Magiere leaned out the opening on the rotated partition's other side. She stepped into the small room with her falchion drawn. Leesil followed, heading straight for the door, and found it locked or somehow barred. Even worse, there wasn't a keyhole.

"Now what?" Magiere asked.

Byrd shortened his stride so no change in the rhythm of his steps would be heard. When Emel had slipped from sight around the tunnel's gradual curve, Byrd headed back the other way.

He listened carefully with each step. When certain that no one noticed he was gone, he picked up his pace. He reached the tunnel's end, climbed up the rungs in the stone wall, and crawled through the hole in the dead tree. He'd barely emerged when two tall figures seemed to materialize from the darkness.

Both wore cowls over their heads and wraps across the lower halves of their faces. They'd tied the trailing corners of their cloaks across their waists. All of their attire was a blend of dark gray and forest green.

I hough Byrd knew them, he moved cautiously until close enough to see their large amber eyes. Strands of silvery hair hung down across the leader's dark-skinned forehead. Brot'an was Byrd's main contact.

"You have a way into the keep?" Brot'an asked.

Though elves were reputed to be tall and lanky, Brot'an was solidly built for his height and almost a full head above Byrd. Even in the dark, faint lines around the mans large eyes marked him as an elder of his people. His most distinguishing markings were the ridges of straight and pale scars upon the right side of his face. Four lines ran through his feathery eyebrow, skipped over his eye, and continued through his cheek, disappearing under his face wrap. Staring into the elf's eyes, it was if those large amber irises burned through cage bars made of scarred flesh.

Byrd had seen Brot'an's companion only twice. He was younger and slight of build, and the few tendrils of hair visible beneath his cowl might have been light blond. Daylight would likely lighten them further. Byrd had never caught the younger man's name.

"Yes," he confirmed at Brot'an's question. "How did you escape the city?"

"At your signal, we intercepted the wagon and crawled underneath. We were with you for most of the passage into the forest."

The younger elf stepped up to the dead tree, leaned into its hole, then looked back to Brot'an. "Bitha cilleach slighe vo Ihohk do dan’gneahk. "

"Where does the tunnel come out?" Brot'an asked.

"Somewhere in the keep's lower levels," Byrd said. "There's already one of you inside. Well, not exactly… he's the half-breed of an elven woman who-"

"Cuirin'nen'a?" Brot'an whispered.

Byrd paused, for the name was only half-familiar. "If you mean Nein'a, then yes. Her son's name is-"

"Leshil," Brot'an finished.

"If you mean Leesil," Byrd added, "then yes."

Ac the mention of Gavril and Nein'a's son, Brot'an's companion stepped closet, casting a suspicious glance at Byrd before silently watching his superior. Brot'an's gaze drifted away, and he looked about the dark forest as if lost in memory.

Byrd saw only the mans eyes, but was certain a nicker of hardness passed over Brot'an's expression beneath the scarf. Apparently this elder anmaglahk knew of both Nein'a and Leesil. Byrd hoped this wouldn't affect the many years of work that had led to this night's good fortune.

"Why is he here?" Brot'an asked suddenly.

"He's trying to discover what happened to his parents," Byrd answered. "And I'd guess he might try to stop you as well.

Brot'an let out a sigh and sagged under some hidden weight.

"Do you know something about Leesil's parents?" Byrd asked, and it was a slip he immediately regretted.

Brot'an glared back at him, and Byrd wondered if he saw an instant of pain in those amber eyes-just before they hardened with a hatred that put Byrd further on edge.

"Uilleva mi so oran Aoishenis-Ahare," the young one said to Brot'an. "Ge mi jaoa faod vorjhasij leanau ag tru, Leshil!"

"Na-fuam!" Brot'an snapped.

His companion flinched and did not answer, but apprehension was plain in his stance. The final word the young elf had spoken was far too close to Leesil's name, and Byrd suspected these two argued over how to deal with Leesil. Brot'an clearly didn't care for whatever fervent suggestion his subordinate had made.

"Is Leesil's presence a problem?" Byrd asked, careful not to let his anxiety show.

Brot'an looked into the tree's dark opening. "No. Darmouth will die tonight."

"Then my people thank you." Byrd nodded and grew more businesslike. "It's become harder over the years to bribe information from servants, but from what I've heard, Darmouth will go to his family crypt in the lower level if he needs a secure place. I don't know more than that. Perhaps it is the best-fortified room."

Byrd casually backed away while he spoke, as if all this were but part-ing comments he thought of as he was leaving. Brot'an watched him with eerie, slanted eyes, and Byrd's sense of danger grew.

Without another word, Brot'an crawled into the dead tree, and his companion followed.

Byrd trudged through the forest beyond sight of the lakeshore, heading toward the city. Come sunrise, he could slip in with some band of merchants or farmers. He would rouse the Vonkayshi, the rebels of his cause, and word would spread quickly to prepare for a better day.

Secrecy was essential to Brot'an and his kind, but it didn't matter to Byrd how many servants or guards died this night, should the elves encounter such accidental witnesses. A higher purpose had to be served, and freedom never came free of cost. Unfortunate deaths didn't weigh against the lives of a whole province. Darmouth must be removed at any price.

That was why Byrd had first become part of the tyrant's far-reaching eyes and ears. In turn, he watched and learned Darmouth's ways as much as he could. The Vonkayshi fought for the people as a whole, and anyone unfortunate enough to fall in their cross fire was a casualty of the silent war waged here for many long years. What Byrd did, he did for all the people in this land.

Byrd shivered in the slow-falling snow, but he warmed himself with the image of Brot'an's slim stilettos piercing Darmouth over and over. If only he could be there when it happened.

Wynn flattened against the wall next to Hedi in the small alcove at the head of the north-side corridor. Fortune favored them more than Wynn hoped, as they met no one along the way, even when sneaking off the main stairs and through the keep's wide entryway. They kept to the side of the staircase and inched along the rear wall down the north corridor, all the way to the corner.

"Take that scarf off your head, Hedi whispered. Crouch down and peek around the corner. I saw guards by the end door the other day, and they appeared less than attentive."

Wynn sank to her knees, still holding the candlestick and bag, and kept her head near the floor as she looked. Two guards stood before a door, apparently talking, but the corridor was so long that she could not catch what was being said. She pulled back and stood up.

"They will see us the instant we step out," she whispered.

Hedi gave her a hard glare as she handed Wynn the key taken from the young guard.

"Then we will let them," Hedi returned. "Follow me like any attentive servant. When the moment comes, be ready with that candlestick. If you still want your freedom and your life."

Before Wynn could reply, Hedi tucked both hands behind her back, still holding the dagger, and stepped into the corridor.

Wynn's breath caught in her throat and her thoughts froze upon the only plan Hedi could have in mind. It was too dangerous, but Wynn could not stand there alone in the corridor. She tucked the candlestick behind Korey's bag and followed.