"Listen to me, now. Listen carefully. This story lacks foundation in the teachings of the Hawk. It goes contrary to everything we know to be true. For centuries, we have been kept safe by following those teachings, by studying them as we would the rules of life, by keeping them close to our hearts. To dismiss them now, to toss them aside as if they meant nothing, would be a travesty beyond understanding. And all on the word of a boy and a girl who rely heavily on what they heard and saw while in the company of a man whose origins and purposes are suspect in the extreme?"

His hands swept the air and came down again. "We are the Children of the Hawk, and we know what the Hawk promised us. We know that he led us here to keep us safe and that when it is time to go out into the larger world again, when it is safe for us to do so, he will come for us. He will come as a sign or in the flesh reborn, but he will come. There will be no ending of the mists, no falling down of the protective wall, no intrusion of the world left behind, until the madness shut outside our homeland is dispelled forever. And he will be the one to bring us this message, not some hermit who has no better sense than to spread wild rumors."

A slow muttering had grown to a low chanting that filled the room and drew together the a.s.semblage. Panterra glanced around uneasily, not able to quite grasp the words, but disliking their tone. Prue took his arm to catch his attention and shook her head, apparently thinking he was about to do something. Was he? He turned back to Pogue Kray.

"What if he's right?" he asked the council leader, lifting his voice so that everyone could hear it. "What if Sider Ament speaks the truth?"

"Careful, boy," Skeal Eile said quickly. "Your words verge on blasphemy. You risk your salvation as a Child of the Hawk."

Again the voices rose to shouts, sprinkled now with epithets that were clearly audible. Pogue Kray rose yet again, and yet again slammed his fist on the table.

The crowd quieted, but the dark looks remained.

"If you would speak, do so one at a time!" Pogue Kray rumbled blackly, his eyes sweeping the a.s.semblage. "And do so with some care."

"I would speak," a voice from the very back of the room declared, a voice that caused Panterra to turn at once.

Aislinne Kray stepped out of the crowd at the back of the room and made her way forward. She was a tall, striking woman with long blond hair gone almost white, finely chiseled features that made her appear much younger than she was, and a determined walk that brooked no interference. Those in her way stepped back quickly, and voices went silent once more.

When she reached the front of the room, she turned slightly so that she was addressing everyone. "I am ashamed for you," she said quietly but firmly. "Ashamed and disappointed. What kind of people would attack a boy and a girl like this? I stand among you and hear you speak words like heretic and demon-sp.a.w.n. I hear you suggest that they be cast out if they refuse to recant. A boy and a girl you have known all your lives. A boy and a girl who have proven themselves among the best of our Trackers, who have time and again done service to this village and its people by carrying out their duties with skill and dedication. Never once have their actions been questioned. Never once have they done anything to earn your scorn."

She paused, looking directly at Skeal Eile. "But now, for doing nothing more than bringing before you a message that could have significance for us all-and for keeping a promise made to a man who saved their lives-you would cast all that aside? You would declare them villains and worse?"

"Enough, wife," Pogue Kray interrupted wearily. "We take your point. But you must consider ours. This message casts doubt on everything we have held as truth for five centuries. We cannot accept that lightly."

"Nor do I say you should, husband," Aislinne replied pointedly. "Incidentally, I am a member of this council, too. It would be reasonable for you to give me notice of these meetings."

"You were fifteen miles hence, in Woodstone Glen." But Pogue Kray looked uncomfortable.

"Too far for someone to come fetch me, I guess." She was looking at Skeal Eile again. "But someone did fetch me, so here I am, and now I will be heard. Seraphic, you seem threatened by what this boy has to say. Can that be so? Are his words too dangerous to hear?"

"His words directly contradict the teachings of our sect," the other man replied, his voice gone smooth and pleasant once more. "We know our teachings to be truth. His words, therefore, must be lies."

"There is no objective scale by which to measure truth, Skeal Eile, when that truth is not written down. What we have are teachings pa.s.sed by word of mouth over five centuries. There is room for error."

The muttering resumed suddenly, a low and sullen murmur, and Aislinne Kray wheeled on the crowd. "Are you thinking that I'm a heretic, too? Is anyone who questions the teachings of Skeal Eile automatically a heretic? Must we hew to the doctrine of the sect without question, or are we allowed to think for ourselves? Those the Hawk brought into this valley were people smart enough and strong enough to think for themselves or they would not have gotten here. Are we, their descendants, expected to do differently?"

