"You've done well, Esme. I am most pleased."

The woman curtsied, her cheeks flushing slightly at his words. "I am honored, m'lord Yarrowvathallion."

As well she should have been, Yarrow thought as he handed her a small purse heavy with gold. She'd been a widowed hanger-on at some minor baron's court when Yarrow had found her while looking for a governess for his infant nieces. He needed someone to teach the twins proper manners; Esme had needed a purpose. It had been a most felicitous meeting. He watched as the woman once more smiled and tucked the purse away. "I need you to ready the girls and yourself for trip. Buy whatever it is you feel necessary for ladies of character to wear for a prolonged journey on horseback." He tossed Esme a second, larger bag of coins.

"Horseback? But young ladies of genteel blood should travel by carriage, surely?" she protested.

"Esme, Esme! We must travel quickly, and a coach is too slow. And besides, it would have to come out of that money." He gestured to the coin purse in her hands. "That is all I am allotting for your purchases." There was a few seconds as he watched her face. He was certain the woman never spent all the money he had given her for household expenses, no doubt finding the best bargains and pocketing the money saved doing so for herself. He waited as comfort warred with greed within the human.

"As you wish, milord. I will start at once." She curtsied once more, then left the room, the moneybag firmly held in one hand as she called for the girls and the cook to accompany her to the marketplace. The small party exited the cottage in a swirl of excited voices.

"So predictable." Yarrow murmured.

"So, Uncle, when are you going to get rid of the woman?"

Yarrow looked over to the doorway, where Duir was leaning against the wall with what he no doubt believed was impressive nonchalance. "Esme is still a necessity. Proper young ladies…"

"Pardon? Surely you meant to say mixed elven blooded bastards, Uncle?"

Yarrow raised his voice slightly. "Proper young ladies require a woman companion or governess as escort. I have plans for the girls. I do not wish them ruined by failing to observe human…quirks."

Duir made a rude noise as he sank into a nearby chair. "I thought you were going to marry them off to other elven clans for alliances? Since when do you care about human sensitivities?"

"Since I was declared Clanless. Think, nephew!" He waited for Duir to puzzle it out. It took less time than he had expected.

"Ah! You think no clan will deal with you now, afraid Grandfather will come after them when he finds out they have the girls. They might even curry favor with him by delivering you and the girls right to him!"

"Exactly." Yarrow rose, turning to look out the window. Esme and the girls were still in sight, about to make the turn onto the road that would lead them to the main street of Mir Falas. "So, I will find other allies. There are the elves of this plane. And if worse comes to worse, certain humans who would relish raising their prestige by marrying an elven female of Clan Thallion, even a bastard."

Duir made a face of mock horror. "This cannot be, Uncle! Surely you will not deal with the lowly humans?"

Yarrowvathallion turned away from the window, the twins and their governess gone from view. "I will do whatever it takes to keep them from Iannon for as long as possible, for as long as I can make him suffer. Is that clear, nephew?"

Duir smiled his most charming smile. "Perfectly clear, Uncle." He nodded. "So you'll get rid of Esme after you marry off the girls?" He made a slashing gesture across his own throat, then let the hand fall as Yarrow shook his head contemptuously. "Uncle, you told me yourself she has been stealing from you! Are you going to let her get away with that?"

"She's done it without depriving the girls of one thing. I expected whoever I hired to steal from me. Esme has managed to do it efficiently. I admire that. She will be given this cottage as her reward for services well rendered, and the money she has squirreled away will serve as her severance."

Duir nodded once more, but inwardly the younger elf was tallying up the losses Yarrow's madness was accumulating. He imagined this cottage must be worth a fair sum. Esme had worked for his uncle a good many years now; she must have put aside a small fortune.

And then there were his cousins. There was no monetary value on what he could gain if he somehow brought Kara and Dara back to Grandfather Evaynan and Cousin Iannon. They'd all present obstacles to his goal in the future, but he'd deal with them later. He looked over at his uncle, who was once more facing away, looking out the window. If Yarrow was so blinded by his need for vengeance, so oblivious to what he was tossing away, then Duir himself would have to set things back on the course.

Someone had to profit from all this. It might as well be him.

At the window, Yarrow caught the reflection of Duir's face in the glass before him. "So predictable."

08/2001

*********

The Lost: Part XXXI

It was raining the morning they finally left Mir Falas.

If Duir had been one to believe in omens and things of that nature, he thought, as he waited outside for the others, the fact that the weather had been horrid during most of his travels with Uncle Yarrow would be worrisome indeed. He laughed softly to himself; just the toss of the dice with the weather. But, he promised himself as a trickle of water ran down his nose, there would come a time when he would repay Yarrow for all the discomfort he'd endured on this trip.

He looked impatiently at the cottage door, then at the group of horses whose reins he was holding. The mounts shifted a bit uneasily, and Duir turned back to the building. "By Mezumiiru, aren't you ready yet?"

