time, irrelevant to the Aglarond the Simbul ruled from Velprintalar. Now, looking out through Chayan SilverBranch's eyes, she felt the sad yearning of forgotten gods.
'I am not so certain I should go closer,' she said, for Halaern's ears alone. 'This is a Cha'Tel'Quessir place. It belongs to the Cha'Tel'Quessir alone.' Alassra heard her own words: she had missed a turning point somewhere in her own mind. The Cha'Tel'Quessir weren't half-anything; they were fully themselves with a unique heritage and a destiny that could not be assumed by either humans or the Tel'Quessir.
Halaern studied her, a ghost of a smile playing with the corners of his mouth. 'I am very glad you came back to the Yuirwood, cousin.'
Other words would have been unnecessary and unwise. The Cha'Tel'Quessir around them had accepted the forester's sudden appearance, but their opinions of Chayan SilverBranch hadn't changed since she'd said that Zandilar the Dancer had healed Rizcarn's son. They accepted her as they might not accept Aglarond's queen.
They were fifty paces short of the Sunglade's outer ring, with Rizcarn some ten paces ahead of them, when Rizcarn stumbled again and, this time, fell to the ground.
'The Yuirwood expressing its opinion?' Alassra asked, breaking into a run.
Halaern remained behind, using his position as forester and elder of a most respected tree-family to keep the other eight Cha'Tel'Quessir from crowding his queen as she looked for signs of Red Wizardry. The Simbul was grateful, but she wanted his opinion.
'Cousin?'
He knelt beside her. 'What is it?'
'A man asleep, as near as I can tell. That gash on his face wants mending and I haven't wanted to touch it for fear of tipping my hand, as it were.'
'You wish me to try?'
Alassra nodded. The forester's healing talents were enhanced by the circlet she'd given him, but not derived from it. All the foresters practiced a form of simple druidry unique to the Yuirwood and effective within its bounds. Halaern laid his hands on either side of the gash, near Rizcarn's temples. He closed his eyes a moment, then sat back on his heels, frowning.
'This is Rizcarn,' he whispered. 'Once dead and crazy as a magpie in spring, but Rizcarn all the same. We've suspected him wrongly, my lady.'
'I think otherwise, cousin. I think whatever had a hold of him has let go-for good. What bothers me is I have no idea to whom or what we owe this bit of good fortune. I was hoping you'd detect a Cha'Tel'Quessir god's hand moving through his thoughts.'
'He serves Relkath, my lady. It is a thankless service. The gods of the Yuirwood-' Halaern shrugged. 'Some things are best left asleep. Do you wish me to heal his face and arm?'
Flesh knit together under the forester's capable fingers, leaving jagged scars that would fade with time. Rizcarn hadn't moved during the healing nor when they called his name. They were exchanging worried glances again and the Cha'Tel'Quessir were creeping closer when Rizcarn's eyes fluttered open. He sat up too quickly and fell back with a groan. Halaern leapt to his feet and, spreading his arms, kept the Cha'Tel'Quessir at a distance while Alassra waited until Rizcarn was ready to sit again, then stand.
'How are you feeling?'
Rizcarn pursed his lips and gave the question evident thought. 'Better.'
He cocked his head, staring at the woman who had helped him. Once before he'd stared at Chayan, and the Simbul had looked away, fearing that his dark eyes could pierce her deceptions. She had no similar sense this time, though it was obvious Rizcarn was recalling memories and reorganizing his thoughts. He let out his breath with a weary sigh.
'I have not been myself, Chayan SilverBranch. These have been terrible days. Terrible, terrible days since Relkath told me where to find my son with Zandilar's Dancer.'
Alassra was inclined to agree, but surprised that he saw events the same way. 'Your son is missing, taken, we think, by Red Wizards from Thay.' She watched for Rizcarn's reaction.
