her, could she pass it up?
    She opened her eyes, mind made up, and then stopped. 
Damiel was watching her with a sad look, but the power 
glowing in his eyes and the way his hair tossed from the 
dancing of the magewinds was no joke.
    "Please don't make me," he whispered, as if begging 
her. "I don't want to. I really don't."
    Escorie nodded slowly, never taking her eyes from him, 
and then eased the muscles she had started to tense to 
rise. "Your people were responsible for the destruction of 
my people's homeland," she said.
    "But not every one of us," said Damiel quickly. "The 
Lord Frief, who founded Summerfire, was thousands of miles 
away from the Change when it happened, and he lost his own 
wife and one true love in it. I truly don't think that he 
had anything to do with it."
    "But you use the wild magic."
    Damiel stared at what was just empty air, to Escorie, 
and held out a hand. She smelled flowers as the wind, she 
guessed, came to nestle in his palm.
    "Yes," said Damiel, very quietly. "But that is 
partially because the wild magic likes us. It has for over 
a hundred thousand years. And it is partially because we 
stopped denying the world Changed, stopped trying to 
recapture something that was gone forever." He looked up 
at her with a small smile. "While you are trying to 
recapture it, still."
    "Do you criticize me?"
    "No. But if you expect my help, my lady, you must not 
expect my unqualified approval. I think what you are doing 
is wrong and wasteful and uses effort that could be better 
put towards trying to discover a new way of life for the 
forest Elwens." He rose to his feet with a lithe spring. 
"Now that you know how I feel. I will try to seek out a 
place that would match what you need for your Forest. Tell 
me what that is."
    "Why are you helping me?"
    Damiel looked at her with jeweled eyes that were 
glowing again. "Why not?"
    "You just said that you thought it was wasteful, and 
useless-"
    "I did. But I want to help you, and it would give 
Summerfire some allies in a part of the valley where we 
could use some now, if I am right about what you need for 
the Forest. which you can confirm by telling me as soon as 
possible." Damiel bounced up and down lightly on his heels 
as he looked at her, waiting.
    "Ah. So you are doing this for the good of your 
people, and not just out of the kindness of your heart?" 
asked Escorie, pouncing on what she saw as an 
inconsistency.
    From the politely blank look that Damiel gave her, he 
didn't see it the same way. "Did I ever say that I was 
doing it out of the kindness of my heart?"
    "No..."
    "Well, then. I have a people to lead just as you do, 
my lady." He stretched out his hands expansively. "And you 
should be careful about the conclusions that you draw. In 
this valley, some of the forms that the wild magic gives 
to your conclusions are... unpleasant."
    "The Forest must be a place that the wild magic cannot 
enter, as well as having rich soil in which trees can 
grow, pure air and water, and plenty of sunlight," said 
Escorie pointedly.
    Damiel shrugged. "I can think of many places in the 
valley that would fit your last requirements. A place that 
the wild magic can't enter? You should see what the wild 
magic has to say about that, first. I've never been in a 
place in the Audvelyn that the wild magic didn't rule, in 
one way or another."
    "We'll see-"
    But Damiel had already turned away and was picking his 
way towards the karkadann, who had wandered off a short 
distance, as if sensing that she no longer intended harm 
to his rider. "We'll ride down a bit, and you can tell me 
if anything appeals to you," he called over his shoulder, 
as he put out a hand to the beast. Wellrun snorted and 
swung the short horn at him, but when the land Elwen 
persisted, gave up almost audibly and knelt on the ground. 
Damiel climbed on, winding his hands in the short, tough 
mane, and the karkadann stood and started trotting off 
down the valley.
    Escorie, her mouth open, shut it and followed. It had 
been in the direction that she would have sought, anyway, 
after a little while, she reassured herself.
    And if it hadn't been, she would have spoken up very 
sharply.
    Of course she would.
    In some part of her where she was more truthful with 
herself, she loathed herself for her cowardice.
----------------------------------------------------------
    It wasn't until it was nearly night again, and they 
had been searching for some time without seeing anything 
that appealed to the Vision, that Escorie finally thought 
to bring up something that had been troubling her.
    "Don't you need to return to Summerfire?" she asked.
    Damiel looked back at her with a friendly, implacable 
expression. Wellrun was picking his way across a stream, 
but it was apparently shallow enough that his rider felt 
no need to guide him. "I don't see that it's any of your 
business if I do or not."
    "Just making sure that you do have the authority to 
speak for your people," she said, remembering the words 
that he had spoken earlier.
