Slender she was and had black hair and brown eyes. She kissed Loric and said, "Chieran, ir awn soil."

Loric nodded and grinned and said, "Hai," and though he remained sitting in soapy water, he held his arms wide in display, adding, "neh?"

Now the Dara laughed, then turned and laid the folded clothes on a nearby bench.

The two Elfmaidens facing Tip and Beau smiled at the Waerlinga, both buccen peering over the edge of their tub, wrinkled fingers gripping the rim, water dripping and dribbling down their faces from fresh-washed hair.

"May I present Darai Seena and Jaith," said Loric, then added, "And she who kissed me is Dara Phais."

All three Elfmaidens curtseyed, and Tip and Beau both bobbed their heads and mumbled embarrassed hullos. Then dark-eyed Seena and redheaded Jaith held forth two folds of clothes, and Seena said, "These must needs do as garments." And Jaith added, "While those ye wore are laundered well." Then they, too, turned and lay the clothing on the bench.

Now Rael smiled at the Waerlinga. "I deem they will fit ye, for we all have a good eye. -Darai?"

Rael turned and glided from the room, followed by the others, including Elissan, who smiled at the Waerlinga and winked at Tip as she stepped from the chamber, leaving Tip blushing furiously, while Beau and Loric laughed.

Clean and warm at last and dressed in modified Elven tunics-their sleeves cut down and their waists gathered at the back to fit Waerlinga-Tip, in dark blue, and Beau, in pale yellow, sat with their feet dangling and swinging from Elven chairs, tall for the likes of the wee buccen. They were ensconced in a warm alcove with Talarin and Rael and Loric and Phais. Wrapped 'round the three walls of the retreat, a single muted tapestry hung, subtle colors seeming to move in the shifting light of the hearthfire, the hues and shades and tints depicting bowl-shaped slopes of an open grove wherein figures reclined to listen as a being in white held forth. The meal was long past, and the six had retired to these quarters, where Talarin served each a small cup of hammered silver filled with dark Vanchan wine. And as the night grew older, Tip and Beau related their tale-of the skirmish at the mill and the wounded Kingsman and his coin and request and warning ere he was foully slain, of the fire atop Beacontor following the capture and destruction of that signal post and its subsequent recapture, of the track of the Spawn into the Dellin Downs, of the finding of the flag and the muster at Twoforks and of Willoby and Harl's discovery of other slain Kingsmen, of the decision to bear the coin through Drearwood and east to Agron, and of the westward march of the Swarm and of the buccen's subsequent travails, ending with their capture by Vanidor's squad of march-ward Elves "… though perhaps rescue is a better term," said Tip, "for we were at the end of our string, and surely had the Spawn been lying in wait for us in that gulch, we would not now be here telling you this."

"Even had the Rucks and such not been there at all," added Beau, "most likely we would have starved to death, out there on the ice, for we didn't know where Elvenkind lived, nor would we have ever found Arden Vale, for it is truly hidden. Loric and Vanidor and Arandar and the others saved our necks right enough, and in more ways than one."

Both of the buccen raised their drinks in salute to Loric, and he raised his chalice in return.

Talarin stood and took up the flask to refresh each of their cups, and Tipperton said, "Well, that's our story, and a sad one it is, what with us losing our ponies and goods and all, and nearly getting killed more times than I care to remember."

Talarin paused in his task and raised an eyebrow. "That ye survived at all is testament to your wiliness, for to come afoot through the whole of Drearwood in these times and without heavy escort is nigh miraculous."

"Adon must have had ye in His hand," said Rael.

"Indeed," replied Tipperton.

"Hoy, now," said Beau, "speaking of Adon, what's all this about Gyphon? Just who is this Modru, and why would he go against High King Blaine?"

All eyes turned to Talarin, but he in turn looked at Rael. "Chieran."

Rael took a deep breath. "I will answer thy last question "first, and thy first question last, Sir Beau."

