TREETOPS, EQUILAN

“Zifnab, you’re back!” Cried Lenthan Quindiniar.

“I am?” said the old man, looking extremely startled.

Running out onto the porch, Lenthan grabbed Zifnab’s hand and shook it heartily. “And Paithan!” he said, catching sight of his son. “Blessed Orn! No one told me. Do your sisters know?”

“Yes, Guvnor. They know.” The elf gazed at his father in concern. “Have you been well, sir?”

“And you brought guests?” Lenthan switched his vague, shy smile to Roland and Rega. The one, nursing his injured cheek, nodded sullenly. The other, moving to stand near Paithan, clasped hold of his hand. The elf put his arm around her and the two stood together, staring at Lenthan defiantly.

“Oh, my,” murmured Lenthan, and began to pluck at the tails of his topcoat. “Oh, my.”

“Father, listen to the trumpet calls.” Paithan placed a hand on his father’s thin shoulder. “Terrible things are happening. Did you hear? Did Callie tell you?”

Lenthan glanced around, as if he would be very glad to change the subject, but Zifnab was staring off into the wilderness with a pensive frown. And there was a dwarf, crouched in a corner, chewing on bread and cheese that Paithan had gone into the kitchen to acquire. (It had become fairly obvious that no one intended inviting them in for luncheon.)

“I ... believe your sister mentioned something—but the army has everything under control.”

“They don’t, Father. It’s impossible. I’ve seen these fiends! They destroyed the dwarven nation. Thillia is gone, Father! Gone! We’re not going to stop them. It’s like the old man said—doom and destruction.”

Lenthan squirmed, twisting his coattails into knots. He lowered his eyes to the wooden slats of the porch. Those, at least, were safe, weren’t going to spring any surprises on him.

“Father, are you listening?” Paithan gave his father a slight shake.

“What?” Lenthan blinked up at him, smiled anxiously. “Oh, yes. A fine adventure you’ve had. That’s very nice, dear boy. Very nice, indeed. But now why don’t you come in and talk to your sister. Tell Callie you’re home.”

“She knows I’m home!” Paithan exclaimed, frustrated. “She forbid me the house, Father. She insulted me and the woman who is going to be my wife! I will not enter that house again!”

“Oh, dear.” Lenthan looked from his son to the humans to the dwarf to the old man. “Oh, dear.”

“Look, Paithan,” said Roland, coming to stand beside the elf, “you’ve been home, you’ve seen your family. You did your best to warn them. What happens now isn’t any of your concern. We’ve got to hit the trail, if we’re going to clear out of here ahead of the tytans.”

“And where will you go?” demanded Zifnab, head snapping up, chin jutting forward.

“I don’t know!” Roland shrugged, glanced at the old man, irritated. “I’m not that familiar with this part of the world. Maybe the Fartherness Reaches. That’s to the est, isn’t it? Or Sinith Paragna—”

“The Farthemess Reaches have been destroyed, its people massacred,” stated Zifnab, eyes glittering beneath his white bushy brows. “You might elude the tytans for a time in the jungles of Sinith Paragna but eventually they would find you. And then what would you do, boy? Keep running? Run until you’re backed up against the Terinthian Ocean? Will you have time to build yourself a ship to cross the water? And even then it would be only a matter of time. Even then they will follow you.”

“Shut up, old man! Just shut up! Either that, or tell us how we’re going to get out of here!”

“I will,” snapped Zifnab. “There’s only one way out.” He lifted a finger. “Up.”

“To the stars!” At last it seemed to Lenthan that he understood. He clasped his hands together. “It’s like you said? I lead my people—”

“—forth!” Zifnab carried on enthusiastically. “Out of Egypt! Out of bondage! Across the desert! Pillar of fire—”

“Desert?” Lenthan looked anxious again. “Fire? I thought we were going to the stars?”

“Sorry.” Zifnab appeared distraught. “Wrong script. It’s all these last-minute changes they make in the text. Gets me quite muddled.”

“Of course!” Roland exclaimed. “The ship! To hell with the stars! It will fly us across the Terinthian Ocean. ...”

“But not away from the tytans!” struck in the old man testily. “Haven’t you learned anything, child? Wherever you go on land in this world, you will find them. Or rather they will find you. The stars. That is the only place of safety.”

Lenthan stared up into the sun-drenched sky. The bright lights shone steadfastly, serenely, far above blood and terror and death. “I won’t be long, my dear,” he whispered.

Roland plucked Paithan by the sleeve, drew him aside, over to the house, near an open window.

“Look,” he said. “Humor the crazy old geezer. Stars! Pah! Once we get inside that ship, we’ll take it wherever we want to go!”

“You mean we’ll take it wherever that Haplo wants to go.” Paithan shook his head. “He’s strange. I don’t know what to make of him.”

Absorbed in their worries, neither man noticed a delicate white hand lay hold of the window curtain, draw it slightly to one side.

“Yeah, well, neither do I,” Roland admitted. “But—”

“And I don’t want to tangle with him! I saw him knock that tree trunk out of that tytan’s hand like it was nothing but a piece of straw! And I’m worried about my father. The guvnor’s not well. I’m not sure he can make this crazy trip.”

“We don’t have to tangle with Haplo! All right, then we’ll just go wherever he takes us! My bet is he’s not going to be all-fired hot to chase off to the stars.”

“I don’t know. Look, maybe we won’t have to go anywhere. Maybe our army can stop them!”

