"I'm worried about him," Magnus told her, "about Papa."

"Yes, I know what you mean." Alea frowned. "He doesn't seem to be quite here all the time, does he?"

"No—and he's far too happy being wherever he is."

"You're worried that he might decide to stay there?" Alea shook her head. "He has children here, Magnus. Each of you gives him a stake in the real world. But he does have to work his way through his grief."

"Yes, if it doesn't unhinge him," Magnus said. "I hadn't thought to mention it, but he hasn't always been of excellent mental health."

"You mean he's had bouts of insanity?" Alea stared. "Surely not!"

"His psyche has taken a real battering over the years." Magnus's gaze strayed to the fire. "The worst was when his enemies managed to feed him a chestnut made of witch-moss."

Alea froze in horror.

"We all ate them," Magnus said, "but a quarter of Mama's genes were made of witch-moss anyway, and ours were an eighth, so it did us no harm. With Papa, however, it sent him into delusions, and it took Mama a while to figure out how to cure him."

"He … he wasn't dangerous, was he?"

"He could have been, I suppose," Magnus said, "but we had elves watching him wherever he went, and I was old enough to shadow him and come running when I was needed. Mama restored him to his senses—she was always a very stabilizing influence."

"And she's not here any more," Alea whispered.

"No. I'm not sure Papa realizes that." Magnus held up a palm. "Oh, I'm sure he won't become a danger to anyone— but I don't think it's good for him to be lost in the past."

"Give him time," Alea counseled. "Give him time."

THE NEXT MORNING, a mental clamor awakened Alea. She sat bolt-upright in bed, hearing Magnus and his siblings exchanging emergency cries: He has saddled Fess! He rides toward the gatehouse! Stop him!

Alea scrambled to pull on a dress, rammed her feet into her boots, and ran down the stairs.

She came out into the courtyard in time to see Magnus dashing to the gatehouse tunnel just in time to cut off Fess. The great black horse drew to a halt.

Alea ran to join him. Cordelia and Quicksilver beat her to it, but not by much. Alain, Geoffrey, and Gregory came up right behind her with Allouette behind them.

"You've come out to see me off!" Rod smiled around at his children and in-laws. "That's awfully good of you."

"Not at all, Dad," Magnus panted. "Planning to … be gone long?"

"As long as it takes." Rod reached behind and slapped a bulging saddlebag. "Don't worry, I've packed the necessities."

"Yes, and you're quite adept at hunting and camping, I know." Magnus glanced at his brothers and sister, all trying to hide their alarm. He glanced back at Rod. "So if you've packed that much, you must be planning a long trip."

Rod shrugged and said again, "As long as it takes."

"May I… ask your destination?"

"Tir Nan Og."

The siblings froze and Alea shared their horror. Tir Nan Og may have been the Celtic Land of Eternal Youth—but it was also the Land of the Dead.

Rod saw their fear for him and leaned down with a gentle smile. "She's out there somewhere, children. She's gone to Tir Nan Og, and someone somewhere among the living will know where it lies."

Cordelia's thought fairly shrieked: Denial!

Magnus was very still for a moment. Then he said, "Of course."

Cordelia whirled to glare at him in disbelief. Quicksilver looked to be on the verge of rage, and the brothers stared at Magnus as though he'd taken leave of his senses—but the alarm faded from Alain's face. He lifted his head slowly, then nodded.

Magnus darted a look of appeal to them all that clearly said, Trust me, then turned back to his father. "Yes, of course, you have to go search for her. It's fitting, after all."

Rod frowned. "Fitting?"

"Of course," Magnus said, "You spent the first thirty years of your life looking for her. It's appropriate that you spend the last in the same search."

Rod nodded, pleased. "I'm glad you understand."

"It does give your life a certain symmetry," Magnus said. "You will—write home often?"

"Oh, of course." Rod frowned, concerned, and leaned down to rest a hand on his son's shoulder. "Don't for a moment think that I'm leaving you." He turned to his other children. "You know I love you all very much, and if you have the slightest need of me, I'll be back in a second—but I have to do this."

Allouette stifled a sob, and Cordelia swallowed tears, but they both nodded.

"How shall we reach you if we need you?" Quicksilver asked.

"By telepathy, of course," Rod said, "and you can always ask the elves where I am. I'm not foolish enough to think that I can go wandering through Gramarye without a pixie having an eye on me every step of the way."

"The Wee Folk have always been your allies," Magnus agreed, and stepped aside, reaching up to clasp his father's hand. "Go well, Dad."

"Stay well, son." But Rod held his hand fast, anxiety creasing his face. "You'll take care of them for me, won't you? The people of Gramarye, I mean."

Magnus froze. His siblings' heads whipped about to stare at him in shock.

"I won't try to foist off a democratic government on them," Magnus warned.

Rod nodded complacently. "That's all right, son. I only ask that you protect them from any other agents who are trying to steer them into governments that are wrong for them—particularly the anarchists and totalitarians."

"Well, of course," Magnus said. "I mean, if I want to protect them from democracy if it's wrong for them, of course I'll protect them from anything else that's wrong, too."

"Why Magnus, Papa?" Cordelia demanded. "Why give him the job?"

"Because he's had more than ten years' practice overhauling governments." Rod touched her hand. "I know you have every concern for the people's welfare, darling, and Geoffrey, you'll protect them from any kind of armed invasion …"

Geoffrey nodded stiffly.

"… and Gregory, that you'll figure out how to fend off any magical attacks—but governments are Magnus's specialty now."

"I hadn't thought of it that way, Dad," Magnus said slowly.

"I was a bit late acknowledging my own abilities, too," Rod told him, then leaned down to kiss Cordelia and straightened up to clasp Geoffrey's hand, then Gregory's. "You know I'll be thinking about you constantly. If you need me, just spare me a thought."

"We will, Papa," Cordelia said, voice thick with tears.

Rod nodded, satisfied. "I'll be home for Christmas, if I haven't found her by then. Take care of each other, children."

"We will, Papa," Gregory assured him.

Rod gave them all a radiant smile, then turned his head forward and kicked his heels into Fess's sides. The great black horse stepped forward, saying, "Excuse me, Magnus."

"Yes, of course." Magnus stepped aside. "Godspeed, Dad."

"Godspeed," everyone called.

Rod waved and rode into the gatehouse tunnel.

Cordelia whirled to a nearby guard, snatched his spear, leaped astride it and rose circling toward the battlements.

Alea stared; she had never seen such a sight.

Gregory threw his arm around Alouette's waist; Geoffrey caught up with Quicksilver. With twin claps of thunder, they disappeared.

Alea stared. "What happened to them?"

"They've teleported up to the battlements," Magnus told her. "Would you like to ride the way Quicksilver did, or would you prefer to run?"

"I'll go the slow way, if you don't mind," Alea said, "but don't let me keep you."

"Thank you," Magnus said, and disappeared in a minor explosion of his own, Alea darted for the stairs to the battlements and ran up. She came out, gasping for breath, to see the brothers, sister, and spouses lined up by the battlements. She managed one more sprint to Magnus's side and watched the lone figure riding toward the woods. Dimly, she heard the sound of plucked strings.