The unsightly elf rose and took a heavy glass decanter from the shelf. He poured two libations from it and offered one cup to Zala.

“Nectar,” he said. “My only remaining contact with the homeland.”

Zala drank. She resolved to slay this smirking Silvanesti if he caused her any more than the promised delay. As she lowered her glass and beheld his misshapen features again, she realized he knew exactly what she was thinking.

Egrin lingered in the Dom-shu village, hoping to convince Tol to change his mind. Since Tol spent his days chopping wood and many of his nights roving the forest, Egrin saw him only rarely. His heart seemed closed to his friend’s urgings.

Life in the village had resumed a normal rhythm. Egrin glimpsed the chief one day as Voyarunta held court. Though his hair was as white as ever, the old fellow sat straight and moved easily, radiating health and strength. Miya had explained that the Repetition of Births ritual involved every male warrior in the tribe giving up a small part of his vigor to renew the chief.

Kiya, too, was often away, on her father’s business. Egrin’s time was spent mainly with Miya and Eli. One afternoon, Egrin noticed the boy playing in the shadows at the far end of the hut. Something in his hand glittered in the feeble light.

Egrin rose from his spot by the hearth. His knees cracked like dry kindling, and something caught in his lower back, sending a sharp pain through his hip. His Silvanesti heritage gave him a longer lifespan than a human, but it did not guarantee health or vigor for one who’d spent so many years in battle. Too bad there was no Repetition of Births for aging warriors. -. ¦

Eli shoved the shiny object out of sight as Egrin approached. When Egrin asked what he was playing with, the boy quickly said, “Nothing!”

Egrin sat and smiled at him kindly. “Your nothing gleams like metal. May I see?”

A small leather box was reluctantly produced. Egrin raised the lid, expecting to find a knife. The object within was indeed metal, but circular, like a bracelet. It rested on a scrap of black cloth.

“Don’t tell Ma I was playing with it,” Eli whispered. “Please?”

So, it was a trinket of Miya’s. Egrin was about to close the box when something about the object’s design caught his eye. He took it out to examine it more closely.

This was no bracelet. The circlet was made of three strands of metal-gold, silver, and a reddish one, maybe copper-woven together in an intricate fashion. The braid was as thick as Egrin’s finger, its ends joined by a polished spherical bead of the red metal. The bead was delicately engraved with whorls and lines, every line inlaid with gold. Strangest of all, the center of the metal ring was completely filled with a flat disk of polished black crystal.

Eli denied knowing its purpose, adding, “It belongs to Uncle Tol. I’m not supposed to touch it.”

The odd circlet was surprisingly lightweight, and the center crystal was just clear enough to allow light to pass through. Egrin turned toward the fire and peered at it through the crystal-

The object was suddenly snatched from his hand. Miya stood over him, eyes wide and cheeks crimson with anger.

“Where did you get this?” she demanded.

He would not have implicated the boy, but Miya divined the truth before Egrin could answer. “Eli! What have I told you? You’re not to touch your uncle’s things!”

Eli ducked behind the old marshal. His mother didn’t strike him often, but when she did, it was memorable.

Egrin tried to placate her, but Miya would have none of it.

“This was hidden,” she said, glaring at her son. “You couldn’t have found it unless you were looking for it!”

Rising, keeping himself between the two, Egrin said, “The boy shouldn’t have disobeyed you, Miya, but you have the trinket now. No harm was done.”

The formidable Dom-shu woman relaxed a little and he added, “What is it, by the way? I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“It belongs to Husband. It’s very old, very precious. No one’s supposed to know of it.”

Ah, Egrin thought, now he understood. The circlet must have been a gift from Valaran. The treasuries of the imperial palace were extensive, and all sorts of precious things were kept there, torn from their rightful owners by campaigns dating back to the days of Ackal Ergot himself. It made sense Valaran would have given Tol something to remember her by-as if he could ever forget her.

When romance bloomed between Tol and Valaran, Egrin had known nothing about it. Only later, after Tol’s exile, did the rumors reach his ears. Even so, Miya’s reaction seemed out of place. She and Kiya had always had a sisterly relationship with their ostensible husband. The sisters had known of Tol’s love for Valaran almost since it began, and no hearts had been broken by it.

As Miya returned the circlet to the leather box Egrin noticed her fingers were trembling. She ordered them both outside, not wanting them to know the box’s new hiding place.

Twilight had come. The fine spring day was ending. Wind stirred the trees, sending a flurry of blossoms over the Dom-shu settlement. The scene was so peaceful and pleasant that Egrin had to force himself to remember the terrible devastation going on a hundred leagues west.

Eli thanked him for acting as peacemaker. “Ma gets kind of wild when the stone turns up.”

Cocking an eyebrow, Egrin said, “Then perhaps you shouldn’t meddle with it.”

Eli grinned. “She’s just afraid Uncle Tol will find out she’s still got it. He told her to get rid of it after we came here.”

The situation made little sense to Egrin, but then he hadn’t been in love in-how long had it been? Nearly fifty years? A great span to be alone, by any reckoning.

“Will your uncle be home tonight?” he asked.

“Nah. He took a bow and possibles bag this morning, so he’ll be huntin’ all night.”

Kiya came striding across the village square, looking weary. She’d carried her father’s words to the chief of the Karad-shu and returned, a long journey, all in one day.

“Egrin. Boy,” she greeted them. She put a fist under Eli’s chin and lifted it. He responded by punching her on the arm.

Miya called for Eli and he went inside. Kiya asked, “Have you convinced Husband yet?”

The old marshal shook his head, frustration in every syllable as he replied, “If he cares nothing for the empire, you’d think he’d fight for Valaran! Her life is as much at risk as anyone’s!”

“I think he’s worked so hard for so long to stop hurting, now he hardly feels anything.”

Egrin fought back a wave of pity. There was nothing he could do to ease Tol’s pain, yet there was much Tol could do to ease the empire’s suffering, to help every man, woman, and child in Ergoth. Egrin had to break through the wall Tol had erected, stone by stone, around his heart.

“He must go! Everything depends on him!” he said, driving a fist into his palm.

Kiya regarded him in silence for a long moment, then said, “When you see him next, speak of her, not the empire. It’s Valaran owns his heart, not the land of Ergoth.”

She went inside, leaving Egrin alone in the deepening dusk.

Running hard up the leafy hillside, Tol pulled an arrow from the quiver on his back. This would be his last chance to take the deer. Light was failing and his quarry was outpacing him. He saw a flicker of white tail as it fled through the trees, each bound covering three paces. He drew the bowstring to his ear and let fly. With a thrum, the arrow sped through the intervening foliage. Panting, Tol waited for the tell-tale sound of the broadhead striking.

He never heard it. In truth he heard nothing at all, not even the rhythmic thud of the deer’s small hooves. Complete silence had engulfed the woods. Puzzled, Tol moved slowly through the stillness. His footfalls sounded muffled and far away. He nocked another arrow, his last. A good hunter never returned home with an empty quiver. Kiya, fine archer that she was, would have much to say about his sad performance.