She heard them before she closed the door behind her, some whispering that she, too, would have to be forced out of town.
She ignored them. Her fight lay before her, not behind-with the rosy plague and not with her fellow townsfolk.
She found Jonno Drinks in bed, feverish and with those same hollow, pleading eyes that had faced her in Palmaris. She was surprised at how advanced the plague already seemed in the man, and wondered if he had been hiding it for a while-and feared the consequences to the rest of Dundalis if that was the case.
'One battle at a time,' she reminded herself, and she clutched the soul stone tightly, bringing forth its magic to free her from her corporeal form, and then spiritually diving right at the man.
An hour later, Pony sat on the floor beside Jonno Drinks' bed, thoroughly exhausted and sometimes slapping at her arms as if the little plague creatures were all about her. For all of her determination and all of her strength, she had done little to push back the plague in the man, she knew, and had once again nearly been overwhelmed.
The worst part was that she had believed she was making some progress at first, pushing through the green soup that was the plague, but then it had come at her, and viciously, and only her great power with the soul stone had kept the tiny demons at bay. A lesser gem user would have likely been overwhelmed byJonno's disease.
And so she believed that she had survived another encounter, but for Pony, that was hardly a victory.
She fell asleep right there, beside Jonno Drinks' bed.
She awoke many hours later, when the sun was low in the west. She felt somewhat refreshed and turned back to Jonno, soul stone in hand, thinking to do battle one more time.
She found the man resting comfortably, though, and decided against the course. Let him sleep and let her gather even more strength before the next fight. She must be better prepared for that fight, she realized; should find some answers between now and then. Pony pulled open the gemstone pouch and considered the myriad stones in there, searching for a combination, searching for some answer that would not come.
But then she thought of Elbryan and of Avelyn, of those heroes who had gone before, and she thought she knew where she might get some answers.
She came out of the house swiftly, wanting to get to Oracle before nightfall. The crowd was still there-nearly all the town now-waiting, waiting, like the specter of death itself.
'He dead?' one man asked.
Pony shook her head. 'We are fighting,' she replied, and she noted that every one of them fell back at her approach.
'He should be put out of town,' another man, farther in back, remarked.
Pony stopped and glared in his direction. 'Hear me well,' she said, her tone deathly cold. 'If you, if any of you, think to harm Jonno Drinks, or think to put him out of town, then I will hunt you down.'
'Easy, girl,' said Belster, coming forward through the mob and reaching out to take Pony's arm.
But she pulled away from him forcefully. 'I mean every word,' she warned. 'Leave him be, in his house. Surround the place with flowers, if that will bring you some measure of comfort, but do not harm him in any way.' The manner in which she spoke the words, so calmly, so determined, combined with that prominent gem pouch and that marvelous sword strapped on her hip, caused many a face to blanch. These people knew Jilseponie and knew her well-well enough to fear her should they provoke her wrath.
To heighten the effect, a moment later, powerful Symphony thundered into town, galloping down the road.
Pony looked at the horse with awe-it was as if he had read her mind, yet again, and had come rushing to her aid. She had to wonder how great the connection between her and Symphony had become, how powerful the magic of the turquoise set in the horse's breast truly might be.
Those were questions for another day. She grabbed Symphony by the mane and leaped up, rolling into position atop him.
And off they went. Pony didn't even have to guide the horse, for hf seemed to know her destination well. Before the sun went down, she wa; at the grove, at the little hollow at the base of the elm, settling in to talk witi the spirits.
She called to Elbryan, she called to Avelyn, but what she found instead whether in her mind or in that other dimension she believed existed behim the mirror, was an image of the world before the human kingdoms, preternatural world of great beasts and exotic plants, of ragged clans c men living under pine boughs or in caves: a world before the Abellica Church, before civilization itself. Before human civilization, for there were races far older than Man.
And there was something else, Pony realized as she examined that strange sensation of times long past: the rosy plague. It was older than the kingdoms, older than the Church, older than mankind.
Perhaps the answer lay in the past, in those whose memories were longer than the records of mankind.
Another image came to Pony then, but surely in her head, in her fairly recent memories, when she and Elbryan had camped on the side of a mountain in the west, staring down at an opaque veil of fog, with Andur'Blough Inninness, the valley of the Touel'alfar, hidden beyond it.
Later that night, back in her room at Fellowship Way in Dundalis, Pony went into the soul stone again, with all her strength-not to attack Jonno's plague this time, but to fly out across the miles, to the west, to the elves.
In mere minutes, she came to mountain passes she had walked once before, with Elbryan. Had she been walking now, she realized, she never would have found the specific trails to the well-hidden elven valley, but in her spiritual form, she was able to soar up past the peaks, getting a wide view of mountains majestic. Still, it took Pony a long, long time to sort out that maze of mountains, to find, nestled in one wide vale, a familiar opaque blanket of magical fog.
She went down to the mountain slope above that blanket and paused. She knew that the elves had set an enchantment upon the place to prevent unwanted visitors-and anyone who was n'Touel'alfar was considered an unwanted visitor! — but she had no idea if their magical wards extended into the realm of the spirit. She spent a long time studying that veil, and she did indeed sense danger there, even for her in this form.
Perhaps she could flow through the mountain, she thought, down through cracks in the stone that would bring her into the elven valley underneath the poisoned carpet of fog. She studied the rock beneath her, picking her path. Then she stopped abruptly, shifting her attention; for there, rising out of the fog, was the most beautiful creature she had ever seen, an elven woman with golden eyes and golden hair, with features angular yet soft, and perfectly symmetrical. She was dressed in flowing robes of the palest green, trimmed with golden lace, and a crown of thorns adorned her forehead. Pony knew before a word was spoken that this was Lady Dasslerond standing before her.
The elf held up her hand, and Pony saw the sparkle of a green gem within, and then she felt the waves of magic rolling over her spirit and body, as if the miles themselves were somehow contracting to bring her wholly to this place.
Pony knew that she could resist that magic, could fight back, and her instincts almost led her to do just that. But she held back and trusted in the fair Lady of Caer'alfar. A strange sensation washed over Pony, and she felt as if she were corporeal again-corporeal and standing on the slope just above the elven valley, hundreds of miles from Dundalis.
'I would have been disappointed it you did not seek us out,' Lady Dasslerond remarked. 'And I have been disappointed in you before, JilseponieWyndon.'
The words caught Pony off guard, and she looked at the elf curiously.
'Your actions in Palmaris were not unknown to me,' Dasslerond went on. 'I am not fond of assassins.'
Pony knew then that the elf had to be talking about her attempt on Markwart's life, a shot with the lodestone from a rooftop far away.
'Better for all the world if I had succeeded, then,' Pony replied without hesitation.
'But better for Jilseponie? '
'Better for Nightbird!' Pony retorted, and that seemed to set Dasslerond back on her pretty little heels a bit.
The elf paused, then nodded. 'I expect much from one who has learned bi'nelle dasada,' she said.
'I understand my responsibilities,' Pony replied. 'The sword dance will not be shared with anyone.'