The voices died away. The silence was huge. "No one questions others' right to think for themselves, Aislinne Kray," Skeal Eile said softly, his smooth, calming voice drawing everyone back. "But we are not given the right or the leeway to blindly accept that for which there is no basis in fact. I do not dismiss the boy's story. I do not brand him a heretic. I simply point out the obvious. His message flies in the face of our teachings and is delivered by a man who has not been one of us for many years."

"Then this council session should end here and now, with no further disparagement of young Panterra," she snapped. "He has kept his promise and delivered the message, and that is the end of it. If something more needs doing, I am sure our council leader will see to it that it is done."

"You do not decide when this council adjourns or when its work is done!" Pogue Kray thundered.

She gave him a look and then wheeled away, long hair fanning out as she turned. "Come, Panterra. You look as if you could use a gla.s.s of ale and a hot meal. Prue Liss, you come with me, too. Whatever else needs doing, it can keep until tomorrow."

"I have further questions to ask of these Trackers, Aislinne," Skeal Eile called after her, stepping forward as if he might try to detain them. "There are issues raised by their message that clearly fall within the purview of the Children of the Hawk. Our jurisdiction in such matters is not-"

"Tomorrow will be soon enough for your questions," Aislinne called back to him over her shoulder. She didn't slow or look around. "Good night to you. Panterra? Prue?"

Panterra glanced quickly at Pogue Kray, whose black brows were lowered and glowering. He waved them off with one beefy hand, dismissing them. "Go with her," he ordered, ignoring the fresh protestations of Skeal Eile, who was bent over his shoulder and whispering in his ear. He rose to his feet and slammed his fist on the table. "Council is dismissed."

Panterra and Prue hurried to catch up with Aislinne, and in seconds they were through the door and into the empty black night.

SIX.

AISLINNE KRAY STEPPED DOWN OFF THE VERANDA that fronted the council hall and looked over her shoulder at Panterra and Prue. "That wasn't the smartest thing you've ever done," she said, and they could see the anger glittering in her green eyes.

"So we've been told," Pan admitted. "But don't blame Prue; it was my idea. I knew what the reaction was likely to be."

Aislinne grunted. "I doubt that you have any idea even now what the reaction is likely to be."

"Pan just did what Sider Ament told him he needed to do," Prue declared defensively. "He wasn't trying to cause trouble. They didn't have to attack him that way."

Panterra put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed lightly. "Maybe we ought to just go to bed."

"Not just yet," Aislinne said at once. "I'm not finished with you. Is your house empty, Pan? Good. We'll go there. We need to talk."

She led the way through the village, long hair fanning out like a veil, stride quick and sure on the familiar paths. The boy and the girl followed obediently, pulling their cloaks close as the chill night air bit at them, cold enough that it burned their exposed faces. Overhead, the sky was clear and filled with stars that spread across the firmament in a wash of white specks, thickly cl.u.s.tered and brilliant. The moon was down this night, and the stars shone brightly in its absence.

When they reached Panterra's lane, Aislinne paused while still within the cover of the trees to study the houses ahead. Saying nothing, she signaled to the boy and the girl to wait; then she stood silent and motionless for long minutes, watching.

"Come," she said finally, and started ahead once more.

Moments later they were down the path and up the walkway to Panterra's front door. The boy used his key and the three slipped inside to stand in the darkness.

"Lock it behind you," Aislinne ordered, her voice only slightly louder than a whisper. "Don't turn on any lights. Where can we talk without someone outside being able to see us?"

Pan led the way through the cottage, winding past the hearth with its now cold ashes from the morning's fire, through the kitchen to the back stairway, and up the stairs to the loft where he made his bedroom. There, in a darkness broken only by the pale wash of starlight through windows beneath low-hanging eaves, they seated themselves on the floor in a tight circle.

"Is there a reason for all this caution?" Panterra asked. He was careful to keep his own voice low. He found Aislinne's green eyes in the near-dark.

She gave him a look. "Don't be stupid, Panterra. Of course there's a reason!" She saw his bewilderment and shook her head. "You can't possibly be that nave. Your revelations have stirred up poisonous waters. Do you really not see it?"

"You mean Skeal Eile?" Prue asked.

Aislinne sighed. "Child, child. I mean five centuries of traditions and beliefs that have become a bedrock of faith for far too many of our people. You cannot challenge something so deeply ingrained without arousing strong resentment. Look now. How much do you know of the history of the Children of the Hawk?"

Panterra and Prue exchanged a quick look. "Not much," the boy admitted. "Only that they think the Hawk brought them here and that he will come for them again when it is time to leave the valley."

"That merely scratches the surface. Yes, they believe that. But they also believe that they are the chosen people, the ones who were saved when the rest of the world perished in the Great Wars. They see themselves as the future of civilization. They think that theirs is the way-the only way. The Seraphics have told them so for five centuries, and for five centuries they have been thought right because no challenge to their teachings has succeeded. Or should I say, no challenge has survived its voicing."

