Opens Holt Year 10,028. A young Glider learns the secrets of the Glider Mountain -- and Grey Falls Holt gains a new character. This tale follows "Rock Shatters Ice, Ice Crumbles Rock."

The sky was fair and blue, nearly cloudless that morning, had anyone bothered to look up. The Sky People, toiling in their gardens, felt the sun's warmth and the cooling breezes with equal pleasure. Birds flitted across the open spaces and a hawk soared on the thermals rising above the river cliffs not far from the village. So it was that no one among the Sky People thought the silhouette of a bird of prey high above the forest anything unusual. Without a frame of reference, no one could distinguish the size.

Nor did the mote drifting down from the sky, like a flake of thistledown, attract any attention at all. Off and away, off somewhere over the sacred falls which the Sky People rarely approached, the speck drifted down, down, into the forest.

As the elfin tribe hidden in that forest slept, a visitor arrived in Grey Falls.

He was a comely Glider, tall and well-made, with wide brown eyes and soft, light-brown hair pulled back and tied at the nape of his neck. His garments were a study in understated simplicity, and he seemed quite at ease in them. He did not seem easy, however, with the bundle in his arms.

The Glider sped silently past the falls, following a trail he knew only from a shared mind-picture. It was well that he had the picture, for there was little to follow. They knew how to hide themselves, these wild half-bloods.

There, ahead, was the magically-shaped tree. The wildlings slept in its hollows, he had been told, and the Glider steered well away from it. It was the bank with the caves he sought, and soon found it.

Fearing that scouts might be awake and alert, the Glider moved quickly. There was one cave in particular he must find, and it soon came into view. He shifted the bundle in his arms clumsily, clearly unused to bearing a burden such as this, and laid it down by the cave mouth. One look of regret he gave it, then shot straight into the sky.

He was well above the treetops when he heard the piercing sound of a newborn infant's wail.

Should he turn back? Was this right? Would the infant be safe among this wildling tribe? But he was being summoned, and he must fly on. His mount, a giant bird of prey, soared high above the forest, and the Glider made straight for it.

"Done?" asked the elf-woman who rode on the bird's harness behind his own seat.

"Yes, done," he replied, and took his place in the harness. The bird responded to his light touch and his send, and turned its beak toward home, toward the mountain.

"Though," he added thoughtfully, "I still don't understand. Why all this secrecy? Why abandon the child at all?"

He felt, rather than saw, the elf-woman grimace. "I told you, my sweet Ellusin, if this infant were yours, I would sing! But..."

"But?"

"Its sire is a savage. I will not be burdened with it. Let its own people have it, to raise it or kill it as they will."

Ellusin shook his head. "It must have been terrible for you, Liafair. Still, the child..."

"Hush," Liafair said. "No more about it. Just fly."

Ellusin shrugged. "Home, then. Five suns to get here. Let's see if we can make it four home."

He smiled at that, pleased to be in the air again, pleased to ride his beloved Windrider, for he was more at ease in the air than just about anywhere else and racing his mount, fleetest in the flock, pleased him above all things. The wind sang in his ears as he urged his great bird onward, racing the sun westward.

But he could not outrace the send that slammed into his head, like a blow from a barbarian's club, flung by an entire tribe at once. "High Ones, what...?" he cried aloud, and felt Liafair stiffen.

It was an image, only an image, that of a tall, spare elf with long black hair, clutching the infant to his chest. And he was weeping, which seemed so shock the senders even more than the contents of the bundle which had been abandoned so unceremoniously at his doorstep.

"Is that...?" Ellusin asked.

Liafair's reply was short and sharp. "Yes."

"Who... who is he?"

"Never mind his name. I wish to forget it. He is nothing to me."

Ellusin considered this. "He seems important to them."

"He is nothing. Fly on."

Her reply did not sit well with him, though he could not say why. Liafair was hiding something, he was sure of that, but he did not press. It never paid to press her. Not Liafair.

Yet who was that black-haired elf?

Life in the Mountain went on as it always had, and Liafair's secret remained quiet. Only he and Sunai, the shy and solitary healer, knew the tale. And the Preservers, but then who ever took Preservers seriously, save their keeper? They'd been called in to wrap Liafair, that she might pass the pregnancy in a dream-like state, but the child had slept with her, and did not grow until the wrappings were removed. By then three years had gone by and Sunai fretted that the child might not be quite right. Ellusin recalled her fussing over the newborn, and again wondered if he'd done the right thing, leaving the delicate infant with savages. A year had passed -- did the child yet live, he wondered?

Hunting called him away often, for he loved the hunt almost as much as racing, and relished the killing swoop as much as Windracer did. After the hunt and the feast, there was always courting, starting with subtle flirtations and ending with days-long romps in some private chamber. Liafair often chose him from the others, but there were other supple maidens who sought his favors, and sometimes several at once.

And there was reveling, something that seemed to go on in private and seemed to be over whenever Ellusin himself caught up with it. This puzzled him. Where did these revels take place? When? Why? And why was he never invited?

One evening, several years after his flight with Liafair, he came across a group staggering away from a revel somewhere, all four of them looking half-molted. "That was some celebration," one of them said, raising a goblet in which a few mouthfuls of wine still sloshed. "Yesh..." one of his companions agreed thickly.

"Morden!" Ellusin called. The hunter turned, and Ellusin caught his breath. He'd known the hunter all his life, yet Morden could still take his breath away. That magnificent profile, the glossy black hair, and his form... in his presence, Ellusin felt even younger than his short six hundred or so years. "Morden, where is it that you go?" he asked, plaintively.

Morden winked. "His Lordship's chambers. Very exclusive. Maybe I can put in a good word for you, eh?"

His Lordship. Vistian. Lord Aurellan's visier. He was ancient and wise... and as cold as a serpent. Ellusin suppressed a shudder. "And... what is it you do there?"

"Special things... you know," Morden said, and though his voice feigned confidence, his expression was uncertain.

"Like what?"

The handsome hunter shrugged. "Heh... too much wine. Can't remember."

His companions sniggered, and they all staggered off, their arms thrown about one another. Ellusin looked thoughtfully after them, then turned away.

Once he set foot down the path of thought, he found, there was no turning back. Even Liafair began to notice. She enticed him into her silk-lined sleep-nest one evening, yet seemed to find something lacking in his company. "You're quiet again," she complained. "Why so quiet all the time?"

Ellusin shrugged. "Oh... just thinking, I guess."

Her piquant face twisted into an expression of annoyance. "That's what you always say. What are you thinking about?"

"It's nothing," he lied. "Just... clumsy on the hunt today, that's all."

"Oh, forget the hunt," she said, slipping her hand around the nape of his neck. "I've something better for you to think about, my sleek youth."

Even Liafair's skills were not enough to distract him from his path of thought. Something was amiss in the mountain, but exactly what, he had no idea. Only a vague sense of... something... something indefinable, troubled him. He needed wiser, quieter counsel, but not from his usual companions. They were older than he -- but then, so was everyone in the mountain, as he had been the last child born.

No, almost the last. There had been one more, and that one he had carried away and abandoned to savages. Why?

There was one place he knew he could turn for reflection, one place he would not be laughed at. One night, when all the other hunters were happily engaged in a feast following a fine hunt, Ellusin stole away down a little-used, much-neglected tunnel, to a chamber hidden far away from Lord Aurellan's suite.

*Nimue?* he called, peering through a small, closely-barred window.

*Ellusin!* a sweet voice answered. *It's been so long since you visited, my brother. Wait... I'll get the door.** He heard her light footfalls on the stone floor, heard excited twitters and chirps, and heard the rattle of the lock on the heavy door.

He stepped inside, into the chamber lit only by a few candles and a luxurious growth of glow-moss. The gloom was dispelled, however, not by the light, but by the brilliant colors of the small, winged creatures that flitted all around the chamber, screeching and twittering their high-pitched greetings. Lord Aurellan kept the noisy, busy -- and snoopy -- Preservers locked up and well out of earshot, tended only by the lowest and least thought-of among the Gliders. Nimue, Ellusin's older sister, didn't seem to mind. She called aloud to her tiny charges, calling each by name, though how she could remember the names of every one of the myriad of creatures, he did not know.

"Eeeeee! Flyfast Highthing come to see us!" the Preservers squealed. "Make Softpretty Highthing happy!"

"Hush, dear ones," Nimue chided them gently. "Yes, brother is here. Now settle down."

Poor Nimue, so at home among the unwanted Preservers, so little at ease among her own people. So teased and tormented by the hunters, who pretended to court her in jest. She turned them all down in disgust, he knew, and kept to herself, behavior that everyone thought was excessively strange.

"I had something I wanted to ask you," Ellusin began.

"What is it?" Nimue asked, motioning him to sit down. The Preservers settled on various perches and ledges around the room, and three snuggled down in Nimue's soft, dark hair.

"Do you remember when I was born?"

"Yes," Nimue said. "Of course. How could I forget? What joy there was! It had been so long since we'd seen a child in the Mountain."

Ellusin rose from his seat, rubbing the back of his head in puzzlement. "Then why...?"

"Why what?" his sister asked, curiously.

"Never mind," he said. He had promised secrecy, and though he knew Nimue would never tell Liafair's tale to anyone, something told him it might be dangerous for her to hear it. "But everyone was happy when I was born?"

"Yes, of course," she said. "Why wouldn't they be?"

"Oh, no reason. You had a big hand in raising me, I remember."

Nimue nodded. "Yes. They sent you to be raised by slaves until you were old enough to be presentable, but I didn't want to wait to get to know you. They thought me strange, but then..." and here her head drooped, "...they always think me strange."

Ellusin stared at the stone floor. "Something is strange here, all right. Something is wrong. But... I don't know what."

