things for fear of causing ruin?'
Tip fell silent and Phais stood looking at the emerging stars-more to the east, where the sky was darkest, than in the still glowing west. Then she took a deep breath and gazed down at the wee buccan. 'Thou hast asked if all things are linked, to which I say, indeed.' Tip groaned, but Phais did not pause. 'If not directly then, as thou hast said, through chains long and short. But e'en were there no chain whatsoever, still would all things be conjoined, or so I believe, for ultimately do not all things spring from a common source: the Great Creator Himself?
'Yet though all things are connected, events here or there need not result in disaster; good can result as well as ill. Too. events occur which seem to lead to nothing at all.
'Hear this: had the dandelion seed instead been one of flax carried aloft not by the wind but rather by a bird, and had it fallen on fertile ground far away, and years later had people discovered the resulting field, then they could create fine linen and linseed oil and their lives would be better for it.
'And so dost thou see that events here can bring benefit there?'
'Yes,' said Tip, 'I can see that.'
'Then think on this: some events are driven by erratic chance, while others are deliberate. We do not control those which are haphazard, but we do have a say over choices we intentionally make. Those are the ones I bid thee to consider, for choices made are much like stones cast in a vast pond, the resulting ripples moving outward in an ever widening circle, causing echoes in all they touch.
'Yet as the ripples widen, their effect diminishes the farther they travel.'
'Yes,' said Tip, 'but it is also true that the greater the stone, the greater the waves created, no matter the distance.'
Phais nodded. 'Indeed, thou art right. Each event is a stone cast in the water-some large, some small, some nearby, some distant-and the resulting waves and wavelets cross and recross in complex patterns-strengthening here, weakening there, diminishing with distance. Sometimes even the weakest of waves, no matter how far they have traveled, come together to spark an event which will ultimately lead to great harm-a dandelion seed, a wee mouse, a small dislodged stone, and rocks balanced precariously on the slopes of a mountain above a village. At other times strong waves in places, no matter how close, completely annul one another-tyrant slaying tyrant, where neither survive to crush the conquered. Yet for the most part we cannot know how deliberate choices will eventually interact with one another or how chance events will come into play, for there are too many, the pattern too complex, to have certainty in the outcome.
'Adding here, subtracting there, the intermingled ripples and echoes and patterns can lead to peace and plenty or to famine and war, to lofty joys or deep frustrations, to amiable comfort or petty worry, to gentle convenience or feeble bother, to a fleeting smile or a momentary frown, or can result in ends which have little or no lasting effects one way or the other, for the pebble cast into the water was too small, or the wave too diminished by distance.'
Tip growled. 'You mean, Lady Phais, that no matter how well intentioned our choices, the outcome may be unexpectedly bad?'
Phais smiled. 'Or mayhap unexpectedly benevolent.'
Again Tipperton groaned, saying, 'Well, if we can't tell, why choose at all?'
'Because we must,' replied Phais, 'else evil will triumph through our inactions.'
They stood a moment in brooding silence, and then Phais added, 'This I will say, Sir Tipperton: mayhap in the majority of choices one cannot predict with any certainty whether a given decision will result in great good or great ill, or in lesser good or ill, or become so insubstantial that the effects vanish altogether.
'This does not diminish in any way the truth that all things are related, for it is in the nature of the Great Creator to make them so-some forged with links virtually unbreakable; others with links tenuous at best.
'And so, my friend, whether by choice or by chance, events can lead to good or ill… or perhaps to nothing at all.
'As to those we choose, we can only hope the choices we make are worthy and do not lead toward ill. But for those events which overtake us-be they random or driven by the choice of another-it is how we respond to them which may help determine the nature and degree of what will come about in the end.'
Phais fell silent, and Tip stood long without speaking, but at last he said, 'To what ends, I wonder, will our choices bring us?'
'That, my wee one, I cannot say.' After a while, Phais returned to the camp, leaving Tip in the dark alone.
Although Elves pay little heed to the passage of time, of days and weeks and even months, seeming to note only the passing of the seasons, still they know at all times where stands the Sun, Moon, and stars. And at the appropriate time Tipperton was relieved in his watch by Loric.
Loric in turn was relieved by Phais, and she in turn awakened Beau for his stand at ward.
'Huah,' said Beau as he and Tip tied thongs 'round the bedrolls, 'ripples and waves crossing and recrossing, I never thought of it that way.'
Beau tied another knot, then added: 'Modru has dropped a vast boulder in the water, and a frightful wave rolls outward. We can only hope it doesn't drown the world.'
Three more days they bore southward, riding parallel to and fifteen or so miles west of the Old Way, a north-south trade route running down the western side of the Grimwall Mountains. The land they passed through was rough, high moor with sparse trees and barren thickets and lone giants, many now setting forth new green leaves in the crisp spring air. In the folds of the land grew brush and brambles, and here and there winter snow yet lingered down in the shaded recesses 'neath ledges. Yet the route they followed was rugged, and slowly across the upland they went, bearing ever southward, and only occasionally did they see signs of animal life: birds on the wing afar, heading for more bountiful realms; an occasional hare; and once a distant fox. But for the most the harsh land was meager of game of any kind.
Five days past they had left the Elvenholt in the northernmost reaches of Arden Vale, some forty leagues behind. Although they had covered nearly sixty miles the first two days after setting forth, they were now moving only twenty or so miles a day out on the open wold, for the land was hard and they would not press their steeds beyond the pace they could sustain in the long days to come.
The seventh day on the open wold, they turned at last toward the Old Way-a road Alaria had said was patrolled by Foul Folk-for a westward spur of the Grimwall Mountains stood out across the route, and they would have to gamble on passing unseen along the road through a wide gap in the low chain ahead.
Tip and Beau readied their weapons and scanned the countryside, for they were come to a dangerous pass, and if Ghulen patrols or Rucks and such roamed it, the way would be filled with risk. Yet with sharp Elven eyes to guide them, likely any movement would be seen by Lian ere the reverse occurred, though if the Foul Folk lay in ambush…
Southward they went, through rising hill country, another ten miles before coming to the Old Way where it first entered the wide gap. No enemy did they see, though the way seemed churned by many feet tramping.
'A Horde,' said Loric, remounting.
'The one from Dhruousdarda,' said Phais. She turned in her saddle. 'Keep a sharp eye, Sir Tipperton, Sir Beau, for somewhere ahead lies a Swarm.'
Into the gap they went, eyes alert, nerves taut, Tip's heart beating rapidly. He looked at Beau to find that War-row nervously loading and unloading his sling. They rode another two leagues, and the land began to fall, the close hills spreading out, while the route they followed swung southeastward, rounding the side chain and heading for the Quadran through rising hill country.
'Well, my friends,' said Loric, 'it appears there was no trap, and mayhap the danger is past, for the land opens up and we can leave this abandoned road once more.' Then he turned to Phais. 'Even so, we must return to this route ere we come to Quadran Pass, for from it rises the single road which lies across that col.'
Phais nodded, then said, 'Let us pray that the Horde has not captured that way as well.'
Southeasterly they rode, another five miles or so, but evening drew nigh, and so out of sight in the shelter of a hollow they set their nightfall camp.
'Another day's ride should see us to the foot of Quadran Pass,' said Loric. 'And then the following day we'll