The door opened, and out stepped the girls, Esme, and bringing up the rear, Yarrow. "Patience, nephew. Esme had to be sure all inside was in order before we left. It's early yet. We'll reach the Nen Gelin by afternoon and the next town by nightfall" He took the lead in the little procession, waving Duir over with the horses.

"How?" asked Duir. "If we swim?" But he sorted out the reins anyway. The girls, at least, seemed excited as they climbed into the saddles of their mares. Esme on the other hand was obviously not a horsewoman, and Duir had to help her up on her mount. He was taken aback at how heavy she felt. He had never been in such close contact with a human and for an instant wondered if they were like dwarves, heavy-boned, then shrugged the thought off and swung up into his saddle.

Yarrow turned that Jolly Old Uncle smile on the girls. "Well now, off we go!"

And so, of course they did, with a not so jolly Duir in tow.

*********

The man sitting in the corner was small, and red-haired, and spoke some language with the others that Korys could not understand. The words seemed almost like the ones Devlin sometimes said, but not quite. The big barbarian stood by the kitchen door and watched the little man and his friends. He'd seen him before, he was sure of it.

"Korys, love, you'll stare a hole right through the wall." Grace, the woman the tavern was named for, and its owner, paused by her friend before she went back into the kitchen. "What's wrong?" She turned her head to look in the direction Korys pointed, grey eyes briefly puzzled before she recognized who it was that had drawn his attention. "Ah! It's him!"

"Is who?"

"Meredudd. The man that Captain Blackthorn is seeking. Wait, they're leaving!"

"You want Korys stop?" The big man reached for the axe leaning against the wall beside him, then stopped as Grace tugged his sleeve.

"No, better you go up to the castle and find Blackthorn."

"Tell him Merry is back in Camelot."

*********

The Nen Gelin was called the Green Water because of the reflection of the trees along its banks on the surface of the gently flowing river. It had stopped raining an hour earlier, the sun had come out, and indeed, the river was beautiful to behold. It was also a bit higher than it had been when Duir and his uncle had crossed it on the way to Mir Falas. The small party drew rein at the riverbank as Yarrow and Duir dismounted and took a closer look.

"Current's not too much faster than it was before." Yarrow looked first upstream, then down. "I don't see any debris. I think we can chance it."

"Are you sure? You think the others can cross safely on horseback?"

Yarrow nodded. "The girls are born riders. Esme…" he glanced over at the human woman. 'You ride next to Esme. She doesn't have a good seat on a horse and she's already nervous enough."

So, with that the two elves remounted. Yarrow went first with Kara and Dara, riding three abreast, Yarrow in the middle so he could grab the reins of either horse if it spooked. Esme, for her part, sat silently watching the trio as they reached the far bank. Duir actually took pity on her, and smiled reassuringly. "Nothing to, it, see? We'll be across in no time at all." Esme nodded, wide-eyed, but didn't resist as the younger elf urged their horses down the gentle slope into the river, her hands shaking on the reins.

Duir was never really sure how it happened. Perhaps the woman's horse stepped off into a hole. All he did know was that there was a sudden short shriek, a loud splash, and Esme' s horse was empty beside his. He looked about desperately, already sure that Yarrow would find him at fault. Then, spotting some bubbles a few yards away, he dove in after the governess. The water, for a wonder, was quite clear, and he spotted his target almost immediately. Esme's horse had indeed stepped into an area where the riverbed dropped off sharply, and the human was sinking fast. She didn't seem to be trying to swim to the surface, though. Instead she was trying to undo the ties of her cloak. Duir cursed her silently as he tried to take hold of her by the nearest arm, and then lost his grip. Damn! She was sinking like a stone! He tried to signal her to leave off with the cloak and just try to bring herself up to where he could grab her easier, but she wasn't looking his way. Then he had to surface for air himself, and she slipped from sight. He found her on the second dive down, at the bottom, her fingers still grasping her cloak strings.

By then, she was of course quite, quite dead.

*********

"It wasn't your fault, Cousin Duir." Kara nodded her head in agreement with her twin. "You tried to save her. You did the best that you could." She patted him on the shoulder with her hand, then the girls went off to sit and weep quietly for the woman who had raised them.

Yarrow looked at his nephew and nodded. "They're right, you know. For once, I must admit, you've amazed me. So, stop sitting there moping about it. Duir? Do you hear me?" He frowned down at where the other elf sat, his head bent down to rest on his arms and knees, shoulders silently shaking. "Duir, are you crying over Esme?" He blinked as the head rose and tears were brushed away with fingers.

"Uncle? Do you remember the gold she was stashing away? Well, I know where she hid it for the trip." He reached over to the woman's body on the ground beside him, then lifted the edge of her cloak and let it drop. It hit the dirt with a loud thump. "No wonder she felt so heavy. She'd sewn the gold coins into the hem of it. I wager there's more in the dress, too." He wiped away another tear caused by holding in the laughter, then bent his head down again lest the girls see.

"Of course she sank like a stone!" came the muffled voice. "She was wearing an anchor of gold!"

