"How?" Leesil asked.
Magiere's voice carried none of its old bite as she glared at Chap. "You've been in my head again."
Leesil remembered the first time she'd had a vision. In Bela, she'd held cloth from a victim's body. She had walked the place where the corpse had been found and relived the moment that an undead had slaughtered the woman, a nobleman's daughter. Nothing like that had happened in Nein'a's clearing.
Magiere slowly shook her head. "All I wanted was to kill anything that got in the way of finding you. I touched the tree, and I was there... inside Most Aged Father... or his memory, at least."
"You saw undeads?"' Wynn asked. "Vampires... in the form of risen soldiers?"
Magiere looked at her. "He... they didn't know what was happening. They just ran inland toward On-nis Lo... Lon..."
Wynn sat upright. "Aonnis Lhoin'n?"
Magiere nodded. "I don't know if they made it, though obviously Sorhkafare... Most Aged Father is still alive."
"You are certain you heard it right?" Wynn demanded. "Aonnis Lhoin'n?"
Magiere lifted her head. "Why? Have you read of it somewhere?"
"No," Wynn answered. "It still exists."
The sage looked as if she'd uncovered something astonishing. Her brown eyes wandered, growing doubtful, until a scowl spread across her round face.
"Wait," Leesil said. "You've seen this place... and it still bears the same name?
Wynn shook her head. "It is what the elves of my continent call the cen-termost place in their land-First Glade-but no one in my guild knew it was that old."
She blinked rapidly, lost for an instant somewhere other than this moment.
Leesil wasn't certain what all this meant. "Perhaps the war wasn't as long ago as the sages think."
Wynn started at his voice. "No, we have long tried to determine when the war occurred. Some do not believe it ever happened, that it is all myth and legend spun out of proportion. But I have seen old scrolls and parchments, stone carvings and other things... from centuries back. Malourne, my country, goes back more than four centuries. The king's city of Calm Seatt is even older. And what we've found was much older still."
"What does that have to do with this... First Glade?" Leesil asked.
"Because my order has been deceived!" Wynn answered sharply. "There are three branches of the Guild of Sagecraft. The first was in my Malourne, decreed by our own kings of old. Shortly thereafter, the elves established their own to match ours. And one is in the Suman Empire along the eastern coast of my continent. It was all to help preserve civilization, present and past... should the worst ever come again."
Wynn turned to Magiere.
"If you heard right, a piece of what was lost has been within reach all along. Its past and history could never have been forgotten-not by the elves. It lay right before our eyes... and they said nothing of it!"
Leesil didn't care for this one bit. It was enough they had to deal with the secrets and lies that had tangled them among the elves of this land. How long had Wynn's far-off elven neighbors kept this to themselves, an ancient place hidden in plain sight?
"They were taken unaware, unprepared," Magiere whispered. "They didn't even know what to do... with what came at them in the night."
Leesil frowned until he caught up. Magiere's thoughts had turned back to her vision in the glade.
"No name," she whispered, as if searching for one, then her dark eyes settled upon him. "They didn't have a name for what they saw."
"I don't understand," Leesil said, sounding exasperated even to himself.
She grabbed his arms, fingers biting in. "Most Aged Father-Sorhkafare-didn't have a name for what he saw. Undead, vampire, or anything in his own tongue. None of his comrades did. He didn't know... their own dead coming to feed upon them that night."
More disjointed pieces of a past that didn't matter here and now. None of it would help Magiere face the council of the an'Croan.
"They had never seen or heard of an undead?" Wynn whispered. She paused, and then exclaimed, "There were no undead... until the war?"
"Dead history can wait!" Leesil snapped. "It's no good to us now, so enough-"
Chap snarled, and Wynn flinched as if her head ached. She looked at the dog and said, "Yes, a good question."
She held up one finger at Leesil before he could argue, and she turned to Magiere.
"I want no more secrets between us," Wynn said pointedly. "I told you, remember, as we sat at the campfire outside Venjetz? You nearly collapsed when we entered Most Aged Father's home. You tell me now-what is happening to you?"
