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beyond the company of an old man.”
    “Who, then?” asked Belexus, intrigued by his father’s wry smile.
    “A favor has been asked of us—of yerself—from one deserving our service,” Bellerian began slowly, searching for the right method of springing such amazing news on the two men. “The daughter of this deservin’ friend desires to see the world.”
    Sour looks passed between Belexus and Andovar, the old Ranger Lord noted. These two were not an ungrateful lot, he understood, and they would certainly heed his wishes, but they had fancied a journey of excitement and explorationthrough the coming months and were not thrilled at the prospects of carrying along an inexperienced child.
    “Ye know we’ll take the lass,” Belexus remarked. “But—”
    “But?” Bellerian cut in. “Ye’ll take her, indeed! And gladly!” They hid their disappointment well, but Bellerian could sense that they still did not understand the true meaning of his words.
    “Would it bring ye a smile if I told ye that ’twas the Emerald Witch, Brielle herself, doing the asking?”
    Belexus snapped his eyes up on his father; Andovar swooned and nearly stumbled to the ground.
    “The Lady,” Andovar breathed. He had spent the bulk of his life walking her domain, hoping for a tiny glimpse of the fair witch or, in more recent years, her enchanting daughter. But Avalon was a wide forest, and Brielle and Rhiannon kept few friends.
    “Ye’re asking that we take Rhiannon along with us?” Belexus gasped, both afraid and hoping that his father would confirm the fact.
    “That I be,” chuckled Bellerian. “I’m asking, as Brielle herself asked o’ me. Are ye willing?”
    “We are!” Andovar roared before Belexus could open his mouth.
    Both Belexus and his father could not contain their laughter. Andovar looked away, embarrassed, but soon joined in their mirth.
    “A great responsibility follows ye, then,” Bellerian said, his voice suddenly grave. “Rhiannon’s a woman now—aye, what a woman, indeed—but unknowin’ of the ways of the world.”
    “The witch’s daughter will be safe beside us,” Belexus assured his father.
    Bellerian did not doubt it for a moment. “Ye are the finest warriors in all the world, and yer honor is above question.But ye might find other trials ridin’ the road beside the likes o’ Rhiannon. Her spirit is no more bridled than her mother’s, and she’s not versed in the ways of the men outside her wood.”
    “Fear not for Rhiannon,” Andovar replied. “Fear for any fool that might try her honor!” Instinctively, Andovar’s hand fell to his sword hilt.
    Bellerian smiled, but did not reply. Andovar spoke the truth, and it was that very truth that concerned the Ranger Lord. He knew the love that Andovar had for Avalon and its mysterious mentors, and suspected that the ranger would take on the entire garrison of Pallendara if any of them brought the slightest harm to Rhiannon. But Bellerian was satisfied. He looked at Belexus and winked, knowing that his levelheaded son would keep the reins tight on his overly exuberant companion.
    “Let her run, but keep her safe,” Bellerian instructed both of them.
        “How many?” Thalasi demanded in that peculiar dual-toned voice that only added to the terror he exuded.
    “Lots an’ lots!” Burgle replied with a strained smile, obviously hoping the answer would suffice. The creature couldn’t count past ten, after all, and the ranks of the talons gathering around Talas-dun numbered more than a thousand times Burgle’s mathematical limit. From every corner of Kored-dul they came, heeding the summons of their master.
    “You have done well,” Thalasi said. “I will forget your unfortunate intrusion.” The Black Warlock led Burgle’s gaze over to the wall of the Throne Room, to the dried crimson stain.
    Burgle slouched low and tried to appear very small, wanting only to be dismissed.
    “Indeed,” Thalasi went on, “your service has more