    He smiled at that, the self-mocking smile rather than 
the broad one. Escorie found that she was coming to be 
fonder of that one, if she could be said to be fond of any 
of his expressions. "Well put. Well, yes, I needed to see 
what the magic was reacting to, and at this point in my 
life, the magic rather insists that I do that myself and 
leave the ruling of Summerfire to someone else for a 
little while."
    This was a trial for your successor, Escorie thought 
as he turned away again, just as I went through trial 
after trial in my Training. I wonder if it will be as hard 
for her as it was for me?
    "Who is doing the ruling?"
    "Oh, yes," he muttered, eyes scanning the stream as if 
he had dropped something, without bothering to turn and 
look at her again. "You will have to know who to deal with 
if the wild magic kills me on this journey, won't you?"
    Escorie frowned at his back, wishing she could tell if 
that was supposed to be mockery of her fears or not.
    "My son, Anohe." Damiel looked back at her at last and 
smiled at her surprised expression. "What, you didn't 
think I was old enough to have a son?"
    "Something like that, yes." He looked about her age, 
and no one that young married among the eluvori. Courtship 
alone was supposed to last a few hundred years, to make 
sure that both partners truly loved each other and would 
produce no Changed children.
    Damiel shrugged. "The wild magic likes us, but, as you 
have pointed out, not always. The Lords of Summerfire are 
expected to marry young and have children as soon as they 
can, so there's someone to be the avatar of the magewinds 
after if something goes wrong."
    "And your wife?" Maybe, if there was a Lady of 
Summerfire who hadn't been born to the wild magic, she 
might make a better ally than someone who had. Besides, 
Escorie was coming to agree with Torimona's often- 
expressed opinion more and more since meeting this men: 
that women of any kind were easier to understand than the 
men would be.
    "Died bearing Anohe."
    Escorie stared at him in shock. There was no emotion 
in his voice when he said it, and he turned away too 
slowly to go back to scouting the river, as if he had no 
emotion that he wanted to hide, either. "And that's all 
that you feel, is it?"
    Damiel glanced back at her, frowning for the first 
time. It added a touch of the commanding expression to his 
face, though not much, and Escorie had the sudden feeling 
that he would be a bad enemy. "My lady, it happened more 
than three hundred years ago, and I knew her for less than 
a year. I was told to marry the moment I was capable of 
having a child. I did. She became pregnant, bore Anohe, 
and died in the flood of the afterbirth. The wild magic 
does things like that, sometimes."
    "It was the wild magic that caused her death? You know 
that for a fact?"
    "Well, yes."
    "And you still continue to use it."
    Damiel hitched his left shoulder in a shrug. "I 
couldn't have given up ruling Summerfire then. Anohe was 
too young to bear the burden, and Summerfire wouldn't have 
been safe in the hands of an avatar growing up under the 
control of the magewinds, anyway."
    "There is such a thing as duty."
    "I've been doing it all my life, my lady." He raised 
his eyebrows, and she found herself flushing again. "I did 
tell you about leaping to conclusions."
    "I'm sorry, my lord."
    It was the first time that she had used his title, and 
he considered it for a moment as what she meant it to be- 
a peace offering- before nodding and turning away. "Good 
enough," he said, over his shoulder.
    Escorie shook her head and abandoned the idea of 
appealing to the Lady of Summerfire.
    Stars, so much to learn about the world. Apparently 
she was going to put a foot wrong constantly if she kept 
this up.
    And yet...
    Could she stand to learn that much about the world? 
Too much, after all, would corrupt her and turn her away 
from her own duty. Better that she suffer a little 
embarrassment, which she could stand, then become useless 
to her people through too much knowledge.
    She shook her head sharply. The problem was, the land 
Elwen's embarrassment could be deadly.
    No, she would have to go on as she was now and pray to 
Rodollen that the corruption, if she incurred any, 
wouldn't be permanent.
    "My lord?"
    "Yes?" His voice was milder than she had heard it so 
far. He was susceptible to flattery, then, thought a 
small, smug part of her. Good.
    "What are you looking for, exactly?"
    "Some sign that the magic told me to look for," he 
said, without taking his eyes from the water. "You caused 
some disturbance in the magic, yes, but not great enough 
for what I sensed. There's something else out here."
    "And you're the caretaker for the valley?"
    "When I have to be."
    "What else could be out here, then?"
    "It depends. Sometimes things wander in from the 
Sorana strong enough to bend the magic around them, and 
then I have to chase them out. Sometimes the never Elwens 
make trouble for the hell of it. Sometimes it's something 
else entirely, like a disease among the plants, and then I 
need to heal it."
    "Can you do that?" That startled Escorie. For some 
reason, she had thought that his magic was good only for 
destroying.
