The companions had little trouble slipping past the elven

guards. Recognizing Theros, the guards stood and chatted amiably with him, while the others crept through the woods around them. They reached the river in the first chill light of dawn.

"And how are we to get across?" the dwarf asked, staring out at the water gloomily. "I don't think much of boats, but they beat swimming:"

"That should not be a problem:" Theros turned to Laurana and said, "Ask your little friend;" nodding at Silvara.

Startled, Laurana looked at the Wilder elf, as did the others. Silvara, embarrassed at so many eyes upon her, flushed deeply, bowing her head. "Kargai Sargaron is right;" she murmured. "Wait here, within the shadows of the trees:'

She left them and ran lightly to the riverbank with a wild, free grace, enchanting to watch. Laurana noticed that Gilthanas's gaze, in particular, lingered upon the Wilder elf.

Silvara put her fingers to her lips and whistled like the call of a bird. She waited a moment, then repeated the whistle three times. Within minutes, her call was answered, echoing across the water from the opposite bank of the river.

Satisfied, Silvara returned to the group. Laurana saw that, though Silvara spoke to Theros, the girl's eyes were drawn to Gilthanas. Finding him staring at her, she blushed and looked quickly back at Theros.

"Kargai Sargaron;" she said hurriedly, "my people are coming, but you should be with me to meet them and explain things:" Silvara's blue eyes-Laurana could see them clearly in the morning light-went to Sturm and Derek. The Wilder elf shook her head slightly. "They will not be happy about bringing these humans to our land, nor these elves either, I am afraid;' she said, with an apologetic glance at Laurana and Gilthanas.

"I will talk to them;" Theros said. Gazing across the lake, he gestured. "Here they come now:"

Laurana saw two black shapes sliding across the sky-gray river. The Kaganesti must keep watch there constantly, she realized. They recognized Silvara's call. Odd-for a slave to have such freedom. If escape was this easy, why did Silvara stay among the Silvanesti? It didn't make any sense-. . . unless escape was not her purpose.

"What does 'Kargai Sargaron' mean?" she asked Theros abruptly.

" 'He of the Silver Arm; " Theros answered, smiling..

"They seem to trust you:'

"Yes. I told you I spend a good part of my time wandering. That is not quite true. I spend much time among Silvara's people:" The smith's dusky face creased in a scowl. "Meaning no disrespect, elflady, but you have no idea what hardships your people are causing these wild ones: shooting the game or driving it away, enslaving the young with gold and silver and steel:" Theros heaved an angry sigh. "I have done what I could. I showed them how to forge hunting weapons and tools. But the winter will be long and hard, I fear. Already, game is becoming scarce. If it comes to starving or killing their elven kin-"

"Maybe if I stayed;" Laurana murmured, "I could help-" Then she realized that was ridiculous. What could she do? She wasn't even accepted by her own people!

"You can't be in all places at the same time;" Sturm said. "The elves must solve their problems, Laurana. You are doing the right thing:"

"I know;" she said, sighing. She turned her head, looking behind her, toward the Qualinesti camp. "I was just like them, Sturm," she said, shivering. "My beautiful tiny world had revolved around me for so long that I thought I was the center of the universe. I ran after Tanis because I was certain I could make him love me. Why shouldn't he? Everyone else did. And then I discovered the world didn't revolve around me. It didn't even care about me! I saw suffering and death. I was forced to kill"-she stared down at her hands-"or be killed. I saw real love. Love like Riverwind's and Goldmoon's, love that was willing to sacrifice everything-even life itself. I felt very petty and very small. And now that's how my people seem to me. Petty and small. I used to think they were perfect, but now I understand how Tanis felt-and why he left:"

The boats of the Kaganesti had reached the shore. Silvara and Theros walked down to talk to the elves who paddled them. At a gesture from Theros, the companions stepped out of the shadows of the trees and stood upon the bank-hands well away from their weapons-so the Kaganesti could see them. At first, it seemed hopeless. The elves chattered in their strange, uncouth version of elven which Laurana had difficulty follow

ing. Apparently they refused outright to have anything to do

with the group.

Then horn calls sounded from the woods behind them. Gilthanas and Laurana looked at each other in alarm. Theros, glancing back stabbed his silver finger at the group urgently, then thumped himself on the chest-apparently pledging his word to answer for the companions. The horns sounded again. Silvara added her own pleas. Finally, the Kaganesti agreed, although with a marked lack of enthusiasm.

The companions hurried down to the water, all of them aware now that their absence had been discovered and that pursuit had started. One by one, they all stepped carefully into the boats that were no more than hollowed-out trunks of trees. All, that is, except Flint, who groaned and cast himself down on the ground, shaking his head and muttering in dwarven. Sturm eyed him in concern, fearing a repetition of the incident at Crystalmir when the dwarf had flatly refused to set foot in a boat. It was Tasslehoff, however, who tugged and pulled ,and finally dragged the grumbling dwarf to his feet.

"We'll make a sailor of you yet;" the kender said cheerfully, prodding Flint in the back with his hoopak.

"You will not! And quit sticking me with that thing!" the dwarf snarled. Reaching the edge of the water, he stopped, nervously fumbling with a piece of wood. Tas hopped into a boat and stood waiting expectantly, his hand outstretched.

"Confound it, Flint, get in the boat!" Theros ordered,

"Just tell me one thing;' the dwarf said, swallowing. "Why do they call it 'the River of the Dead'?"

"You'll see, soon enough;' Theros grunted. Reaching out his strong black hand, he plucked the dwarf off the bank .and plopped him like a sack of potatoes on to the seat. "Shove off;" the smith told the Wilder elves, who needed no bidding.. Their wooden oars were already biting deep into the water.

The log boat caught the current and floated swiftly downstream, heading west. The tree-shrouded banks fairly flew past, and the companions huddled down into the boats as the cold wind stung their faces and took away their breath. They saw no signs of life along the southern share where the Qualinesti made their home. But Laurana caught glimpses of shadowy, darting figures ducking in and out of the trees on the northern shore. She realized then that the Kaganesti were not as naive as they seemed-they were keeping close waEdin upon their cousins. She wondered how many of the Kaganesti living as slaves were, in reality, spies. Her eyes went to Silvara.

The current carried them swiftly to a fork in the river where two streams joined together. One flowed from the north, the other-the stream they traveled-flowed into it from the east. Both merged into one wide river, flowing south into the sea. Suddenly Theros pointed.

"There, dwarf, is your answer;" he said solemnly.

Drifting down the branch of the river that flowed from the north was another boat. At first, they thought it had slipped its moorings, for they could see no one inside. Then they saw that it rode too low in the water to be empty. The Wilder elves slowed their own boats, steering them into the shallow water, and held them steady, heads bowed in silent respect.

And then Laurana knew.

"A funeral boat;" she murmured.

"Aye;" said Theros, watching with sad eyes. The boat drifted past, carried near them by the current. Inside they could see the body of a young Wilder elf, a warrior to judge by his crude leather armor. His hands, folded across his chest, clasped an iron sword in cold fingers. A bow and quiver of arrows lay at his side. His eyes were closed in the peaceful sleep from which he would never waken.