Prue shook her head. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that the challengers have all recanted, fallen victim to unfortunate accidents or simply disappeared. Understand: the continued survival of the Children of the Hawk requires a surmounting of all attacks, real or perceived. This is about power and its usage-about the influence it generates and the coin it collects in the form of t.i.thes and property. This is about who controls the populace and the land. On the surface of things, it would appear that my husband and the council do so, here in Glensk Wood. But underneath, where the truth of things lies hidden, it is another matter entirely. Skeal Eile and his minions hold all the power because the Seraphic speaks for the Hawk. In other times and places, it was other Seraphics. It has been so in the villages of Men since we came into this valley."

"So they see us as a danger?" Panterra asked in disbelief. "Just for bringing Sider Ament's message?"

"They see you as a perceived danger," Aislinne corrected. "And that is enough for them to want to do something about you."

"They will want us to recant?"

"At best-and I wouldn't be too quick to a.s.sume the best." She gave him a long look. "It is because of who sent the message that I say this, Panterra. Sider Ament is an unusual man with unusual abilities. Most think him a wanderer of strange habits and wild imaginings. They think he might even be demented. They know nothing of the truth of him, as I do. But what matters here is that his distancing of himself from the communities does not always serve him well. Not just in his lack of appreciation of the power of the Children of the Hawk. But also in his failure to realize what even the simple delivery of a message could result in for the messenger. He should not have asked of you what he did."

She rocked back. "If I hadn't discovered what was happening and returned to intervene, I think you might be spending this night under very different circ.u.mstances."

"Were you sent away deliberately?" Prue asked. "Or tricked into leaving?"

"No, it was nothing like that. My husband, for all he lacks in backbone and common sense, would not stoop to that." She allowed herself a small smile. "He is not the man he was, I regret, not the man I married all those years ago before he fell under the influence of the sect. But neither is he duplicitous or cunning. Circ.u.mstances put me in another place, not Pogue Kray, although he would have been happy if I had stayed where I was. Especially since I am certain Skeal Eile suggested that no harm could come of it, that the balance of the council members would act in my stead."

"How did you find out what was happening?" Panterra was confused. "Barely twenty-four hours pa.s.sed between our return and the meeting."

She rocked back slightly, and the smile returned. "I have friends, Panterra. Some of them are your friends, too. One, in particular. One who cares about you both. He brought me warning of what was to happen, and I came back at once."

"Brickey," Prue guessed.

She nodded. "You can thank him when you see him again. But that might not be right away. After we've finished here, you will need to pack and leave Glensk Wood."

The boy and the girl stared at her. "Leave?" Prue repeated. "We can't do that!"

Panterra nodded quickly. "We have to stay and convince the council of what-"

"The time for that has come and gone," Aislinne interrupted, brushing aside his objection with a wave of her hand. "You had your chance this evening, such as it was, and you failed. It won't get any better from here on out. Not without physical proof of what you claim. Or what Sider Ament claims, although now you're perceived to be his agent and the message as much yours as his."

"But that's not ..."

She held up a finger in warning, silencing him once more. "The problem confronting you is much greater than the message itself. Skeal Eile fears the message, but he fears you, as well. You have seen things that could be a threat to his power. You might continue to report what you've seen to others, and eventually someone might start to listen. It would be best, he'll reason soon enough-if he hasn't already-if you were no longer around to talk about it."

"He would kill me?" Panterra asked incredulously, and he almost laughed at the idea.

"But that's ridiculous!" Prue exclaimed. "He wouldn't do that! Everyone knows Pan! They wouldn't stand for it!"

"He won't do it himself; he will have it done by others. It will not appear as if he had a hand in it." She paused. "He has done this before to those by whom he felt threatened. He is a dangerous man, and you have crossed him."

Panterra stared at her, peering through the shadows to catch the reflection of her eyes, trying to see something of the truth he could not quite accept. "Then we have to tell that to Pogue Kray or Trow Ravenlock. Others have to know."

She smiled and shook her head. "That's been tried. How much have you heard about its success?"

Panterra looked away, thinking, and then turned back quickly. "Wait a minute. If he eliminates his enemies, aren't you at risk, too? Aren't you a bigger danger to him than Prue or I?"

"If he goes after me, he will have to deal with my husband. He's not yet willing to chance that sort of confrontation. Pogue might be under his influence, but he is not going to sit by and let me be harmed. I suspect he has made that clear already."

