"Where did you learn our language?" Sgaile asked, refusing to speak to Wynn in his own tongue.

"On my own continent," she answered. "There are elves south of the Numan countries."

"Liar!" the female snapped. "Deceitful, like all humans."

These were the first non-Elvish words she'd spoken. Magiere had kept her eyes on the older Anmaglahk to the left, but her attention shifted to the woman, and her voice crackled low like Chap's growl.

"How rich… coming from the likes of you."

She swung her falchion slowly around toward the woman. Sgaile raised an arm in front of his comrade, but it wasn't clear exactly who he protected or restrained.

Leesil was getting tired of all this. "You aren't going to keep us out of this forest. Where is my mother? Is she still alive?"

Sgaile's expression remained guarded, but a flicker of discomfort crossed his narrow face. "Cuirin'nen'a lives, I assure you."

Leesil quivered in sudden weakness, and the chest's rope halter seemed to bite deeper into his shoulders.

"We would never kill one of our own," Sgaile continued. "But she is a great distance off, and the forest will not long tolerate your companions… or perhaps even you. We were sent to guide and protect you."

"And we're supposed to trust you?" Magiere asked.

"No," Sgaile answered politely. "I offer guardianship… and the safe passage of Aoishenis-Ahare himself." His gaze shifted back to Leesil. "Do you ac-cept?

Leesil's anger got the better of him. "Not by every dead deity that I can-

"We accept your guardianship," Wynn cut in, "and that of your… greatgrandfather?"

Leesil turned bewildered outrage on Wynn. She remained calm and composed, facing only Sgaile as he returned a gracious nod.

"Wynn!" Magiere hissed. "What do you think you're doing?"

"What you brought me for," she answered flatly. "You do not understand what is happening, and there is no time to explain it all now."

"My caste is trusted by all of our clans," Sgaile added. "I will not allow harm upon you, so long as you are under my guardianship… and how else will you find Cuirin'nen'a but through us? She was once one of our caste."

Those last words taunted Leesil. Who else among the elves but the An-maglahk would know his mother's location? They had imprisoned her as a traitor, and it seemed this "great-grandfather" had authority over the whole caste.

"If she's still alive," Leesil asked bitterly, "did you leave her suffering in some cell all these years?"

The thought made him ill, for he blamed himself as much as the An-maglahk-as much as Sgaile. Nein'a had twisted Leesil's life to a hidden purpose, but he was the one who'd abandoned his parents eight years ago.

Sgaile's features twisted in revulsion, and his eyes flashed with anger.

"I did not leave Cuirin'nen'a anywhere! She is safe and well-and that is all I may tell you. I am a messenger and your assigned guardian. Aoishenis-Ahare"-he glanced at Wynn-"Most Aged Father will answer your questions."

Leesil turned to Magiere; her white skin glowed in the crystal's light.

"I don't think we have a choice," he said quietly.

Magiere let out a derisive snort. "They're only concerned for themselves and their own goals! Every one of them we've met… they're all butchers who use the truth like a lie. They'll twist you around, Leesil, until you wouldn't know your own choice from theirs… until it's too late!"

Leesil flinched at her thinly veiled reference. Brot'an had tricked him into murdering Darmouth to start a war among the Warlands' provinces. But he still saw no alternative.

"Then believe in guardianship," Wynn said. "They would put their lives at stake to fulfill it. If you cannot trust them, then trust what I tell you. The way of guardianship is an old tradition and a serious matter."

Chap had remained silent and still all this time. His eyes held uncertainty and the quiver of his jowls echoed Magiere's distrust. As he crept around next to Wynn, he huffed sharply once in agreement.

"All right then," Leesil said with restraint. "As Wynn said, we accept… for now."

Sgaile nodded. "We will set camp through those trees. I will bring food and fresh water."

Wynn appeared to sag at those words, letting out all her fatigue.

Leesil sheathed his stiletto but had to nudge Magiere. She glared at him before doing likewise with her falchion, and then took Wynn by the arm with a frown at Chap.

"You two better be right."

Chap huffed three times for "maybe."

Magiere stopped short and her jaw clenched. "Oh, that's comforting."

She moved on with Wynn after Sgaile.

Leesil fell silent. They'd just placed their lives in the hands of the An-maglahk. He hoisted the pack Wynn left behind, retrieved the crossbow, andfollowed, his eyes on Sgaile's exposed back.

In a short time and distance, Magiere sat upon a toppled tree stump before a small fire. She settled Wynn on the ground in front of her and covered the sage with a blanket. Wynn leaned back to rest against Magiere's legs.

The four anmaglahk didn't appear to carry anything besides their bows and stilettos. She watched two of them disassemble the bows, unstringing first and then pulling the wood arms out of the metal grips. They stored the parts behind their backs beneath their tied-up cloaks. While Magiere was distracted by this, one of them had struck a fire, though she wasn't certain how this was accomplished so quickly.

Chap settled beside Wynn, his eyes always upon the elves, who moved off to gather by a far oak and argue in low voices. Leesil piled their packs and saddlebags with the chest of skulls and paced about the fire before crouching on Wynn's other side.

"Can you hear what they're saying?" he whispered.

Wynn nodded. "Bits and pieces-enough to catch the essence of contention. Their dialect is strange… older, I think, than the one I know."

Although no food had been provided yet, the chance to rest in warmth had revived the young sage a bit.

"I cannot quite determine their hierarchy," Wynn said with a shake of her head. "Sgaile is the leader, but perhaps only based on the mission he was given. They do not seem to use rank titles that I can pick out. The rough-skinned man is clearly the eldest, though I would guess Sgaile is perhaps fifty to sixty years old."

"Sixty years?" Magiere said too loudly, then lowered her voice. "He doesn't look more than thirty."

She knew most people would find Sgaile strikingly handsome-although she'd die before admitting that aloud. His white-blond hair was thicker than that of most elves, and he wore it neatly tied back. His face was narrow and smooth, with skin slightly darker than Leesil's.

"They live longer than we do," Wynn replied. "One hundred and fifty is a common age. Some live to be two hundred."

Magiere glanced sidelong at Leesil, who watched the conclave of assassins with fixed interest. By how many years would Leesil outlive her?

"The others are questioning Sgaile," Wynn continued. "Especially the angry woman."

"What about?" Magiere asked.

"They are unsettled by the task they were given, though the elder male supports Sgaile's adherence to the custom of guardianship. It seems safe passage for humans is unprecedented. None of them have even seen a human set foot in these lands."

Wynn cocked her head, still listening. "They are hesitant to question what this Most Aged Father has asked of them… but they are to take Leesil to him."

"I knew it," Magiere whispered. "Leesil, they're up to more than taking you to your mother."

He didn't answer. He didn't even look at her.

"I do not think Sgaile is lying to us," Wynn argued. "And this patriarch of their caste may have been the one to order Nein'a's imprisonment. If so, he is the one we need to see."

She tilted her head up to look at Magiere.