"I know," his sister said, still looking down. "I think there is a dark heart to this mountain. I... hear things, whispered things. The Preservers bring me tales." She looked up into his face and touched his shoulder. "But please... don't go seeking out the trouble, whatever it is. Be safe."

Ellusin grinned, feigning more confidence than he felt. "I will. Don't worry about me, fussy."

He took his suspicions to no one else, not knowing which of the others in the Mountain he could fully trust. He did not actively investigate, as Nimue had asked, but only watched and waited, listening for subtle clues hidden behind carefully chosen words.

There were strange things he noticed. A certain nervousness among the slaves. A disappearance that few talked about and no one cared about. But nothing that added up to a coherent story.

And so passed several more years.

"Ellusin, did you hear the news?" someone called excitedly as a crowd rushed passed him one afternoon.

"What news? Where do you rush to?"

"The son of Lord Allim! Can you believe it? Here!"

"What?" Ellusin stood dumbstruck. Had he heard right? Lord Allim was... well, he was a legend, right? The lost son of Lord Imris, the High One who founded the Mountain. Ellusin knew the story well. Imris said he had sired a son, and had left the expectant mother behind with her tribe, far off in the cold lands. Lord Imris left the mountain after his daughter, Aurellan, was born, to go in search of his son, but he had never returned. An accident, a sudden flood, had killed him. Over the many, many years which had passed, there had been attempts to find the son, but none had succeeded.

Liafair had gone out on such a mission, daring to undertake it alone.

A cold suspicion grew in Ellusin's mind.

"Come on!" his friend in the crowd called. "If we hurry, we can see him."

"All right..." Ellusin said, starting forward.

"Maybe the Great Lord will follow him! Hurry!"

Ellusin followed the crowd, gliding swiftly down the thick current of the curious which flowed down the hall.

By the time he reached the Great Hall, it was clotted with a mass of his people, all crowding in at once to see the spectacle. Ellusin rose above the foot-bound, for not all in the Mountain could glide, and found a spot alongside one of the silk-draped columns where he could get a better view.

The boy was little more than three or four eights or so in years. Yes. The age was about right. Twig-thin, delicate. As delicate as the infant he'd delivered? The hair was light brown, the eyes round and pale. It had to be the same child. He glanced around for Liafair, but she was nowhere to be seen. The boy himself was certainly visible, though, shrinking back against the foot of Aurellan's throne where he crouched... no, Ellusin saw with a shock. The boy was chained there.

Ellusin's breath came quickly. What game were they playing here? If the son of Imris lived, if this boy were truly the son of the son of Imris, by what right did Aurellan chain him to her throne? On the other side cowered a reddish-furred wolf with a distinctive white streak down its forehead. Had the beast come with the boy? What story lay here?

"There's nothing more to tell," the boy said stubbornly, though his voice shook. "I was traveling with my father and I... I was curious about this place. My mother lives here, you see, and I just wanted to see it."

"Your mother!" Aurellan rose from her throne and stood over the boy. "There have been no births in this Mountain that I've been aware of. And there are no secrets here! Who is your mother? Name her!"

Ellusin held his breath.

"Liafair," said the boy.

Oh, the uproar. Liafair! Her name was on everyone's lips, in everyone's send. Liafair!

"Fetch her to me!" Aurellan commanded. Her brows drew together in a thunderous expression. "Now."

Ellusin sped off down the nearest corridor. He knew Liafair's hiding places and where she'd most likely be found. Best he find her before anyone else did.

She was not in her chambers, and the silks in her nest were cold. He flew off down a hidden tunnel that led from the back of her wardrobe to a secret chamber, but she was not there, either. Nor was she in any of their favorite nests. It wasn't until he hit on the idea of searching the aerie that he found her, rummaging through stored hunting leathers and pulling out weapons. She turned on him sharply.

"Do not stop me!"

"I... where are you going?"

"I must leave. Don't you see? I must leave this place now! If they find out whose child that is..."

Ellusin rushed forward and grabbed her by the arm. "They know already. He's told them. Liafair, why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you tell anyone? High Ones, Liafair, you discovered that our legend lives! And you bore his son! And then you gave the child away! Why?"

She jerked free of his grip and grabbed a hunting spear. "There is death in this, and I don't have time to explain it to you, youngling. I will leave this place if I have to go through you!"

"And through me as well?" came a silky voice from behind them. Liafair paled as she turned. Behind them stood a tall, spare figure, draped in black, with a face like death.

"Lord Vistian," Liafair murmured.

"You are wanted in the Great Hall," the visier said, smoothly, steepling his fingertips together. "There seems to be a question to settle. Do come." He reached out one hand and crooked a finger. "Now."

Liafair let out her breath in a hiss. Slowly she set the spear down and, with head bowed, followed Vistian out of the aerie.

Ellusin stood back and watched them go. Vistian didn't address him, and he didn't seem to be wanted. Indeed, he'd been left out of all the important councils Liafair had gone to with the highest-ranking Gliders. What was she into? He lifted into the air and drifted down the hall, well behind the dark visier, and listened, but there was no conversation between them that he could overhear.

He reached the Great Hall several minutes behind them, and glided silently to a niche in the pillar supporting one of the galleries. From there he could see and hear everything.

Liafair faced her accusers with a defiant expression, but she did not look at the boy who still crouched at the base of Lord Aurellan's throne.

"This child claims he is yours," Aurellan was saying, after the formal preliminaries. "He states that you are his mother... and that Lord Allim, the lost son who apparently lives, is his father. What is your response? Is this your son, Liafair?"

"Were I to deny the relationship," Liafair said, "no doubt you would fetch the healer and find out that there is indeed a blood tie."

Gasps and whispers rippled across the audience.

"But my son?" Liafair's voice rose in anger. "I had the misfortune of Recognizing a savage." Around her, voices rose in astonishment. "I kept my shame to myself rather than burdening the Mountain with it. If that is a crime, so be it. I bore the child in secrecy, yes, and sent him away. My son? This child belongs with his barbaric sire. There is no child that I claim as my own."

Ellusin stared, dismayed. Is this the Liafair I have known? he wondered. Has she always been so cold inside, cold enough to deny her own child? The boy was sitting there, stunned, pain and grief plain on his face. Ellusin turned away. It was too much for him, and he sped out of the hall.

What was Liafair? What was the coldness within her?

As he had many times in his childhood, he turned in the direction of Nimue's chambers. He wanted to speak to her, to hear her opinions. What were the Preservers whispering? What did she know about the dark heart of the Mountain?

Before he could reach her chambers, a send thundered through the halls.

*You! Gliders! I have come for my son!*

Who? Could it be? Could it truly be? How had he gotten in, how had he gotten past the guards? All thought of finding his sister was forgotten. He sped back to the Great Hall, dodging past the crowd, but a clot of his own people blocked his way. He slipped around and through them as best he could. He could hear an angry male voice, and Aurellan's cool tones playing counterpoint. Oh, wait, wait, he wanted to call. Wait for me to come and hear!

He finally squirmed his way to a high gallery. He spotted Nimue hanging over the rail, staring down. He settled into a niche to watch and listen.

The figure facing Lord Aurellan was tall and lean, though not as tall as he imagined. Was this, then, Lord Allim? He was dressed in travel-stained leather garments of grey and blue, simply-made, giving him quite a wild appearance. His black hair was long and straight, pushed back from his forehead, hanging loose to his waist. But it was his eyes that caught Ellusin's attention. Eyes bright and glittering as the point of a spear, narrowed in rage. He was fierce, he was savage, as he alternately growled and shouted at Lord Aurellan. He was the antithesis of the cultivated Glider, who carefully hid self and emotions under a social mask.

Ellusin sat enthralled. He'd never seen the like, not ever in his life. He knew he should be repelled, yet he was fascinated by this apparition, so much so that he could barely follow the conversation. He wondered if the humans might feel the same if one of their imagined gods came alive and walked among them.

"What do you know of your parentage, Allim?" Aurellan was saying. "Who was your mother?"

"What business is it of yours?" Allim snarled, and the audience gasped and whispered.

"She was a High One, I think," Aurellan purred.

"Of course you know that. More of Liafair's tales," Allim said, waving her off with a sharp gesture.

"Shall I tell you her name?"

"As if you knew!"

"Her name, Allim?"

"Why should it matter?"

Ellusin watched the banter. What was Aurellan about? What games did she play here? Why did she not welcome her half-brother, place him on the empty throne beside hers, and call for a feast?

"Shall I tell you myself?"

"No!" Allim cried. Ellusin saw him pause, and clench his teeth. "She was my mother, and only I shall name her. She was..."

"Yes?"

The word was barely audible. "Drianah."

Drianah. Ellusin knew the name, as he'd learned to chant the names of all the High Ones when he was a small child. She was one who had stayed behind.

"Yes, that was it," Aurellan said with a bright, practiced smile. "And your father?"

Allim's face hardened. "Of my father I know nothing."

Ellusin stared. No, surely he'd been told! Imris was a High One, after all, Lord Allim was a true firstborn. He must know that. Why would he not know that?

"Nothing at all?" The Glider Lord's eyebrows rose in sympathy.

"No, nothing, thank you very much for reminding me," Allim said through his teeth. "Happy now? If you think you've inflicted enough pain, I'll just take my own son and go."

"Not just yet, if you please," Aurellan said, raising one hand.

"I don't please. Release these two."

So fierce! Ellusin thought. This is what the Mountain needs! Something to clear out the cobwebs and dry the seeps, something to blow away the sham of social conventions. Straight talk and to the point, without the pretty lies.

"Then without your pleasure I will keep you here just a bit longer. There is a tale to tell which you need to hear. How can you truly make a decision if you don't know all?"

"Decision?!" Allim cried. "What decision? This is madness!"

