"Is he going to be all right?" Tanis whispered.

"He'll be fine," she said. "My herbs will put him right again. At least, they work for nursing mothers…" She caught Tanis's startled look and patted his arm. "I'm just jesting, Tanthalas. Flint will be fine."

"Do you want me to walk you home?" Tanis asked. "I'll spend the night with him. I can give him Miral's tea, if you leave it here."

Eld Ailea's head came up then, and her eyes probed Tanis's. "It's best not to leave him alone at all right now," she said. "I'll stay here. We can take turns watching him."

Chapter 23

He was back in the dream. The rough hands clenched Miral and, just as the tylor's armored jaws jabbed into the crevice, powerful arms hauled him through the back of the crack in the stone.

"Truly thou hast gotten thyself in a royal fix, little elf," a deep voice said above the toddler's head.

Miral, eyes wet with tears, lifted his head and peered up through the gloom of the cave; this portion seemed to be lit less well than the tunnels he'd come through. He gulped back a sob and tried to focus on his rescuer.

It was a man, the youngster saw, but what a man! Bands of muscle rippled across a corded, barrel-shaped chest. The man's shoulders were huge, brushed with white hair that curled from his head and chin. When the man looked down at him, Miral looked deep into violet eyes that shone with kindness.

"Methinks thou art too young to be wandering about without thy dam, youngling," the man said.

At that moment, Miral became aware of hoofbeats clop-ping against the damp stone of the tunnels. The man came to a fork in the tunnel and turned to the right without stopping. But how had he signaled his intention to his horse? the little boy wondered. Miral looked down.

The man was a horse! Or the horse was a man; Miral couldn't decide. He looked up again, a delighted smile lighting his face.

"You're a centaur!" Miral cried.

"Of course," the creature replied, cradling the youngster in strong arms.

The centaur must have been seven feet tall from hooves to the top of his aristocratic head. He moved gracefully on the wet rocks, long tail flowing behind. Around the shoulders of the horse portion of the centaur, the creature wore a leather purse. Miral slipped little hands down to investigate the purse, but the creature held him higher, out of reach.

"Thou art a curious one," the centaur murmured in a bass voice. "No doubt 'tis why thou art so deep in the caverns."

"Someone called me," Miral explained, wanting this creature, above all, to like him. "From the tunnel."

The centaur's pale purple eyes widened and his gait slowed somewhat, then speeded again. "Thou heard the Voice? Truly thou hast magic in thy soul, young elf. Tis not all who hear the Graygem call." He took another turn, and another. Soon the toddler had no idea where he'd been or where he was now.

The creature continued to speak soothingly to the child. "Thou art warm, child. Thy dam should give thee a posset for thy fever. I will take thee home directly."

Miral, rocked by the steady pace of the gentle centaur, was growing sleepy. "Why are you here?" he asked drowsily.

"Ah, the Graygem hath great treasure indeed," the centaur said. "And, in truth, the beastly rock hath done me grave ill in the past and I'm sworn to vengeance. And that, little elf, be all thou need know."

The centaur picked up his gait, and soon the toddler dozed in the creature's arms. He awakened periodically, once when fresh air fanned through his hair and he realized he was moving through the moonless night, somewhere outside the caverns, and once while the centaur moved nearly silently through the tiled Qualinost streets.

Finally, they arrived at the palace. Miral roused enough to note their passage around the back of the structure, through the gates into the garden-Why didn't the guards look up? he wondered-and from there into the courtyard. Large hands laid him down on soft moss and covered him with a cloth.

"Go to sleep, little elf," the centaur murmured. 'Thou wilt not remember this experience in the morn."

With a last pat on the toddler's shoulder, the centaur wheeled in the courtyard and, silently, was gone.

Chapter 24

Next few Days, Tanis and Eld Ailea took turns staying with the dwarf in the shop. Flint told them a score of times not to bother with him.

"You've got too much to be worrying about to be concerning yourself with a lame dwarf!" Flint would grumble, but the effect of the words seemed lost upon his caretakers. Solostaran visited once and seemed reassured by Flint's cantankerousness. Miral stopped by twice to check on the dwarf.

By noon of the second day, it was apparent that Flint was regaining his strength, and, judging from the reduction in the number of oaths when he moved about, the pain was lessening. Still, Eld Ailea was adamant that the dwarf not be left alone, and she remained with Flint while Tanis went back to the palace to pick up some clean clothes.

She did, however, allow Flint to work on Porthios's Kentommen medallion from his nest on the cot.

"After all, the ceremony starts tomorrow," she said nonchalantly, spreading a bandage on the table and folding it so it would best fit the stocky dwarf.

"Tomorrow?" boomed Flint, rocketing out of bed, then grasping his shoulder with a groan. "I thought I had three more days!"

Ailea intercepted the dwarf on his way to the door- though what he hoped to accomplish running shirtless through the streets of Qualinost was unclear-and shooed him back to bed, her greenish brown eyes merry. "Relax," she said. "You do have three days."

She explained the intricacies of the ceremony while she removed the old bandage from the dwarf's chest.

"The word 'Kentommen! or 'coming of age,' actually refers to the final portion of the four-part ceremony," she said as she eased the linen away from the wound. "That's the showiest part of the ceremony, the part most folks would like to witness. Most elves use 'Kentommen' to refer to the whole three-day extravaganza, however.

"The first part is the Kaltatha, or The Graying,' " the midwife explained, fingers gentle as she cleansed the healing wound. "That part starts tomorrow morning. In the Kaltatha, the youth-who can be male or female, as long as he or she is a member of the nobility-is led by his or her parents to the Grove," referring to the ancient forested area in the center of the elven capital.

Ailea rinsed the cleansing cotton in a basin of clear water. "When the youth undergoing the Kaltatha is of as high a rank as Porthios, most of the common elves use the occasion as an excuse to parade through the streets, wearing their most colorful finery or even costumes. They dance and sing songs as ancient as the ceremony itself," she said. "That's why the palace is overseeing the making of brightly colored banners-to mark the route from the palace to the Grove."

"I'd like to see that," Flint said.

Eld Ailea scrutinized the spot where the dagger entered Flint's shoulder. "You should be well enough to walk to the procession route tomorrow morning, I'd think."

She rinsed the wound one more time, then emptied the basin out the shop's back door.

"What will happen to Porthios in the Grove?" the dwarf asked.

'The Speaker will take Porthios to the center of the Grove, then ceremonially turn his back on him," the midwife said. "Porthios will remain in the Grove for three days, alone, eating nothing and drinking only from the spring in the Grove's center. No one can enter the Grove to disturb him, nor is he to attempt to leave."