Something moved outside. Vanye heard it, but it was like the wind, stirring the trees, and did not repeat itself. He laid his head down again and shut his eyes, drifted finally back to sleep.

Then came a second sound, a creak of boards; and Morgaine moved. He flung himself over and came up with his sword in hand before his eyes were even clear; Morgaine stood beside him, doubtless armed, confronting what suddenly appeared as three men.

And not Men. Qhal.

Tall and thin they were, with white hair flowing to their shoulders; and they bore that cast of features that was so like Morgaine's, delicate and fine. They carried no weapons and did not threaten, and they were not of that horde that had come through at Azeroth: there was nothing of that taint about them.

Morgaine stood easier. Changeling was in her hand, but she had not unsheathed it. Vanye straightened from his crouch and grounded his blade before him.

"We do not know you," said one of the qhal. "The Mirrindim say that your name is Morgaine and your khemetf is Vanye. These names are strange to us. They say that you send their young men into the forest hunting strangers. And one of them is dead. How shall we understand these things?"

"You are friends of the Mirrindim?" Morgaine asked.

"Yes. Who are your enemies?"

"Long to tell; but these folk have welcomed us and we would not harm them. Do you care to protect them?"

"Yes."

"Then guide them away from this place. It is no longer safe for them."

There was a moment's silence. "Who are these strangers? And who, again, are you?"

"I do not know to whom I am speaking, my lord qhal. Evidently you are peaceloving, since you come empty-handed; evidently you are a friend of the Mirrindim, since they raised no alarm; and therefore I should be willing to trust you. But call the elders of the village and let them urge me to trust you, and then I may answer some of your questions."

"I am Lir," said the qhal, and bowed slightly. "And we are where we belong, but you are not. You have no authority to do what you have done, or to tell the Mirrindim to leave their village. If you would travel Shathan, then make clear to us that you are friends, or we must consider that what we suspect is the truth: that you are part of the evil that has come here, and we will not permit you."

That was direct enough, and Vanye clenched his hand on the hilt of his sword and held his senses alert, not alone for the three who stood before them in the hall, but for the undefended windows about them. In the firelight, they were prey for archers.

"You are well-informed," said Morgaine. "Have you spoken with the Mimndim? I think not, if you consider us enemies."

"We have found strangers in the woods, and dealt with them. And we came to Mirrind and asked, and so we were told of you. They speak well of you, but do they truly know you?"

"I will tell you what I told them: your land is invaded. Men and qhal have come through the Fires at Azeroth, and they are a hungry and a dangerous people, from a land in which all law and reason has long since perished. We fled them, Vanye and I… but we did not lead them here. They are prowling, hunting likely prey, and they have found Mirrind. I hope your dealing with them let none escape back to their main force. Otherwise they will be back."

The qhal looked disturbed at that, and exchanged looks with his companions.

"Have you weapons," Morgaine asked, "with which you can protect this village?"

"We would not tell you."

"Will you at least take charge of the village?"

"It is always in our keeping."

"And therefore they welcomed us… not knowing us, save as qhal."

"Therefore you were welcomed, yes."

Morgaine inclined her head as in homage. "Well, I understand a great many things that puzzled me. If Mirrind shows your care, then it speaks well for you. This I will tell you: Vanye and I are going back to Azeroth, to deal with the folk who have it now… and we go with your leave or without it."

"You are arrogant."

"And are not you, my lord qhal? You have your right.. . but no more right than we."

"Such arrogance comes of power."

Morgaine shrugged.

"Do you ask leave to travel Shathan? You must have it. And I cannot give it"

"I should be glad of your people's consent, but who can give it, and on what authority, if you will forgive the question?"

"Wherever you go, you will be constantly under our eye, my lady-whose speech is strange, whose manners are stranger still. I cannot promise you yea or nay. There is that in you which greatly alarms me, and you are not of this land."

"No," Morgaine admitted. "When we began our flight, it was not at Azeroth. It is your misfortune that the Shiua horde chose this direction, but that was not our doing. They are led by a halfling qhal named Hetharu; and by a halfling man named Chya Roh i Chya; but even those two do not fully control the horde. There is no mercy in them. If you try to deal with them face to face, then expect that you will die as Eth did. I fear they have already shown you their nature; and I wish above all else that they had come against me and not against Eth."