Did he not know? Had he not guessed the meaning of the empty throne? Ellusin leaned forward further to listen.

"Do sit," Aurellan said, motioning to the empty throne beside her.

Allim eyed the seat suspiciously. "I'll stand."

"As you wish. We were talking about fathers. Now hear of the Father of the Gliders -- does the name Imris mean anything to you?"

Allim shrugged. "Imris was a High One. He disappeared a very long time ago and was never heard from again."

Astonishing. He gave no indication that he knew anything at all of his connection to Lord Imris. Ellusin could not fathom it.

"Heard from by your people, perhaps. But well known to mine. Imris did not simply disappear. He led a band of firstborn and second-born to this world and brought them to this mountain where he made a settlement. A colony. Among his followers were the only two rockshapers in the group he broke off from. They served him very well, digging into the mountain and shaping the first halls and passageways of the vast network you now stand in. A rather more interesting tale than a simple disappearance, don't you think?"

"What of it?" Allim asked, with an expression of annoyance. "Unless your precious Imris is alive, I can't possibly see how this could interest me."

Murmurs swept through the assembled Gliders.

"All I knew of him," Allim went on, "are some vague tales about dissension amongst the last surviving High Ones not long before Anlari's sacrifice. He went off with his sympathizers and that was that so far as we knew. You say he founded your colony. How nice for him. Now give me back my son."

"Allim, Allim," Aurellan murmured, shaking her head sadly. "There is so much more to the tale than that." She tilted her head slightly to one side as she regarded him. "As I look at you I am reminded of him. As well I should."

Allim's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Aurellan went on, smiling gently, "that Imris did go back to the people he'd left behind. He journeyed back in hopes of gathering all of pure blood to join him in his great purpose. This colony does have a grand purpose, after all. You are familiar with the Palace, I hope?"

"Of course." Ellusin saw a glance pass between father and son. There was something more there, something that was unsaid. The word "Palace" had triggered it. Did Lord Allim know something about the Palace?

"To reclaim the Palace has proved near impossible for our people. Many have attempted the journey, none have been successful. Some never returned. What was there to do? Some thought was given to recreating the Palace here in the mountain, using the power of rockshaping enhanced by the power of all Gliders. But it was felt that if the true Palace existed, it ought to be reclaimed and used. Therefore, rather than journey to the Palace, our work is to find a way to bring the Palace to us."

Allim let out a short bark of mirthless laughter. "An interesting trick that would be!"

"One that might please you to see," the Glider Lord replied, "and we feel we are nearing the goals. The entire focus of the colony," she said, spreading her hands and passing her gaze across her gathered people, "has been on that one goal. We will soon reach it. But I digress. It was of Imris I was speaking, and it is of him you must hear. For he did go back to his people."

"I never heard of him returning," Allim said in flat denial.

Ellusin frowned, but not at the spoken words. Something tickled at the corner of his awareness. He had a sense that he was not alone. Of course not, he chided himself, he was in a hall which was crowded with Gliders.

Yes, his senses told him, but there is something else.

Slowly he turned, and drew in a shocked breath. There were eyes behind the draperies, glittering grey eyes. A pair of lips drew back from a set of small, white, and very sharp teeth. The wild maiden put a finger to her lips, commanding his silence, then turned her brilliant eyes on the tableau below.

He should shout an alarm, he really should. He knew he should. Yet he held his peace for the moment, and could not say why. It was the conversation, he excused himself. What harm could one wildling do, after all? If she made a move he would catch her, surely. He didn't want to miss any more of the conversation, and he strove to pick up the thread again. Aurellan had been speaking of Imris' first journey back to the people he'd left, the journey that ended in Recognition. Now the tale went on.

"The one Imris Recognized remained with her people, and Imris returned disappointed to the mountain. He did not forget the child he left behind and vowed to return one day to claim his own. In the meantime he determined that it would be wise to Recognize one from his own colony. He did not know whether he could ever reclaim his first child, so wanted a more sure successor. Times were so uncertain then. Should he succeed in reclaiming his first child, he would have two to rule. Side by side." Aurellan motioned at the twin thrones. "So Imris asked the healer of the colony to aid him in forcing Recognition. Together they succeeded. The healer bore him a daughter. He raised her to know herself well and to know and control her inherent powers. He trained her and taught her to be his successor should anything ever happen to him."

There was a long pause, then Allim said: "Imris did set out after the child, didn't he?"

"You are very perceptive, Allim!" Aurellan smiled graciously. "He did, when his daughter was still a small child. He hoped to raise the two together while they were still young and simple to train."

"But he did not succeed."

"No." The Glider Lord's head dropped slightly. It was a practiced gesture, as though she had told the tale many times with the same movements each time. "Imris and several others set out in the spring when the weather is so unpredictable. They were camped by a small river when a sudden flood came rushing down. Three of their party were able to scramble out of the way in time, but Imris and the two others were caught in the flood and killed."

"And no one bothered to hunt for the child after that." Allim's vlice was tight and grim. "No one bothered to see if he was cared for, if he was happy, if he was wanted where he was."

"The loss of our High One was a terrible blow to the colony. It was felt that it would be better to wait until the child became curious about his origins and sought us out of his own free will -- though some parties did go in search, but found nothing. And so he remained with the people he was born to, ignorant of his true heritage and of the inheritance that awaited him here. And now we can rejoice, for the son of Imris has come to us at last. You, Allim! The son of two High Ones, a true firstborn! And here," she motioned to the empty throne, "is the place we have kept for you."

Allim turned to the throne with a contemptuous look. "You err, Glider."

Aurellan looked at him curiously. "It is as I say, is it not?"

"About my heritage, perhaps. You seem to know a great deal about it that I cannot disprove. But you err nonetheless!" He raised a fist to emphasize his words. "I did not come her of my own free will! I came here to free my son!"

Aurellan sighed. "It is true that we had to use a small measure of force to lure you here. But now that you are here, he will be freed. The moment you assume your rightful place and claim your heritage alongside me."

A muscle on his face twitched. "Why you? What else have you decided for me?"

"Why, Allim," Aurellan said, with amusement. "Did I not say Imris had a daughter, also?"

Ellusin saw him pause to digest the idea.

"Yes, you do have some of his look about you," Aurellan said, gazing at him with an almost tender look. "The same hair, and nearly as tall. Yet I think you must favor your mother in the shape of your face. I often thought about you, Allim, as I grew to maturity here in the mountain. I wondered what you might look like. What your life was like out in the open. What hardships and dangers you might have endured. Sometimes, as I learned to send my spirit out, I fancied I might have touched you, but I think now I imagined it. I often wished I could reach you that way so that I might offer you your place with us, that we, as brother and sister, might lead the true ones in their quest to return to the home of our kind -- and, perhaps, to the stars once again."

Allim pulled his arms tightly across his chest. He shut his eyes and tilted his head back. Ellusin watched him, his own fists clenched. Do it, he wanted to shout. Please, do it. Take the throne. Breathe a new spirit into this Mountain. Shine the sun of your homeland into the Mountain's dark heart. Teach us!

"Well, Allim -- my brother?"

"There was a time," Allim said, with his eyes still closed, "when I struggled against the rule of Arran, fighting to be what I was in a world that did not seem to want me. Nimor sometimes understood in her own way, but to all the wolfchiefs who followed it seemed I had to justify my very existence."

He spoke these names as much to himself as to anyone else. Ellusin wondered who Arran and Nimor might be, and what he meant by wolfchief. The boy had come with a wolf. What was the alliance there?

"There was so much I could do for the tribe, had they listened!" Allim went on. "And now here you are with your tales and your offer. But here again, you err, Glider." His head lowered and his eyes opened, meeting her gaze with a fiery glare of his own. "In my youth I might have been sorely tempted, despite the promise I made to my mother as she lay dying before me. But now, Glider, I have seen you and your people as you truly are."

"Speak openly, Allim," the Glider Lord said. "What is it you see in us?"

"What is it I see?" he spat, and motioned to the two figures chained to the throne. "This! Your tricks and manipulations! Imris failed in fetching his son, so you lay bait to fetch him to yourself. You failed in your travels to the Palace, so you arrogantly attempt to force it here. Liafair, well trained by you, tried to turn Recognition into a lure to bring me here. What you cannot have by fair means you try to gain by trickery. And what you cannot have by tricks you will try to take by force. I will not be your prize any more than I would be Liafair's pet. I have come for my son. I will take him and go."

He knows, he knows, Ellusin thought, and felt that his heart might break. Lord Allim had been with them only moments and yet saw through them. And he would not have them.

"Oh, Allim," Aurellan said, a carefully formed expression of hurt on her face. "Would you go against the wishes of our father? A High One?"

"I honor the wishes of my mother, also a High One," Allim growled. "It was she who raised me, Imris who abandoned me. As Liafair abandoned Tito at my doorskin, thus he is mine and mine alone. And now, by your gracious leave, Glider Lord," he said in a mocking tone, "I will take him and his companion and be on my way."

"Bide with us and give it some thought," Aurellan said. "There is no need to decide right away. There is much time."

"There is nothing to decide," Allim said, firmly. "Had you asked me, had you invited me, had you treated my son as a guest I might have been tempted even yet. But no, you arrogantly tell me what I must do and you have treated my son in a most dishonorable way. I owe you nothing."

"You will, nevertheless, stay for a time," Aurellan said, a slight edge to her voice. "We are a peaceful people, but you can see we are many. There are skilled gliders among us, most of them hunters. We can extend your stay with us as we need."

"You would keep me here by force? What will you do, chain me as you have Tito?"

Tito. So that was the child's name. Ellusin looked down on his frightened face, making himself remember the name that went with it.