She paused. "Besides, I'm not viewed as being much more reliable than Sider Ament. I'm not held in high regard. Too quick to speak my mind, not so quick to recognize my place. I am indulged by my husband, and there are few who admire his patience or his wisdom where I am concerned. But my family is old and well placed, and they protect their own. Even me."

"Does Sider Ament know any of this?" Panterra pressed. "Is he really so ignorant of Skeal Eile's ambitions?"

"The Gray Man has no time for such nonsense. Know this, Panterra. Sider Ament is not what he seems. You've already had a glimpse of that. He is a warrior, a fighter of great strength and skill. He protects us all by patrolling the valley rim and keeping watch against the things that might come through from the outside world. When he tells you that those things are coming, you should believe him. When he tells you they are here, you should not doubt. We can do nothing about those who do, those fools who think that dogma equates with truth. Sider Ament knows this, too. He can't change what is by speaking against it. Only the sort of confrontation you experienced below the heights of Declan Reach can do that."

"So we must run," Panterra finished. "But where will we run to?"

"You have friends and family in other places," she answered. "Go to them."

"We could go to the Elves!" Prue exclaimed suddenly. "The Orullian brothers would help us! Didn't Sider Ament say we should take his warning to the Elves, too?"

Aislinne nodded approvingly. "A good plan. Just choose carefully who to tell, and be careful not to draw undue attention. The Elves will be less likely to doubt. They don't embrace the teachings of the Children of the Hawk. Perhaps they'll send a contingent of Elven Hunters up into the pa.s.ses to see if the barrier still holds, or you can persuade them to come with you in search of Sider. You will have to find him now, and bring back some kind of physical proof to show the council. Until then, it won't be safe for you here."

Panterra hunkered down in the darkness of his bedroom, dismayed. "I can't believe any of this. All I did was what I have been trained to do."

"Nevertheless," Aislinne said softly, and she let the word hang in the ensuing silence.

Aislinne wouldn't tell him to run if it weren't necessary, Panterra knew. She was his friend; whatever she thought of his actions, she wouldn't give him advice that she didn't believe was in his best interests. Ever since she had befriended him, not long after his parents died, she had counseled him. She seemed to understand him, even without knowing precisely how he was gifted. Or maybe she had intuited his innate abilities; her own instincts were not to be underestimated.

What to do? He thought back to the council meeting and the way Skeal Eile had looked at him. The memory did not give him a good feeling. He glanced at Prue. She was in as much danger as he was, given what Aislinne had said. She had seen everything he had and been firm in backing his story. Skeal Eile would have no use for her, either.

Still, the idea of fleeing his home troubled him. There was a finality to it that was deeply unsettling. Trackers roamed far and wide and sometimes for long periods, but they always knew they could return when their tasks were completed. That would not be the case here.

"I don't know," he said softly.

"No one said it would be easy," Aislinne began, leaning forward to take his hands in her own. "But sometimes-"

"Hssst!" Prue said sharply, freezing them both in place. Her eyes were wide and bright in the darkness. "There's someone out there!"

She gestured toward the window that faced north, a vague, almost disconnected movement. Her eyes were fixed; she seemed to be seeing something hidden from them. Panterra knew that look. It was the near-trance she entered when she sensed that danger threatened.

It was there and gone again in a moment, and she was looking right at Pan. "We have to get out of here!" she whispered. "Right now!"

Panterra hesitated, just for a second, and in that momentary pause he heard a scuffling and a quick intake of breath, tiny sounds audible only to someone with hearing and instincts as keen as his own.

Aislinne rose, then stood motionless in the dark. "Wait. Don't move." Seconds later there was a soft tapping at the back door. Three short raps, and then silence. "Come with me," she said, starting for the stairs.

They went down the steps together, moving slowly and silently through the shadows. Panterra strained to hear more, but there were no further sounds. The world outside the walls of his cottage stayed silent and dark.

At the door, Aislinne motioned for them to stand behind her. She released the lock and cracked the door slightly. Then she opened it wide.

Brickey was standing there, wrapped in a black cloak. "There's been an accident," he told them.

Aislinne nodded as if she expected as much. "What sort of accident?"

"A man has fallen on his knife. He was hunting mushrooms or perhaps night-blooming rashia in the trees, just in back of the cottage. He must have tripped." He glanced past her at Panterra and Prue. "Good evening, friends. You're up late. I hear that the council session was difficult."

A man hunting mushrooms had fallen on his knife? Panterra knew at once that the little man was lying, that what had happened had nothing to do with mushrooms. In all likelihood, an a.s.sa.s.sin had been sent to dispatch him, but had ended up being dispatched himself. He looked with new respect at Brickey, who somehow managed to look deeply saddened.