The half-elf remembered clearly the relief and confusion that had descended upon him when he had opened his eyes to the light and saw Marissa gazing back at him. That confusion deepened when he opened his eyes a second time, climbing his way out of the deep, restful sleep that resulted from the witches' healing.

He looked briefly for Marissa and found her surrounded by the othlor-all but Najra. Even if Roberc hadn't filled him in on what had occurred, it was clear that the witch held little affection for them. While the other wychlaran probed Marissa for more details regarding her conversation with the telthor of the Red Tree, Najra stood apart from the group, arms folded across her chest, glaring from behind the confines of her mask. He would have found her actions laughable in any other situation. The gravity of their message, however, erased any humorous thoughts he might have had.

A few moments later, the gathered wychlaran drew back from Marissa and formed a circle. Although he had been warned about their silent communication and had even used a similar spell before, Taen found the immobile, masked forms of the witches unnerving. They remained in that position for quite some time before finally breaking off their communion.

Taen stood as the assembled othlor signaled that he and his companions should attend them-and nearly pitched forward when the world spun around him. Although he had rested throughout most of the morning, the half-elf's body still hadn't completely recovered from the wraith-wound. Mahara had warned him that he would experience some weakness until his reserves were refreshed with continued rest.

Carefully, he made his way to where the others had gathered, walking like a newborn foal on legs that shook with each step. Mahara inclined her head slightly when he arrived.

"It is not easy for us to accept what you have shared," the othlor began without any preamble. "We are a proud sisterhood, as you probably have gathered. That pride has strengthened us throughout generations of service to the people of Rashemen-but not without cost." She turned to look at Najra and the others before continuing.

"We have grown blind and deaf to our own mortality, to the possibility that one of our own might spin a web of darkness. Always we have looked to the durthan or the Thayans when shadows fell over Rashemen, never dreaming that it would be our shadow darkening the land's spirit. A hathran has broken the ancient oath that binds vremyonni and wychlaran. It is no wonder that the Old Ones have refused our counsel, making excuses for their absence with coldly polite words. This traitor has pierced the very heart of our land-and we suspected nothing. How long would we have remained in ignorance, were it not for your courage and generosity? All of us," Mahara said with particular emphasis, "our entire sisterhood, owe you a debt of gratitude."

Taen found himself surprisingly touched by the witch's admission. The Rashemi were, indeed, a proud people, used to fighting for every freedom and good thing that they enjoyed. To acknowledge their dependence on an outsider must be a bitter draught to swallow. The half-elf admired the courage and humility it took to admit that aloud. Looking around at the faces of his companions, Taen knew that Marissa and the others felt the same way.

He bowed low before Mahara and the other othlor. "We are honored by your words and by the hospitality you have shown us," he said without a hint of irony. "Let the start of our acquaintance be forgotten, and let us always remember this moment, when Rashemen's need and the wisdom of her leaders made strong the bonds of friendship between people of good will."

The words surprised him as they tumbled out. They must have surprised Marissa and Roberc, too, for both of them threw him a wide-eyed glance. Perhaps, he thought with only a touch of bitterness, he truly was his father's son-in spirit if not in blood.

"Your words are bright gems in the darkness we face," Mahara replied. "They are a gift whose worth may be beyond measure, and we accept them as such."

"Thank you," Taen responded, bowing once again before continuing, "and if the wychlaran or Rashemen ever have need of our assistance, you only need to ask and we will gladly give it."

The half-elf winced inwardly at that, wondering if, perhaps, he had stepped too far out beyond the boundary of what his companions would tolerate. He half expected Roberc to break in with a sarcastic denial, but the halfling merely looked at him with his usual sour expression. Behind the fighter, Borovazk stood beaming, his face split with a thick-toothed smile.

"Perhaps-" Mahara said then paused, looking around at the other witches, "perhaps there is something that you might do for us-a very large thing, actually." She cleared her throat before continuing, "Now that we know of the traitor's existence and the location of her lair, we must still decide on how we will deal with her. It's clear from the fact that you were attacked while on your way to warn us that our renegade hathran has quite a few spies amidst the people-and probably among the wychlaran, as well."

Taen could hear the fire burning within her voice.

"The only people we know that we can trust completely are standing in this clearing. It will take all of our power," she said, pointing to the five othlor, "to unearth the traitor's network of telltales while keeping our actions a secret. That leaves only you and your companions free to act against the betrayer of Rashemen. Our magic can transport you to an area within the walls of Citadel Rashemar. If we can keep our knowledge of her presence hidden, then you will have a better chance of taking her by surprise.

"Make no mistake," the witch said in a husky tone, "what we are asking is dangerous. There is a very good chance that you won't succeed. Our enemy has managed to create an army of foul creatures and dark magic without our knowledge, and she has trespassed into the forbidden arts of the vremyonni. She is powerful and quite evil."

Taen thought about it for a moment only. Even if he hadn't just promised his aid, he would still agree to this mission. From the moment he set foot in Rashemen, he felt as if he were being swept along in a chaotic tale not of his devising. He was tired of fighting it, of fighting the swirling rush of emotions that bore down on him. There was only one solution-to surrender and follow the dark tide wherever it would lead him.

"I will go," he said and stepped forward, not surprised by the fact that he hadn't been the first to do so.

Marissa stood ready, her hand holding the Staff of the Red Tree before her. The druid smiled as he joined her in the center of the witches' circle.

"Little friends not escape Borovazk that easily," the ranger replied as he, too, strode forward to join them in the circle.

Taen looked at Roberc expectantly. The halfling stood at the edge of the circle, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. The fighter gazed back at him with an even look, his eyes unblinking. For a moment, the half-elf wondered if Roberc would whistle softly for Cavan and ride away. Instead, the halfling swore loudly and tramped into the circle.

"I can't believe I'm doing this to myself again!" he exclaimed.

Taen smiled at the foul-mouthed fighter's response. They had been through a lot in the past few tendays and would likely go through a lot more. Despite everything, Roberc remained as hot tempered and sharp tongued as ever. It was nice, Taen reflected, to know that some things remained constant in a world that seemed ever changing.

"You humble us," Mahara said, interrupting his thoughts, "with your generosity and bravery. Prepare yourselves well, friends of Rashemen, for if we are to move against the traitor, we must act swiftly."

At that, the companions gathered together, inspecting their equipment and making sure that they had sufficient supplies. Taen had just finished sealing a vial of sulphurous ash when he felt a hand upon his shoulder. He turned to see Marissa smiling at him.