"Then I shall speak plainly. I am glad you have come,"

The intricate pattern of the dance changed, and Arilyn was whirled away into the circle. The elves spun and dapped, drawing down the starlight, weaving it into threads of magic with their music and dance.

Lake the stardust spoken of in a lullaby, the mystic dance settled upon the elves and lulled them to repose. The wounded who could not dance rested comfortably, many smiling softly as their unseeing eyes gazed upon pleasant and healing memories. Most of the children had slipped deep into reverie, and their parents bore them quietly away to their rest. The celebration ended, not in a drunken stupor as did so many human revels, but on a note of quiet exultation.

Arilyn treasured the moment of peace as a rare gift. Along with the elves, she quietly made her way to her resting place.

A small dwelling had been given her, and as she climbed the ladder it began to occur to her just how tired she truly was. She stripped off her clothes and washed from the basin of mint-scented water that had been left there for her. Before sleeping, she pulled on fresh leggings and a tunic-clothes better suited for fighting than sleeping. But not even the peace of Talltrees could erase the habits of a lifetime, or the memories of the many times she had leaped from bed to battle.

One final preparation remained. Arilyn took from her pack the mask Tinkersdam had made for her, and she pressed it carefully to her upper face. Should anyone happen to look upon her, they would see not a slumbering half-elf, but a moon elven warrior in well-deserved reverie.

Despite all that had happened, despite the success in battle, and despite Ferret's tales, Arilyn knew what would become of her if the green elves realized that a human's daughter slept among them.

The dance was long finished and most of the elves had retired, but for some reason Foxfire did not share their calm. He felt unaccountably restless-excited, perhaps, by the first real hope he had felt for many days. He had managed to hide his growing despair, but not until now did he realize how heavy the burden of it had been…

He noticed that Korrigash, too, seemed immune to the magic of the star-web woven by the dance. The dark-haired hunter sat alone by the embers of the cookfire, staring at the few pinpricks of light left among the coals.

Korrigash was one of the elves who had been caught in the traps, and his pride was no doubt more sorely wounded than this leg. Tamara insisted that Korrigash would soon walk and run and hunt as well as ever he had, but Foxfire knew how unwelcome the prospect of even a brief period of inactivity must be to the hunter.

Foxfire walked over to sit at his friend's side. Immediately Korrigash fixed a concerned gaze upon him.

"She is an outsider," he said without preamble. "Nothing good can come of it."

The war leader frowned, realizing that Korrigash spoke of Arilyn but not understanding the apparent depth of his Mend's concern. "How can you say that, after what you saw? She turned the battle."

"True enough. But I was not speaking of battle."

"Ah." Foxfire turned aside to stare into the fire. His friend's concerns were of a more personal nature, had more to do with Foxfire's fascination with the moon elf. It was well that not everyone in the tribe had eyes so sharp, else his own position as war leader would swiftly be brought into question. Accepting a moon elf as battle leader was one thing; a more personal alliance was simply out of the question.

Foxfire reached over and patted Korrigash's shoulder, accepting his counsel without responding to it.

In truth, he did not know what his response should be. Yes, the moon elf was very different. But so were arrow and bow, and yet they worked together to become more than what either might be alone. His duty was to his people: could he turn away from anything-or anyone-who might aid them?

Foxfire rose and bid goodnight to his friend. But the calm of reverie eluded him, and he walked through Talltrees until the song of the night insects had dimmed to a murmur. Shortly before dawn, his restless path brought him to the base of Arilyn's tree.

After a moment's hesitation, he began to climb the ladder to her dwelling. There were plans that must be made. He had much to learn of her, and she of him.

But he saw at once that Arilyn still rested. A surge of disappointment flowed through him, but no elf would disturb the reverie of another except in the direst of emergencies. For several moments, however, Foxfire gazed upon his new advisor.

How strange were the moon folk, with their cloud-colored skin and eyes the shade of a summer sky! Iferhaps their colors were a sign of how far the city-dwelling elves had removed themselves from the earth. No longer did the tints of earth's browns and coppers and greens linger about them. It was said that of all the races of elves, the moon folk were most like humans. He could see that in Arilyn. In many ways she resembled a human woman, albeit one far more delicate and beautiful than any Foxfire had seen in the marketplaces during those years when the Elmanesse still traded with the humans.

She stirred, as if somehow the intensity of his gaze had pierced her dreams. Yet if that were so, why did she seem distressed? He wished her nothing but good. She tossed her head back and forth as if in denial and spoke a strange name with such pain and confusion that Foxfire could not help but flinch. After a few moments, the painful reverie subsided, and her breathing returned to its odd rhythm: deep, slow and soft.

Foxfire froze, easing his thoughts away slowly so as not to disturb her. Quietly, thoughtfully, he made his way down to the forest floor, to await the coming of the dawn.

Fourteen

Lord Hhune paced angrily about his chamber, keenly aware that the amused gaze of the mercenary captain followed him. This only made him more wrathful-not only had the man overstepped his bounds, but his insolence was beyond bearing!

"You understand what you have done, do you not? The logging operation cannot continue! The money I have lost, the wealth I have yet to lose, is beyond reckoning!"

Bunlap seemed singularly unconcerned by this outburst. "You have your private navy. The risk of acquiring more ships is far greater than the benefits."

This was true, but Hhune did not care to hear it from a hireling. "Your task was not to start a war, but to protect the foresters from the elves!"

"Which is precisely what I have done," the captain said coolly. "Do you think there is but one band of elves in all of the Forest of Tethir? We subdued the Suldusk tribe, but did not wish to risk word of your activities reaching the stronger and more warlike tribes to the north and west. What better way to keep these elves out of your business than to busy them with other matters?"

"The plan is all well and good, but its execution is utterly out of control," Hhune said. "You raised too much trouble with the elves, and now it has become a matter that demands resolution. What if there is all-out war and the pasha of Zazesspur sends armed men into the forest? What if my logging activities come to light?"

"There are still trees enough in the forest. It's not likely an invading army would notice that a few have gone missing," the mercenary retorted. "And if so, what of it? You've covered your backside with so many layers of paper that you couldn't feel the lash of a whip through them all! Even if the logging operation were discovered, no one could trace it past those holding companies of yours."

"We take no more chances. Close up the logging camp at once."

"And the elves?" Bunlap said.

Hhune shrugged. "The elves always have been and always will be. Let them melt back into their shadows. I have bought a bit of time with the Council of Lords, before that time is up, the troubles will stop and the attention of the people will be drawn to other matters. Are we clear on this?"