"Nothing so crude will be needed, I believe. Simple numbers will convince you. You are one, we are many." Aurellan motioned to the gathered Gliders who still watched with awe. Those in the front self-consciously adjusted their shimmering, brightly-colored garments.

Ellusin felt a thrill pass up his spine as a dark, mocking smile slowly crossed Allim's face. "Thrice you err, Glider. Did you really think I would come here alone?"

He raised one hand and a chorus of eerie howls reverberated throughout the hall. From the arches and empty galleries leaped small, lithe bodies. Candlelight glinted on bright weapons and glittering, lupine eyes. From near his perch, before he could move, he saw the small, bright-eyed maiden leap down, her mane of golden hair flying like a banner behind her. She and a dark-haired maiden dashed to either side of Allim and crouched beside him, bows drawn, protecting him.

Aurellan shrank back in her throne, her blue eyes wide with astonishment. She turned sharply on the boy at her feet. "But you said..."

"Oh, I'm sorry," the boy said said innocently. "Did I forget to mention we were traveling with the whole tribe?"

Ellusin wanted to clap his hands in delight. What a child! Concealment was not beyond these artless wildlings after all. Indeed, the child and father alike had cleverly kept the presence of their savage companions quiet, giving no clue. Pandemonium reigned in the great hall as the Gliders rushed out of the way of the small, fierce wildlings.

"What are those two... creatures?" Aurellan cried, unable to disguise the shock in her voice.

*These two are my daughters,* Allim sent, clear and ringing through the din, mocking them all. *Didn't Liafair tell you about the Wolfriders?*

Ellusin couldn't hear Aurellan's reply. His Lord had gone pale, her Gliders in chaos. A small wildling, one with hair so fair it was nearly white, waved an arm. *Enough talk, Old One!* she cried. *Arak, the chains! Let's get Tito and Foxlock and get out of here!*

Ellusin stared. The wildling rushing across the hall was unlike anything he'd ever seen -- or wanted to. It looked trollish, yet elfish at once. Could it be... a cross? His stomach revolted at the thought. What were these people?

*Hunters!* Aurellan summoned the best of her people. *Stop them! Don't let their weapons frighten you. You know elves do not kill their own kind!*

*Oh, don't they?* Allim replied, and as he seized his son by the hand, he let forth a broad, open send, red-stained and savage, filled with images of elf meeting elf in battle, fighting to the death. Ellusin cried aloud, shutting his eyes and clapping his hands over his ears to shut out the searing images.

When he looked up again, the invaders were gone and the hunters were rushing after them. He knew his place was with the hunters, yet he took a moment to glance back to the gallery. Nimue was gone. He hoped she'd fled to her safe haven, down with the Preservers.

They were summoning him, the hunters, calling him to fetch his weapons and help guard the passages. The rockshapers were already at work, changing the tunnels to fool the wildlings into running deeper into the Mountain instead of out of it. Ellusin hesitated. They had blown in like a freshening wind, so wild, so free, that it seemed a crime to stop them. What did it matter if the son of Imris and his child in turn lived with this tribe, so long as the Gliders knew where to find them? Why shouldn't they live with those that raised them?

What was the meaning of the chains?

Ellusin sent a response, then headed back to his own chamber to fetch his weapons, his progress slowed by the changes in the tunnels. He, of course, knew how to read the small clues that the rockshapers left behind, for they changed the passages often simply to create interesting puzzles to occupy the minds of the Gliders. They'd been particularly crafty in their efforts this time, but he had a quick and clever mind and soon reasoned his way through.

Someone had been there already.

Missing were his second-best hunting leathers. An old cloak was also gone. Ellusin's heart sank. He knew that Nimue sometimes stole into his chambers and borrowed leather garb in order to sneak outside and smell the fresh air that her position as Preserver-keeper denied her, to feel the warmth of the sun and to hear birds sing. He had always pretended not to notice, as he didn't want to get her in trouble. But this time... what did she think she was about?

He snatched up his weapons and sped off down the corridors. He didn't catch up to one of the groups of hunters until sometime later, and their exhaustion showed that the wildlings had led them on a merry chase, indeed. Two were wounded, though not badly.

"Ellusin, it's about time!" shouted Laceros, hunt leader. "Your sister! The barbarians have her!"

"Not unwillingly, I think," growled one of the wounded hunters.

"We don't know that for certain," said Laceros. "But with them she is, and willingly or not, she's leading them outward. Hunters, to the doors! Ellusin, I want you to go up to the aerie. Windrunner is the swiftest mount. Take him and circle the mountain. The moment you spot the barbarians, signal us. I will send more to the aerie in a moment."

Ellusin turned and raced off to the aerie. This was better, he thought, than facing the fierce wildlings in the tunnels. They hadn't killed anyone --yet -- but they didn't seem to have any problems in wounding their pursuers.

The aerie was deserted when he reached it. He called to Windrunner, and his bond-bird dropped down from a high, open perch. Ellusin swiftly fastened the harness in place.

*Wait,* a send came from behind. Ellusin turned. Liafair emerged from the shadows, dressed in leather as though for travel. *I'm coming with you.*

Ellusin stared at the spear clutched in her hand, the razor-sharp point glittering in the moonlight. *May I ask why?*

*Business of the Inner Circle,* she said. *You will take me up but you will see nothing. Do you understand?*

*No.*

*She means, youngling,* came another voice, silky, soft, yet a voice that never failed to set his nerves singing, *that things may happen tonight which would not be... healthy for you to speak of later.*

A dark columnar figure detached itself from the shadows. Vistian's pale face gleamed in the soft moonlight that bathed the aerie's landing platform. *What you will do now is carry Liafair on her mission, observe as little of it as you can, and speak to no one about it except as we tell you to. These orders...* he added, leaning over Ellusin and staring him down, *come from Aurellan. Do you wish to argue with her. Or... with me?*

Ellusin swallowed hard. "Er... no."

*Good. The future of this Mountain depends on the outcome of this mission. Now go.. and say nothing. You have kept secrets before. You will do so now.*

Ellusin nodded, not trusting his own voice lest it betray his roiling emotions. He rose in the air and settled himself into the harness, then reached down and helped Liafair up.

*Ask no questions,* she said. *Do only as you are told. You do not want to displease the visier.*

"No," the young hunter replied in a small voice. "I expect not."

Windrunner spread his vast wings and they were soon soaring around the ragged ridge that formed the peak of the loaf-shaped Mountain. They skimmed low, keeping their eyes on the doors, watching for anyone to emerge. The mother moon was a hand of days past its fullness, and the child moon shone bright, bathing the landscape below in their soft light. The wildlings would be hard to miss.

*There!* Liafair called, and pointed. Ellusin looked down and saw them, a few small figures emerging from one of the least-used doors. It was, he knew, the door that Nimue used most often, half-concealed by an overhanging rock and some brush. She was leading them, then.

*Call to the other hunters,* Liafair commanded. *They will be waiting in the aerie.*

Ellusin sent the call, and moments later, three more hunting birds rose over the mountain.

*Dive at them!* Liafair ordered. *Drive them back.*

The hunters obeyed. Four great birds wheeled together and dove straight toward the group of wildlings. Ellusin could not help but feel the thrill of the hunt as the wind screamed past his ears, but knowing what the quarry was broke his heart.

But the quarry was not entirely vulnerable. The pale-haired leader aimed a crossbow, and the bolt skidded across the face of one of the birds, nearly taking out an eye. The mounted hunter shouted in alarm as the bird screeched and turned aside.

**You are holding Windrunner back,** Liafair chided, and Ellusin shuddered. **Your will belongs to Lord Aurellan tonight. These are her orders and you will follow them.** She signaled the rest of the hunters to regroup, and once again the birds turned in a great wheel across the starry sky.

Before they could dive again, they were rushed by a brilliant cloud of twittering, shrieking, enraged Preservers. The tiny beings swirled around the heads of the hunters, clawing at them and blowing their sticky wrappers. The hunters cried out in dismay. The birds shrieked and careened off.

Two hands of Preservers darted at Ellusin, then drew back. "Flyfast Highthing, whyfore you hurt Softpretty Highthing and growler Highthings? Stopit!" They grabbed at his leathers and tried to yank him back.

**You see why you've been chosen for this mission, my sweet?** Liafair said, in a private send. **The Preservers will not harm you for your sister's sake.**

**What is it I'm to do?**

**Dive, now! While the others are distracted by the Preservers!**

Ellusin held his breath and dove. The wildlings were below him down. He saw the son of Allim stumble, Lord Allim himself move to protect him.

He saw the spear flash as it left Liafair's hand.

He saw Lord Allim pitch forward, the spear protruding from his back.

Ice and darkness filled him. He gasped and grabbed onto Windrunner's harness to steady himself. She hadn't, she couldn't!

*Ellusin!* Nimue sent to him, horrified, from the stones below. *I know it's you! You and Liafair! How could you? Her Lordship's own brother! How could you?*

Ellusin could not answer, but Liafair's reply was cold and swift. *Her Lordship has no brother. She has declared it so.*

With no direction coming from its bond-elf, the great bird had already turned back toward the mountain's high ridge. Ellusin clung to the harness, stunned. One word reverberated through his head: Why?

**Ask no questions,** Liafair ordered him. **Rejoin the hunters. You will tell them that you have seen an unfortunate accident. Lord Allim has fallen from a height and is dead, and the barbarians have disappeared with his son. That is all you will say, for it was so shocking I'm sure you won't be expected to remember details.**

**Liafair...**

**No questions! I am redeemed in Vistian's eyes now, and that is all that matters. Your continued silence is the only thing that will preserve your life now.**

Even with Liafair prodding him from behind, he could not get the words out when he rejoined the hunters. Sending the lie was impossible, of course. Elves, he knew, could no more send a lie than they could decide to breathe through their fingertips, however convenient it might be. All he could send to them was, *Don't ask me yet. Don't make me say it,* and to beg of them to land on the ridgetop. There, Liafair told them the lie that they were to believe. Laceros was all for going to recover the body, but Liafair assured him that there would be nothing to find. "Trust the barbarians not to waste anything," she said, darkly.

