What are they?" The belkagen slowed his pace and turned to her. "Those are the marks of a chieftain. In the west, your kings wear crowns and wield scepters. Among the Vil Adanrath, those red runes mark him omah nin." "What do they say?" "Not now, Lady." "But they are much like the runes on the staff given to me by the oracle." The belkagen nodded.

"Most likely they were carved by the same hand." "You mean the omah nin has been to the oracle?" "All omah seek Hro'nyewachu, who chooses the omah nin. Now hush, Lady. Please. This is not the time." They walked amid the gathered crowd. Amira counted ten other Vil Adanrath gathered-elves anyway. The wolves milled about so that she had trouble counting them, and they came in every color, from a black deep as coal to a white that became one with the snow. Among the elves, Amira was surprised to see three women. They looked no less fierce than the men.

One had a disfigured face, half of which was a mottled burn-scar, and one eye stared out milky white. The belkagen stood across the fire from the omah nin and bowed. "Omah Nin, I have come to your council, and I bring Lady Amira Hiloar, War Wizard of Cormyr, Inisach tin Nekutha Hro'nyewachwe. I request that those who speak the common tongue of the west do so, that we might honor her presence." The omah nin turned his heavy gaze on her, and she was bowing before she realized it. "Well come to my fire, Lady Amira," said the omah nin.

"You honor us with your presence." He motioned to each of those seated around the fire, calling each of their names. Leren was the only one she had already met. "Please, sit. We have much to discuss." The belkagen sat on the ground amid the ring of elves. Amira and Jalan settled in beside him, and she leaned toward him and whispered, "What was that you called me? Inisaktin Neku-something?" The belkagen turned to her and said, "Inisach tin Nekutha Hro'nyewachwe. It means you sought Hro'nyewachu and lived." "Why did you tell them that?" "So that they will know you are their equal." "I-" A great howl from beyond the camp cut her off, and everyone seated round the fire stiffened. The wolves stopped their pacing and stood still, only their ears moving.

"The sentries-" said one of the elves beside the omah nin. The wind, which had blown out of the north all day, suddenly rose to a tumultuous gale and blew up a great cloud of snow. The fire went out, and as darkness gripped them, Jalan grabbed his mother. She could feel him trembling beside her. Amira felt the belkagen rise beside her and heard his incantation. A moment later the green fire from his staff lit the camp, reflecting off the snow in the air so that it seemed as if they were suspended in a spring-green cloud. The wind shrieked even harder, and the belkagen shouted, "No one move! Be still!" A cackle came from somewhere in the blizzard. It was one of the most inhuman sounds Amira had ever heard, like the sound of breaking icicles given life and a gleeful malice. "Behind me!" shouted the belkagen as he stepped away from the main body of the camp, his staff held high, the flames on its tip blazing like an emerald star. "Everyone back! Stay behind my light!" The wind blew even stronger, sending the belkagen's great cloak billowing behind him. Amira could hear him shouting but could not understand the words. The gale pummeled them, blowing no longer from the north but switching direction again and again. Amira thought it was beginning to slacken a bit, but then she realized that it was only gathering in the darkness just beyond the reach of the belkagen's light. Amira watched in horror as the wind gathered into a single cyclone, dozens of feet high. It stayed in one spot, gathering snow, ice, leaves, and other bits of debris as it swayed back and forth. Gripping her staff, Amira began to form the words of a spell.

"Be still!" said the belkagen. "I beg you, Lady." Out of the snow, a small form staggered, leaning heavily upon a gnarled staff dangling with thorns and bits of hair and bone. She stepped into the green light, and Amira saw that it was indeed a she-a hideous old crone, her skin blue as a drowned corpse, the flesh round her rheumy eyes black with decay. She seemed about Amira's height, but bent over as she was, Jalan could have looked down on her. Gripped in one hand she was dragging a pale, silver-haired body-one of the Vil Adanrath, either dead or unconscious; Amira could not be sure. The old crone came forward until she was only a few paces from the belkagen, then she spat. "Ach! Cursed wolf-elf. Blech! Who could eat such a thing?" She dropped the unconscious sentry into the snow, sniffed the air, and fixed her eyes on everyone gathered around the dead fire. "But I do smell a human. Tasty manflesh." The belkagen lowered his staff, and it seemed to glow even brighter as he spoke. "There is no meal for you here, Tselelka. Leave our sentry there and be off." The old woman cackled and thrust her staff toward them, and a great deluge of hail and ice fell with a loud roar. Only a few shards hit before the belkagen raised his own staff, spoke a harsh incantation, and a half-globe shield, faintly sparkling, covered them all. The old woman stamped her foot, and the ice storm died away. "Kwarun. It is you, eh?

I feared as much. Damn and damn. I thought you were meddling in the south these days." The belkagen lowered his staff, and the magic shield flickered away. "How was your hunting this season, Tselelka?"

"Pfah. No more than a few gems and an amulet. Hardly worth my time, though the amulet will give me something to puzzle over this winter.

What might you be up to, old meddler?" "Our business is none of your concern." "If you're here, your business is Winterkeep. Tselelka is old, but she's no fool. And only fools find themselves at Winterkeep after the first snow falls." "You're here." "I am leaving." The belkagen fixed her with a hard glare. "Then don't let us keep you. But leave our hunter behind. If you've hurt him, I'll make finding you my first order of business come spring." The old crone cackled. She seemed genuinely pleased. "Kwarun, you always did know how to warm a girl's heart. Don't worry. I took no more than a nibble out of your watchdog. He can tell the rest of his litter it's a love bite from old Tselelka." Amira pushed her way forward. "You've come from Winterkeep, old woman. What is there?" Tselelka's eyes lit with a sudden fire at the sight of Amira. Her nostrils flared and she licked her lips as she took an eager step forward. The belkagen stepped in front of Amira and pushed her back. "Back, hag! I said you'll find no meal here." The old woman scowled, and the hunger in her eyes only seemed to increase.

"Cruel, Kwarun. Poor old Tselelka's had nothing but rats and worse for months. Haven't had a bit of manflesh since last summer, and this one smells sweet." "I said no, Tselelka. Now be gone." The old woman craned her neck to try to catch a glimpse of Amira. "Give old Tselelka a taste and I'll answer your question, girlie." The belkagen flicked his staff and said, "Crithta!" White fire shot from his staff and struck the ground in front of the old woman. Tselelka shielded her eyes and stepped back from the steaming hole in the snow before her.

"Missed, old meddler!" "I hit where I aimed," said the belkagen. He lowered his staff, pointing the end right at the old woman. "And the next one will hit as well. Now off with you! You and your orglash!"

The hag looked at the belkagen through narrowed eyes. "I hope we meet again, meddler, when Tselelka is rested and fed. I hope you survive your latest folly so that I can teach you some manners. Flee Winterkeep. Listen to the wind, and perhaps we'll meet again." The old woman motioned to the cyclone behind her, which suddenly grew and spread, hitting everyone with galeforce winds and blinding them in the snow. Amira had a spell half cast when the wind died away and the snow settled. The old hag was gone, leaving the senseless sentry on the ground. "Listen to the wind?" Amira asked. "What's that mean?"