    "Oh, yes."
    Escorie eyed him thoughtfully as he continued to ride 
his karkadann down the stream. Maybe he wasn't all bad, if 
he could heal plants.
    But he had also killed that deer as casually as he had 
spoken to her.
    At least he hadn't had to chop down trees to light the 
fire, her mind argued.
    She had gone along like this for some time when she 
heard Damiel make a hissing sound from ahead of her. She 
turned at once, her sword coming out of the sheath, to see 
him kneeling in the middle of the stream and staring at 
something on the bank. The karkadann danced beside him in 
the water, snorting and tossing his mane now and then as 
if he smelled something that he didn't like on the wind.
    "What is it?"
    Damiel turned to her, and she flinched. His face was 
terrible: eyes sunken back into his head and blazing, his 
hair flipping and flapping around his head with the rising 
of the magewinds, and his mouth set, cold and hard. "Have 
you seen any other marks like this?" he asked, gesturing 
for her to come closer.
    Escorie wasn't sure that she wanted to come closer, 
but, on the other hand, she didn't want to seem cowardly 
in front of him. Animals could sense fear, and many would 
attack solely because of it. She came and crouched down in 
front of what he pointed at.
    It was a round mark, like a hoofprint. But printed in 
the middle of it was a series of receding triangles.
    "Well, yes."
    "What?"
    A blast of heat blew over Escorie, and she glanced up- 
and recoiled. Damiel's white jade eyes were gone. Fire had 
replaced them, flames burning in the sockets that had held 
his eyes.
    She scrambled away, hand on one of the knives that she 
hadn't broken in the fight with the six-headed beast.
    "Where?" the land Elwen demanded. Even though fire 
couldn't look at one, she had the impression those blazing 
eyes were looking right at her. Maybe it was the direction 
of his head, the tilt of his head, more than anything 
else.
    "On the wing of a beast with six heads I killed," she 
said slowly, one hand still on her weapons, the other 
splaying slowly out in front of her in an instinctive 
warding gesture. Eluvori had been using that sign to ask 
protection from the spirit of Rodollen against the wild 
magic for thousands of years. She figured it couldn't hurt 
just now. "I thought it was your guard beast, that its 
death was what you had come here to see about."
    Damiel shook his head, and the unnerving eyes turned 
away from her, to stare at the mark on the ground. "I felt 
the disturbance when you entered the valley, but I've felt 
nothing since." His gaze came back to Escorie just as she 
was starting to draw a breath of relief, and she wished it 
wouldn't. It was highly unnerving. "You're sure it was the 
same mark?"
    "Yes." She flushed again, this time out of irritation 
"Now, who's the one leaping to the conclusion that I'm 
lying?"
    Damiel laughed soft and low. It sounded as if his 
throat hurt. "Oh, believe me, my lady, it's not that I 
don't believe you. It's that I very much wish I didn't 
have to. If you had been uncertain at all, then I could 
have rested in peace..." He shook his head, rising slowly 
to his feet, staring at the marking. "I suppose I should 
have expected it."
    "Expected what?"
    He stared down a moment longer, then looked at her. 
His eyes simply appeared again, masking the flames like 
some emotion that he had hidden. "I told you that 
Summerfire needed allies."
    "Yes?"
    "We are in the middle of a war. It seems that some of 
the enemies are a bit different than I thought they were." 
He shook his head and stood, reaching a hand out and 
whistling. Wellrun trotted up to him, and Escorie felt a 
ruffle of her hair as magewinds swept past her, probably 
on a scouting mission. "We should return to Summerfire as 
soon as possible. It's not safe here."
    "If my people's home is around here-"
    "Listen to your voice," said Damiel impatiently, 
swinging himself up. "What does it tell you?"
    Escorie closed her eyes and listened. South, said the 
implacable singing voice in her, and then, before she 
could say anything to Damiel about that direction, East.
    "South and east."
    Damiel nodded. "Summerfire is east and a little north 
of here. It'll be easier to search from the confines of 
the walls, believe me." He held a hand down. "We'll need 
to return as quickly as we can. Get up and ride behind 
me."
    "No."
    "You don't need to worry about him. He's quite safe. 
Not like his wild cousins. He won't buck you or try to 
spill the weight-"
    "It's not that." Escorie stepped back and stared up at 
him. "I refuse to ride any creature born of the wild 
magic. Call it- a religious conviction."
    "I suppose that you refuse to be killed by them, as 
well." Damiel's voice was flat, without any music at all 
now, but at least the fire hadn't reappeared in his eyes. 
Escorie was afraid that she might have yielded if it had, 
so badly did it frighten her.