Ellusin turned away, afraid he might retch and disgrace himself.

He could neither sleep nor eat for days afterwards. No one questioned this. They were all in mourning for Lord Allim, and knowing he'd witnessed the death, they felt they understood. Ellusin, alone in his chamber, shivering in his silks from a cold that could not be heated, didn't know which was the greater crime: the murder, or the lie that had been used to cover it up. By his silence, he became a part of it. He moaned, and buried his face in the silks.

It had been Vistian's idea, he was certain of that. And Liafair had spoken of an Inner Circle, so there must be others. Did Lord Aurellan know the truth? He could not be sure, and he did not dare ask questions. Too much curiosity, he felt, could put a spear in his own back, or worse. Already his life might be in danger, for he knew a secret to which the rest of the Mountain was not privy.

He was being watched. He seldom left his chamber during the mourning period, but when he did, there were eyes. Vistian, whom he had rarely seen before, seemed to be everywhere. Liafair ran into him casually far more often than usual. And there were other eyes, he was sure. He might pick out the members of this mysterious Inner Circle, he thought, if he just paid attention to those who met him in the tunnels most frequently.

But the watchers seemed satisfied. He had told no one of the crime he'd witnessed, and they left him alone. For the moment. He did not dare grow complacent, for at any time someone might decide he was a liability.

Hunting was his primary distraction now. On birdback he could be sometimes alone, away from the constant company of his people. He could still thrill in the screaming dive as he and Windrunner bore down on some hapless Shagback or Pronghorn. He spun his talon-whip expertly, downing hares and strutting prairie cocks and other tender small game.

He gave up the spear as a weapon.

He could not face Liafair any more, could not stomach having her in his nest. She'd given him a look of contempt last time he had turned down her offer, and called him soft. A few other maidens called on him, for they thought his protracted grief was quite romantic and sought to comfort him. Even so he had to be cautious in accepting their offers, for in the intimacy of joining, it was easy to let secrets slip. The maidens could not understand why he held something of himself back. What was he so shy about, they teased.

It was easier to avoid them.

One night he wandered down to the chambers where the Preservers had once been kept. The candles, of course, were long burned out. The glow-moss, untended, clung in fading patches to the damp back wall. Dust had settled on Nimue's old table, on all the niches. Spider webs festooned the ceiling. The room was silent.

He slammed the door shut on the chamber and never went back.

"Here's news that will cheer you," said Tervis, a pert young maiden who had been coyly flirting with him for days. "Aurellan has ordered a hunter to go in search of the son of Lord Allim."

"Oh?" Ellusin feigned a look of cheerfulness. "And what do they mean to do if they find him?"

"Bring him back here, of course," Tervis said. "That is, if he wants to come. But Morden has been ordered to take gifts and offer a special place for him. I'm sure he can't refuse. It must be awful for him, living among those horrible savages."

"I'm... sure. Well, that will be... wonderful, if he comes. Yes. I'm sure it will be."

"There's a big ceremonial send-off taking place soon," the maiden said, and sidled closer. "Why don't you come? Everyone else will be there."

The last place he wanted to be was at such a gathering, smiling through the lies, playing the hypocrite. If the Inner Circle could order Lord Allim's murder, what would they do to his son?

But if he were the only one outside the Inner Circle who knew, he was the only one who might be able to protect the boy. Yes, he might do that. Should he volunteer to go in Morden's place? No, that would attract too much attention, draw too many questions. Better to wait and see what the results might be.

So, plastering a false smile to his face, he accompanied Tervis to the celebration.

Morden was in fine form, surrounded by as many supple maidens as he could put his arms around and more, all swearing that they would miss him and only him while he was gone. He looked so handsome up there on the platform, with Lord Aurellan smiling coolly at him. Such a hunter, such a reveler, such a persuader he was. Surely the proper choice for such a mission.

A strange feeling of foreboding stole over the young hunter. The wildlings knew the truth, he suddenly remembered. They knew that Lord Allim had been murdered by Gliders. And Morden was going straight to them.

What would they do to him?

There was no chance to warn Morden, and doing so would have put both their lives in grave peril. Ellusin could only pretend great joy and raise his goblet with the others, all the time weeping inside for the great lie that might be sending Morden to his death.

Yet Morden was clever and skillful. If anyone could get himself out of a scrape, he could.The fact that he didn't know the truth might work in his favor.

Or... maybe he did know the truth. After all, he was a frequenter of Lord Vistian's private revels. Perhaps he was one of the Inner Circle himself. Ellusin bit his lip. It couldn't be. He couldn't be in on it, or why had he not been the one chosen for the deed?

He should be warned. But there was no getting him alone in this crowd.

So Morden left the next morning, amid cheers and wishes for a safe journey. The Gliders went back to their usual routines, and waited for his return.

The wait was long, and in vain.

The mother moon waxed and waned three times before they gave up watching for him. Ellusin himself often took to the air on Windrunner, searching the skies for any sign of him. Yet there was nothing, no hint.

"I've asked Lord Aurellan if we should go into the barbarians' land and search for some sign of him," Laceros said one evening, "but she will not risk any more hunters to 'accidents,' as she said. Accidents, my eye! I think the barbarians are to blame for his disappearance!"

"Then why don't we wage war on them?" one of the hunters asked.

"And sink to their level?" Laceros snorted. "Lord Aurellan will not authorize it, even though I told her most feelingly that Morden should be avenged. They are not real elves, after all. She says we have no proof that the barbarians are responsible. However..." he mused, looking down into the blood-red wine in his goblet, "if we should ever come across any of the barbarian lot on our hunts, they might find themselves a bit... shall we say... accident prone?"

The hunters chuckled darkly in agreement. Ellusin hid his expression behind his goblet and pretended to drink, though the wine soured in his mouth.

With the hunters all cursing the wildlings, part of the pleasure went out of the hunt. Ellusin strove to go it alone whenever he could, but Gliders seldom did anything alone.

As the years passed by, he found another place for distraction. Below the Great Hall, in a giant chamber, lay the purpose of the Gliders' existence. A vast, dome-shaped chamber had been shaped long ago by rockshapers, and in the center rose a replica of the Palace in filigreed stone. Ellusin wandered down there one night, and found, as always, that the floating replica was surrounded by a ring of meditating Gliders. At any time of the day or night, there were always those who lost themselves in the contemplation of the object. The filigree work changed form constantly, tracing old stories and even the meditators' thoughts and dreams, under the combined power of all who sat in attendance. Some Gliders devoted their whole lives to the task. Others, like Ellusin, dropped in from time to time out of a sense of duty, for all Gliders were expected to contribute now and again.

By their combined powers, they hoped to one day free the Palace from the bonds that held it to its resting place and bring it to the Mountain.

Ellusin found an empty spot in the ring of meditators and sat down. He wasn't terribly good at this. Usually, just as he was settling into the right kind of feeling, his nose would start itching, or his foot would go to sleep. By lifting himself off the floor he could reduce the physical distractions, but that made it hard to concentrate. He could glide or he could meditate, but he wasn't experienced enough to do both at once for long.

Nevertheless, he continued to try. Some of the dedicated meditators could send a part of themselves "out" and commune with one another free of the body. What might happen, Ellusin wondered, if he could learn to go "out," so far that his spirit could reach the Palace itself? Suppose he could find the son of Imris there -- or Imris himself? It was a lot to ask for, certainly, for it was said only Lord Vistian had that power, that even Lord Aurellan couldn't go "out" that far. But what did he have to loose in trying? After all, life was long, and he would have plenty of time to practice.

He closed his eyes and lifted himself a few inches above the stone floor, just enough to be comfortable but not so much that he had to attend to it. Letting go of thought, he let his mind be led by the other meditators. Trying hard would not do it, he knew from past experience and coaching. Only by doing nothing could he achieve the right state of mind. And yet giving himself to the task was difficult, owing to the secrets he had to always hold back.

He was just falling into something close to the right state, fully aware yet lost in the stone Palace, when he was distracted.

Vistian moved silently across the floor, his eyes fixed on the replica Palace. One might suspect he didn't have feet, Ellusin thought, he moved so smoothly. As the visier approached a portal opened in the side of the replica. Vistian stepped inside, and the stone filigree closed around him.

The small Palace turned slowly in the air, and Ellusin felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise as the energy in the room raised palpably. It flowed from the meditators into the small Palace, making the edifice rise higher, toward dome-shaped ceiling. Ellusin tried to join in, but this mind work was of an intensity far beyond his skills. He did his best to add his feeble skills, and waited. He knew it could be some time. What Vistian did inside the little Palace, he could not comprehend, and no one bothered explaining. But it would soon be done, and he could go back to practicing.

Some time later he was startled awake. He hadn't realized he'd fallen asleep. For a frightened moment he wondered what he'd been dreaming, for he could not remember, and there were those who could feed on dreams. The small Palace itself might reveal dreams, as well. He stared up into the swirling shapes, hoping there was nothing there to betray him.

The side opened like an iris, and Vistian stepped out.

The pale face was nearly expressionless. Only a hint of a smug smile tugged at one corner of the visier's mouth. The portal closed behind him, and Vistian moved smoothly across the floor.

He stopped by Ellusin.

**It does you credit, youngling, to practice these skills which other hunters find boring,** he said.

**Erm... yes, thank you, my Lord.** He returned the send in private as it had been sent, unwilling to disturb the meditators.

