Sunlight, she marveled, in a land where beyond the walls of the city and the power of the Elven magic there was only darkness.
She lay back, drowsy still, taking time to gather her thoughts. She had not seen much of the room the night before. It had been dark, and Eowen had used only candlelight to guide her. She had collapsed into the down-stuffed bed and been asleep almost immediately.
She closed her eyes momentarily, trying to connect what she was seeing to what she remembered, this dreamlike, translucent present to the harsh, forbidding past. Had it all been real—the search to find where the Elves had gone, the flight to Morrowindl, the trek through the In Ju, the climb up Black-ledge, the march to the Rowen and then Arborlon? Lying there as she was, swathed in sunlight and soft sheets, she found it hard to believe so. Her memory of what lay without the city’s walls—the darkness and fire and haze, the monsters that came from everywhere and knew only how to destroy—seemed dim and far away.
Her eyes blinked open angrily, and she forced herself to remember. Events paraded before her, vivid and harsh. She saw Garth as he stood with her against the Shadowen at the edge of the cliffs above the Blue Divide. She pictured once more how it had been that first night on the beach when Tiger Ty and Spirit had left them. She thought of Stresa and Faun, forced herself to remember how they looked and talked and acted, and what they had endured in helping her travel through this monstrous world, friends who had helped her only to be left behind.
Thinking of the Splinterscat and the Tree Squeak was what finally brought her awake. She pushed herself into a sitting position and looked slowly around. She was here, she assured herself, in Arborlon, in the palace of the Elf Queen, in the home of Ellenroh Elessedil, her grandmother. She took a deep breath, wrestling with the idea, working to make it be real. It was, of course—yet at the same time it didn’t yet seem so. It was too new, she supposed. She had come looking to find the truth about her parents; she could not have guessed the truth would prove so startling.
She remembered what she had said to herself when Cogline had first approached her about the dreams: What she learned by agreeing to travel to the Hadeshorn to speak with Allanon might well change her life.
She could not have imagined how much.
It both intrigued and frightened her. So much had happened to bring her to Morrowindl and the Elves, and now she was faced with confronting a world and a people she did not really know or understand. She had discovered last night just how difficult things might prove to be. If even her own grandmother would choose to lie to her, how much trust could she put in any of the others? It rankled still that there were secrets being kept from her. She had been sent to the Elves for a purpose, but she still didn’t know what it was. Ellenroh, if she knew, wasn’t saying—at least not yet. And she wasn’t saying anything about the demons either—only that they hadn’t come through the Forbidding and that the Ellcrys hadn’t failed. But they had come from somewhere, and the queen knew where that was, Wren was certain. She knew a lot of things she wasn’t telling.
Secrets—there was that word again.
Secrets.
She let the matter drop with a shake of her head. The queen was her grandmother, the last of her family, the giver of life to her mother, and a woman of accomplishment and beauty and responsibility and love. Wren shook her head. She could not bring herself to think ill of Ellenroh Elessedil. She could not disparage her. She was too like her, perhaps—physically, emotionally, and in word and thought and act. She had seen it for herself last night; she had felt it in their conversation, in the glances they exchanged, and in the way they responded to each other.
She sighed. It was best that she do as she had promised, that she wait and see.
After a time, she rose and walked to the door that led to the adjoining chamber. Almost immediately the door opened and Garth was there. He was shirtless, his muscled arms and torso wrapped in bandages, and his dark bearded face cut and bruised. Despite the impressive array of injuries, the big Rover looked rested and fit. When she beckoned him in, he reached back into his own room for a tunic and hastily slipped it on. The clothes that had been provided him were too small and made him look decidedly outsized. She hid her smile as they moved over to sit on a bench by the lace-curtained window, happy just to see him again, taking comfort from his familiar presence.
What have you learned? he signed.
She let him see her smile now. Good, old, dependable Garth—right to the point every time. She repeated her previous night’s conversation with the queen, relating what she had been told of the history of the Elessedils and Ohmsfords and of her mother and father. She did not voice her suspicion that Ellenroh was shading the truth about the demons. She wanted to keep that to herself for now, hoping that given a little time her grandmother would choose to confide in her.
Nevertheless, she wanted Garth’s opinion about the queen.
“What did you notice about my grandmother that I missed?” she asked him, fingers translating as she spoke.
Garth smiled faintly at the implication that she had missed anything. His response was quick. She is frightened.
“Frightened?” Wren had indeed missed that. “What do you think frightens her?”
Difficult to say Something that she knows and we don’t, I would guess She is very careful with what she says and how she says it You saw as much.
He paused. She may he frightened for you, Wren.
“Because my mother was killed by coming back here, and now I am at risk as well? But I was supposed to return according to Eowen’s vision. They have been expecting me. And. what do you make of this vision anyway? How am I supposed to save the Elves, Garth? Doesn’t that seem silly to you? After all, it was all we could do just to stay alive long enough to reach the city. I don’t see what difference my being here can make.”
Garth shrugged. Keep your eyes and ears open, Rover girl Thats how you learn things.
He smiled, and Wren smiled in return.
He left her then so that she could dress. As he closed the door separating their rooms, she stood staring after him for a moment. It occurred to her suddenly that there were enormous inconsistencies in the stories told by her grandmother and Garth concerning her parents. Admittedly, Garth’s version was secondhand and the queen’s based entirely on events that had taken place before the departure from Arborlon, so perhaps inconsistencies were to be expected. Still, neither had commented on what each must have viewed as the other’s obvious mistakes. There was no mention of Wing Riders by Garth. There was no mention of Rovers by the queen. There was nothing from either about why her parents had not traveled first to Shady Vale and the Ohmsfords but had gone instead to the Westland.
She wondered if she should say anything about it to Garth. Given the importance of her other concerns, she wondered if this one really mattered.
She found clothing set out for her to wear, garments that fit better than Garth’s—pants, a tunic, stockings, a belt, and a pair of fine-worked leather ankle boots. She slipped the clothing on, going over in her mind as she did so the revelations of the night before, considering anew what she had learned. The queen seemed decided on the importance of Wren’s arrival in Arborlon, certain in her own mind at least that Eowen’s vision would prove accurate. Aurin Striate, too, had mentioned that they had been waiting for her. Yet no one had said why, if, in fact, anyone knew. There hadn’t been any mention in the dream of what it was that Wren’s presence was supposed to accomplish. Maybe it would take another vision to find out.
She grinned at her own impudence and was pulling on her boots when the grin abruptly faded.
What if the importance of her return was that she carried with her the Elfstones? What if she was expected to use the Stones as a weapon against the demons?