    "I can handle myself."
    "The ones that could come will make the one you fought 
look like nothing, I guarantee it-"
    There was a ruffle of her hair again, and a smell of 
flowers. Damiel jerked his head up and stared intently at 
a point in the air a few inches above him.
    His eyes clouded, and black light spiraled up from him 
and danced on his hands and arms. "Stars. They'll be here 
in a few moments." He turned his head to glare at her. 
"Lady, ride."
    Escorie swayed a little under the force of the 
snapped-out command, but managed to cling to her balance 
and her smile. He wasn't her lord, after all. "I prefer to 
walk."
    "They'll be here!"
    "Can't you defeat them?"
    "Yes, and start a formal war in the process! Besides 
which, Summerfire needs to know about this and I don't 
have time to send a mental message right now." He jerked 
his head at the karkadann's back. "Up, now, or there won't 
be anything of you left."
    "Tell me who they are."
    "We don't have time! You would ask questions, believe 
me, and they don't-"
    "Aren't you wasting time just sitting here and talking 
to me like this?"
    Damiel opened his mouth to answer, but the karkadann 
squealed and bolted, and he had to spring into the air and 
do a backflip to get off it. The magewinds, Escorie 
supposed, caught him and turned his fall into an almost 
magical somersault. He caught himself after that and came 
to his feet.
    "You're right," he said. "I don't have time to stand 
around and talk to you. Here they come." He turned and 
fell into a fighter's crouch that looked remarkably 
similar to the one that Escorie had learned during her own 
Training.
    She didn't have much time to compare training, though. 
Something was coming up the low rises at them, and it 
howled and sang and roared in a thousand voices, like the 
dull buzz of a swarm of bees.
    But it wasn't bees. The sky was black with it, but it 
wasn't bees. It wasn't alive at all, Escorie was sure. It 
had a dry smell, the kind of scent that her nose always 
associated with warm rock. She could feel things that were 
almost alive riding in it, but it wasn't something that 
was alive in its own right.
    "Run."
    The word was spoken very calmly, and so she wasn't 
prepared for the sight that she saw when she turned to 
Damiel.
    His eyes were on fire again, and the black light was 
back, spitting and sliding around him like a nestful of 
winged cobras. He lifted his arms, and they coiled to the 
tips and clung there, sparking and snapping. He was 
watching the storm, Escorie realized, watching and waiting 
for the perfect time to let go.
    Apparently, it came.
    He let the black things go.
    They twisted through the air with a coiling motion, 
like sidewinders across sand, and where they passed the 
air turned dark. One passed within a few inches of 
Escorie, and she shivered as cold like something out of a 
bad dream struck at her. She stepped back, staring 
intently.
    It was good to know that someone who was a child of 
the wild magic could do this. Not only might it prove 
useful someday if he ever became an enemy of her people, 
but it would prove useful against the impulses in her mind 
that would make a friend out of him if she let them.
    The air that the black things cut stayed cut. They 
left channels behind them that didn't close, and they did 
the same thing when they struck at the rising storm, 
cutting holes through the center.
    The scream altered, to a sound that made Escorie's 
teeth stand on edge. She barely kept herself from reaching 
for her ears.
    The black things came through again, cutting the storm 
into four separate slices. Then they split apart, numerous 
tiny streams and forks of dark lightning, seeking out and 
hungrily eating the dust and the blackness in the air.
    Escorie was just sheathing her sword when a hand 
touched her wrist. She turned to see Damiel, his eyes back 
to normal once more, clinging so hard he pressed tendon to 
bone and smiling like a mad thing.
    "The chathrei will stop the storm, but not before it 
reaches us," he said. "We'll still have to flee, and we 
can't outrun us."
    "What do you suggest, then?" Escorie had been able to 
hear him without difficulty, but she had to raise her 
voice to shout over the scream.
    "There's only one way." He leaned towards her, the 
manic light still in his eyes. "Sorry about this, but it's 
really the only way."
    The voice of Rodollen in her head screamed, and 
Escorie tried to pull away.
    Damiel's grip firmed, then loosened, and the wild 
magic came for her and made her a magewind.




                        Chapter 2
                  The Lord of Summerfire
    "The line of Summerfire is ancient almost beyond 
measure, and but for the regrettable intrusion of insanity 
into it might have endured for generations beyond its 
destined end. If one can but train the mind to see in a 
new way, then one can see that the insanity was neither 
destined nor unregettable. The Lords of Summerfire did 
terrible things, but also accomplished some of the most 
beautiful ends known to Elwenkind..."