There were looks, and at last the foremost inclined his head. "Travel north along the stream; north, if you would live. A little delay to satisfy our lord may save your lives. It is not far. If you will not, then we shall count you enemies with the rest. Friends would come and speak with us."

And without further word the three qhal turned-the one in the shadow was a woman. They departed as noiselessly as they had come.

Morgaine swore softly and angrily.

"Shall we take this journey?" Vanye asked. He had no eagerness for it, but likewise he had no eagerness to gather more enemies than they had.

"If we fought, we would work enough ruin that these innocent folk would lie exposed to the Shiua; and probably we would lose our own lives into the bargain. No, we have no choice, and they know it. Besides, I do not completely believe that they came here unasked."

"The Mirrindim? That is hard to think,"

"We are not theirs, Sersein said. This afternoon when Eth was killed and they doubted us-well, perhaps they sought other help. They were anxious to keep us here tonight. Perhaps they saved our lives by holding us here. Or perhaps I am too suspicious. We shall go as they asked. I do not despair of it; I have felt from the beginning that the qhalur hand on this place was both quiet and not greatly remote."

"They are gentler than some qhal I have met," he said, and swallowed heavily, for he still did not like proximity to them. "It is said, liyo, that in a part of Andur's forests that are called haunted, the animate are very tame and have no fear… having never been hunted. So I have heard."

"Not unapt." Morgaine turned back toward the fire. She stood there a moment, then laid down Changeling and gathered her armor.

"A leave-taking."

"I think we should not linger here." She looked back at him. "Vanye, gentle they may be; and perhaps they and we act for similar reasons. But there are some things-well, thee knows. Thee well knows. I trust no one."

"Aye," he agreed, and armed himself, drew up the coif and set on his head the battered helm he had not worn since their coming to Mirrind.

Then they departed together to the pen where the horses were.

A small shadow stirred there as they opened the gate… Sin, who slept near the horses. The boy came forth and made no sound to alarm the village… shed tears, and yet lent his small hands to help them saddle and tie their supplies in place. When all was done, Vanye gave his hand as to a man .. . but Sin embraced him with feverish strength; and then to make the pain quick, Vanye turned and rose into the saddle. Morgaine set herself ahorse, and Sin stood back to let them ride out.

They rode the commons quietly, but doors opened along their way all the same. Sleepy villagers in their nightclothes turned out to watch, silent in the moonlight, and stood by with sad eyes. A few waved forlornly. The elders walked out to bar their way. Morgaine reined in then, and bowed from the saddle.

"There is no need for us now," she said. "If the qhal-lord Lir is your friend, then he and his will watch over you."

"You are not of them," said Bythein faintly.

"Did you not suspect so?"

"At the last, lady. But you are not our enemy. Come back and be welcome again."

"I thank you. But we have business elsewhere. Do you trust yourselves to them?"

"They have always taken care for us."

"Then they will now."

"We will remember your warnings. We will post the guards. But we cannot travel Shathan without their leave. We must not. Good journey to you, lady; good journey, khemeu.n

"Good fortune to you," Morgaine said. They rode from the midst of the people, not in haste, not as fugitives, but with sadness.

Then the darkness of the forest closed about them, and they took the road past the sentries, who hailed them sorrowfully and wished them well in their journey-then down to the stream, which would lead them.

There was no sign of any enemy. The horses moved quietly in the dark; and when they were far from Mirrind, they dismounted in the last of the night, wrapped themselves in their blankets and cloaks and slept alternately the little time they felt they could afford.

By bright morning they were underway again, travelling the streamside by trails hardly worthy of the name, through delicate foliage that scarcely bore any mark of previous passage.

From time to time there came a whispering of brush and a sense that they were being watched: woodswise, both of them, so that it was not easy to deceive their senses, but neither of them could catch sight of the watchers.

"Not our enemies," Morgaine said in an interval when it seemed to have left them. "There are few of them skilled in woodcraft, and only one of them is Chya."

"Roh would not be here; I do not think so."

"No, I do doubt it. They must be the qhal who live here. We have escort."

She was uneasy in it; he caught that in her expression, and agreed with it.

A hush hung all about them as they went farther. The horses moved with their necessary noise, breaking of twigs and scuff of forest mold… and yet something insisted there was another sound there, wind where it should not be, a whispering of leaves. He heard it, and looked behind them.