The Coral Kingdom

Alicia remained silent. She had sensed the same threat as her mother, and it comforted her somewhat to know that she was not alone in her apprehensions. Nevertheless, she didn't know what she could do to open a door of communication with her aloof sibling.

Robyn strolled along the shore of the shallow pond, as if looking for something on the ground. 'Here,' said the High Queen finally. 'I placed this here this morning to let the blessings of the goddess surround it.'

The High Queen knelt at the edge of the pool and lifted up a long shaft that had lain in the shadows. Rising and turning, she offered it to Alicia.

'Your staff?' questioned the younger woman. 'But surely you'll need it now!'

Robyn raised a hand. 'Not my staff. Yours.'

'But-'

'This is a changestaff. I made it for you in honor of your accomplishments. It may aid you in your service to the goddess.'

Alicia touched the wood, which was smooth and vaguely warm beneath her fingertips. A sense of wonder overwhelmed her. The surface was carved intricately in the design of a leafy tendril that coiled about the staff over its entire length.

'It's beautiful,' she breathed. 'I'll cherish it more than anything I know.'

'When you need an ally, plant the base of the staff in the ground. Use the command word 'Phyrosyne'.'

'What will it do?' Alicia wondered.

'You'll see. It's not what the staff does, but what the goddess does through the agent of the wood.' The queen's smile was wistful, and Alicia waited for her to continue. 'I fear you'll need it, and much more, in the days and weeks to come.'

'But Father lives! Doesn't he?' The disturbing fear that the ambassador might have been lying pushed its way to the forefront of Alicia's mind, but angrily she forced it back. 'He must be alive! Can't you tell somehow?'

'Aye, Daughter. I believe that I can.' Robyn sighed, sinking to a stone bench beside the pool. Alicia sat beside her. 'I didn't realize it at first. When the news came that the ship was lost and everyone had drowned, I tried to accept the fact that Tristan was dead. There could be no other explanation, no other real hope.

'Yet as the days and weeks went by, I couldn't bring myself to believe it. I dreamed about him almost every night, and there was something so real about those dreams that I came to believe that he must be alive somewhere.

'Now this messenger comes, with these claims that they hold the High King prisoner, and I find it all too easy to believe.'

'Then you must have faith, Mother!' Alicia insisted. 'He's lived this long, and when I get to Synnoria I promise that I'll find a way to go after him!'

Robyn smiled, forcing her expression to brighten. 'I believe you, my daughter-and more than that, I will help.'

'What do you mean?'

'Tomorrow, when you begin your journey along the Corwell Road in search of the Llewyrr, I intend to ride with you.'

During the long afternoon and evening, Deirdre watched the preparations of her sister's party in the mirror of scrying. She viewed the scene with the same wry amusement with which she had greeted the images of the disrupted festival. She kept the fact of her spying crystal a secret, spending long hours secluded in her room while she observed the activities around the castle in the glass.

Then, when Alicia, the queen, and their companions rode through the gate in the morning, she amused herself by watching their progress, trying to imagine the substance of their undoubtedly trivial conversations. The mirror provided no sound for the scene being observed.

Eventually she tired of this eavesdropping and turned back to her books. She went about her own business, relieved that the burden of court and council could be delayed to some nebulous future hour. Deirdre had brought several tomes with her, carried in a large sack over her shoulder, and she spread these on the desk near the room's window. Bright sunshine flooded the land of Corwell, and in its light, she would be able to read easily.

She returned to a book she had started the day before, a treatise on travel-both voluntary and involuntary- through the ethereal stuff that connected the planes of existence. Her nimble mind absorbed each detail, recognizing where the writer overextended his arguments and where he had touched upon a real germ of truth.

As she progressed through the book, the sun sank into the west and the household servants brought her some food and lit several candles for her reading. The former remained untouched and the latter burned low as the princess learned more, and more, and more.

The supple bay raced along Corwell Road, and Alicia gave the horse her head. Her companions trailed along the smooth surface of the highway, riding at the easy lope that for two days had carried them across central Corwell. Hanrald led the way, alternately lumbering forward on his huge war-horse or probing possible places of concealment along the road to either side, while Alicia and Robyn alternately raced, trotted, or walked. Keane, Brandon, Pawldo, and Tavish followed at a more sedate pace, trailing some distance behind the others for hours at a time.

The journey to the borders of Synnoria would take three or four days. The first part of the trip followed good roads, but for the last day or two they must branch off the highway and enter the rougher country of the highlands. Once there, they intended to seek some entry into the elven realm. Alicia was determined not to worry about that problem until it confronted them.

The companion who had most surprised Alicia rode at the side of the princess: the High Queen herself. The younger woman had not expected that her mother would want to accompany the party, yet now, as they rode together, Alicia couldn't imagine traveling without her.

Her mother had seemed like a new woman since the start of the journey. Years of age seemed to melt away from her, and she rode with a spirit almost equal to Alicia's, who was quite skilled as a horsewoman. Robyn carried her own staff lashed to the saddle behind her and wore a plain silver torque around her neck, the symbol of her status as Great Druid.

Both of them rode with renewed hopes, however tenuous. For the first time since Tristan's disappearance, they had a course of action to follow; they could do something besides sit around and grieve. The challenges of their quest remained daunting, to be sure, but both mother and daughter felt confident that they would be able to deal with any obstacles that might arise.

Rather than tiring, the horses had seemed to gain in strength and excitement as each day passed. Now, in the late morning of the third day, Alicia knew they must soon turn off the wide road, following the winding vale that the High Queen had described.

Soon they found the turn, marked by a hill called Freeman's Down. That night they made camp in a high valley, where an unseasonably chill wind scoured the ground and whistled through the trees. They built a great fire and huddled around its warmth, each of them wrapped within private thoughts, weighing their chances for success or failure.

'Somewhere along here, off to our right, will be the valley that Tristan, Pawldo, and I came down when we left Synnoria,' Robyn told them, describing as best she could her experiences of twenty summers before. 'I'm not sure that I'll recognize it, though. We might have to try a few different routes.'

'One of them will take us there-I'm sure of it!' Alicia proclaimed, and the others found her confidence heartwarming, but not necessarily contagious.

'It can't be that hard to find,' suggested Hanrald. 'After all, Gwynneth itself isn't very big, and we're talking about a good-sized, populous valley located in a specific range of highlands!'

'It's not the size of Synnoria that gives it concealment,' argued Tavish heatedly. 'It has more to do with the nature of the place. Legends say that a person can walk straight toward it, and then turn aside without even taking notice of the fact that he is near it. You'll walk past and never know that you've missed it.'

'But surely farmers and herdsmen around here must have some kind of idea!' objected Alicia.