    -Excerpt from Munthi ko Rejea Kai, Or Land Elwens and 
Their Lords, published anonymously at the end of the Age 
of Motion.

    Escorie opened her eyes slowly. So many conflicting 
impulses tore at her that she expected to be sick at any 
moment. She felt as if she should be kneeling where she 
was, which was exactly what she was doing, but she also 
felt as if she should be flying, dashing around corners at 
a speed beyond anything she could have dreamed of.
    She got, slowly, to her feet.
    She stood in a place that she had never seen before. 
It had walls that shone in the sunlight slanting through 
the wide windows, and it took her a long moment to realize 
why. They were made of some golden material-
    Wood?
    She gasped, and her heart hammered in her throat, but 
she couldn't hear the screams of dying trees, even though 
she listened intently. Nothing but silence, in fact, 
broken only by a muffled groan.
    She turned her head and saw Damiel lying on the 
patterned floor next to her, getting slowly to his hands 
and knees as if he had been cast down by some mighty 
force. He shook his head, muttering something she couldn't 
hear, and then snapped his head up and addressed the empty 
air in front of him.
    "Yes, I know I could have been killed! I swear, having 
magewinds around the entire time is like having parents 
who never forget the time that you dropped the palm pies 
all over the floor," said Damiel, apparently to Escorie, 
since she was the only one in sight.
    The eluvor was regaining control of herself, and she 
clenched her hands at her side, her heart beating rapidly 
now for another reason. "How dare you?"
    "How dare I what?" Damiel had regained his feet, if 
not his color. He shot her a curious glance.
    Escorie lost her composure. "Transform me- take me 
along like that! I did not ask for rescue, and I did tell 
you that I wanted nothing to do with the wild magic. But 
you pulled me along anyway, without my consent. How dare 
you do something like that?"
    "You would have died if we had stayed there. The storm 
wasn't going to stop or slow in time for you to run away 
from it."
    "I would rather die than suffer the touch of the wild 
magic," said Escorie flatly.
    Damiel smiled at her, the broad smile that she was 
coming to hate. It made her feel that she was the target 
of a joke, though she couldn't say how it made her feel 
that way or even what the joke was. That just irritated 
her the more. "Even if you have to suffer the touch of the 
wild magic to found your Forest?"
    Damn it. Caught again. Escorie caught her breath and 
forced her heart to slow down a little, by concentrating 
on her Training as hard as she could. He was right. In 
saving her life, he was doing Rodollen's work.
    Perhaps even the wild magic could be used occasionally 
in the service of good, then-
    She shut off that tempting thought before it could 
gain control of her mind. That was how heresy won its way 
in, by seeming so reasonable and sensible that one would 
feel like a fool for rejecting the thoughts that came with 
it. But sooner or later, one would find oneself accepting 
everything that came with it, and then the soul was lost 
and drifting on a dark sea, with no hope of ever finding 
the right again.
    "I apologize, my lord," she said flatly. "You did have 
the right to save my life."
    "I'm so glad."
    She looked at him suspiciously, even though his voice 
had been perfectly solemn and not mocking at all, but he 
was already turning away as a voice called his name from 
down the hall. Escorie could recognize that much of the 
speech that followed, though not much more. It was in some 
language that she had never heard before, and the speaker 
was speaking very fast, in what seemed to be agitation.
    When he moved, Escorie looked down at the place where 
he had been lying, curious to see the pattern on the 
floor.
    She couldn't tell what the floor was made of, any more 
than she could tell what the walls were. If it was metal 
or stone- or wood- she would have known at once. As it 
was, she could only admire the pattern that she guessed 
was somehow significant, a green hill with what seemed to 
be a red fire blazing on it or a red sun rising over it.
    "No," said Damiel's voice suddenly, so close that she 
started. "I don't think that will be necessary, Anohe. And 
now I will thank you to greet our guest properly, in the 
tongue she understands."
    Escorie looked up to see a young land Elwen standing 
in front of her. His hair was a rich chestnut, with only a 
little of the red sheen of his father's, and his eyes a 
more normal light blue, but he looked the same otherwise. 
He glared sulkily at Damiel, not looking at her on 
purpose, Escorie thought, his mouth that could have been 
handsome twisted into a frown.
    "Why?" he asked, but at least he was speaking Primal. 
"She's not staying here, is she?"
    He injected a world of scorn into those few words that 
made Escorie renew her flagging faith in herself. Yes, she 
had been right. Land Elwens were what she had thought they 
were, the odd exception of Damiel being ignored. She 
stiffened her spine and stepped up to meet him on equal 
terms, forcing his eyes to move to her face. He stared at 
her with what seemed to be equal parts revulsion and 
fascination- almost the same sensation she had felt when 
she first saw Damiel- as she spoke.
