Elvenborn

estate, my Lord, and that of Lady Morthena. If anything should threaten them, we'll know, and we'll be able to evacuate as many or as few people need to be gotten out.' She dimpled. 'And may I say, that is quite a celebration your people are putting on! I'd like to ask your mother if she would organize one for us, some day, when things are—more stable.'

Kyrtian felt a great weight lift from his shoulders, but Lashana's next words made him tense again. 'A certain Lady Triana—' she arched her brow at him, and he nodded grimly his acknowledgement that he knew the Lady, '— paid another, very short visit to Lady Morthena after you left. She claimed that she wished to consult Lady Morthena's favorite library, and indeed, she left again within a few hours. She arrived and departed by means of a temporary Gate set up just outside the Lady's estate. I don't suppose you can cast any light on what she was looking for?'

Kyrtian shook his head reluctantly. 'I haven't a clue. But knowing Triana, it can't be for anyone's good but her own.'

Lashana snorted. 'Believe me, I know. I've had—some expe­rience of the Lady myself.'

'My condolences.' That response startled a smile from her.

'The army—minus your contribution of troops—has moved nearer to the trade-city of Prethon, where it's easier to supply. I'm assuming that in the absence of an actual place to put them permanently, that's where they'll stay, camped just outside the city walls.' Lashana's green eyes twinkled. 'Which is, of course, precisely where we'd like them, as far from our new Citadel as possible, which was why we suggested this place as the location of the imaginary Wizards. Even if they decided you weren't moving fast enough for them, this is miserable country to try and do any hunting of invisible people in, and the place is absolutely hollow with caves. You could spend a century trying to hunt through them all!'

'Actually—I wanted to ask you about that, Lashana,' Kyrtian said hesitantly. 'Do you have the time to hear some history?'

When she nodded, he launched into the story—as he had puzzled it out—of the Ancestors' arrival in this world, and fol­lowed it with the more personal tale of his father's own interest in that arrival and the things that might have been left behind. 'So the last place where he was doing research before he disap­peared was Lady Moth's library—and that was where I found some personal journals that gave descriptions that sounded like this area—' He waved his hand at the dripping forest beyond the camp. 'You must admit that it's pretty distinctive. And the very few passages that described the Crossing made me think that the Ancestors might have come out into a cave, and not aboveground as everyone has always assumed. Then when we staged at Lord Cheynar's,' he concluded triumphantly, 'Lord Cheynar admitted that my father had gone off into these forests, and that he was probably the last Elvenlord to see my father alive!'

Lashana pursed her lips thoughtfully. 'That—that's interest­ing. You know, I discovered that Wizards, at least, can use gem-stones to help concentrate and amplify their powers. I don't

know if they'll work for Elvenlords that way, but it stands to reason that if our powers can be amplified by something, so can yours.'

'I can't see any other way that the Ancestors could have built the things that they did,' he admitted. She tilted her head to the side.

'It's a very good thing that I trust you, Lord Kyrtian,' she said in a measured tone. 'Otherwise I don't think I could allow you to leave these woods alive.'

Lynder leapt to his feet, his hand on his dagger-hilt, and the others weren't far behind. Lashana appeared unconcerned.

And she probably has good reason to be. She'd be a fool to have come here alone, and no matter what the Elvenbane is, no one has ever suspected her of being a fool.

'Sit down, all of you,' he said mildly. 'Don't you realize what a horrible menace would be let loose in the world if some­one like Aelmarkin got his hands on a way to make himself as strong as Lord Kyndreth? She's only speaking sense.'

She made a little gesture of thanks in his direction. 'Now, there's one other thing I'd like to show you, something my peo­ple will shortly be handing out to Moth's and yours, among others, then distributing covertly among the field-slaves.' She held out a little object, shaped rather like an open clamshell, of a dull grey metal. He started to reach for it, and she hastily pulled it back.

'Don't touch it, Lord Kyrtian!' she warned. 'At least, not with your bare hand! That's what you call Death Metal—forged iron.'

He hastily drew back his fingers. He'd touched unprotected steel before, in the shape of one of the iron collars that Moth's own slaves wore under their pseudo-slave collars, and it had burned him like acid. He was in no hurry to repeat the experi­ence.

'I brought an active slave-collar with me to show you what it does,' she continued. 'Watch—with your magic-senses.' She took out a leather slave-collar set with a cloudy beryl, which was, indeed, active. She fitted the back half of the clamshell de-

vice behind the beryl, then snapped the top half over it, and nipped a catch to squeeze it closed and lock it.

The Elfstone went dead to his senses. He looked at her hand, with the dull-grey object locked around what had been an ac­tive device for the complete control of a slave, dumbfounded. Then he looked up into her knowing eyes.

'Ancestors—' he breathed. 'You've done it. You've found a way—snap one of those over a collar-stone, and you can cut the collar right off without hurting the slave!'

'Or leave the collar on, it won't matter, and any magic that an overseer flings at a fleeing slave will simply misfire,' she pointed out, barely concealing her glee. 'We have the iron, we have the craftsmen, and we have the ways to get these into the hands of the slaves. Within months, your Young Lords and my Wizards will be the last things that the Great Lords will be wor­rying about!'

'Slave revolts—' murmured Shalvan, wonderingly.

'All over the estates,' Lashana agreed. 'Which is why I'm here with you. Every moment of time that you can buy us with your wizard-hunting will enable us to make that many more of these devices, and bring the moment of freedom for all humans that much closer.'

'At which point, my lord,' Lynder pointed out diffidently, 'Our people will also be the very last thing that the Great Lords will be worrying about.'

'Except that—if you and yours can pull this off, Lashana—' he bared his teeth in a feral grin, the recollection of the stories he'd heard from the mistreated slaves sheltering with Moth fresh in his mind '—you may consider my estate to be the train­ing ground for a new human army!'

He held out his hand; she clasped it joyfully, as his men made the sounds of subdued cheering—even now, they didn't want to arouse the attention of things that might be out there in the darkness.

'Lord Kyrtian—' she seemed to be searching for words, then gave up altogether, and just shook her head, her face radi­ant with smiles. 'Thank you—seems inadequate.'

'It's early days yet,' he warned, as the men settled down, al­though he could not help but feel a little intoxicated with the heady intellectual wine she had just poured for him. 'We've a long way to go.'

'So we have.' She sobered as well, and started to stow the iron device and the collar in her belt-pouch, then evidently thought better of it and handed it to Lynder. 'Here. If you've got crafters and a source of Death Metal, you might want to start duplicating these yourself.'

Lynder nodded, and stowed the device away.

'Now—about the caves and your father—I think I might be able to help narrow your search a little. You see,