Leesil waited tensely. Wynn had grown far less timid in the moons they'd spent together, but Magiere didn't take kindly to challenges. The last thing he needed was these two going at each other. Magiere dropped her head until Chap snarled at her again.
"I haven't slept in eight... maybe nine nights," she said quietly. "And not much before that... since we entered this land."
Leesil knew she was having trouble, but he'd had no idea it was this bad. He hadn't had many restful nights himself.
"But do I look it?" Magiere added, almost as a challenge. "I'm not tired, but I can't stop shaking. It gets worse when I'm inside these trees. I have to force myself to eat because I'm never hungry, not in any real way. Did you see the tree in Nein'a's clearing, the one I touched?"
Leesil shook his head, but Wynn sucked in a sharp breath.
"Your hands. Chap saw in your memories... they marked the tree."
Magiere faced Leesil. "Before I slipped into Sorhkafare's memory, the shaking sharpened. Something ran through me as I backed into the tree, and then I was there, in his past. I didn't know what it was, and only guessed afterward, when I called for you."
She heaved a deep breath.
"I saw marks in the bark, like blight or as if part of it had died... shaped like my hands. I am guilty, though not for the reasons Freth and the others think. A piece of that tree's life ripped away... into me. I think that's what's been happening to me... in this land. I'm not hungry or tired... because I'm... feeding on everything here."
"We keep this to ourselves," Leesil said quickly, hiding the panic he felt. "We can't let anyone know. Not with this council's judgment in the balance."
The doorway's hanging pulled back, and Brot'an peered in. He held a tray with several bowls and a pitcher.
"May I enter?" he asked politely.
"Do we have a choice?" Leesil answered.
"Leesil!" Wynn snapped. "Yes, Brot'an. We need to know what will happen next?"
Brot'an's large form filled the entrance as he stepped in. He set down four steaming bowls of stew. He reached back through the curtain and produced four clay cups that someone handed off to him. Crouching down, he poured water for them all, including Chap. But when he offered, no one touched food or drink.
He had changed tunics, and a white cotton bandage was wrapped on his forearm.
Brot'an eyed Chap thoughtfully. "It is safe for us to speak... so long as your majay-h does not sense any presence that would hear us."
Leesil understood. Magiere's stolen memory hinted that the decrepit old elf had a way of moving about the forest without leaving his home. And Leesil remembered the strange way the majay-h pack had acted just before Magiere lost control.
Brot'an settled cross-legged on the floor. "Have you finished with my cloak, little one?"
"What? Oh... yes." Wynn crawled to the chamber's far side and returned with Brot'an's heavy green-gray cloak. "Thank you."
He nodded slightly and turned to Magiere. "Are you well?"
"No," she answered.
"What's going to happen?" Leesil asked, though he wished Sgaile had come instead.
"In two days there will be a gathering," Brot'an began. "It has been a long time since a majority of the clan elders came at the same time. Word of your presence spread quickly, and they began traveling here once they heard. There is concern that Most Aged Father took it upon himself to give humans safe passage. This has never happened in anyone's memory. Some believe he overstepped his position. No one outside of certain Anmaglahk have even seen Most Aged Father in nearly fifty seasons."
"Fifty seasons?" Leesil repeated. "How is that possible?"
Brot'an paused, as if deciding how to answer. "Most Aged Father is revered as the protector of our people, and his word weights heavily with many of our leaders. But the Anmaglahk are not a clan, and therefore Most Aged Father is not a representative of the people-he is not a clan elder. At most gatherings of the elders, he has had no reason to be present. But he will be there this time.
"He might have appeared to defend his decision in giving you safe passage, or he could have sent Frethfare in his place. That issue will no longer be the primary concern of the council. He is now Magiere's accuser, and a judgment must be made. He must make his claim against Magiere before the council or withdraw it entirely."
"You want them to see him, don't you?" Magiere asked.