    "I will stay as long as I like. Your father has 
promised me aid and perhaps land to found a Forest for my 
people. That is all that I care about, besides civility 
and courtesy. I am on a sacred mission for my people. You 
will respect that."
    Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of 
Damiel watching in delight, his mouth curved up, if only 
on one side, and his eyes shining like jewels. He blanked 
his face when he noted her staring, but his eyes still 
glowed.
    "It's been a long time since anyone put you in your 
place with such efficiency, Anohe," he said at last, 
mildly, when his son only stared. "Excepting myself, of 
course. Now, what do you say to the lady?"
    Anohe turned his gaze from Escorie to his father. "The 
wild magic doesn't like her."
    "She doesn't like it," said Damiel, unruffled. 
Escorie, if she hadn't seen his rage in the valley, 
wouldn't have guessed him capable of much deeper emotion 
than a smile. She reminded herself, once more, to be 
careful with this man who, it seemed, would be her 
people's ally or their deadliest enemy. "It seems a fair 
trade to me."
    Anohe turned to Escorie. "Courtesy isn't an 
obligation. The Lords of Summerfire bow to no one."
    Escorie drew in her breath to respond, but a growl 
beside her, on the edge of hearing it was so soft, told 
her that it wasn't her challenge to answer. She stepped 
back, looking from father to son and wondering how Damiel 
could have sired someone like this.
    Maybe it was age and training that had given Damiel 
his confidence and intelligence, but still, the difference 
between them was marked. She would have been frightened to 
leave the Vision in Anohe's hands for even a short time, 
if he had been eluvor.
    "You're right," said Damiel, and something in his 
voice made Anohe turn to look at him. He grew pale under 
his sun-burned skin. Escorie didn't turn to look at the 
land Elwen who had rescued her, preferring to watch the 
punishment of the one who had insulted her. "The Lords of 
Summerfire bow to no one. But who is Lord of Summerfire 
here?"
    Anohe's face was now as pale as the panes of glass in 
the windows. His mouth opened, he drew breath, and then he 
let the breath expire from his lungs unused. Perhaps he 
had been going to say something that only just now he 
realized would be idiotic.
    "Well?" said Damiel, his voice a great cat's purr.
    Anohe fell to one knee before his father, and bowed 
his head, clasping his hands behind his head in what 
Escorie could only suppose was some kind of ritual 
gesture. "Forgive me, Father-"
    There was a snap as one of the magewinds picked up a 
hanging on the wall and then flung it back against the 
golden material sharply.
    "Lord Damiel. Forgive me for assuming an authority 
that was not mine to assume. Forgive me for showing 
contempt where none was deserved. Forgive me for not 
obeying you when you made a reasonable request of me." He 
paused, panting for breath.
    "And?" asked Damiel, his voice again the purr.
    "Oh, stars," said Anohe, and his voice had changed yet 
again. No longer sulky boy or terrified supplicant, it 
held the horror of a student who had forgotten his lesson. 
"What else?"
    "Not realizing at once that your authority does not 
extend to commanding me or my guest," said Damiel. "While 
the Lady Escorie Vaultwild is here, you are not only to 
treat her with every courtesy, you are to obey her as if 
she was me. Do you understand?"
    That did make Escorie turn her head. "He has nothing 
to do with my quest," she said to Damiel, whose face, 
gazing down at his son, was mild. "It's not just or right 
to ask that of him."
    "I rule here," said Damiel, not even glancing at her. 
"While he lives as my subject, he will obey my rules."
    "He is your son."
    His eyes came up, focusing on her as if she had said 
something clever or interesting. But it wasn't honor that 
Escorie felt as those cold eyes touched her face. She 
shivered.
    "What has that do with anything?" asked Damiel softly.
    She glanced away, revolted, and no longer feeling any 
kind of temptation to excuse the Lord of Summerfire. 
Stars, if he was like that, the wild magic must have 
corrupted him further than she thought. He had seemed 
almost like a Vision-Bearer for his people when she met 
him, but he was obviously less than that. He was the 
servant of the wild magic, and the embodiment of its cruel 
and capricious will.
    "Well, Anohe?"
    "I will do it, my lord."
    "Good." Escorie turned back in time to see Damiel 
sweep a hand through the chestnut hair on his son's bowed 
head. It would have seemed like a gesture of blessing to 
her only a moment ago, but now she saw it as the same way 
that she would stroke a sword, possessive and proud of the 
ownership. "Go, now, and tell the Rheeamorn what you have 
done today."