09/2001

*********

The Lost: Part XXXII

This glade had once been a place of peace, a holy place where elven women came to give birth to their children, so that the first sound they would hear would be the waters of the Pool of the Goddess, the first sight the sunlight flashing bright upon it's crystal surface. It was here, by the Mirror of Mezumiiru that elven bairns were brought smiling into the worlds to start lives of infinite possibilities.
A peaceful place.
A joyous place.
A place sacred to the Sithryn.
So it was with both grief and incomprehension that Evaynanvathallion. Lord of the Green Silences stood in this place that had witnessed the birth of children: grief at what had been done to it, incomprehension that it could be done at all. This was not right. He gazed on the now black waters of the pool, a piece of cloth held over his nose to lessen the foul odor that filled the glade. He had come here alone, as he had done several times now since the desecration had been discovered, hoping to somehow determine the source and the reason for it. So far, he had failed. Today, he would not.

He turned and walked back over to the edge of the glade where the King Stallion stood patiently waiting, reaching for the cloth bag hanging from the saddle. The stallion moved his head a bit to watch him open the bag and remove a small silver bowl. Evaynan looked at the horse, then patted its neck. "Sa, my friend. Just a few more minutes, at the most. I hate it here now as much as you." In truth, the afternoon had begun to darken towards dusk, and the elf lord would have to work quickly if he wanted his answers. They'd come without an escort as they had in the past, and the Green Silences was no longer a safe place to roam alone at night.

The bowl he'd brought with him was, according to legend, one that had once belonged to Mezumiiru. It was elegant, a work of elven craftsmanship, and even if it had not been the property of his ancestress, it was a thing of great beauty. Evaynan turned it over a few times in his hands as he walked to the marble lip of the pool, admiring the engraving, hoping its maker would forgive the use he was now about make of it. With a murmured payer, Evaynan dipped it into the Pool, filled it with the putrid water, and walking back to the center of the glade, raised it to his face.

The stench made his stomach roil. He steeled himself, then turned and faced each of the four quarters in turn, holding the bowl now out in front of him, saying the words of the ritual that would reveal the face of the one who had brought this evil to pass. When he was back in his original position, he once more raised it and blew a breath lightly across the surface of the liquid. The black water rippled. A face began to form as the silver bowl slowly turned black itself to match the corruption it now contained. Evaynan stared at what it showed him, then summoned light. With a blue flash, the bowl and its contents disappeared.

Somewhere, from the woods beyond the far side of the glade, a loud howl split the silence. Evaynan snarled as if in reply, but whirled and sprinted for the Stallion. He had stayed too long, after all, and the wolf things that the fouled waters of the Pool had created were approaching. As much as Evaynan needed a release for the rage that the vision had brought him, to face a pack alone right now would be sheer folly and certain death for them both. He leapt into the saddle and the stallion broke into a full run unbidden onto the path through the forest. Evaynan looked over his shoulder to see the first of the beasts race across the glade after them.

"Sha' anta!" He unfastened the bow that hung from his saddle next to a quiver of arrows. This was not one of the great Sithryn warbows but rather a smaller type that a mounted man could use even as he rode. Nocking an arrow, Evaynan turned, drew down at that first beast and let fly. The arrow caught the wolf thing full in the chest and knocked it sprawling. Its closest fellows stumbled over the body and the elf and his horse gained a bit more distance from the pack as they hurtled on their way. Five more times Evaynan loosed arrows, and four times more one of the pack fell out of the pursuit, hurt or dead.

The fifth time, the bowstring broke.

The elflord leaned low in the saddle, his eyes intent now on the path ahead. The stallion had not broken stride once, the path they rode so far having been flat and with few turns. But now they were approaching a winding stretch where it was more a road than a path, and with switch backs where the hunt might be able to draw closer by cutting through the woods beside it. Evaynan cursed himself, mentally begged the stallion's forgiveness for his carelessness, and drew his sword.

They were at a spot in the road where it curved to the left when three of the beasts hurtled out of the woods to the right. Evaynan's blade caved in the skull of one as its claws raked the side of the stallion. Once again they gained back a lead as the body crashed into another of the pack. Now the stallion showed another burst of the speed the Sithryn herd were famous for, and as the final pursuer drew closer, horse and rider rode out into the meadow known as the Fields of Dawn. An arrow flew by Evaynan's face back towards the path, and with a howl the last of the hunters fell dead to the ground.

"Are you alright, milord Evaynan?"

It was one of the herdboys. Evaynan searched for the name that went with the face, but failed. He nodded his thanks. "Aye." His voice was little more than croak. He slid out of the saddle to the ground, already examining the damage the claws had done to the stallion. Achai, the human boy who had replaced Brennus as Herdmaster, ran up to curse in his strange tongue and then murmur soothing words to the horse. When both he and Evaynan were satisfied the wound was not a serious one, the elflord once more apologized before the boy led the King Stallion away to be healed.

"Milord ?" It was the herdboy again.

"Did you find out what happened to the Pool?" Evaynanvathallion, Lord of the Green Silences, nodded. "Aye."

"It was my son."

10/2001