She paused as Talarin refilled her own cup, and Loric murmured, "Settle back, my wee friends, for the crystal seer's tale may be a long one."

Tip glanced from Loric to Rael in puzzlement, yet before he could say aught, Rael began.

"Modru is what some call a Black Mage-"

"Black Mage?" blurted Beau. "Sounds grim."

Rael nodded.

"Just what is a, um, Black Mage?" asked Tipperton.

"One who twists his arts toward evil ends," replied Rael. "One who seeks to gratify his own desires through any means, fair or foul. Perhaps the principal mark of a Black Mage is his complete disregard for the needs of others except as they serve his own pleasures and his lust for total dominion o'er all."

"Oh, my," said Beau.

"Are there many Black Mages?" asked Tip.

Rael canted her head. "Dara Arin once told me-"

"Dara Arin?" Tip interjected. "Lady Arin of the ballads? Lady Arin and Egil One-Eye and the quest of the Green Stone of Xian?"

Rael took a breath to answer, but Loric said, "Ah, wee ones, should ye continue to ask, mayhap it will be after the spring thaw ere the crystal seer can finish her tale."

Tip looked at Beau, and that buccan made a motion as if he were buttoning his lips together, and Tip turned to Rael and said, "Loric is right. Please do go on, and we will try to hold our questions for another time."

Rael smiled and looked at Tip. "Still I will answer thee: Dara Arin is indeed the Lady of the ballads, who, with others, quested after the green stone-the Dragonstone of dreadful portent. And during that quest she came upon knowledge that there are a number of Dark Mages upon Mithgar, though how many she knew not.

"Regardless, Modru is one of these, and he squats in his cold iron tower in Gron and seeks sway o'er the world, or so we do believe.

"In recent seasons, we deem, he has been gathering Foul Folk-the Spaunen pouring across the in-between, coming from the Untargarda, the iron tower being one of the principal crossing points 'tween Neddra and Mithgar, or so we think. Drearwood would seem to hold another crossing point, or so all the signs do say." Rael paused, for both Tip and Beau frowned in puzzlement.

"Ye have questions?"

Beau looked at Tip and then made a motion as if unbuttoning his lip. "This 'Untargarda,' these 'crossing points,' and this 'in-between,' Lady Rael-I know a bit of what you're talking about, but only a bit. Could you explain the whole of it?"

"Me, too, I'd like to know," said Tip. "My da told me some, but he didn't know much of what was called for, though he did say that Foul Folk came from Neddra below, and Elves from Adonar above, and Mages from who knows where, and Warrows should simply stay put and that was that."

Rael smiled and looked from Warrow to Warrow. "All right, my wee friends, this I will say: there are many Planes of existence, but the principal three are the Hohgarda, the Mittegarda, and the Untargarda-the High Plane, the Middle Plane, and the Low Plane. And upon each of these Planes there are many worlds, though once again there are a principal three-Adonar, Mithgar, and Neddra."

Both Tip and Beau nodded, for this agreed with what they had been told.

"For the most, the Planes are separated from one another," continued Rael, "but there are crossing points where the Planes are congruent and one may go in between-in between worlds, that is-but only under certain conditions: the in-between points upon the separate worlds must be a fair match to one another, the better the match, the less difficult the crossing. Even so, there are certain times of the day when the crossings in between can be made easier still: to come from Adonar to Mithgar, dawn is best, for it is neither day nor night, but in between; and to go from Mithgar to Adonar, the crossing is best made at dusk, which again is neither day nor night, but in between; and it is said that to cross from Mithgar to Neddra, mid of day is best, for it is neither morning nor afternoon, but in between… and to come from Neddra to Mithgar, mid of night is best. Yet there are still more things which ease the passage: crossing in fog, for it is neither air nor water, but in between; crossing along a seashore, for it is neither water nor land, but in between; at the brim of a woodland, for it is neither forest nor field, but in between.