"Well, cheer up, uncle! You still have me at your side!"

Yarrow turned his head and favored his grand-nephew with a long stare. "And this should cheer me up because…?"

"Because I am the only member of your entire family who'll have anything to do with you, Uncle Yarrow." Duirnanvathallion smiled brightly, then ducked as the older elf aimed a blow at his face "Now, now! Temper, uncle! You wouldn't want to drive me away right into the familial embrace of Cousin Ian, would you?"

"I should have left you in that hole you and your mother had crawled into and never looked back." He turned his face forwards and the pair resumed their walk down the main street of Tol Dolen's smallest port. Mir Falas was situated on the far western shore of the hidden isle, facing the setting sun. Bad enough they had sailed to the damn island in the dead of winter, Duir thought, but then they'd had to continue on by horse clear across this gods' forsaken place because they could not travel by the Road here. The spells of the mysterious creator of Tol Dolen saw to that; he'd somehow closed the island off from it, making an ocean voyage the only way to reach it as well. Duir had been forced to ride along in his uncle's wake, silently promising himself that he would repay Yarrow for every stiff muscle while trying in vain to get some shred of information as to where they were going or why.

Finally, as the gates of Tol Dolen had come into view, Yarrow had broken his silence. "Blackthorn's daughters are there. Need I remind you to treat them with the courtesy due bloodkin?"

"I assure you, uncle, I hold them in the same regard as I do the rest of my kin."

"You'll do better than that, Duir. Or I'll strand you here when I leave."

So, after a good dinner and a soft bed (at last) the night before, the day so far had been spent in walking about the port to various buildings where Yarrow left his grand-nephew standing outside while he went inside to conduct whatever business he might have. Duir had become impatient; it also had occurred to him that the girls could have been in any one of these places and he wouldn't know unless Yarrow told him afterwards. His frustration must have shown. After the last such stop, Yarrow had emerged, taken one look at Duir's face and gave a low laugh. "Do you really think I'd keep them in a tavern or a warehouse? I do have other interests, you know, nephew. But come along, time to make acquaintance with your other cousins."

They'd been walking for half an hour since then, crossing the entire width of the city, a trip made more difficult by having to walk through the crowded main thoroughfare. Duir was just about to make another comment and chance yet another swing of Yarrow's fist when his uncle suddenly turned off into a small side street that was so narrow the walls of the adjacent buildings seemed to block out all daylight. When they emerged out the other side, they stood on a dirt road that ran the same direction as the main street until it hooked off to the right down towards a rocky beach. There, just before the road ended, sheltered by a thick stand of trees, stood a small cottage. Duir eyed the flower-covered fence and gate.

"Hardly the place you'd expect captive elven princesses to be in dire captivity. Isn't there supposed to be a glass tower or a dragon's cave?"

"Hide in plain sight, Duir. Besides, the dragon would not have taken them."

That puzzled Duir briefly, then he looked about. Beyond the cottage was nothing but beach and water. "Furthest end of the island, isn't it? Are you sure you have them far enough away from cousin Ian? You could have kept them on a ship anchored off shore."

"Someday that acid tongue of yours will be ripped from your mouth, Duir. Remember what I said: best behavior, or else." He walked over to the gate, opened it, and stepped onto the white gravel path inside the fence. "Don't stand there gawking like a bumpkin." He held the gate open until Duir walked through, and then the two of them strode the short distance to the door. Yarrow knocked on the door, and a pleasant enough looking human woman opened it, then stood aside to let them enter.

"Good day, milord. If you wait in the parlor, I'll fetch the girls."

"Esme! Efficient as ever, I see! Of course, we'll wait. And I wish to speak with you in private after."

Esme bobbed her head and left the room as Yarrow settled into a chair and Duir leaned on the mantelpiece of the fireplace. After a few moments, footsteps could be heard coming from the small staircase in the hall, and then two children entered the room.

"Hello, sweetlings! Have you been behaving for Esme?"

