things as a salad-eating troll.

This, then, was Talltrees. But there was still no sign of the elven inhabitants.

"Where are they?" she said softly.

"All around. Read them the queen's proclamation," he urged her.

But the half-elf shook her head. That was AmlariuTs plan, and by Arilyn's estimation it had little chance of success. The offer of Retreat was a last resort. She would earn her freedom fairly, and she would do it in her own fashion.

"People of Talltrees," she called in a clear, ringing alto, speaking in the Elvish common tongue. 1 am come to you from Amlaruil, Lady of Evermeet, Queen of the Elven Island. Will you hear an ambassador of the queen?"

There was no sound to herald their coming, but suddenly the forest around her was alive with watchful, copper-skinned elves. Where they had been a moment before, Arilyn couldn't say. She herself was considered skilled in matters of stealth, but these folk were of the forest, and one with it.

Their garb was simple and scant, fashioned almost without exception from the forest's bounty: tanned hides, rough linen beaten and woven from wild flax, ornaments of feather and bone. But there was nothing primitive or crude about these green elves. They were an ancient people with ancient ways. Arilyn they regarded with detached, wary curiosity, but most gazed at Ganamede with an awe that approached reverence. It was likely the first time most of them had ever laid eyes upon one of the elusive silver shadows. This meeting, Arilyn suspected, would be a tale they would pass down to their children's children.

A tall male, whose features struck Arilyn as oddly familiar, stepped forward with the dignity of a stag. lake most of the green elves, he was lightly clad. His ruddy skin was painted with swirling designs of greens and brown, and his dark brown hair was worn long and plaited back.

"I am Rhothomir, Speaker of the Talltrees tribe. For the sake of the noble lythari who has seen fit to lead you here, we will consider the words of Amlaruil of Evermeet."

Consider. For the sake of the lythari.

That was not exactly welcoming, but in truth Arilyn took a certain perverse satisfaction in the rare lack of enthusiasm this male showed for the elven queen.

But now came the tricky part. Propriety demanded that she give her name, her house, and her credentials. Since she was woefully short on all three, she would simply use what she had, follow the elf s lead, and hope for the best.

Arilyn pulled her moonblade, lifted it high in a sweeping, formal elven salute, and then went down on one knee before the Speaker. "I am Arilyn Moonblade, daughter of Z'Beryl of the Moonflower clan," she said, using the name her mother had taken in exile. "As sworn swordmaiden, I have forsaken clan ties to take the name of the ancient and magical sword I carry. Word of your troubles has reached Evermeet. In the name of Queen Amlaruil, I offer my sword and my life in defense of your tribe."

With these words she laid the moonblade at the green elf s feet.

For a long moment Rhothomir regarded her in silence. "Evermeet's queen sends us a single warrior?"

"What would your response be if she had sent a thousand?" Arilyn retorted. "What benefit would there be if so many feet were to trample a path through the woodlands, a path so broad your enemies could walk in comfort to your very door? With the help of my friend, Ganamede of the Greycloak tribe, I have left a path that none can follow."

A moment's silence. "You walk silently, for a n'tel-que'tethira? he admittedly grudgingly, using an Elfish

Silver Shadows

word that roughly translated as "city-dweller." He considered the matter for another span of several moments, then turned away.

"Take up your sword and leave this place as silently as you came. We have no use for it, or you."

"No."

A silent ripple of astonishment ran through the elven assembly. Apparently, such a direct challenge to the Speaker's authority was an uncommon event.

An elven female walked to Rhothomir's side, her black eyes fixed upon Arilyn and the watchful iythari.

"Do not send them away. Think, Brother. If the silver shadows would fight for us, how quickly we could deal with those humans who defile our forest!"

Arilyn's eyes widened. She had never heard that voice, but somehow she knew it. It belonged to a female assassin who spoke only in whispers, one who used cosmetics to dim the luster of her skin and to transform her elven features into the exotic almond-eyed beauty of a woman of the far eastern lands. The silk turban had concealed ears as pointed as those of a fox, as well as gleaming chestnut hair that was now pulled back into a single braid. If there had been any doubt in Arilyn's mind about the elf woman's dual identity, it would have been removed by the sight of the tatoo on her bare shoulder: the stylized, graceful form of a hunting ferret.

The Harper also heard the dual meaning in the elf woman's words: people of human blood defiled the elven forest, but for the sake of an alliance with the lythari, Ferret would consider accepting Arilyn's presence and her secret. But if the elf woman were to reveal Arilyn's true nature, Prince Lamruil would fall heir to the moonblade at once! The sanctity of Talltrees, though honored by the presence of a lythari, would be deemed profaned and put at extreme risk by a half-elfs presence. They might even attack the lythari who had brought her here, thinking him a traitor to elvenMnd. No matter what else came of this meeting, Arilyn vowed, she would see that Ganamede escaped safely.

Since Arilyn was still on one knee, she was roughly at eye level with the wolflike being. She turned to gaze into Ganamede's eyes. "Speaker Rhothomir, listen to your sister's counsel. I have asked the lythari of the Greycloak tribe to come to your assistance," she said, her eyes pleading with her friend to play along. The noble Ganamede will leave now to hold council with his people as to what might best be done."

The lythari gave her a searching look. She responded with a faint smile and nod that suggested all would be well.

After a moment, Ganamede inclined his head. "I will ask them," he said softly, but his eyes were deeply puzzled. He turned and loped silently off into the forest.

Arilyn released her breath on a long, silent sigh of relief She hated deceiving her friend. Fortunately, Ganamede seemed to have taken her request at face value. He was disappointed in her, that she apparently did not understand the nature of the lythari folk. Even so, he would do as she asked, though he knew what his people's response would be. Better that than letting him know how tenuous her own position was.

As soon as Ganamede was beyond reach, Arilyn reached for her sword and stood. She met Ferret's steady gaze. If there was yet any hope of forging a link with the green elves, it would be here.

"I can offer more than a possible alliance with the lythari. Most of you have not fought humans. I have. I know their ways, their world, their tactics."

"There is something in what you say," Rhothomir admitted. He turned to his sister. "You are the lore-keeper; you have more knowledge of the humans than any of us, as well as the elves who live beyond the forest. What do you say?"

"I would speak with this one alone," Ferret said. "There are things we should know about her and about the sword she carries. We all have heard tales of such

swords. It may be that this moonblade was forged for just such a task."

There is great risk in accepting outsiders," the Speaker said.

"And we will weigh the risks along with the benefits. Let me speak with this… moon elf, and judge whether what she offers is worthwhile."

After a moment's deliberation, Rhothomir agreed. Ferret strode over to a stout oak and tugged one of the vines that entwined its trunk. A long ladder unrolled, spilling down from one of the dwellings overhead. The elf woman indicated with a deft, impatient gesture that Arilyn should ascend the ladder.