**A pity about young Morden, isn't it? He had such promise.**

**Yes, my Lord. I wish he hadn't gone. It's been many years.**

The visier leaned over him. Ellusin went cold inside. **You know why it is that the barbarians may have killed him, if that was his fate.**

**I... um... of course remember nothing, my Lord.**

**About what?** The voice was cool and inviting.

**About... anything... that might have to do... with... um... Morden disappearing?** Ellusin said, uncertainly.

**Good boy,** Vistian replied. **See that you don't.** He straightened and turned as though to leave, but paused for a moment. **Without Morden, I am missing one of my personal revelers. I find that most inconvenient.**

**I'm sorry, my Lord.**

**Why don't you meet us, youngling? By the statue of the bird's head. Tonight, when the moon is just past its zenith?**

**I, my Lord? I mean... I'm just... I'm...**

**Perhaps you didn't hear me clearly, boy.** The send was darker now. **You will be there.**

**Yes, my Lord.**

Vistian drifted away.

Ellusin let his head sink into his hands. What had he betrayed?

He fled to the aerie, thinking he might escape. It was a desperate plan, for he would surely be followed. But when he got there, all the hunters were there, too, with wine and lovemates, showing off the aerie to them. He could not get to Windrunner before the moon rose into the bowl of the sky. There was nowhere to run.

With his heart sinking to his toes, he turned back. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, he thought. He'd seen the revelers in the halls, and though they'd always been so drunk they couldn't see straight, they'd seemed happy enough. But if he slipped, if he wasn't entirely guarded, if Vistian knew, what would he do?

He found the statue of the bird's head. The other revelers were there ahead of him.

"Ah, so his Lordship finally picked a replacement, did he?" called Spira. There were five revelers, and Spira was the only maiden among them.

"It seems so." He feigned enthusiasm. "When does it start?"

"As soon as the old black bird comes and fetches us," said Spira, and Ellusin shuddered at the casual way she referred to the deadly visier. "He shouldn't be long now."

But he was long in coming. In fact, he didn't come at all. The revelers grew impatient, and Spira pouted. "Why doesn't he come? I've never known him not to come."

They were reluctant to leave, and Ellusin sensed that they feared angering the visier. Yet it seemed certain that he was not coming after all. Slowly, without any decision made to leave, they began drifting away from the meeting place, all of them still glancing over their shoulders in case Vistian should appear.

Ellusin glided slowly back to his chambers, much relieved, yet puzzled. Why had Vistian called him, and the rest of the revelers, yet had not appeared? What was the meaning of it?

Though most of the Gliders went about their business as usual, Ellusin sensed a nervous undercurrent among some of them. Something had happened, something important. He could not guess what. Significantly, he never noticed Vistian lurking anywhere, though the ancient visier was usually at attendance any time something important happened. Where was he?

Several days later, Lord Aurellan called the entire Mountain to the Great Hall. Ellusin followed the rest into the hall, and rose to find a niche in a column where he might listen. This time he checked carefully for any wildlings lurking about. There were none.

*I will not keep you all in suspense,* Lord Aurellan said, after the formal preliminaries were done. *Something deeply distressing has happened. The slaves beneath the Mountain staged a rebellion and... there were some losses among our people. They will be mourned long and well.* Aurellan named the dead, and Ellusin gasped when Laceros was named among them. Who would lead the hunt now? In fact, three other hunters were killed along with him. Ellusin sat in stunned amazement, as the rest of the Gliders cried out in grief. Where had he been? Why had he not been called to join the fight? Was this the night when Vistian called him to join the revels?

*There is one more loss, a great one for me, and for all of us. Lord Vistian is missing.*

There was silence for one horrified moment, then the entire hall burst out into cries of fear. Lord Vistian? Missing? Impossible! How could it be?

Aurellan called for silence, and continued.

*The entire Mountain has been searched. It is true that Lord Vistian may have private chambers that no one else knows about, and may have retreated to them without our knowledge. Yet after such a thorough search, it seems that he is not inside the Mountain. Where he has gone, I do not know. His chambers showed no sign of a struggle, and nothing unusual. It will be further searched. While it is possible that rebellious slaves took him away, it is highly unlikely, even if he had gone down to the rebellion himself. Yet we must conclude that he is outside the Mountain, and possibly has been taken there against his will. We will commence searches.*

Searches did indeed commence, with a vengeance. Day and night, the surviving hunters rode out on birdback, carrying with them the strongest senders in the holt in hopes of reaching Lord Vistian by send if not physically. And each flight came back with no news to report.

Ellusin looked upon the remaining hunters sadly. They were much quieter these days. Of those who had been down in the tunnels closest to the rebellion, none had survived. Those who had come back had little to report, save that a sudden collapse of the tunnels had killed their hunt leader and fellow bird-riders. They had arrived too late to help.

"I hear it was trolls," said one. "Only trolls would know their way around those lowest tunnels so well, and it was troll slaves that were freed."

"What about the barbarian elves?"

"Elves in league with trolls? Don't be addled!"

"I mean the barbarians alone."

"They wouldn't know the way into those lowest tunnels. You can't reach them from the surface. And why would they free trolls anyway?"

Ellusin stayed out of the arguments. They were pointless, for no one who had seen the battle lived, and no one else had anything to go on but rumors.

Time went on and the searches grew less intense. Aurellan, it was said, believed that Vistian was alive, else she would have sensed his death. Rumors had it that perhaps the old visier had gone off on a mission of his own and didn't want to be disturbed, and that must be why the searches now extended no more than a day's flight beyond the mountain. It must be that they were watching for Vistian's return.

One evening, a few years after Vistian's disappearance, Ellusin wandered near the statue of the bird's head, and stopped to wonder. Why had Vistian called him that night, only to go away? It made no sense. It couldn't be that he had simply gone off on a journey, could it? Did he want people to think he'd been abducted? Or had he truly been?

Where did Vistian's chambers lie, anyway?

He had only the vaguest idea, and the tunnels around that part of the mountain changed often and made horribly intricate puzzles. The only clearer message that could be delivered would be the visier himself standing outside the tunnels, shouting, "Stay out!"

Lord Aurellan had said that the chambers had been searched. Had they? Was this another lie, another secret of the Mountain? Did Aurellan really know where the visier was?

Should he even wonder? Was it better, after all, that Vistian was gone?

Ellusin took a few steps down the tunnel past the statue. If there was a dark heart to this mountain, it lay in that direction. To attempt to shine a light on it himself could very well cost him his life. But the thought of going on with this life, wrapped in lies, was unbearable. Better to die knowing the truth.

He glided silently down the tunnel, looking for hints of where to go next. Unlike his feeble attempts at meditation, this was something he was good at. The puzzles required only logic, not magic. The clues were there, projecting subtly from the rocks. What looked like a clear pointer was certainly not, and he drifted off in another direction.

The clues were devilishly puzzling. He spent the better part of the night working them out, not daring to go back for fear of losing his place -- or even his way. He tried to ignore the fear, told himself firmly that, of course, he could find his way back out. Surely he could. But then again, perhaps he should have packed some provisions.

Hours later, he found the door.

There was no lock that he could see, and he gingerly opened it. Inside was a chamber, unlit and entirely black.

Ellusin found a flint in the pouch he carried under his tunic, and groped about for a candle. Moments later, a flame flickered to life. Ellusin looked around.

The chamber was modestly sized, but richly furnished. The walls were hung with scarlet silk. The entire floor was covered with padding and silk of the same hue, and littered with brilliant red puffs and pillows.

The immediate effect was one of a chamber bathed in blood.

Ellusin shuddered, trying to remind himself that Vistian led his revelers to a pleasure chamber. Surely this was it? It must be so. The whole chamber was softly padded.

For comfort? Or silence?

There were objects laid out neatly on a silk-draped table. Ellusin moved closer to see.

Then wished he hadn't.

There were flasks of wine, as one might expect, and platters of food, now dessicated and layered with mold, suggesting that this chamber had not been attended since the disappearance. Had it been searched at all? Or, perhaps, did Lord Vistian still lurk in these chambers? If so, why had he not eaten the food?

And what use did he make of the various sharp implements, silken ropes, and glittering chains that were carefully arranged on the table?

Ellusin swallowed back his rising revulsion and turned away. He explored the draperies which hid the cold stone walls, and made a surprising discovery. A door lay behind one of the drapes. He moved the fabric aside and slowly pulled the catch. He crouched low, ready for anything to spring out at him.

A pair of eyeless sockets stared back at him. Ellusin yelped and sprang back. But the skull on the shelf belonged to someone long dead, and held no immediate threat. The young hunter moved closer.

He was only slightly familiar with the anatomy of sentient beings, but he felt certain this was an elfin skull, clean and highly polished. He touched the bony ridges under his own ears, looking at the similar ridges on the skull. Humans, he thought, did not have such ridges, and trolls would surely have more massive heads than this. But why? What was the meaning of this relic?

The cabinet was fitted with shelves and the skull rested on the topmost shelf. Beneath were wooden boxes, lovingly crafted, each fitting its shelf perfectly. Ellusin set the candle down and slid one box out. Slowly, he lifted the lid.

Inside was another elfin skull.

He dropped the lid and hastily shoved the box back on the shelf. He did not bother looking in the other boxes. No doubt they held the same grisly contents. He stared up in dismay at the naked skull on the top shelf, wondering why it did not have its own box yet. Then he noticed something else beside it. He held the candle up and looked closer.

It was another skull, no bigger than his clenched fist, thin and delicate as a hummingbird's egg. There were no teeth in the tiny jaw.

Ellusin cried out in dismay. An infant's skull, he was sure! How had it come there? Why? What went on in this crimson chamber? He stood transfixed, unable to do more than stare into those sightless sockets which, for all he knew, had never gazed upon the world.

"You should not be here!"

