Mortalis

with his friends.'

'I had preparations-'

'The Juraviel I know would be askin' his friends for help, then, if his preparations were so important,' Bradwarden interrupted, as he came forward a few strides. 'The Juraviel I know wouldn't have left Pony and Belster on the road, but would've spent the extra couple o' days walkin' with them, whatever his lady Dasslerond might be needin'. So what're ye about, elf? Are ye to tell me or not? '

Juraviel thought on that for a long moment. 'You take care, Bradwarden,' he said in all seriousness. 'On the road south, I heard rumors of the rosy plague.'

'Oh, by the demons, ye say.'

' I know not if there is any truth to those words-more likely, they were the utterances of a gossiping fool and nothing more,' the elf went on. 'But I can ill afford to take the chance, any chance, of bringing the plague back to my people.'

Bradwarden shook his head in frustration, but then looked at Juraviel and nodded.

'You take care of Roger and Jilseponie, as well,' the elf said. 'I fear that if the rumors of plague prove true, then this might be the last time I see you-any of you. Know that if the land becomes ill with plague, the Touel'alfar will secure our borders and none will leave for many years.'

Again, Bradwarden merely nodded.

'Farewell,' Juraviel said.

'And to ye,' Bradwarden replied, and Belli'mar Juraviel left him there, in the forest that suddenly seemed all the darker.

Pony and Belster arrived in Dundalis right on schedule, the portly innkeeper driving the wagon and Pony riding Greystone. What a splendid sight she seemed to the folk of the Timberland community, many of whom owed their lives to the heroic deeds of this woman in the days of the demon armies. The whole town turned out to see the pair, cheering; and Pony, though embarrassed, felt indeed as if she had come home.

And leading all the cheers was Roger Lockless, his smile so wide that it seemed as if it would take in his ample ears.

'We've been waiting and waiting,' he explained. 'Belli'marJuraviel told us that he found you north of Caer Tinella, but I had hoped you would arrive sooner, give that strong horse of yours a bit of a workout.'

'An easy road, for we've nowhere else we need to be,' Pony answered. 'Just as I prefer.'

Roger's expression was curious for just a moment, but his smile soon returned. ' No one built upon the foundation of the old Howling Sheila,' he explained. 'We knew that you'd return.'

'Olwan Wyndon put down that foundation,' Pony answered, her voice somber. How well she remembered that particular place! When the monsters came to sack Dundalis, when Pony was but twelve years old, she had crawled under that foundation to escape the swords and spears and fire. She had emerged after the carnage, to find that all of the town, all of her family and all of her friends, were dead or missing. She and Elbryan alone had survived the catastrophe.

But Dundalis had been rebuilt, and that foundation had supported yet another structure, Bolster's Howling Sheila tavern.

And then Dundalis had been sacked again.

The memories showed Pony the best of human spirit, the resilience, the ability to fight on and on. Why wasn't she now feeling that way? Where was her fighting spirit, her willingness to accept the losses and rebuild everything?

Perhaps some things could not be recovered, she mused, staring at the foundation and wondering if perhaps she should not have come back to this place. Here was the legacy of the Howling Sheila, a foundation of cold stone; and out there, not so far away, was another legacy, a cairn of cold stone.

'Are you all right?' she heard Roger ask, but it seemed to her as if his words came from far, far away. 'Pony?'

She felt his hands on her shoulders, and only then understood that her shoulders were trembling, and that she was clammy and weak.

Then Belster was there beside her, holding her arm to support her.

Pony reached deep inside and shook away the fit. 'I should have eaten more at breakfast,' she said to Belster, smiling sheepishly.

The innkeeper looked at her and politely nodded, but Pony knew, of course, that he had seen right through her little lie. Belster had come to know her so very well over the last year, and he understood the source of her distress.

'Fetch some food!' Roger called to the townsfolk. 'As fine a meal as we can prepare.' He started to point out a couple of men to set to the task, but Pony put her arm on his and held it low. 'Later,' she said.

'Nonsense,' Roger argued. 'We will prepare the finest-'

'Later,' Pony said again, more forcefully. 'I have something I must do.'

'Are ye sure, girl?' Belster asked, and Pony turned back to face him, took a deep breath, and nodded.

'I'll start setting up, then,' Belster said.

'Roger will help you, I am sure,' Pony, who wanted to do this thing alone, replied, and she looked to Roger again and patted his arm, smiling.

Then she went to Greystone and pulled herself into the saddle. She headed out of town at a swift trot, up the north slope, then walked the horse slowly down the fairly steep incline into the pine groves and the thick white caribou moss.

When she came out the other side of that dell, she had Greystone at an eager canter, running through the forest.

'She's knowin' the woods as well as any,' Bradwarden insisted when a frantic Roger came to him later on, wailing that they had to find Pony. 'As well as any human might,' the centaur corrected with a sly wink.

'She's been gone for hours,' Roger explained.

'And I'm thinkin' that she'll be doin' many o' these little rides out alone over the next few weeks. Can ye no' guess where's she's gone to, boy, and can ye no' be figurin' why she wanted to go there alone? '

Roger looked at him curiously at first, but finally a light of recognition came over him.

'You are sure that she's all right? ' he asked.

'I'd be worryin' about any monsters that might've found the girl,' Bradwarden said with a hearty chuckle. 'Ye gived her back her gemstones, didn't ye?'

Roger's expression spoke volumes to the perceptive centaur.

'What're ye thinkin', boy?'

'I don't have them,' Roger admitted.

Now it was Bradwarden's turn to wear the confused expression. 'Ye said ye did,' the centaur protested. 'Ye even showed 'em to me!'

'I did have them, but they're gone!' Roger tried to explain.

'Gone?'

'I had them a few days ago, but I woke up one morning to find my pouch empty.'

'Ye're sayin' ye lost a clutch o' magic that could flatten a fair-sized town? ' Bradwarden cried. 'Ye lost a clutch o' gems that a hunnerd merchants'd willingly give over all their gold to get their hands on? '

'I had them, and then I did not,' Roger insisted.

'And ye didn't think to say anythin' when the thief might still be about? ' Bradwarden roared at him.

'I think I know who took them,' Roger replied quietly. 'Well, we'll go and have a talk with the…' The centaur stopped, catching a hint of what might be going on here. 'When d'ye say ye lost the damn things?'

'Three mornings ago.'

'The night after…' Bradwarden paused and shook his head. It made no sense. Juraviel? Their elven friend stole Pony's gemstones?

'Either Juraviel took them or someone else stole up the hillock that night after we had gone to sleep,' Roger insisted.

Truly, Bradwarden had no answers for that. He knew well enough that no one had come up that hillock to steal from Roger. And yet, unless the man was lying, those gemstones had disappeared on that very night-the very night Belli'mar Juraviel made his hasty retreat from the region.