"Yes, Uncle Yarrow." the twins said in unison. Duir noted that had all the enthusiasm of children told to eat their tripe, but Yarrow seemed satisfied enough with the answer. Apparently his uncle had little or no rapport with Kara and Dara. Well, this could work out very well. He crossed the room and made a grand bow to the twins, winking comically as he straightened back up.

"Hallo, ladies. I'm your cousin Duir."
He was rewarded by two giggles.
Yes, this could work out very well indeed.

04/2001

*********

The Lost: Part XXVIII

The wind was strong this morning, strong enough that Shane's hair blew back away from his face. He scowled; Ari would make him sit on a stool and brush the tangles out of his hair like she was using a currycomb on a horse when she saw it tonight. Maybe, he thought, he could get the barracks barber to cut his hair short like many of the Watch wore it. As quickly as he thought of the idea, he rejected it. Shorter hair would leave his ears more visible, and while they weren't large as his Vin cousins were, they still had the pointed tips of the elven-blooded. Bad enough his hair was as white as an old man's! Why couldn't he at least have the pale blond hair of his father's clan?

Shane shifted his feet and rested his elbows on the stony surface of the top of the castle wall, his eyes looking down the road that his father's party had rode down last night as they had left Camelot. He'd wanted to go to Riga with them, but his parents had told him this was not a pleasure trip, that the Rigan enemies of Lady Xan and her sons might attack, and that it was too dangerous. He snorted scornfully; Stephen and the others were younger than he, and he had fought off an attack on his life already.

"Careful, sister's-blood. You will cause the walls to crack with that frown on your face!"

Shane half-turned and looked over his shoulder, careful not to bang the lute slung over his back against the wall. His grand uncle Ashe walked closer and laughed as the wind tugged at his cloak. The older elf carried a long object wrapped in cloth in one hand, and as he drew nearer he set his burden to lean against the wall between them. "You weren't at breakfast this morning. You didn't spend the whole night up here, did you?"

"No. I just left early. Cook gave me some sweet rolls and I took a drink from the brook on the way."

"I see you brought your lute. Have you practiced today?"

For a fleeting second, the boy thought of lying. Instead, he shook his head and turned back to simply stare out and down at the road below. Blessedly, Uncle Ashe didn't reproach him. Instead he stood there silently beside Shane, his eyes scanning the view stretched out before them. The quiet minutes passed. Ashe was good at that, waiting for Shane to decide to speak when he was ready. Shane continued to stare at nothing until he finally turned to look at his granduncle.

"Why couldn't I go with my father?" he asked. "Is it because I don't practice fighting?"

"Ianno told you why. There might be fighting, and despite the fact that the Hawke's younglings are a warlike brood, the fact remains they are still children. In a fight, they have not an adult's reach. Neither do you, although you are few years older. The point being, Ianno and his men must concentrate on protecting the young Hawkes. Your presence would add another to be protected, and might cause a problem if a choice must be made between saving you or say, Stephen. The duty of the Black Watch is to protect their lord and his family. But most of them have watched you grow up. So, do they save you over Stephen or him over you? Do you see the dilemma?"

Shane nodded reluctantly. "Yes. It's just…"

"Just what?"

"All of them fight! Even Talisman is going to be a squire, and she's just a girl! And her brothers have shields and swords and bash each other about all day!"

Ashe laughed. "Don't ever yet your mother, or Talisman's, for that matter, hear you say someone is 'only a girl', Shane! As for the other, what of it? Are you no longer sure you want to make music your life calling?"

The boy shook his head, his hand unconsciously reaching about to brush his fingers along the smooth wood of his lute. "I love music. But, sometimes, I watch the weapons drills, and I feel like I want to be out there. I don't know what I want, Uncle Ashe!"

Ashe smiled softly. "Shane, you are still young yet by elven years. You have time, more time than most, to decide what you wish to do with your life. What is to say you cannot do both?"

"I can? But I have only used a sword once. The others have had much more practice!"