    Anohe rose and trotted away as though his father had 
given him a reasonable command.
    Damiel turned back to her, and smiled at her as if 
nothing had happened. "My lady, if you would come with me, 
I have food and drink to offer you, better than the 
venison that we ate earlier."
    "I'm not-" Escorie stopped when she realized that she 
was hungry, as famished as if she had eaten nothing for 
the past two days. She narrowed her eyes at him. "What did 
you do to me?"
    "Magewinds live much faster and wilder than we do," 
said Damiel casually, turning away and walking down the 
hall in the direction that Anohe had gone. Escorie thought 
about not following him, but given that there wasn't 
really anywhere else she could go, she wound up striding 
after him. "They live as much in a little span of time as 
an Elwen would in- oh, a dance. Ten days," he added, when 
he turned his head to see her puzzled expression. "We need 
more food when we return to Elwen form. It's as if you had 
spent some great time exercising without it."
    "Why doesn't your wild magic give you free energy, 
without requiring you to eat something when you return to  
Elwen form?" asked Escorie.
    "It doesn't want to."
    She halted, shaking her head, and again he turned to 
look at her. His unusual responsiveness to her moods 
puzzled her for only a moment, until she remembered that 
he had said he could read emotions. "How can you live like 
this?" she asked, not caring if he felt her disgust now. 
"How can you live never knowing what it's going to do?"
    "But I do know." Damiel tilted his head to the side as 
he regarded her, the self-mocking smile pulling and 
tugging at his face again. Escorie ignored it, and the 
invitation to laughter it seemed to offer, instead 
pressing her attack again.
    "Why, then. How can you live with never knowing the 
reason behind what it does?"
    "But I know that as well."
    "Well?"
    "Caprice and whim."
    Escorie shook her head. "That's not enough. What about 
the rule of law? What about cause and effect?"
    Damiel sighed and rolled his eyes. "Come with me. I'll 
explain a few ideas to you- why I came to investigate the 
magic's response to you, what it means that I treated 
Anohe the way I did, what those markings we found mean, 
and some of the other ideas that I know you want 
explained, that I can hear buzzing in your head."
    He turned and walked down the hall. Again Escorie 
weighed her choices, and again she found that she really 
had no choice but to follow.
    That didn't mean that she had to like it, though.
    "No one said that you had to," said Damiel calmly, 
from ahead of her.
    Escorie ground her teeth and did her best to walk in 
mental and emotional, as well as physical, silence.
----------------------------------------------------------
    "I did tell you that you shouldn't leap to 
conclusions," said Damiel with a hint of smugness in his 
voice, as they at last reached the top of the winding 
staircase and what was evidently their destination.
    Escorie couldn't say anything. She was still too 
stunned. The absolute trust in the eyes of those children 
who had run to greet the Lord of Summerfire...
    "I didn't know," she said softly. "I have been rude to 
you in the same way that Anohe was rude to me- without 
thought, and with contempt that you had in no way earned. 
Forgive me."
    "Forgiven," said Damiel easily, reaching for something 
that hung around his neck and then looking at the door. It 
opened, and he peeked over his shoulder at her, eyes 
shouting with laughter for all that his tone was mild. 
"But you might want to be more careful next time, instead 
of asking my people what it feels like to live under the 
hand of a king."
    Escorie, her eyes on the ground, nodded. She had 
nearly been forced to draw her weapons in self-defense, 
when one outraged- creature- had pounced towards her, 
wings fanning the air as if it would like to strike her 
with them.
    "Here we are." Damiel opened the door, and stepped 
inside the room beyond. "The place where I am when I want 
to sleep, or think, or read, or entertain a guest. Of 
those, the last is most rare."
    Escorie bowed to acknowledge his bow as she stepped 
into the room, but she was too awed to really watch the 
expression on his face, though she was sure it was amused. 
She was too busy examining the walls, the floor, the door, 
anything that might tell her what was holding this thing 
up, and not hint that it was wild magic.
    The room hovered on the end of a long spire that 
projected into space, made of more of the golden material 
that flowed without interruption from the hall they had 
arrived in, for all that they had crossed courts and 
climbed stairs. An impossibly delicate thing, there was 
nevertheless space at the top for a great round room with 
chairs in every direction, hangings on the walls, carpets 
on the floor, and a table in the very center. A bed stood 
off in the corner, a neglected-looking thing not much 
better than the pallet Torimona had slept on during all 
her years as Vision-Bearer.
    And books.
    Escorie had seen one or two books in her life, just 
enough to know what they were. She could read and write, 
of course, but the most use the eluvori had for writing 
was for temporary messages the scouts left to guide the 
People when they were traveling. They never stopped in one 
place long enough to get paper or bind leather, and most 
forest Elwens disdained paper on the basis that flowers or 
trees had died to produce it.