“Yeah, and maybe I’ll sprout wings and fly up to the stars myself!”

Paithan cast the human a bitter, angry glance and stalked off, moving down to the end of the porch. Standing by himself, he pulled a flower from a hibiscus bush and began ripping the petals apart, moodily tossing them into the yard. Roland, intent on his argument, started to go after him. Rega caught hold of her brother’s arm.

“Let him alone for a little while.”

“Bah, he’s talking nonsense—”

“Roland, don’t you understand? He has to leave all this behind! That’s what’s bothering him.”

“Leave what? A house?”

“His life.”

“You and I didn’t have much trouble doing that.”

“That’s because we’ve always made up our lives as we went along,” said Rega, her face darkening. “But I can remember when we left home, the house where we’d been born.”

“What a dump!” Roland muttered.

“Not to us. We didn’t know any better. I remember that time, the time Mother didn’t come home.” Rega drew near her brother, rested her cheek on his arm. “We waited ... how long?”

“A cycle or two.” Roland shrugged.

“And there was no food and no money. And you kept making me laugh, so I wouldn’t be frightened.” Rega twined her hand in her brother’s, held it fast. “Then you said, ‘Well, Sis, it’s a big world out there and we’re not seeing any of it cooped up inside this hovel.’ We left then and there. Walked out of the house and into the road and followed it where it led us. But I remember one thing, Roland. I remember you stopping there, on the path, and turning around to look back at the house. And I remember that, when you came back to me, there were tears—”

“I was a kid, then. Paithan’s an adult. Or passes for one. Yeah, all right. I won’t bother him. But I’m getting on board that ship whether he does or not. And what are you going to do if he decides to stay behind?”

Roland walked away. Rega remained standing near the window, her troubled gaze on Paithan. Behind her, inside the house, the hand slipped from the curtain, letting the lacy fabric fall gently, softly back in place.

“When do we go?” Lenthan asked the old man eagerly. “Now? I just have to get a few things to pack ...”

“Now?” Zifnab looked alarmed. “Oh, no, not now. Not time yet. Got to get everyone rounded up. We’ve got time, you see. Not much, but some.”

“Look, old man,” said Roland, breaking in on the discussion. “Are you sure this Haplo’s going to go along with your plan?”

“Why, yes, of course!” stated Zifnab confidently.

Eyes narrowing, Roland gazed at him.

“Well,” the old man faltered, “maybe not right at first.”

“Uh, huh.” Roland nodded, lips tightening.

“In fact,” Zifnab appeared more uncomfortable, “he doesn’t really want us along at all. We may ... er ... sort of have to sneak on board.”

“Sneak on board.”

“But leave that to me!” the old man said, nodding his head wisely. “I’ll give you the signal. Let’s see.” He mulled it over in his mind. “When the dog barks! That’s the signal. Did you hear that everyone!” Zifnab raised his voice querulously. “When the dog barks! That’s when we board the ship!”

A dog barked.

“Now?” said Lenthan, nearly leaping out of his shoes.

“Not now!” Zifnab appeared highly put out. “What’s the meaning of this? It’s not time!”

The dog came dashing around the side of the house. Running up to Zifnab, it caught hold of the old man’s robes in its teeth, and began to tug.

“Stop that! You’re tearing out the hem. Let go!” The animal growled and pulled harder, its eyes fixed on the old man.

“Great Nebuchadnezzar! Why didn’t you say so in the first place? We’ve got to go! Haplo’s in trouble. Needs our help!”

The dog let loose of the old man’s robes, raced away, heading in the direction of the jungle. Gathering his skirts, hiking them up above his bare, bony ankles, the old wizard ran off after the animal.

The rest stood, staring, ill-at-ease, suddenly remembering what it was like to face the tytans.

“Hell, he’s the only one knows how to fly that ship!” said Roland, and started off after the old man.

Rega raced after her brother. Paithan was about to follow when he heard a door slam. Turning, he saw Aleatha.

“I’m coming, too.”

The elf stared. His sister was clad in his old clothes—leather pants, white linen tunic, and leather vest. The clothes didn’t fit her, they were too tight. The pants strained to cover the rounded thighs, the seams seeming likely to split apart. The fabric of the shirt stretched taut over the firm, high breasts. So closely did everything fit, she might well have been naked. Paithan felt hot blood seep into his cheeks.

“Aleatha, get back in the house! This is serious—”

“I’m going. I’m going to see for myself.” She cast him a lofty glance. “I’m going to make you eat those lies!”

His sister walked past him, striding purposefully after the others. She had bundled the beautiful hair up in a crude bun at the back of her neck. In her hand she carried a wooden walking stick, holding it awkwardly like a club, perhaps with some idea of using it for a weapon.

Paithan heaved a frustrated sigh. There would be no arguing with her, no reasoning. All her life she had done exactly as she pleased; she wasn’t going to stop now. Catching up with her, he noticed, somewhat to his consternation, that Aleatha’s gaze was fixed on the man running ahead of her, on the strong back and rippling muscles of Roland.

Left alone, Lenthan Quindiniar rubbed his hands, shook his head, and muttered, “Oh, dear. Oh, dear.”

High above, standing in her office, Calandra glanced out her window, saw the procession straggling across the smooth lawn, hastening for the trees. In the distance, the trumpets were blowing wildly. Snorting, she turned to the figures in her books, noting, with a tight-lipped smile, that they were likely to beat last year’s profit by a considerable margin.