Ellusin turned sharply. "Who goes there?" Startled out of his horror, he realized his cheeks were wet with his own tears.

"I do." A tall, dark cloaked figure moved from one corner of the room, but the face peering out from the cloak was not the one he feared.

"Sunai?" Ellusin recognized the face he hadn't seen since Liafair's pregnancy. "Healer, what are you doing here? What is this place? Tell me!"

"It is death for you to know," the healer replied.

"It may be death for me not to know. To go on here is a living death. At the heart of this Mountain is death!"

The ancient healer looked at him for a time, various emotions altering her features as she thought something through. Then: "Come, youngling. I cannot speak freely here."

She beckoned him to another drapery. Behind it was what appeared to be a solid stone wall, yet when Sunai touched a spot, a door opened in it. Behind was a dark tunnel. "Bring your candle if you wish. I do not need it."

Ellusin stared at the doorway, invisible a moment ago. "Are you a rockshaper as well?"

"No. But I have my own secrets." A smile turned up the corner of her mouth. "Aurellan thinks there are no secrets in the Mountain. She is wrong. She keeps most of them -- but not all." She turned sharply on him. "I am the secret-keeper. Never doubt that!"

"After Liafair's hidden pregnancy, I cannot doubt it."

Sunai smiled darkly. "Indeed not. Now follow."

The tunnel was narrow, claustrophobically so, with so many turns he could at no time see more than a few paces in front of them. Sunai sped along the pathway sure-footedly, as though she'd followed this path all her long, long life. He felt that, somehow, she had. Why had the rockshapers not altered this tunnel as they had all the others?

At long last they reached a small chamber. The furnishings were spare, but neat and clean. He remembered this chamber.

"This is where you took Liafair when she confided in you."

"Yes, and there she slept her futile sleep, trying to outsleep the child inside her. Silly girl." Sunai swept some dishes off the table and motioned Ellusin to sit down.

"You wanted to know the secret of the Red Chamber, did you?" the healer said, sitting down herself and leaning her elbows on the table. "It is too late to change your mind now, since you have seen it. But now that you know of it, and after you know its secrets, you cannot live here. You will have to leave, flee this place, go far away. If the Inner Circle finds out what you know, you will be the next hunter mourned, for there are no accidents in this mountain."

"Then Laceros and the others... were their deaths planned?"

Sunai frowned. "No. That remains a mystery, even to me. As does the disappearance of Lord Vistian. There were no clues left behind in any of his chambers. None!"

"But... those skulls? What were those about?"

The healer looked away. "The Red Chamber is Vistian's pleasure room."

"Pleasure? But the skulls, the sharp things..."

"He takes pleasure in causing pain."

Ellusin stared. That was a concept he couldn't quite grasp. "But... the revelers... they came away laughing and singing..."

"Their flesh was restored and Vistian did things to their minds to make them forget."

"He can do that?"

"He can."

"Then why didn't he just erase my memory of what...of what..." He found the words hard to say. "Of what Liafair did. When she hurled the spear. When she... killed... Lord Allim." His eyes widened. "Or... or did you not know that already?"

"I knew it was plotted. And I knew when the accident was reported that it must have been carried out. I thought perhaps it was you who did the deed. But it was Liafair, was it? Hmmm... of course it would be. She would want her revenge."

"But WHY?"

Sunai rose and lifted a wine flask from a shelf. She poured some amber wine into two flasks and held one out to Ellusin. "Go on," she said, "I will drink some as well, so you know there is nothing poisonous in it."

"Why should there be..."

"Trust no one in this Mountain!" she said sharply. "Not even me."

He cautiously sipped.

Sunai settled into the chair again. "Let us begin at the beginning. With Imris. Everything begins with Imris."

"Lord Imris? Why?"

"He was just Imris to me, back in the beginning. Before the Mountain. Before the divide."

"You remember those days? You're that old?"

Sunai smiled. "I am. Older than Aurellan. Older than Vistian. Older than Allim... was." She grimaced. "I knew Imris well. I... I loved him." She looked distantly across her small chamber, as though seeing something through the stone walls. "So of course I came with him when he set out to start his own tribe, when the great divide happened. I was there when the Mountain was just a mountain, before the rockshapers went to work on it. I watched as Vistian, just a youngling then, followed Imris everywhere, all the time hiding his jealousy. I was there when Imris left to find the old tribe again, to see if they would follow him after all. When he returned, bearing tidings of a son that would be born, I rejoiced with him. But he delayed his travel, delayed fetching the child. He began to talk of how fine it would be to Recognize someone in the Mountain. As a healer, I knew I could make that happen, and suggested it to him. And who better to bear that child than the one who had loved him for so long?"

"Then you...?" Ellusin set the goblet down before he could spill it in surprise.

"Yes, I was the nameless healer that Aurellan sometimes speaks of, never using the term 'mother' to describe the one who gave birth to her. If it were not for her," she said, swirling her wine thoughtfully, "I might have left this place long ago. But I am tied here. And... the Gliders need a healer. I have had no other children since then, so my powers have not been passed on."

"On purpose?" Ellusin asked.

Sunai shrugged. "Perhaps."

"But what about Imris? How does he fit into all of this. He's been dead for so long!"

"There was a prophesy -- or a tradition is perhaps a better word for it -- that came down from the High Ones. Imris himself, as you know, was a High One. It was he who steered the vessel that became the Palace to this world. And it is said that in his blood flows the secret for making the Palace move again."

Ellusin blinked. "Then... couldn't Lord Aurellan...?"

"Tradition specifies a son. The prophesy, as Vistian recalls it, says that a son of Imris will one day control the Palace. So you see, youngling, why this son of Imris had to die?"

Ellusin thought it over, then shook his head. "No."

"Of course not. Because you, like all the others, believe we are all working to free the Palace. We are not!" Her fist smacked the table to punctuate her words. "We are keeping it in check, while Vistian sucks magic from it to use as he will." She pointed one long finger at him. "Break Vistian's hold on the Palace, and you break Vistian himself."

"But how? I mean, why? I mean..."

"I am getting to that. But first, you must understand that Vistian is mistaken about the prophesy. It is not a son of Imris. The prophesy was, 'a son of the seed of Imris shall one day rule the Palace.' Not just his son. But any male descendant. And I am not certain that the High One who spoke the words in a vision just before his death was so particular about the male part."

"Then the son of Lord Allim..."

"Is also of the blood of Imris. And might just as easily be the one. If he reaches the Palace and takes control of it, Vistian's plans are spoiled. But then... the child of the son of Imris is not the only one Vistian should be afraid of."

"You mean Aurellan herself?"

Sunai shook her head. "Though it's possible, I do not see Aurellan turning in that direction. No, it is not Aurellan I mean. It is her son."

Ellusin jerked forward in his chair, stunned. "Her son? What son?"

"Liafair is not the only one whose pregnancy has been kept secret. Aurellan knew of the prophesy as well as Vistian, but she chose to interpret it more broadly. Fearing that her coming son might be in danger, she pretended a journey herself to find the son of Imris. In the meantime, she directed a Glider pair to pretend to have Recognized. She gave the newborn child to them, and so it was done. But Vistian discovered her secret. Now this you must know: When Imris was killed..."

"When he died, you mean? Or... was that not an accident, either?"

Sunai nodded. "I'm mixing up time terribly, I'm afraid. Yes, when Imris went in search of his son, he was swept away by a flood and drowned. But I heard the plotting. And I heard the reports of success. Imris was murdered, and Vistian was the one who ordered it. All those who carried it out are dead... also by 'accident.'"

"This is too much," Ellusin whispered, shaking his head in dismay. "Why doesn't the whole Mountain know?"

"It is... complicated. Besides, do you want to confront Vistian with the truth?"

"Er... no."

"There you are, then. So Aurellan was left fatherless, and Vistian took over her upbringing. He promised to be her visier as he'd been Imris'. In truth, he planned to raise her to be of his own mindset. I was shunted off to the side, and Aurellan was allowed to believe I wanted little to do with her. She grew up as cold as her mentor. She grew to believe her father was a worthless dreamer, and that it was just as well he was dead, that she might rule. A cruel way to raise a child!"

"And so Vistian became the center of power in the Mountain."

"Indeed, for that was his dream. He wants the Palace as well, as a source of greatest power. He sucks some of that power now, but he wants it all, to control as he will. He wants us all in his power."

Ellusin swirled the wine in his cup, thinking of the swirling shapes of the small Palace in the meditation hall. "And then what? What happens when he gets all that he wants?"

"I fear that day. I know it is not in his nature to be satisfied. Even when he has all that can be had, he will want more. It may be that he will try to make the Palace fly, to go and conquer other worlds. I think that is his most likely motivation. Or he may just suck all of us dry, until we are dead. Those are secrets even I have not fathomed."

"But this son, the son of Lord Aurellan... who is he? What was the story you were about to tell?"

Sunai sighed. "There are so many threads, it is hard to tell the story in the proper order. Vistian did find out. And his anger was terrible. He wanted to kill the boy, for he hates the blood of Imris. The sire, of course, was disposed of in case he might talk. Aurellan tried to defy Vistian, but was finally forced to a terrible agreement. She would go on pretending that the child was not hers, and he was never to know of his heritage. In the meantime, Vistian would do as he pleased with the boy, once he was of an age for adult pleasures. He would not kill, not yet. So to keep her child alive, Aurellan pretended she never had a son, and looked the other way when the revels took place. And she did not dare complain about his treatment, lest Vistian finish him off."

"One of the revelers, then." Ellusin thought, and one face above the rest came to mind. "Morden?"

"The very one. His eyes, the shape of his mouth, and of course his beautiful black hair, all call to mind the High One who was his grandsire."

"Morden... and they sent him away..."

