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Deirdre had quickly thought of using the mirror to seek her father, but she found no such link as with her female kin. Instead, she probed the depths of the ocean, but saw only vast seas, giant fish, and a dark, featureless floor.

There was one more whom Deirdre desired to seek through the glass, yet thus far she had lacked the courage. Still, she remembered the tingle of recognition when she had spied him at the Corwell festival. This was the one she had called Malawar. There had been a powerful affinity in that sensation, as well as very real fear.

Deirdre felt nothing romantic nor even vaguely affectionate in that attraction. Rather, she thought of Malawar as a mighty source of power, a source that she had barely mastered once, and then only to send it away. But now her mind had begun to think more ambitious thoughts: If she could but capture that power, channel it to her own ends. .

The possibilities seemed unlimited.

The being that so occupied Deirdre's thoughts remained in the seas below the Princess of Moonshae. Sinioth lurked in the depths, awaiting the progress of the Mantaships with growing impatience. The gap narrowed, but too slowly for the avatar's desires. Sythissal, king of the sahuagin, remained below the sea with his master, while Krell-Bane commanded the attacking force on the surface.

It was the power of the accursed goddess, he knew, that sustained the unnatural wind. Normally the sleek rafts of the scrags should have overtaken the longship by now. But instead, he was forced to endure this crawling chase.

But the longship had sailed far from the Moonshaes now, and the great druid drew her strength from the very localized presence of the Earthmother. Surely she could not maintain this magic forever!

Seething with the impatience of his hatred, Coss-Axell-Sinioth tried to settle down and wait.

11

Goddesswind

"A week out from Corwell and they find us!" stormed Brandon, pacing back and forth in the Princess of Moonshae's forehull.

In the stern, Robyn still stood like a statue, facing the sail, the canvas sheet billowed taut as ever, propelling the longship through the waters at a churning pace. Far behind now but still clinging to the long white trail of the vessel's wake came the two broad rafts and their clamoring passengers.

"Terrible luck, I know, but at least-" Alicia started to speak.

"Luck? There's no luck about it!" Brandon snapped, whirling toward her and interrupting. "They found us, somehow-here, eight hundred miles from the Moonshaes, in the middle of the Trackless Sea!"

Alicia glowered at him, but her anger was rooted in embarrassment. He was right, of course.

"There are ways a skilled sorcerer could locate us wherever we were," pointed out Keane.

"Did you see any sign of magic in that attack?" shot back the Prince of Gnarhelm.

"No."

"It's not like the sea creatures to use magic." Brandon's tone modulated somewhat, as if he suddenly remembered that he was surrounded by friends, not enemies. "And if they don't use it to attack, I can't imagine they've got wizards sitting around spying on us."

"What do you suspect, then?" demanded Alicia.

"I don't know," the captain admitted with a shrug. He looked around, at the casks and crates and seabags that lined the center of the longship's hull. "It's possible they might have placed something on board, some object that draws them like a beacon. I don't know how big it would be or even what it would look like, but it's all that I can think of at the moment."

They spent the next six hours tearing the Princess of Moonshae's contents apart while the rafts drifted farther to the rear, never quite disappearing over the horizon. Every crate, every container of any kind was opened and examined. Crew members sifted flour from barrel to barrel and drained each water cask into another through a fine screen mesh. As to the search of individual crewmen, of course, every man was left to his own possessions-all the northmen and the Ffolk accompanying the expedition had been selected with loyalty as the top consideration.

All this time Robyn stood in rapt concentration, and the wind summoned by the goddess propelled the longship forward. The druid queen resisted any attempts to support her, shrugging off the few hands that came close. Her eyes were open, staring at the sail but focused on something much farther away.

"Nothing," Alicia concluded disgustedly after the search of the longship's bow was completed. She and Brigit had coordinated that scrutiny, and now the pair leaned on the rail, watching the gray-green water slip past a few feet below.

"I heard the captain talking," the elfwoman noted. "He said that if we can make it to nightfall, we should be able to slip away from them-and your mother can rest, as long as there's any breeze at all."

"I hope so," replied the princess, with a look at the sun. It was early evening, but the yellow orb was at least a couple of hours away from the horizon. And here, on the flat northern sea, she remembered that the daylight lasted for an hour or more after sunset. For a while, they stood in silence, unconsciously looking to the west-toward Evermeet, or least to where they imagined the elvenhome to be.

"Brigit. ." Alicia looked down, wondering about the future, wanting to plan a known course to her father's rescue, though of course this was impossible. "I've been wondering about Evermeet. What's it like? Who rules there?"

"It is a wondrously beautiful place, dotted with clear lakes, covered with broad stretches of forest. It is also the largest, most populous nation of elves in all the Realms." Brigit turned to Alicia to make her point. "In fact, while elven realms in the outer lands are usually ruled by matriarchs or lords, Evermeet is ruled by a queen, the only true monarch in elvendom."

"Does she rule alone?"

"For the most part. She has many councilors, it is said, and a council of matrons acts as her advisers. I have heard that she is not afraid, however, to ignore their advice and make a decision on her own."

"When we get there, what will you say? Do you think the elves of Evermeet will help us?" Alicia wondered. "Or are there too many who feel as Erashanoor, that we humans are the enemy?"

"There are others more. . open-minded," Brigit allowed, and then she laughed. "And there's no telling what your mother will accomplish, if she has the chance to talk to the queen."

"How can we be sure she'll get that chance?"

Brigit smiled, her face sympathetic. "With the determination of humans like you and Hanrald to back her up, I wouldn't be surprised to see it," the elfwoman said.

"I wonder if we can persuade them to help us-for the elves' own interests," Alicia questioned.

"I've been thinking about what your mother said-in the Argen-Tellirynd," replied the sister knight, almost as if she were musing to herself. "Doesn't it seem possible-even likely-that the same forces are at work against both of our peoples? That the dark powers commanding the scrags are the same that unleashed the Elf-Eater and closed the Synnorian Gate?"

"It does! I've wondered about that myself-but we have no proof. Can you be sure?"

"Can we be sure that isn't the case?" wondered Brigit. "And based on that premise, perhaps the only way to open the Fey-Alamtine is to defeat the forces that hold your father prisoner."

Alicia was forced to smile at the elfwoman's determination. "I wish you luck!"

"I believe that I can make the case," Brigit replied. "But I'm not sure that I'll find anyone impartial enough to listen-if we get there at all!"

"We'll get there!" declared the princess, more vehemently than she had intended. Trying to conceal her concern from Brigit, she looked aft.