"Chap, what's wrong?"

Chap lifted his head, his legs still shuddering, and looked over Leesil's shoulder. Most Aged Father watched him in suspicion. He whined and pushed his head into Leesil's chest.

"You are dismissed," Most Aged Father said. "Leave now. We will talk again."

Leesil carefully released Chap and stood up. "Until I see Nein'a…don't bother sending for me."

He turned and, with a brush of fingertips across Chap's neck, strode out for the stairs, not waiting for Frethfare to usher him out. Chap did not look back to the old elf as he followed on unsteady paws.

Thegreat war was but a myth to some. What he had seen and felt in that flash of the old elf's memory left him shaken.

The humans called it the Forgotten History… or just the Forgotten. Some believed this war had covered the known world.

And Most Aged Father had been there.

Most Aged Father settled in his moss-padded bower, neither worried nor distressed. The meeting with Leshil had progressed as expected. After so long a life, there was little he could not easily anticipate.

Leshil would struggle in anger and denial, until he realized no other choice remained. He could not leave this land without permission. He could not stay indefinitely. He could not find his mother without assistance.

He would realize the truth soon enough and accept it.

Most Aged Father was patient. The names of the dissenters would be uncovered. They would join Nein'a, each in his or her own separate solitude unto the end of their days. And he would turn his full attention to the human masses once again.

Only one thing troubled him. He had not anticipated the majay-hi.

None of its kind ever came here. He knew their history better than anyone, for in the end days he had fought beside a few of the born-Fay, who had come into flesh in the war against the Enemy. But their descendants never neared this place. He felt no blame toward them. No matter their ancestry, they did not understand why he clung to life for so long.

The Enemy only slumbered and would return.

It would always return.

But this majay-hi with Leshil had walked into his dwelling and looked him in the eyes.

Most Aged Father would learn more of this one. He did not care for being in the dark on such matters. In his long years, he'd learned that nothing ever happened without purpose.

But the conversation with Leshil had exhausted him. He placed withered hands against the wood of his home, his life's blood. Slowly, the forest's life flowed toward him. In recent years, it took more to sustain him another day. His moments of strength and vitality shortened ever so slightly.

His Anmaglahk thought him omniscient and eternal. They honored his sacrifice for remaining among them rather than joining their ancestors in rest. They believed his presence could reach to all living things that thrived and grew from the earth. But this was no longer true.

He could reach out through the trees and hear words spoken anywhere in this land, but long distances now took great effort. And remaining aware of just one place at time was all he managed. It drained him quickly.

Today it was necessary. Today he must hear what was said between Leshil and his companions.

Some time had passed, and likely Frethfare had returned Leshil to the quarters prepared for him and his companions.Comfortable quarters but lacking in any luxury or pleasing distraction that might make waiting easier. Lacking enough to keep Leshil always on edge and wanting to leave.

Most Aged Father closed his eyes, his feeble hands still resting upon the bower's living wood, and reached out through the roots of the trees. Through the wood and leaves of a domicile elm, he heard Leshil's voice.

Magiere watched the light wane below the doorway curtain's hem as dusk settled in. All she could do waswait and listen, but she heard no footfalls outside.

Where was Leesil?

She paced their one-room quarters, glancing at the curtain each time she drew near it. Even if she got by Osha or whoever stood post outside, she had little chance of finding Leesii. And she no longer had her falchion or even the dagger she'd made Wynn carry.

The strange vibration in her bones returned. It had faded to an almost unnoticeable level once they'd boarded the barge. Here in this place of the Anmaglahk, it built in her flesh once again. It made her even more anxious to take Leesii and run from this land by any passage they could find.

She finally sat and watched Wynn writing out one enlargedElvish letter after another upon a piece of Gleann's paper.

"This will not be as quick as the talking hide," Wynn said with frustration. "Chap will have to spell out every word. Another hide would be better, or something less fragile than paper."

"At least we can to talk to him," Magiere said.

For once she took comfort in Wynn's sudden bursts of chatter. Wynn carefully scribed and blew dry two pages of symbols and pulled out another blank sheet.

"I did not expect their dialect to be so different," Wynn said, "until I heard these elves speak. It is no wonder Chap and I have problems communicating… beyond his frustration with language. If only I could dip into that messy head of his, in the same way he sees and uses other people's memories."

Magiere didn't answer. No one had come to their quarters after Sgaile took Leesil away. She hardly considered him or his companions to be friends, but it was strange that not even Leanalham had looked in on them.

"Do not start pacing again," Wynn said. "If the elves wanted Leesil dead, none of us would have made it this far… nor would Sgaile have gone through so much to guard us. Our bodies would have vanished like any other curious human who came looking for this land."

How blunt the little scholar had become. A far cry from the soft-spoken sage Magiere had met back in Bela.

"I know," Magiere said. "It's just that lately Leesil has been so-"

"Erratic, pig-headed, idiotic, obsessive-"

"Yes, yes, all right," Magiere interrupted.A far cry indeed.

Wynn smirked slightly, her strange new stylus scratching out the next symbol. Just how many letters were there in Elvish?

Magiere hadn't bathed, wanting to be ready the instant Leesil and Chap returned. But she did change her clothing, tossing aside the elven attire for a pair of dark breeches and a loose white shirt. It was warm enough to leave off the wool pullover, but she had strapped on her hauberk again. It made her feel more secure-more like herself.

She closed her eyes.When all of this was over and done, perhaps Leesil might find his old self again. The one she'd fallen in love with so reluctantly at first. And if he didn't-she still couldn't see any day ahead of her without him.

The doorway curtain wafted inward, bulging up from the ground, and Chap slipped in under its hem. The curtain swung aside, and Leesil entered right behind the dog. Magiere was on her feet before the fabric settled into place.

"Are you all right? Did you see your mother?"

One look at his face answered both questions.

"What happened?" Wynn asked, and set aside paper and quill.

"He wants a bargain with me," Leesil answered flatly, and Chap issued a low rumble. "Most Aged Father wants the names of every Anmaglahk who might have a connection to my mother. If I get him those names, he'll release her."

Of all unsettling possibilities, this wasn't among the imagined worries that had run through Magiere's head.

"What makes him think any of his butchers would talk to you?"

"Because I'm Nein'a's son."He looked up, eyes sad and distant. "But he's lying. No matter what I do, I don't believe he'll release Nein'a-or us. You should've seen him…"