He pulled the word-wood from the tree with a breath of relief. So far, he had successfully set events in motion, but he had one more task to complete before Leshil's departure. He strode toward Ghoivne Ajhajhe's landward side, for this task required two wide strips of leather, loose wool, a needle, and waxed string. He knew where to find such items in the shops by the shore.

Most Aged Father waited within his massive oak at Crijheaiche-Origin-Heart. As the centermost community of what humans called the Elven Territories, it was also home to the Anmaglahk caste. He was so old that even the clan elders of the an'Croan no longer remembered where he had come from or why he had led his people into seclusion in this far corner of the world. And his massive oak was almost as ancient as he was.

One of the eldest trees of the forest, its hollowed heart-root chamber below the earth had been carefully nurtured by long-forgotten Shapers since its earliest days. He rested within a bower shaped from the dark root's living wood, so the oak, with its roots threading out beneath the forest, might sustain him to fulfill his people's future need.

Most Aged Father no longer walked among his people. His withered body clung to life only by the great forest's efforts. But he was still founder and leader of the Anmaglahk.

"May I bring you tea?"

Most Aged Father peered through milky eyes at his new attendant.

Juan'yare-Ode of the Hare-stood patiently in the heart-root's entrance, awaiting a response. His expression, as always, was a mask of polite servitude, but Most Aged Father had difficulty adjusting to this recent change.

His last attendant, Frethfare-Watcher of the Woods-had been with him for more than two decades. He cherished the daughterly love in her eyes when she looked at him. She never saw him as withered and decayed; she saw only his wisdom and devotion to their people.

Frethfare was also his formal Covarleasa-Trusted Adviser-but she had suffered serious injury, a sword thrust through her side by the half-dead abomination, Magiere. Though healers worked to restore her, Most Aged Father was told that a full recovery would be slow in coming-if it came at all.

He missed her, and though he loved all the children of his caste, he could never see Juan'yare taking Frethfare's place as attendant, let alone Covarleasa.

Juan'yare's eyes held little warmth but shone with abject loyalty in an average and unmemorable face. At present, only his loyalty was required. He had completed his full training with high recommendations from his teacher and had served in the caste for nearly thirty years. His small-boned stature and boyish features made him appear younger.

"No," Most Aged Father finally answered. "We will not require tea. Once this audience concludes, you will prepare to leave for-"

Another voice carried from the outer chamber. "Father, I am here."

Most Aged Father forgot his new attendant. "Come in, Hkuan'duv, you are expected and most welcome."

Juan'yare's face washed with awe, and he quickly stepped aside for the visitor.

Hkuan'duv entered and threw back his hood, giving no note to the attendant's presence. He inclined his head to Most Aged Father.

"Well met, Father," he said, his voice toneless as always.

Hkuan'duv-the Blackened Sea-was one of the four remaining Greimasg'ah still alive, a self-made master who had stepped beyond the worldly skills of the Anmaglahk. He so rarely returned to Crijheaiche, preferring solitary tasks abroad, that Most Aged Father had not seen his face in three years. He was a stark sight of medium height, wiry build, and leathery tan skin. Born to a seafaring clan, he still followed their customs and cropped his hair short where other Anmaglahk let theirs grow long. But it had lost any trace of blond long ago and glowed in shocking white spikes. His eyes were narrow-shaped and a shade of amber so deep they appeared topaz.

"You called for me?" he asked, typically direct.

Most Aged Father gestured Juan'yare toward a teal cushion on the floor. "Sit quietly and listen. What you hear is never to be repeated… unless instructed by me."

Juan'yare bowed and dropped gracefully, crossed-legged, upon the cushion.

Hkuan'duv stood silently poised, awaiting instructions.

Most Aged Father wasted no more time. "You have heard of what happened here regarding Cuirin'nen'a's son and the intruder named Magiere?"

Hkuan'duv nodded once with no change of expression.

"The council of clan elders arranged a ship to take them down the coast," Most Aged Father continued bitterly. "I wish you to gather a small band and follow them, unseen from a distance. Another ship has been arranged for you."

"You wish to learn their final destination?" Hkuan'duv asked.

"I wish for you to follow them… and acquire the object they seek."

Hkuan'duv did not even ask what the object was. He merely waited, and Most Aged Father relayed what little he had learned from Sgailsheilleache.

"If this artifact is truly as old as the humans' Forgotten History, it cannot remain in their hands. It must come to us. Magiere may be the only one able to obtain it. I have come to accept that she is… unique, so you will wait until she has acquired it… before you take it."

Most Aged Father hesitated, for the last of Hkuan'duv's task might well seem counter to the will of the elders' council.

"And when you have it, you will kill Magiere. For the safety of our people, no such abomination must ever be allowed to enter our land again. See that it is done."

A flicker of puzzlement crossed Hkuan'duv's lean features, and then it was gone.

Most Aged Father understood. This mission was too deceptively simple for a purpose given to a Greimasg'ah. Others among their caste were certainly capable of taking the artifact and dispatching Magiere, but Most Aged Father wanted one whose abilities-and loyalties-were unquestionable.

"I do not understand," Hkuan'duv said flatly. "You wish me to follow this half-blood and human… to a castle somewhere in high mountains?"

"That is all I know, or all they claim to know of the destination. Follow, and do not let them see you until it is too late. I must see this artifact for myself."

Most Aged Father raised a withered hand to halt any further questions.

"I will arrange extra eyes upon their ship. Her name is Avranvard. She will have a word-wood capable of communication with your ship and report course changes, stops, or anything unexpected to you. Use her to plan your own course."

Hkuan'duv frowned, his first true expression since entering. "I do not recognize her name."

Most Aged Father hesitated. "No, she is not Anmaglahk, though she has requested entrance to our caste. It would not be wise for one of ours to take this role. Avranvard is a seafarer, and no one will question her presence aboard the ship carrying the humans."

Using an an'Croan outside their caste was unheard of, as was placing spies among their own people, but Most Aged Father saw no alternative.

"I would never ask this of you," he said, "unless our people's safety was at stake. Do what is necessary to bring this object to me. The Ancient Enemy is returning, and if this is one of its tools-"

"Of course," Hkuan'duv interjected. "I understand my purpose."

This was the response Most Aged Father expected, but still a relief to hear. Hkuan'duv was loyal beyond question, unlike the treacherous Brot'an'duive. Once he accepted a purpose, he fulfilled it, always.

"Be mindful in those you select to share your purpose," Most Aged Father advised. "Choose only seasoned anmaglahk. A skilled tracker familiar with the human territories south of us along the eastern coast. Perhaps an exceptional archer, and a third as you see fit."

He stared blankly for a moment, trying to remember anyone of note among his caste currently in residence.