    But books crowded the shelves here, rising as high as 
the ceiling, which was higher overhead than she would have 
placed it if guessing. Most of them were bound in rich 
leather, which filled the room with an unexpectedly 
intoxicating smell. Several of them had other covers, but 
though Escorie looked nervously, she saw none that were 
wood.
    "Please, sit down," said Damiel, and pulled several 
more books that were piled on top of each other off a 
chair so she could.
    "Where do you get them all?" All Escorie could think 
was that he must have more money, and time, than anyone 
she had ever heard of.
    The glories of a settled people, Rodollen's voice 
whispered in her mind. When the eluvori have their home 
and their Forest, you can have books now.
    Sudden tears stung Escorie's eyes, and she was so busy 
swallowing them back that she almost missed Damiel's 
elaborately casual answer.
    "The magewinds steal them for me."
    Escorie snapped her mouth shut and stared at his back. 
"You really don't feel repentant for that at all, do you?" 
she asked at last.
    "Well, no." Damiel turned and sat down in the chair on 
the other side of the table, then looked up into the air, 
sighed loudly, and nodded. Escorie felt a ruffle as one or 
two magewinds apparently dashed off. "Most of the books 
they steal come from people attempting to attack 
Summerfire. It's useful to know as much about how the 
enemy thinks as I can."
    "And the rest?"
    "I don't know. I've never asked."
    "You don't want to know."
    "Damn right." Damiel moved on past the objection that 
she wanted to make, and folded his hands in front of him, 
regarding her over them. "I promised you explanations, 
since you were so kind as to go on the magewind ride with 
me and forget the little unpleasantness that resulted with 
Anohe. Will you tell me where you would like me to start, 
my lady?"
    "Yes. What is the matter with simply founding a Forest 
somewhere in the middle of the valley, the moment that the 
voice tells me to?"
    Damiel twitched a shoulder, but he was smiling, a 
little. At least, she thought he was. His lips curved, and 
his eyes glowed, but his actual face remained calm, so she 
couldn't prove it. "Well, for one thing, my lady, the 
valley is home to four different races- more if you count 
the peoples who live nowhere else but in Summerfire- and 
two of them are violently at war with Summerfire, most of 
the time. Some of them would see founding a Forest on 
their lands as an act of war. In fact, all of them 
probably would, even our allies the slendiki."
    "Then why do you think that you can help me?"
    "If you will promise to ally your people with mine, 
then I can take you to a patch of land relatively free of 
wild magic. That will necessitate attacking the people who 
own the land. As they will be enemies of Summerfire, you 
will be doing me and mine a favor."
    "So why do I need your help at all? Why not go south 
and east and trust in my magic and Rodollen's to defend 
it?"
    "Because you wouldn't last long enough to get there," 
said Damiel peaceably. "The Lord of Summerfire can ride in 
impunity through their lands. They don't like it, but they 
tolerate it, not having much choice. You, walking, 
wouldn't get there alive."
    "The Vision would protect me."
    "So certain of that, are you?"
    Escorie stared at her hands. Well, no, she wasn't. She 
knew that the Vision was the important thing, not the one 
who bore the Vision, but that did mean that she could die 
and Rodollen wouldn't care. He would only go back to 
Torimona, and she would train another Vision-Bearer. The 
eluvori had waited this long for their home. They could 
wait a little longer.
    "I thought so." Damiel looked up as the door opened, 
and the magewinds came back, bearing two cups of polished 
wood. He sipped at the cool liquid in the first one, and 
sighed in contentment. Escorie grimaced, pushing hers 
away. He didn't seem to notice.
    "My dear lady, you wouldn't last one moment. And there 
are worse things than death waiting in the southern 
Audvelyn, I promise."
    "Tell me about some of them."
    His eyebrows rose. "All right." He drew breath, then 
cocked his head at her cup. "You haven't touched your 
tidilia. Don't you want it?"
    Escorie stared at him. "It's in a wooden cup."
    "Will your not drinking from it make the tree any less 
dead?"
    "It's about principles. That's not something that I 
would expect you to understand." The Vision-Bearer folded 
her arms beneath her breasts.
    For a moment, fire flashed where his eyes had been. 
His voice was soft. "I did tell you to be careful about 
leaping to conclusions. That includes conclusions about 
the state of my temper."
    "Will you make me drink it, just to satisfy your 
whims?"
    Astonishingly, he chuckled and leaned back again, all 
signs of anger gone from his face. "No."