Even so, the Marquessa D*Morreto couldn't resist putting in a dig. "The memories of the elves are long. It may well be that they act in retaliation for the wrongs done them," she suggested piously.

"We do not even know that the elves are truly responsible!" thundered Hhune.

"But if not, then who? And why would so much be laid felsely on the elven folk of Tethir?" asked Lord Faunce.

"That is precisely what I intend to find out," Lord Hhune said grimly. "I will learn what there is to know of this matter, and I will pass this knowledge on to you." He paused to give weight to his next words. There are those in this land who can find answers to any question. I ask your indulgence only in the matter of time."

The Council considered this in silence. All knew that Hhune referred to the secret and dreaded Knights of the Shield; more than a few suspected he had ties to this shadowy group. Whatever the case, they were content to leave the troublesome elves in his hands. As the Marquess had pointed out, there was no one among them who had as much at stake in this matter as did Hhune.

Fortunately for Lord Hhune, there was not one among them who understood exactly what it was that he planned to do, or what he held at risk.

None, that was, but the lord's bodyguard-a tall, heavy-chested man with a black beard, cold gray eyes, and a flower-shaped scar on one cheek. As this man listened to Hhune's impassioned speech, he passed a hand over his bearded lips to hide a grimace-or perhaps a smile.

Twelve

It was difficult to surprise an elf at any time, and almost impossible to creep up on a green elfin his own forest stronghold. Yet the lythari were called "silver shadows" for good reason. In his lupine form, Ganamede moved more swiftly and silently than the wind-not even the leaves rustled when he passed. And Arilyn, who rode upon his back with her arms flung tightly around his massive silver neck, thought she knew why this was so. The lythari walked between worlds, even when their feet trod upon the solid face of Toril.

They reached the outer boundaries of the Talltrees settlement late that day, slipping easily past the layers of secrecy that enfolded the elven village. The forest had strange magical properties, Ganamede had told her, that distorted the senses of outsiders. Arilyn could hold her direction as well as most rangers, but even she felt oddly disoriented as they neared the hidden village. Nor were these the only magical barriers. Twin dryads-beautiful sylvan creatures who were not quite either human or elven-peeked out at them from behind a stand of beech trees. Any male who wandered near this lair would have the image of wondrously beautiful dryads giggling behind their white hands as his last memory of this part of Tethir forest. A male who fell under a dryad's charm usually awoke, dazed and utterly lost, under some unfamiliar tree. When at last he found his way back to settled lands, he invariably learned that as much as a year had passed without leaving a single footprint upon his memory. It was a gossamer web that the dryads wove, but a powerful one.

Beyond the dryads' grove, not even silent Ganamede could escape detection. Sharp-eyed elven warriors walked the surrounding forest. Other sentries, the birds and squirrels that chattered and scolded in the trees, carried warnings that were heard and heeded by the elven folk. Arilyn noted the subtle changes in the song of forest birds that no doubt announced their coming.

"They know we're here. You might as well let me down," she said quietly. The lythari came to a stop; Arilyn slid down and rose to her full height. She smoothed down the vest of elven chain mail, adjusted her swordbelt, and then squared her shoulders for the trial ahead.

Lifting her chin to an angle that approximated that of a proud elven courtier, Arilyn placed one hand on the lythari's pale silver shoulder. "Here we go," she murmured. "We should be fine, but if things start getting hostile I want you out of here like a flea off a fire newt."

Ganamede cast an exasperated look up at her, his blue eyes stating beyond doubt what he thought of her chosen figure of speech.

A wry grin brightened Arilyn's face-and dissipated a bit of her tension. "How indelicate of me, bringing up fleas," she said with mock gravity. "Nearly as thoughtless as mentioning heartburn to a red dragon!"

"Are you quite through?" the lythari inquired patieatly.

"Or would you like to compound the insult by scratching behind my ears?"

Arilyn's shoulders shook in a brief, silent chuckle. "I meant what I said," she repeated, suddenly serious. "Get out at the first sign of trouble."

"And what of you?"

What indeed? she repeated silently.

"If I fall, try to reclaim my sword at some later time. I know this is asking a great deal of you, but if you were to ask anything of the forest elves, they would surely give it. I would not ask, but mine is a hereditary blade, and its magic will continue as long as there is a need for it and a worthy descendant to wield it. When its purpose has been fulfilled, it will go dormant."

And until that distant day-and perhaps far longer than that, Arilyn added silently-her spirit would be imprisoned within!

"A hereditary sword. Then you have children?" Ganamede inquired.

It was a logical question, but it struck Arilyn like a kick to the gut. She had never considered that particular aspect of the moonblaoVs demands, for she had never given a moment's thought to the possibility that she might bear children of her own. Arilyn knew all too well the ambiguity that defined a half-elf s existence, and she would not wish this upon another. Nor would any child of hers be a likely candidate for the moon-blade. As far as Arilyn knew, she was the only moon-blade wielder in the entire history of these ancient swords who was not of pure moon-elf heritage. Not even \, a full-blooded elf of another noble race-the gold elves, V or the green, or the sea folk-had every held such a Ј sword and lived. What chance would a child of hers ›; have against the moonblade's silent test? And knowing what she did about the nature of the elfshadow, how could she pass such a sentence along? Immediate death, or eternal servitude. It was not much of a legacy.

Even if her offspring should claim the sword and fail, that death would not purchase her freedom. The moon-blade she carried was of the Moonflower clan, and the line would not die with Arilyn. The gods only knew how many unknown royal aunts and uncles and cousins she had running blithely about on distant Evermeet!

Which brought her to a second disturbing realization: since she had no children of her own, she would have to name a blade heir from among her mother's kin. It occurred to her, for the first time, that the ties between her and her mother's people were far more complex than their common bloodlines.

"Lamruil," she blurted out, remembering a name from her mother's long-ago tales. "Prince Lamruil of Evermeet, youngest son of Amlaruil and mother's brother to me. I name him blade heir. There are 'doors to the gate' on Evermeet. If I fall, see that he gets the moonblade."

Ganamede gazed up at her, purely elven wonder shining through his wolflike features. "You are of Amlaruil's blood? Why have you never spoken of this?"

Even the lythari were not immune to the power of the queen, Arilyn thought bitterly. What was it about Amlaruil that inspired such reverence?

"Maybe I don't like to brag," she said shortly. "But come on-they know we're here, and they're probably wondering what's keeping us-"

Together they walked for several hundred paces. Ganamede stopped suddenly and for HO reason that Arilyn could ascertain.

"Look up," he advised her softly.

Arilyn did so and found that she stood in the center of what appeared to be a thriving settlement. The elven village itself was a wonder. Small dwellings had been fashioned high in the trees, connected by swinging walkways. So cleverly did the settlement blend hi with the forest that no one could see it unless he stood in its midst and looked straight up-which, unless one had the benefit of a lythari escort, was about as likely to occur in the natural course of