"You'll catch up. And the one time you fought was not practice. In that you are ahead of them, are you not?"

Shane nodded, swallowing hard as he thought about the wolf-beasts that had killed the Herdmaster.

"If you want, I can teach you. We'll add it to your lessons." Ashe grinned. "Besides, it's good to exercise the body as well as the mind, is it not?" He reached over and picked up the long bundle from where it leaned against the wall, then held it out in both hands to Shane. "As it happens, Evaynanvathallion asked me to give you this, a gifting from grandsire to grandson."

"What is it?"

"Open it and find out."

Shane nodded, then took the bundle. It was heavy, or at least he thought it was at first, but as he turned to set it down atop the wall, it felt much lighter. The cloth it was wrapped in was smooth, soft, and tied by braided golden string with knots that didn't come loose easily. But when he finally untied the last knot and opened the cloth, Shane gasped in a mixture of surprise and awe. "It's a sword!"

Ashe nodded. "Yes, it is. Pick it up."

The boy did as his uncle suggested, a bit wary. This was an adult's sword, and the grip fashioned for an adult's hand. But as he picked it up, something seemed to shift, and he stopped. Suddenly, the grip was exactly right for his hand, the length of the sword more manageable. The blade had changed, making itself his! He looked at the length of steel more closely. It glowed with a soft inner light, and an intricate pattern of intertwined knots were engraved down the center. Near the hilt a dagger shaped red stain marred both sides. Shane looked up at his uncle. "What is this? It's a Named blade, isn't it?"

Ashe nodded. "It is Kil`mannin, the Star Sword."

07/2001

*********

The Lost: Part XXIX

"So: Kil`Mannin. I expect there is a story behind it?"

Shane sat crosslegged across from his uncle and waited. They'd moved further down the wall to a corner and Ashe had immediately taken a seat on the stone walkway. Shane had carefully set lute and sword down near each other before sitting himself, and now waited for his uncle to begin. Of course there was a story; there always was with Ashe. But when his uncle finally began to speak, it was without the traditional "long and long ago."

"In the earliest days of our people, we did things that we do not readily speak of today. They were dark times, when clan warred against clan, and then turned on the Children of the Flame, the humans. The reason we were forced to leave our original home plane was the vengeance visited upon our people for the sins of the past." He gestured towards the sword. "Kil`Mannin was part of that.

Shane's eyes were drawn back to the sword by Ashe's gesture. "I don't understand."

"There was a House, House Kilseren. They were one of the First Houses, but small."

"The House of Starsingers?" Shane frowned. "They aren't in the list of Houses you taught us."

"No, they are not, and there is a reason for that. The Starsingers were the first to manifest the power to move people and objects through song, but for some reason known only to the gods, they were also among the most warlike of all the Sithryn. Already few in number, the constant fighting depleted the House until only a dozen of the line remained, and with their retainers, there were less then a hundred warriors left to defend the few women and children. The House of Starsingers faced certain extinction at the hands of an army of human enemies."

"The last Prince of the line was Berenvakilseren. Beren was not much older than you are now, and his heart wept to see what ruin the folly of his elders had brought upon them all." Ashe's voice shifted to the cadence of a storyteller as he spoke the tale as it had been told for generations. "In his grief, he prayed to the Goddess for Her help, but there was no answer, and Beren retired to his tent to try to sleep before what would certainly be his last day of life."

"And in his dreams, the Goddess came. 'What would you ask of me, Beren? What do you seek?' "

"Beren fell to his knees. 'I seek mercy for my people. I seek a future, and I seek hope.'
'What of peace and justice?'
'That can come after. But first my people must survive!'