"I wish for them to hear him," Brot'an said. "His mind... is not what it once was. It may work in your favor to bring his judgment into question, but in turn may show he was not of sound mind in letting humans into our land."
Leesil sat up straight. "You planned this... to use that old elf's accusation against Magiere as a way to alert your people?"
Brot'an shook his head. "No, I never foresaw this. Though I knew your presence would raise issues to be addressed. That is now of little advantage."
"What do you mean by that?" Leesil demanded.
"Magiere has a choice to make," Brot'an answered, ignoring Leesil entirely as he gazed only at her. "Most Aged Father will likely choose Frethfare as his advocate. You must choose your own for the coming proceedings."
"Wynn can do it," Leesil answered. "She's a scholar, speaks fluent Elvish, and she knows Magiere."
"Leesil, I..." Wynn stammered. "I am not certain I could-"
"That is not permitted," Brot'an interrupted calmly. "As a human, her presence is still in question-and she is not an'Croan."
Leesil flushed with rising anger. "You're saying she has to choose one of you... an elf? As if there's even one of you we could trust to-"
"You do it," Magiere said. "I choose you, Brot'an, for advocate... if you're willing."
"No!" Leesil snapped.
"It is not your decision!" Brot'an barked at him. "Only the accused can choose, unless of unsound mind."
"Then she's unsound," Leesil countered. "She's a raving madwoman! What happened in Nein'as glade is enough to prove that. And I choose Sgaile!"
"Leesil, stop this!" Wynn shouted at him.
"That is not how mental fitness is determined," Brot'an said. "And you are suspect as much as your companions. Your involvement in any capacity would draw further suspicion and work against her."
Chap stalked over to Magiere. He sat down before her and cast a narrow-eyed sneer at Bro'tan, then lifted his snout to Magiere and barked once ror yes.
Magiere put her hand on Chap's neck.
"Can you clear me?" she asked Brot'an.
"I accept your selection as advocate," Brot'an replied. "I will serve your interests to my fullest ability. I know you are innocent... of the claim made against you."
Magiere fell silent, as did Wynn, but Leesil was about to explode.
Brot'an turned on him in harsh voice. "There is more at stake here than Magiere's survival... There is your mother's freedom."
Leesil tensed. "You'd better start making sense."
"Most Aged Father is the one who imprisoned Cuirin'nen'a, though it was never argued before the council."
"She was never given a trial?" Wynn asked.
"The clans accepted this," Brot'an replied, "as it was a matter internal to the Anmaglahk. The elders respect that we serve to protect the people, and anyone accused of undermining our efforts puts all of them at risk. As I have said, Most Aged Father's word carries much influence."
"They don't even know what she did," Leesil said. "They just took his word that she was a traitor."
"The elders still believe him competent," Brot'an added. "More than competent-the wisest of us all, and the eldest of our people. In placing ourselves in service, the Anmaglahk not only answer to the laws of the people but also to the rule of our caste. We have one leader-Most Aged Father. If he is seen as having faltered in one judgment, then the elders may find reason to examine other decisions he has made. That bears directly upon Cuir-in'nen'a's freedom."
Brot'an waited for further argument. When none came, he turned again to Magiere.
"Trust me."
Chap barked once.
"Yes," Magiere whispered.
As Chap watched Brot'an leave, he second-guessed his own advice.
In spite of everything Brot'an said, his flickering memories never once strayed to Magiere-only to Leesil, Nein'a, or Eillean. Chap even caught words spoken when Eillean had given him as a pup to Nein'a.
Leesil was Brot'an's true interest, not Magiere.
Still, Chap believed that Brot'an might well succeed. Exposing Most Aged Father's reasoning as questionable could dismiss his claim against Magiere, and his judgment of Nein'a as well. And Chap saw no way to accomplish either of these feats himself.
Magiere still sat shaking upon the bed ledge. He nosed her hand until she ran it across the side of his face.
"I wish you could talk... for yourself," she whispered. "I would have chosen you instead of Brot'an."
Chap desperately wished the same.
Leesil took up one bowl and wooden spoon and brought them to Magiere.