'A terrible thing. Yes. Such a man waited for me, a Red Wizard from Thay. I killed him, but that wasn't enough. He became part of me. I turned to Relkath, but there was nothing Relkath could do, so I did what I was meant to do while Relkath found a way to free me.'
'Now, as we drew close to the Sunglade, Relkath overcame the Red Wizard's influence?' It was not an explanation the Simbul had considered.
'I am myself again. I am here at the Sunglade with the Cha'Tel'Quessir. I have done Relkath's work and he has rewarded me. There is no doubt in my mind, Chayan SilverBranch. How can there be doubt in yours? You serve Zandilar; I see her presence within you. Through you, she healed my son-' Rizcarn took Alassra's arm and pulled her closer so he could whisper in her ear. 'Relkath forgives you for last night, during the storm. He was only trying to free me. You should not have fought him.'
Alassra smiled. 'I didn't know,' she said and nodded awkwardly when he released her arm. Rizcarn was, as Halaern said, 'Once dead and crazy as a magpie in spring.' He was, however, as much himself as he was ever likely to be and-for whatever reason, with whatever help-free of Thayan influence.
He took her arm again, suddenly and tightly. 'Lanig… Lanig! Relkath, forgive me! I killed my friend Lanig because he guessed I was not myself.'
The Simbul pried herself loose. 'That is between you and Relkath.'
'Yes. Yes, you're right. I will listen to the trees. There is still time. The moon won't rise until the sky is dark. Zandilar won't come until midnight. There's time. I will tell the others what they must do.'
Rizcarn moved out of her shadow. He took a few steps toward Halaern and the others, then stopped, staring at the forester as if he hadn't expected to see him.
'Trovar YuirWood, old friend, why are you here?' Rizcarn's tone belied his greeting.
Halaern separated from the other Cha'Tel'Quessir. 'I go where I'm needed. I was needed here.'
'This is not your path, Trovar YuirWood. You chose a different one a long time ago. Giving that crown to your cousin changes nothing in your heart, Trovar YuirWood. You don't belong here.'
To Alassra's surprise, her friend simply nodded and started walking away. She called him back, the verdigrised circlet in her outstretched hand. He replaced it on his brow.
I would rather you stayed. There's no telling what he'll do without the Red Wizard keeping him sane! Alassra meant the words in jest, though there was truth in them.
He serves Relkath, my lady. I serve you. The breach cannot be spanned. I won't be far.
The Simbul watched him go, wondering if every Cha'Tel'Quessir had to work out his or her personal relationship with the Yuirwood gods, just like every human and every elf. When Rizcarn muttered, 'Good riddance!' at the forester's shadow she lost her infamous temper.
'We needed him!' she shouted, then-remembering that Rizcarn thought she served Zandilar-she added. 'I needed him. Who will dance with me? Who will ride my damned horse?'
Rizcarn was unperturbed. 'Wait. Be patient. Relkath will provide.'
Alassra Shentrantra did not wait well. She had never mastered patience. She went into the forest to seal herself in silence and prepare the spells she thought she might need later in the evening. That didn't take much time; she was always prepared for trouble. Her eight Cha'Tel'Quessir companions, whatever their other virtues-and she was certain they must have some-were as interesting as the sky on a cloudless day. Halaern was out in the laurel. Bro was imprisoned, enduring torment only a zulkir would imagine. And Rizcarn was sitting in the middle of the inner stone circle, once again aglow with a silver-green aura. By Alassra's best guess, the moon was still several handspans below the eastern horizon. She'd begun to wonder how long it would take one of Mystra's immortal Chosen to die of sheer boredom.
She counted the stars as they appeared in the twilight sky. There were three hundred and twenty-two when Rizcarn hoisted himself to his feet.
'The 'Glade,' he announced, 'is ready. We are ready to dance for Zandilar.'
Truth to tell, Alassra Shentrantra wasn't much of a dancer, either. Court dances with their pattern steps were worse than boring and the ecstatic dancing Rizcarn described asked too much of a wizard who enjoyed spontaneity
