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"Think of the baby's mother," the woman repeated hollowly. "I can do nothing but think of the baby's mother," she snapped. "Soldest's wife told you the baby was hers, did she? She lied. The baby is Asha's. Soldest seduced Asha and then abandoned her. Still, like a fool, she cherished his brat. Cherished it so that when Soldest sent his men to take the baby from her, she died on their swords rather than give it up."

"Asha was one of your people?" he asked.

"Asha, daughter of Tilda, daughter of Aliza. I am Aliza. Asha was my granddaughter," the woman replied, and half a sob escaped with her answer.

George was silent for a moment, judging what the woman had said. She had no reason to lie. "I'm sorry," George said. "Sorry for her treatment, and sorry for her death. But that's your great grandson crying out there. I know your people don't accept half-blooded children, but he still has Asha's blood in him. You can't want to harm him. Soldest's wife wants him for her own. She loves him."

Aliza snorted derisively. "You think, giorgio, a woman could love the baby of her husband's mistress. You are a ranger; you live in the wild, and you know nothing of women."

George shifted, uncomfortable in both his body and mind. It was true he didn't understand women well, but he couldn't give up. "And you are Vistana," he retorted," you live among Vistani, and you know nothing of the giorgio. We cherish children no matter where they come from. Soldest's wife only wants a child."

"Soldest's wife wants only her husband's heir," Aliza declared.

"That's not true," George growled.

"If she should have an heir of her own, she'd find some way to rid herself of her husband's half-blood. And even if she loves this baby, soon this baby will be a boy, and a boy will follow his father. Better Tristessa should take the baby for her own. "Aliza looked up, beyond her prisoner, and smiled sadly.

"Who is this Tristessa?" George asked.

"Tristessa: it means the Sad One," Aliza explained.

"She was once a priestess of the dark elves."

"The dark elves? You mean the drow? Like the drow from the kingdom of Arak?" George grew agitated and worried. The drow of Arak were rumored to be exceedingly cruel, but since no human captured by them was ever seen again, the rumors were impossible to confirm. "A drow. Good gods, woman! How could you leave your grandchild with a drow?" he growled.

"How quick you are to judge, ranger," the Vistana growled back. "Listen to the Sad One's tale, and understand. Long ago, in Arak, she bore a child. The child was born deformed; it had no legs of its own, only the legs of a spider, so the drow insisted it be put to death. The Sad One loved her child, though, and would not give up her baby. The drow dragged her and her baby to the surface and left them staked out for the sunlight to burn their flesh away. Her baby perished, but she escaped death and came to this land. She wanders throughout the night, half mad, grieving for her lost child. In the day she hides in a cavern high up in the mountain — "Aliza froze suddenly. "There she is now," she whispered, and pointed up the slope.

George twisted his head to look where Aliza indicated. The sky was growing light all about them, and any moment the sun would rise. He could see now that he lay not far from the rock where he'd seen Aliza lay the baby. George could just make out the Sad One's figure moving up the mountain. Her long white hair and dark gown blew all about her slender body. A cold shiver ran down George's spine.

At the rock where the baby lay in its bundle, still shrieking, the figure stopped suddenly and looked down. George gasped. As the figure bent over and picked up the baby, the baby's crying ceased. George breathed a sigh of relief. Another shiver crawled down the ranger's spine. The air was perfectly still, now — maybe too still. The figure seemed to drift like a cloud up the slope and to the west until it disappeared behind the mountain with the baby.

Aliza sighed once sadly and looked back down at her tarokka cards. She gathered them together, wrapped them up in a scarf, and slipped them into a pocket of her skirt. "Heed me now, giorgio. There are powers in this world, powers great and dark, powers beyond your ken. Such powers preserved the Sad One in Arak and brought her here. The tarokka says you are destined to travel much farther, and I dare not interfere with your destiny." The Vistana drew out a dagger. "But if you interfere with the Sad One, if you challenge the powers behind her, your destiny might be greatly shortened. "The dagger cut through the leather strip holding George's left wrist to the ground.

The Vistana rose suddenly and dashed down the slope, disappearing like a wild creature into the trees.

George reached over to pick at the binding holding his other wrist. It took him more than a few minutes to work free the knots. He sat up and used his dagger to cut the bindings about his boots.

It took him a few more minutes to stand up and loosen his stiff muscles. Then he tried to straighten out his thoughts. He had promised Soldest's wife he would return with the baby, but his faith in the woman had been shaken by Aliza's evil insinuations. Still, could he trust a drow with the baby, even a drow who had loved her own deformed child enough to risk her life for it? He had to check on the baby's safety first. He would learn more of this drow, too, then decide what to do.

George continued up the slope of the mountain. Above the tree line patches of dead brambles competed for space with fields of browning thistles. There seemed to be no natural trails, and it took George hours to follow the route taken so quickly by the Sad One.

Once his foot crunched down on a long white bone. He discovered most of a human skeleton just downslope, covered by brambles. He tossed a ritual handful of dirt on the skull and continued on uneasily, wishing he could afford the time to bury the remains. Had the bones belonged to a victim of the drow, he wondered, or had their owner fallen prey to some other wilderness tragedy, and the drow blameless? Later, when he spotted a second skeleton, George did not even bother with the ritual handful of dirt, and his uneasiness grew.

Near the top of the summit the thistles and brambles finally thinned out, but the climb did not get any easier. Rubble covered the slopes, and without the plant life holding it down, it shifted like sand, and every step was precarious.

The sun shone directly overhead when George discovered the mine shaft plunging into the mountain's side. Aliza had said the Sad One lived in a cavern within the mountain, and the mine shaft was the only entrance he could see. He collapsed beside it and pulled out his water flask. He was torn and bleeding from the thorns and thistles and bruised and sore from sliding on the rubble. He was also having trouble catching his breath; the air was thin this high up, and it stank from some invisible vapors.

Peering down the steeply inclined shaft, the ranger realized that the Sad One could only have traveled so quickly had she levitated up the mountain slope and then down this shaft. He'd never heard of a priestess with the power to levitate before, and he recalled uneasily Aliza's warning of powers great and dark, powers beyond his ken.

He tossed a few pebbles into the shaft and counted as he listened for them to hit the bottom. Over five hundred feet down, he estimated, unless the pebbles had hit the side of the shaft; then it might be deeper. There was a tunnel opening in the side of the shaft less than fifty feet down. He would start his search for the Sad One and the baby there.