"Still yet there is more, for to make such a crossing of the in-between, one must follow a ritual: and for Elven-kind it involves a stepping rite, on foot or by trained horse, neither a walk nor a dance, but in between; and a chant, which is neither talking nor singing, but in between; and because of the ritual of chant and step, the mind becomes lost in the rite, neither wholly conscious nor unconscious, but something in between.

"And this is why we call such passages where we go from one Plane to another, from one world to another, as traveling the 'in-between.' " Rael looked at Beau and then Tip, one brow raised.

"Lor'," breathed Beau.

And Tip added, "Lor' indeed. How did you ever come to discover such an arcane practice?"

Rael smiled, saying, " 'Tis said that Elwydd Herself taught Elvenkind."

"And you say that the Foul Folk are using such a ritual to cross into Mithgar from Neddra?"

"Aye, wee one, all the signs say they are swarming across the midnight in-between by droves-Ruch, Lok, Troll, Ghulk on Helsteed, and more-at Modru's cold iron tower in Gron and mayhap in the Drearwood, too. He is gathering, has gathered, a great force of Spaunen to do his bidding. Too, it is rumored he woos Dragons to his cause, though I stress 'tis but a rumor."

"Dragons?" exclaimed Beau. "But I thought they mostly left folk alone."

Rael nodded. "All but the renegades-those who would not take the pledge."

"Ah," said Tip. "As told in the legend of Arin and Egil One-Eye." The buccan frowned a moment in concentration, then chanted:

"All must aid when Dragons raid, And only the renegades do."

And Phais intoned:

"Friend and foe, enmity must go, Or both the day will rue. "

Tip laughed and clapped his hands, saying, "Ah, Lady Phais, I see you know the Ballad of Arin, too."

"Indeed," said Phais, smiling. But then her smile vanished and she said, "Yet Dragons or no, suffice it to say that Modru has gathered Swarms of Spaunen unto himself and now makes war on High King Blaine."

"But what about Gyphon?" asked Beau. "How does He figure into this?"

Phais smiled grimly, and gestured at the walls. "That is why we have come unto this particular alcove, for the tapestry tells that tale."

"Huah," grunted Beau. "Tells the tale? All I see is someone in a dell who seems to be making a speech."

"Nay, Sir Beau," said Talarin. "Look closely."

Both Tip and Beau stood and stepped closer to the tapestry; then Beau clambered upon a bench and Tip upon a chair for a closer look still.

"Why," said Beau, "these aren't people at all, but instead are…" His voice faded as he shook his head in puzzlement, and he turned toward Talarin. "I say, what are these?"

"Beings of… light?" suggested Tipperton, reaching out to gently touch subtle colors of the silken weaving.

Beau swung back 'round and peered at the figure where Tip's fingers rested, and then at the others. "I say, Tip, they do look as if they're shafts of light… or some such."

Puzzled, Beau turned once more to Talarin. "But I thought that the gods would look like, uh…"

"Like us?" asked Talarin. "In the form of Lian and Waerlinga and Human and other such?"

Beau shrugged.

Talarin smiled and shook his head. "In spite of what some preach, 'tis the greatest of conceits for any peoples to believe they are created in the image of gods."

Tip again ran his fingers lightly across the tapestry. "And these beings of light are the gods?"

Talarin canted his head, and beside Loric, Phais said, "Indeed, Sir Tipperton. 'Tis as close as Lian artisans could come in recording the great debate 'tween Gyphon and Adon o'er the fate of the peoples of the worlds. What thou dost see as beings of light are our attempts to represent the gods: central and in silvery white is Adon, His daughter, golden Elwydd, at hand. On the wall opposite is Gyphon. Over there where thou dost stand, the pale blue figure is Garlon, next to coppery Raes, ruddy Fyrra is over here, as well as dusky Theonor. I will not name them all, but instead will merely say that this represents the time of the schism."

"These are truly the gods, then?" asked Beau, his gaze sweeping 'cross the tapestry.

Talarin and Rael and Loric glanced at one another, then all three looked toward Phais, and she said, "We name them gods, but Adon does not so style Himself. He says that there are those as far above Him as we are above the mayfly."

The buccen climbed down and resumed their seats. As he settled in, Tipperton frowned. "But if they are not gods, then what are they?"

Talarin sighed. "Given what Adon has said, we know not, Sir Tipperton. Only that they are very powerful."

"Bu-but," protested Beau, thunderstruck and staring at the tapestry. "I mean…" His words stumbled to a halt. He glanced at the ceiling then turned to Talarin. "Say, now, just who are these above Adon?"

Yet it was Rael who answered. "Adon says that even He is driven by the Fates. As to whether such beings as the Fates are in some manner incarnate, we cannot say. As to those who might be above the Fates, perhaps none are, though some say the Great Creator stands highest."

"Great Creator?"

"The source of all."

Tip's hand gestured outward, sweeping so as to include the world. "But I thought Adon made Mithgar, and Elwydd His daughter created life hereupon."

Rael nodded. "We too believe as dost thou, Sir Tipperton: that Adon indeed created Mithgar, and Elwydd, His daughter, engendered life herein; we also believe Adon shaped Adonar, but on that High World He alone brought forth all life thereon, including Elvenkind."

"Just as Gyphon created Neddra and the life and folk therein, twisted such as they are," growled Loric.

Phais held up a hand, saying, "There are those of us who believe Adon and Elwydd and Gyphon and all,the others did not bring the worlds and peoples and all else out of nothingness, but instead merely shaped and molded and forged these things out of that which the Great Creator provided."

Tip's eyes widened. "You mean like me whittling a whistle from wood I did not grow, or you weaving this tapestry from thread you did not spin?"

"Just so," agreed Phais.

Beau frowned, then appealed to Rael. "This Great Creator, just who is He? And if He creates all, then why does He create evil things? That's what I'd like to know."

Rael shook her head. "Thou dost ask that which is beyond my ken. Yet this I do believe: the Great Creator is He whose very spirit is in all things-living as well as not living-rocks, streams, trees, birds, animals, fish… all creatures of land and sea and air, and the land and sea and air itself, as well as the sun and moon and stars and light and darkness… everything… and ere ye ask, I deem His creations mayhap include Adon, Gyphon, and others whom we name gods. I believe that some gifted folk-mortal and immortal alike-can sense this spirit in their hearts and souls, while other individuals can see its aura in all things."

"Aura?" Beau looked at Rael and frowned. "Just what is this 'aura'?"

Rael smiled. "Some see it as a faint glow; others as an astral. It is but an outward sign of who the Great Creator is, an outward sign of what He does."

Again Beau frowned. "And some of what he does is create evil things?"

Rael nodded. "Indeed, Sir Beau, some of his creations are malignant, whereas many are benign, yet most are neither good nor ill but merely exist, and their effect upon others is determined at times by chance and at other times by the intent of those who employ them for good or ill. Sir Beau, thou hast asked why the Great Creator begets evil things; heed me: I believe that He knows neither good nor evil but merely creation. It is up to those creations themselves-those who can-to freely choose which path to take: sinister or dextral.

"This is, of course, what I believe. There are those who would dispute my claims, saying that all is foreordained, and this the Great Creator knows, and that none has a choice at all.