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"I will. He will be distressed about Naruq. They were very old friends. Come with me, orcess. You need some help with that cut."

She had awakened, but the loss of blood was telling on Womba. Though it meant leaving Og, she did not protest when Dunsan turned her toward the lodge and fell in behind her. Cheyne gave Doulos the signal to raise Javin, but Og raised his.

"Wait. As I said, I can do that at least. I still have the stones. Join hands."

Og took a breath and summoned his strength, bent over the two gemstones and began to sing, concentrating hard on the Sarrazan forest.

A place he had never been.

Naruq felt the surge of the curtain when Og took his party through. The elf stopped in his tracks and began to run back toward Riolla's camp. A quick check told him they had moved on and why: three feet of mud now covered the camp and clogged the spring. Naruq took to the trees, running the arboreal highways with greater speed and ease than the uneven ground of the forest road could provide. He caught up with Riolla just as she came to the edge of the curtain.

"Stop!" Naruq jumped down lightly in front of Saelin, who had his dagger drawn and ready. "Put that away, assassin. You were about to lose yourselves." The elf glowered.

"Where?" said Riolla, looking all around. "I don't see anything but trees, and the road goes straight through the forest."

"Watch," said Naruq, as he walked a few yards down the overgrown road. Riolla's jaw dropped as the elf shimmered into nothingness, then stepped back toward her, appearing to be solid again.

"The curtain parts over there. Come on."

Naruq motioned them off the road. A quarter mile

later, they stepped through the invisible curtain, the air around them charged with unseen power. Where there had been only forest and sky before, Mount Sarrazan loomed over them, the sunrise glinting off a sparkling crystal mirror high upon its rocky slopes. Claria breathed in the pure air and felt her strength return. Riolla and Saelin exchanged looks of triumph.

"Yes. That's Mount Sarrazan. Beautiful isn't it? Wait here until I return. And remember, Saelin. We need the girl." Naruq vanished before Saelin had risen from his mock bow.

Og set them down in a bramble, but he knew they had passed through the curtain. So did the elves.

From every tree above them, the silver-haired Sarrazans dropped down, some carrying bows, others armed with blow pipes and darts fletched with tiny, brilliant feathers. All of them wore shades of green and brown, blending perfectly with the summer-clad forest. In fact, Cheyne had a hard time finding them if they stood still for any length of time. He raised his hand in greeting, while Doulos and Og shook off their dizziness. Javin remained unconscious.

His bow drawn, one of the elves stepped forward, looked at Cheyne carefully, then smiled. "The Treefather is expecting you. But where is Naruq? He was supposed to bring you in at one of the portals." The elf s voice seemed to carry toward them on the breeze.

"Naruq is a traitor to you. I'll be happy to tell you about that after we get this man to your healer," said Cheyne, climbing out of the thorn bushes.

The elf bent, holding his hand over}avin, but not touching him. He frowned his concern, motioned to the others, and they came forward quickly to lift Javin lightly between them.

"It's not far. Just follow. And only believe. He clings to life yet."

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Cheyne did not notice anything special about the next two or three miles. Then suddenly the trees parted before them, leaving a clear view of a gleaming wooden causeway leading up to a massive living fortress.

Cheyne caught his breath at the sight. A wide ring of trees taller than Rotapan's temple rose against the backdrop of the dawn sky. The trees all bore peculiar markings, softly limned in the clear, red light. Curious animals twirled upon themselves and grasped their tails with hooked mouths. Ribbons of intricate scrollwork wrapped around the trunks in thirty-foot-high bands, and several of the trees appeared to have words carved into them.

Words in the language of Old High Sumifan.

him now, so it was only a little more difficult moving in and out of the fortress. But long in the service of the Raptor and his Ninnites, Naruq was an expert at such things and rather enjoyed the challenge, when he thought about it. He settled himself into his hiding place in the meditative cell nearest the door just as Cheyne and his party entered the Treefather's chambers through a series of connected portals, their iacy roofs covered in wild rose and berrybramble. Yob waited outside, positioning himself, as usual, by the doorway.

"Place him here before the stone," said a warm voice, compassion seeming to carry in every word.

Cheyne looked up and around as he helped Doulos position Javin on a long table, the central feature in the large, airy room. Behind the table, a small glass container held a white gemstone suspended in water.

"That's the firebane. They keep it in the water so the power accumulates around it. When it was set in the center of the ring, the other stones did that," said Og quietly.

Cheyne nodded and looked around. Rising to the

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vaulted ceiling, columns carved from whiter wood than Cheyne had seen outside braced forty or fifty intricate, curving ribs that met high overhead in an elaborate filial of stylized leaves and acoms. Pale light filtered down from a few high windows, and as his eyes adjusted, Cheyne realized that the columns were carved to look like tall, thin trees themselves. Cheyne could find no break in their grain, no beginning or end to them, and with a shock, he realized that he was standing in the hollowed interior of the biggest tree in the fortress.

In calm efficiency, the Treefather rose from his prayers and stood to greet them, going immediately to javin. "Hello to all of you, and be welcome here in the sanctuary of our forest home. I am Luquin."

He smiled as he worked over Javin, checking his pulse and his pupils, his breathing, the several new gashes the canistas had given him, and finally the site of the scorpion's sting. After they had passed through the curtain, Javin had begun to stir in his fever, to thrash and jerk and mutter. He seemed worse than ever now, but Cheyne held his tongue, watching the Treefather carefully.

Luquin was taller than most of the elves they had seen in and around the fortress. His face shone with an inner light, and his gray eyes crinkled at the edges only a little when he smiled, which seemed to be often. Luquin, seen anywhere other than his home, would cause almost anyone to stop and stare, to wonder about his every feature, to become mesmerized by his movements and the sound of his voice. Here, Cheyne thought, he seemed to be just another part of the transcendent beauty, the towering majesty of the forest and the fortress. Here, it was his hands that pulled Cheyne's eyes to them as though they had a power of their own. They were not the hands of a person who spent his time in soft work. Luquin's hands were rugged and knotted, their many white scars testament to far more than a life of contemplation.