"The Goddess did not reply at first, but suddenly Beren found himself atop the highest mountain in the world. The Goddess pointed out at the brightest star in the heavens. 'Mercy, and hope, and dreams of the future; these shine brightly in the souls of all, as brightly as the shining stars. What you seek lies there. Reach out and take it'

"Beren looked at the star. How could he hold such a thing? He looked back at the Goddess, and realized this was a test, and if he failed, there would be no saving his House. So he stretched out his hand, and as he thought, the star was just beyond his reach. Still the Goddess said nothing, and made no move to help Beren. He tried once more and failed. And then, taking a few steps back, he ran and leaped for the star, and grabbing hold of it, began to plummet towards the earth below."

Shane shivered a bit. "Did he die?"

"No, He woke the next morning, and in his hand, was the sword. It glowed like a star, and Beren called for the others to come and see the gift of the Goddess. And when later that day the humans attacked, Beren fell upon them with Kil`Mannin, the Star Sword, and House Kilseren was victorious... But at a cost."

"Not one human survived. The battlefield was full of their dead, and Beren had been the cause. Weary, his sword arm heavy from fighting, he stood alone, for so terrible had been his progress through the human ranks that even his own people had fallen back in fear. And in his hand, covered in blood, was Kil`Mannin, it's light dimmed. Beren tore his cloak and tried to clean it, and while the blood itself came off, a red stain remained. He stopped, and looked about, and in that instant knew that a terrible vengeance would be sought by the Children of the Flame for what he had done this day."

"Then it was that the Goddess came walking, walking across the battlefield, and Beren held out the sword to her. 'Take it back, for it is too terrible a thing it has done this day.'

'It was not the sword that acted. It was you, wielding the sword. You asked for mercy, and hope, and a future. Humans seek the same for themselves. Do you recall my asking you of peace and justice?'

"Beren nodded. 'You said they would come later. I had hoped you would think about why I had asked, but you did not. Beren, without peace and justice, there is no hope, there is no mercy, there is no future. You could have sought peace instead of battle. You did not. Your House survived today, but there will be consequences.'

Beren looked around at the dead. 'You teach a hard lesson, Lady.'

'They too, made their choices. Remember this day, Beren. The blade of Kil`Mannin will remain stained, but with each act of peace and justice its wielder performs, it will grow less, until the sword finally shines as brightly as it did before the battle.' Then, before Beren could say more, the Goddess was gone." Shane looked at the sword. The red stain had shrank to that dagger shape close to the hilt. "What happened to Beren?"

"He lived on for many years. But Kilseren never recovered. In time, the last members of the House married into others. Beren's son married a princess of Silver Rose, and his child was one of our ancestors. Kil`Mannin became the blade given to young princes to help teach them how to be good rulers. And the talent of the Kilserens, the use of Voice, became the talent of Silver Rose." Ashe looked at his grandnephew, waiting to see if Shane would grasp the significance of the sword now coming to him.

He had. One hand started to reach for the sword, then fell back as Shane's eyes widened. "Why me? I'm not full-blooded Sithryn."

"Ah, but you have the Voice. Evaynan knows this, and you are the grandson of his daughter. You are of his line."

"So is Duir. And he is of purer descent."

"And he can't carry a note in a basket. No, the sword is yours. As it was mine for a time. Having Kil`Mannin does not automatically make you Heir forever, nephew. But for the moment, that is what you are."

Shane stared at the sword and the lute. "What do I do, Uncle?"

"Shane, you have so much time. I will teach you the sword as I am teaching you music and the use of your Gifts. If you decide you desire to be a knight, then when you become a Squire, all studies but those for knighthood will cease. There will be time after to continue your other studies. I promise you. Now, I must find Lt. Marcus and tell him of news I had from Ian. Don't stay here too long. I suspect your mother will expect you to at least eat dinner with the rest of the family, heh?" Ashe grinned, rose in that impossibly fluid and graceful way of his, and ruffled Shane's hair before he walked away.

The boy reached out, and his hand found the lute. Drawing it to him, his fingers began picking out a song, slowly at first, but then faster and surer. The notes echoed down the wall, and men looked to see who had played them, but Shane didn't notice.

He played on and as he played, his eyes never wavered from the blade Kil`Mannin.

07/2001