rise up before her like a spectre that wouldn’t be banished.
“Go away,” she muttered. “Leave me be. Go away.”
Her brother’s face smiled at her.
“Leave me in peace!” she screamed and sprang to her feet, drawing her flint knife as though she could fight off the strange, unnatural feelings assailing her.
With a shock, she found herself facing a stranger. A tall, thin figure with a high forehead stood only a few steps away from her blade. He recoiled so sharply that the long robes he wore whipped around his ankles.
“Stop!” he commanded.
Nianki kept her knife between them and demanded to know who he was.
He recovered himself quickly and adopted a calm, superior air. “Savages have short memories,” he said. “Don’t you know me, Karada?”
She still didn’t relax her posture, but it was obvious that her mind was working to place him. With a small smile, he lifted his hands and pushed back the hood he wore. The moon’s light limned his features with silver, including a wispy beard and tall, sharply pointed ears.
Surprised, Nianki backed away a step. “Elf!” she spat. “You were with Balif the day we fought on the plain. He called you…” Her troubled mind wouldn’t obey her. The name escaped her utterly.
“Vedvedsica,” he said coolly. “My name is Vedvedsica.”
Nianki wasn’t listening. Her head darted violently left and right. “Where are your troops?” she demanded. “Does Balif think to attack us as we sleep?”
“There are no troops,” he said. “There is no one but me.”
After a few more moments peering into the dark, she had to accept his words. “What do you want?”
“You.”
Her expression was so outraged the priest gave a dry laugh. “Calm yourself, savage,” he said. “I merely wish to take you on a journey.”
She backed away. “I’ll go nowhere with you.”
Vedvedsica shrugged. “You would cast aside an opportunity to know your enemy better? You aren’t much of a leader, are you?”
“What do you mean?”
“I offer you the chance to learn more about the Silvanesti. It will cost you nothing, not even time.”
She obviously didn’t understand, and he sighed. Slowly, as though speaking to a particularly dim-witted child, Vedved-sica said, “I will not harm you. I merely wish to show you the city of your enemy.” Stroking his wispy beard he added, “A true leader would not miss such an opportunity. Unless she were afraid to see the truth.”
His taunt penetrated her clouded thoughts. It was true her mind was a whirl of conflicting impressions and impulses, and she often found herself in places with no memory of how she got there. For all of that, she understood the elf’s slight to her courage, and it angered her.
Stiffening her spine, Nianki shoved her knife back into its sheath, pushed her tangled hair from her face, and said, “Show me, then.”
“Take my hand.”
She nearly balked again, but his expression — so condescending! — caused her to clench her jaw and obey. She wrapped her hand around his wrist. The cool dryness of his skin made her flinch, but a sudden blast of icy wind in her face was much more shocking. She squeezed her eyes shut to keep the dust out. It felt as though she were falling.
“Home.”
At his spoken word, Nianki opened her eyes and gasped. She was suspended in midair, hundreds of paces above the ground. The elf was by her side, and she still held his wrist. She was immensely grateful for the touch now. It seemed the only thing between her and a horrible death.
“Amazing, is it not?” Vedvedsica said calmly, looking around.
Nianki squinted in bright sunshine, though only seconds before it had been night in the orchard. Once her eyes had adjusted, she gathered her courage and turned her gaze slightly downward. It was enough to set her heart to pounding, and she closed her eyes.
“You won’t fall, savage.” His sarcastic comment forced her to open her eyes again.
“Where — ?” It came out as a croak, so Nianki swallowed and tried again. “Where are we?”
“Silvanost. The city of my master, Balif, and his master, the great Silvanos. You may be the first human ever to see it. Don’t squander the opportunity.”
Taking a deep breath, Nianki vowed to do as he said. She looked down. She was standing on stone so white it nearly blinded her to look at it. The marble was cool beneath her bare feet and just ahead of her it curved downward. Behind her the white stone stretched for a good distance, probably twenty paces at least.
“What is this?” With her free hand she gestured at the glossy marble platform.
“The Tower of the Stars.”
“Tower?” Nianki carefully edged her feet forward, toward the downward curving edge of the marble. Peering beyond the edge, she gasped.
She and the elf were standing atop a structure that must surely reach halfway to the sky. Its white marble sides stretched for a dizzying length to the ground far, far below.
Nianki slowly and carefully straightened herself again, fighting against the urge to clutch the elf’s arm with her free hand. When she was upright once more, she turned her gaze outward to take in her surroundings.
Now that she’d grown accustomed to the great height, her first impression was one of light. It glinted and sparkled and flashed from a thousand surfaces. All around this tower were other, smaller structures. They appeared to be made from white or milky stone and the sun’s light scintillated off them as though from a thousand polished blades. Quite a few of the structures looked complete — Nianki stopped counting after thirty — but nearly twice that number seemed to be still under construction.
It was astonishing. Amero’s village of Yala-tene represented the largest gathering of people Nianki had ever seen, yet this place, this Silvanost, was easily ten or more times the size of the humans’ village.
Looking past the ring of spires, Nianki saw the city was built on an island. Beyond the surrounding water lay a forest. It stretched away, green and dense, as far as the eye could see.
Strange — too strange. Not only had it been dark before and now was bright day, but the season had changed as well. It had been cold in the valley of the falls. She remembered the chill night air in the orchard. Had not the apple trees’ leaves turned brown already and fallen around her? Here the trees were clothed in their mid- summer foliage, not the bright colors of autumn.
Vedvedsica seemed to sense her growing confusion. With his free hand he squeezed her arm, saying sharply, “You tax my concentration! Be calm! There is great disorder in your thoughts.”
“You have no idea,” she muttered. His words acted as a tonic though, and her surroundings sharpened into focus.
Nianki saw the streets below fill with movement. The figures were made impossibly small by distance.
“Shall we move among them?”
She had no chance to reply to his question before they were dropping like stones. Though her fingers tightened convulsively on his wrist, Nianki stifled an urge to cry out. Vedvedsica, she was sure, would not let them be hurt.
Their plunge suddenly halted a few steps above the ground. Her heart pounded in her throat, and she threw the elf a furious glare. He paid her no heed whatsoever.
Three male elves nearly walked into Nianki. She stepped back out of their way, but they gave no sign they’d seen her.
As a pair of females approached, Vedvedsica planted himself directly in their path. Nianki was astonished to see the females pass through him as though he was made of smoke.
“How — ?” she began, then gave a violent shake of her head. Why question what was so obviously the work of great spirit-power?
They were graceful-looking people, she had to give them that. No taller than she, and many of them shorter, they somehow gave an impression of height. Their movements were easy and fluid. Their skin was paler than hers, their hair was mostly light-colored, ranging from sandy blond through pure snowy white. They wore flowing robes in a rainbow of bright colors.
