On an impulse, he reentered the spring, splashed his way to the boulder upon which the goddess had sat, and put his arms around it. Grunting, he tried to pick it up. He had lifted heavier things in days past, but now, his uncanny vampiric strength had gone. Shaking, he sank down into the water, making a slow way toward the bank.

She had done it. The blessed Eldath the Quiet, with the approval of Silvanus, the Lord of the Oaks, had taken away most of what it meant to be a vampire. Jander understood that he would never be able to leave the relatively small circle of protection provided by the grove. That was no hardship, not in exchange for what they had given him.

But the night was fading fast, and Eldath had warned him that she could not protect him from the ravaging rays of the sun. Dripping and shivering, the elf followed the circumference of the grove. He found the protection he needed; a cairn of boulders over a deep ditch in the earth. It would effectively shield him from that beautiful but deadly light.

The magical night began to grow lighter, and the vampire that had been, his heart light for the first time in decades, sought his rest.

Jander emerged at twilight, eager to begin his first full night without the dreadful thirst. He breathed deeply of the cool evening air, closing his eyes and enjoying it.

"Good even to you, friend!"

Startled, Jander whipped around. "Who calls me?" he asked, his customary defensiveness aroused.

But it was only a young man, clad in robes of earth-tones and forest green. His hair was as red as that of Sune Firehair, and freckles dotted his open, friendly face.

Jander could not smell his blood at all.

"Oakbrother Endris, of Oakengrove Abbey." He indicated the two wooden buckets he carried. Tve come to get some water from the spring. And who might you be, friend?"

Sudden fear clutched at Jander's heart. "Don't send me away," he pleaded.

A shadow of puzzlement fell across Brother Endris's face. "Why would we do that?" He strode forward and began to draw water from the spring.

"I… I…" Jander floundered for words. "Oakbrother Endris, do you believe in miracles?"

Endris shot him an incredulous look. His blue eyes were wide. "And what kind of a priest would I be if I didn't?"

Jander felt suddenly embarrassed. "I meant no insult," he apologized. "But until last night, I had certainly ceased to hope for a miracle."

Jander relayed an edited version of what had transpired to him, leaving out the shame of his condition. He said he had been "absolved of a great evil," that he was "charged to remain within the circle as a symbol of his repentance." He expected to see disbelief or possibly even anger on Endris's countenance. Instead, the brother listened quietly. At last he spoke.

"Such is not unheard of here," he said quietly. "It would seem that Silvanus and Eldath must have work for you to do."

"But… I cannot leave the grove," said Jander. "What work could I do to earn my keep?"

"If the gods have taken you under their wing thus far, they'll make their wishes known soon enough. In the meantime," and he grinned like halfling, "you can help me draw the water."

Jander laughed, and gladly did so. He escorted Endris to the ring of the grove. "Thank you again for permitting me to stay here," he said.

"None of my doing," replied Endris cheerfully. "But it's good to see an elven face. Far too few folk come visit us these days. I look forward to speaking with you further, Jander Sunstar."

Silently, Jander was grateful that few folk visited the abbey. No doubt his name was being passed along rapidly among the Mistledale folk, ever since that incident a few months ago… No. That was part of the past. This, he thought to himself, looking around the peaceful grove, was the future.

When Jander turned to walk back to the spring, he stumbled. He glanced down and found the discarded antlers of a deer that had passed through the grove, along with a few limbs that had fallen from the old trees.

And then he knew their meaning. "I understand," he said softly to the hush that filled the sacred place. Reverently, Jander picked up the items, seated himself on the boulder next to the spring, pulled out his knife and began to carve.

By dawn, when Endris returned for more water, Jander had accumulated three completed carvings. Smiling, he presented them to the astonished young oakbrother.

"They're… they're exquisite," Endris said softly, examining the two carved wooden likenesses of Eldath and the cluster of oak leaves and acorns Jander had created from the antlers.

"Have your oakfather bless them, and you can sell them as talismans," said Jander. "You can raise money for the abbey."

Endris lifted shining eyes to the vampire. "I told you the gods would let you know what they wanted from you. Thank you, Jander. Oakfather Raylen will be most appreciative. Oh, I almost forgot. I've got something for you, too."

He'd been carrying a large, bulky pack. Now he rummaged through it, humming in an off-key voice. "Ah, here we are." From the pack emerged a brown and green robe with a simple rope belt, some fruit, and a bottle of wine. "Anybody who has the favor of the gods like you do gets treated very well by the abbey." He grinned.

Jander's throat worked. "I… thank you, Oakbrother. Thank you." The words were inadequate, but they would have to do. They were all the surprised elf could manage.

The nights fell into a pattern for the next few weeks. Jander would talk with Endris at the beginning and the end of night, and carve during the rest of the time. He had been an adventurer for most of his days, and at first he feared that the quiet, the peace, and his inability to leave the confined space would wear upon him. But it did not. He had lived a long time as a breathing being, had existed for nearly a century as one of the undead. Now, he simply was, and that was more than enough. For long hours, as Jander carved in silence, he would meditate on the stillness that surrounded him, would think of events long past, of people long since crumbled to dust. And he would think with subdued joy to himself, I do not need to feed upon blood! And that thought made what some might call a strange exile into a paradise.

Endris, too, helped pass the time. He was a jovial fellow, and it seemed every other day he had a new joke to tell his friend. From him, Jander learned about the day-today events that occurred in Oakengrove Abbey, only a short walk away over a small green hill. Jander could even glimpse its stone walls when the branches moved in the wind. But as far as the vampire was concerned, the abbey might as well be as distant as Evermeet, for he would never move a single step closer to it.

One twilight, Jander waited longer than usual for the customary arrival of Endris. But the oakbrother did not come. The night wore on, and Jander became concerned.

It was then that he heard the bell tolling and saw the night sky lit up with an evil, orange hue.

Fire!

Jander's first impulse was to run and help. He almost reached the edge of the circle when he skidded to a halt. If he left, he would never be able to return. He hesitated, torn between his concern for his friend and his blessed peace. At last, angry with himself but seeing no alternative, Jander turned and went back to the spring, hoping miserably that his aid was not needed.

Shrieks pierced the night. Jander tensed. A fire was frightening, of course, but self-assured monks wouldn't panic and cry out in terror-would they?

"Please, Silvanus, protect your own," he murmured. His golden hands clenched and unclenched, reflecting the war that raged within him.

Abruptly, joining the shrieks of terror and pain, came the sound of raucous laughter. The vampire leapt up and raced to the limits of his sacred space, pacing like a caged panther. Unable to help himself, he cried aloud, "Endris? Anybody?"