Speech took longer, though. It required much more fine-muscle coordination, so even after a night's sleep and a morning's work, it was noon by the time Rod was willing to take a break, drown the fire, and ride on through the forest. After an hour, he started practicing tongue-twisters again, and was speaking quite normally by the time he pitched camp that evening. For practice, he discussed the elf marksman with Fess.

"I did not notice any unusual amounts of witch-moss around his feet, Rod."

Rod nodded. "It probably all came from within—he was much heavier than anyone his size has a right to be. Even if he absorbed extra witch-moss as he grew, there must have been a lot of it in him to begin with. That was one very tightly-compacted elf."

"But you knew whatever mass he had would be, shall we say, stretched thin when he grew twelve feet in a matter of minutes?"

"Thin as cobwebs—which is exactly what he felt like when I rode through." Rod shuddered at the memory and spooned up some more stew—an action of which he was unreasonably proud at the moment. "He had become, if you'll pardon the phrase, a very insubstantial elf."

THE SENTRY AT the gatehouse looked uncertain as Alea approached. "Do you need an escort, milady?"

Alea bristled but hid it; she flashed him a smile instead and wondered why his eyes widened—but she said, "No thank you, trooper." She brandished her staff. "I have all the protection I need—unless there are wild lions in that wood that no one's told me about?"

"No, milady." Wide-eyed or not, the man still seemed doubtful. "There's wolves and bears, though we haven't seen 'em in a year or two."

"I'll take my chances, then," Alea said. "Sometimes you just need to be by yourself for a while, you know?"

"Yes, milady." The young man clearly didn't.

Alea knew she didn't have to explain but tried anyway. "I'm a stranger here, trooper, and sometimes I feel very much alone—but I don't when I'm in the forest by myself."

"Just call if you need help, milady."

"As loudly as I can." Alea gave him a bright smile as she turned away. "And I'm not the daughter of a lord, so you don't have to call me lady."

"Begging your pardon, milady, but if you're Sir Magnus's companion, you're a lady."

Alea sighed, recognizing a fight she couldn't win. She only said, "Thank you, soldier," and turned to walk through the tunnel and out under the portcullis.

The woods were as welcoming as Alea had expected; as soon as the leaves closed around her, she felt a burden lift from her. She wondered why—she had been on planets where she knew no one before. Here, at least, she had Magnus's brothers and sister.

Of course—that was why. She felt she was continually on trial, continually being judged for her fitness to accompany Magnus. Here, though, only the beasts and birds would judge her, and that was as a threat or merely an interesting addition to their world.

She strolled down a path, letting the thoughts gradually empty from her mind, filling it instead with birdsong and the rustling of leaves. She came to a little clearing with a large rock off to one side and sat down to enjoy the play of sunlight and shadow.

"It has taken you long enough to come out of that ugly stone shell," Evanescent said.

Alea looked up, surprised to see the cat-headed alien, then frowned. "It would help if you didn't keep erasing my memories of you after every encounter. How am I supposed to know you want to talk if I can't even remember you exist?"

"You might ask me how I like this new world."

"You might ask me the same."

"Very well." Evanescent tucked her paws under her chest as she lay down. "How do you find this world of Gramarye, Alea?"

"Oh, the world itself is well and good," Alea said. "It's the people who are giving me difficulty."

"Really?" the alien asked, interested. "Which people?"

"Only Magnus's brothers and sister," Alea said with a sigh. "His father has gone adventuring, which is too bad, for he seemed very nice. All the servants and soldiers are friendly, though. A bit distant, since they seem to think I'm an aristocrat, but friendly nonetheless."

"You don't think you're a fine lady?"

"I'm a farmer's daughter," Alea snapped. "If I'd known Magnus was noble, I'd never have had anything to do with him!"

Evanescent tilted her head to the side, considering the statement, then asked, "Isn't the man worth more than his rank?"

"Yes, I suppose so," Alea conceded. "I'm just a bit upset at the thought of serving as his squire."

"That's not what people expect." Evanescent spoke as a mind-reader with no compunctions about mental eavesdropping.

"No, it's not. They all seem to expect me to marry him—never mind that he isn't in love with me!"

"Or you in love with him?" Evanescent asked. "I noticed you didn't mention that."

"Didn't, and won't," Alea snapped.

Evanescent sighed and stirred with impatience. 'This emotion you silly two-legs call 'being in love' is rather exasperating."

"Don't I know it," Alea said with all her heart. "But why does it bother you?"

"Only because you all seem to want it so badly, but are so reluctant to tell each other about it," Evanescent explained. "Are you that much afraid of being hurt?"

Yes! Alea thought, and was surprised at her own intensity. Aloud, she said, "That's where we can be most easily and most deeply hurt. Magnus still hasn't recovered from the injuries that she-wolf Finister gave him years ago."

"Just as you haven't recovered from your own … what is your phrase for it? Heartbreak?"

"That's it," Alea said through gritted teeth.

"A most nonsensical phrase," Evanescent said. "Hearts don't break, after all, though they may stop working—and it's not your heart that does the feeling anyway, it's your brain!"

"Would you have us say 'brainbreak,' then?" Alea couldn't help smiling.

"I suppose 'heartbreak' is a good enough metaphor," Evanescent conceded. "Of course, mating is scarcely a guarantee it won't happen. I do find it amusing that a strapping young woman like yourself who can face sword-swinging warriors in battle is afraid of a man who has proved his loyalty."

"If I were foolish enough to tell him I loved him, he might still hurt me by saying he didn't love me," Alea said, her voice hard.

"Quite so—he'll face ten armed men in battle but is still afraid to look into his own heart," Evanescent admitted.

Alea frowned at her closely. "So. You've been eavesdropping again."

"Why not?" Evanescent asked. "Your kind are so amusing!"

Alea was afraid to ask but forced herself. "So you know he doesn't love me, then."

"He's afraid to let himself feel it," Evanescent explained. "Every time he has before, he's been hurt. Why should he think you'd be any different?"

"He's braver than that!"

"Something in him isn't." Evanescent nodded toward the side of the clearing.

Alea followed her gaze, frowning, and saw nothing but dry leaves and, behind them, dark trunks and live leaves— and dust motes dancing in a ray of sunlight. As she watched, though, the motes thickened, doubling in number, tripling, becoming a sort of sunlit fog, a mist that billowed up seven feet, then drew in on itself, taking human form.

Alea found herself staring at a stout little man in a bottle-green coat and battered top hat, with ruddy cheeks and a rum-blossom nose, who cried, "A rag, a bone!" then turned a very angry glare on Evanescent. "And just who do you think you are to call me awake out here in the middle of a forest?"

"Who do you think you are," the alien responded, "to go hiding in the depths of a man's mind?"

"That's where I was born, catface," the tubby little man answered. "That's where I live!"

"Magnus's brain?" Alea asked, staring.