"Possibly to his death, possibly not. Aurellan chose him for the journey in front of everyone, and even Vistian could not counter her there. Clever of her, that. It was a chance to get her child away from the Mountain, even though the danger was considerable. At least it was better than what he suffered here."

"But... they always came away so happy... but you say they were made to forget." A vision of the polished skulls rose in his mind. "Forget what?"

Sunai leaned forward. "Torture. Blood. Child murder. Ask no more. You do not want to know."

"But I must know! Whose child? His? Morden's?"

"Yes."

"And the mother?"

"Also dead."

Ellusin sat in silence for a time. "Barbaric," he finally murmured. "And they call the wildlings barbarians." He looked up at the healer. "Poor Morden! What if he finds out?"

"It would be better for him if he didn't."

Ellusin shook his head. "If I've found out one thing in the years since Liafair gave birth, it's that deceit is like a spider's web, with death lurking at the middle. This Mountain is built on nothing but lies and deceit!"

"Sometimes it is deceit that keeps you alive, youngling."

"Sometimes," Ellusin mused, thinking of how Lord Allim and his son... Tito was the child's name... cleverly kept the presence of the wildlings hidden, betraying nothing with an expression or a glance. "But making a habit of it can never be a good thing."

"Your life may be the forfeit if you reveal these secrets, youngling. Now you must go. Go away! Go far away from here and never return!"

"But where?" Ellusin cried.

Sunai leaned forward. "Do you really want to burn away the web of lies that binds this mountain?"

"Yes! How can I? What must I do?"

"Eager child! The way to that is as perilous as staying here, I think." She touched his chest with the tip of a long finger. "You must seek out the son of the son of Imris. Find him. The blood of Imris flows in his veins, and with it the promise of ruling the Palace, of wrenching it free from Vistian's control, of breaking him once and for all. Find this child and guard him. Protect the blood of Imris, and see to it that the child of Imris reaches the Palace safely."

"But..." he bit his lip, recalling Nimue's cry of dismay. "My sister... she left with them. She may still live among them."

"Ahhh!" Sunai's eyes glinted. "There is your passage in, then!"

"Except that she witnessed the killing, and believes I was part of it."

"Then you must tell her the truth. She will believe you."

"I hope. And... what if Morden did find them? What if he is still among them?"

Sunai considered this. "If he does... and I do not think the possibility is high... then you must aid him as much as you can, for he, too, is one of the children of Imris."

"Keep the blood of Imris alive in the world," Ellusin said, as much to himself as to Sunai. Something else tickled his memory. A picture of the chaotic scene in the Great Hall. Two small figures crouched beside Lord Allim, bows drawn. "These are my daughters," he had said. Well, then... did the blood of Imris extend further than even Sunai knew? He stopped short of telling her. Trust no one, she had said, not even herself. How quickly and easily the web grew.

"I will show you one more thing. A deep secret that no one in the mountain now knows but myself. I show you this so that you will remember the importance of your task."

She rose from the table and went to a cupboard. Ellusin shivered as she pulled out a skillfully-crafted wooden box similar to the ones he'd seen in the Red Chamber, but much, much older. She carried it to the table with a reverent expression. "When Imris was murdered, the hunters who slew him and feigned mourning hunted for and found the body, which they brought back here. He was interred in the living rock of this Mountain. But Vistian was not satisfied even with that, and saw to it the rockshapers crushed Imris' very bones, until he was truly a part of the Mountain he founded. Nothing was left... except this."

Ellusin felt the blood rushing in his temples and feared he might faint as Sunai lifted the lid. It couldn't be...

It was white, highly-polished, and brittle with age. An elfin skull, so like the others, save that the auricle ridge was not so highly pronounced.

"No... it isn't..."

Sunai shut the lid, and Ellusin saw tears glinting in her eyes. "It is. All that remains of my poor lovemate, of the father of this Mountain, whose dreams died with him. A knife that was once his is in Aurellan's possession. Nothing more." She gently set the box back on the shelf. "I stole this from Vistian's chambers long ago. I keep it to remind myself of all that has happened, and of all that must be done. I can do so little myself, but what I can do, I do for his sake. But I am not the one who will finally break my love's murderer, and set all his people free."

"But a child of Imris might?"

"That is our only hope. Now you must pack your things and leave," Sunai said.

"But... how can I escape without attracting notice?"

"You were clever enough to find Vistian's pleasure-room. You are clever enough to work that out. Now, follow me. This tunnel will lead to a small hall near your chambers."

He followed her down a tunnel as cramped and narrow as the one they had arrived through. Before he'd reached the end, he had put together a plan.

He sped to his chambers and quickly packed. Hunting leathers, of course. He'd best put those on. Some spare ones, rolled tightly into an inconspicuous bundle. And the pieces of a broken harness he'd intended to have the slaves mend one day. A water flask, filled at one of the many convenient fountains that pierced the hallways. Food would be useful and make his journey faster, but gathering enough for the journey might attract too much attention. A dash through an empty feast chamber, not yet tended by slaves, procured a bit of meat and roasted eggs, enough for a day or so. He stuffed this into his bundle and sped on to the aerie.

"Hey, youngest, what's your rush?" shouted Navoree, a huntress with a passion for her craft.

"I've been inside too long," Ellusin complained. "I need a good hunt -- and a fresh challenge. And I think," he said, rubbing his hands together, "that I've an excellent challenge, if anyone wants to take me up on it."

Two others joined them, and crowded in to hear. "It's simply this. We divide up. We each choose a direction, or choose one at random. We fly that direction for a full day, and stop wherever we are when night falls. We spend the next day hunting, and bring our kill back the third day."

"And he who brings the most is the winner," finished Navoree.

"Not quite," said Ellusin, with a gleeful grin. "Bring back as much game as you like, but the hunter who brings back the most dangerous thing is the winner."

"Hah!" shouted Avric, the youngest hunter next to Ellusin. "What danger can there be to our great bond-birds? They can kill anything they can get their talons around!"

"Ah, that's the challenge, you see. You might have to find a dangerous thing that they cannot get their talons around. Can they kill a slender, poisonous snake? Can they snatch a shark from the sea?"

"My Blacktail can," boasted Sevita, one of the older huntresses.

"Bring back something dangerous, something deadly, something you had to risk your life for. That is my challenge."

"Who shall judge the outcome?" asked Avric. "You? We already know the winner, then!"

Ellusin thought a moment. "The rest of the hunters shall judge together."

"And what is the forfeit? What shall the winner have?" asked Sevita.

"The winner shall have," Ellusin said, and leaning forward, he gave them all a lacivious wink, "the winner shall have the loosers to do with whatever he or she will for three days, the same length as the hunt."

The three other hunters laughed, exchanging leers with one another.

"Done!" said Navoree. "Now, let us choose directions. I know!" She picked up some bone shards, which littered the ground under the perches. "Each of us will toss one of these in the air. The direction they point when they land is the direction we go."

"That will work," Ellusin agreed, cheerfully. The direction he set out did not matter. Indeed, it would be better if he did not begin by flying in the direction where he knew the wildlings lived.

They each tossed, and Ellusin's bone shard pointed off toward the Vastdeep, in a direction that would take him down to the warmlands. "Good hunting there," he said. "Hmm... perhaps some of those giant toothy lizards."

"If that's the best you can do," shouted Avric, as he mounted up.

The deed was done, and well done. The hunters, so far as he knew, believed that they were off on a three-day lark, to be followed by a three-day romp, and that was all that they'd said to those who remained behind. They'd even been supplied with some food and wine to sustain them, and were sent off with hearty wishes from the other hunters, who all winked and asked if the romp might be open to all.

Deceit could become too easy a habit, Ellusin reflected. As Sunai said, sometimes it was necessary to protect one's life.

He flew straight in the direction he'd set off. His best course was to assume that someone among the hunters would suspect his motives. Hence he must do everything he could to avert suspicion -- and stay alert for followers. He did not pause in his flight, speeding straight ahead, heading toward the misty swamps where the lands turned warm. He knew the place he wanted.

There it lay, a narrow spot between two stony cliffs. If a river had once flowed between them it was now choked with weeds and mud, slowed to marshland, rich with life. This would be the perfect spot. A narrow gorge, dangerous to fly through. Giant tooth-lizards in the mud-brown waters below.

Letting Windrunner perch on the top of one of the cliffs to rest, Ellusin jumped down and unwrapped the bundle he'd made in his chambers. It seemed an age ago already. He dumped the broken harness pieces into the mud below. There. A few clattered onto a rockfall below, where they'd surely glitter and catch a searcher's eye. Some of Windrunner's feathers which had come loose followed the harness pieces. He dropped a spare water flask just for good measure. It wasn't much. Perhaps it would be completely transparent to the experienced hunters. But it was the best he could come up with. Let the hunters think there'd been an accident of some kind. Let them believe he, and Windrunner with him, had been the victim of the dangerous game they'd hunted.

He rested until the low sun dropped below the horizon, then mounted up again. Windrunner didn't like flying at night, and tonight both the mother moon and child moon were dark, so there was little light to fly by. No matter. The stars would guide him, and he would guide Windrunner. They must flee under the cover of darkness, when the hunters and their mounts preferred to rest, when he and his bond-bird would be hardest to spot and to follow. He turned Windrunner's beak inland and angled toward the coldlands and flew on.

They would no doubt fear and distrust him. Why shouldn't they? His people had done theirs no favors, and in fact had greeted them with open hostility. His only hope lay in restoring his sister's faith in him, and he hoped that telling the whole truth -- no, sending the truth, for in sends there were no lies -- would convince her. He would find the falls, and there he would find the tribe where the children of Imris lived free.

For there was no place else in the wide world, he felt, where his heart could be washed clean of the lies he'd been forced to keep.