The children walked like bugs down to the river. The women followed, laughing, chattering, sharing the latest news.

The stifling heat of the summer day descended upon the group. The desert sparkled behind them. On the other side of the river there was a grass-land. If someone had looked more closely, he might have found that one of the two was illusion. But not one person ever bothered.

Actually, the children quite closely resembled the little golden scarabs that burrowed into the desert sand. "Desert Thieves," the scarabs were called.

A cool breeze stirred up from the ground, blowing the sands of the desert into small, smooth waves.

The wind blew in such a torrent around the frail desert houses that one of them almost toppled over.

It was strange to have such a heavy wind in the little desert village, especially during a hot summer day. The wind had started up as a small breeze, as most winds do. The women and children had been down at the river bathing when the breeze had arisen.

Kemen was perched on a cliff, high above the village. From his vantage point he saw the last few people scurry into their houses. It was now or never, Kemen decided. He wondered if he should risk his new contraption. The raging wind would most likely splinter his work into pieces, even if it didn't him. He risked it and jumped off the cliff.

At first it went smoothly. No one saw him, for they were all in their houses. Then the first gust of wind caught him, clinging to his clothes with its tendrils, wrapping around him. More gusts tore at Kemen, tossing him about.

He dropped rapidly, watching the oncoming ground with increasing terror. He fell onto the sand and lay there.

Halpin sat up in bed. The wind outside was screaming in fury. Her brother, Aeph, was mumbling something in his sleep. Halpin leaned over and shook her brother. "I think that Kemen was actually foolish enough try his new contraption."

Together they raced outside. A figure lay on the ground, not far from their shack.

"Kemen!" Halpin shrieked above the roar of the wind.

Kemen was not dead, but he had seriously injured his arm. Enough to have a very good weather sense, and possibly never "fly" again.

As the first light of dawn seeped through the air, the wind abated; perhaps it thought that it had blown long enough. The sand that had been swirling through the air settled to the ground.

Halpin was aroused by the sudden silence. She recalled a myth that ran among their people: When the dust blows no longer, on the grassland put foot not. Everybody had always thought it just a tale to frighten young children, and so had never thought to interpret it.

Halpin stepped outside. But as she stood by the door, a meaning sprung into her head. Sand could be dust couldn't it? So when the sand stops blowing around, don't go over to the grassland. Not that anyone did, with the possible exception of Kemen. It was as simple as that. But fear choked up her throat. There was not one single speck of sand in the air. She looked across the circle of houses to the meeting house. The men would meet there that day to discuss the damages of the wind. So she would be free. She slipped back inside.

Later that day she told Aeph of her plan. They would have to go soon, or the sand would have been settled for too long.

The river was fairly deep, coming up to Aeph's muscular chest and Halpin's pointed chin. They walked along, for neither of them knew how to swim. Halpin's toes touched the sandy bottom first, and she gave a little yelp as she cut her toe on a rock. She collapsed onto the bank with a mighty sigh of relief. Only then did she think to look back at her home. All she saw beyond the river was grassland and more grassland stretching it's limit far beyond what she could see. Just then, Aeph struggled up onto the bank, lying down beside her. Halpin's voice was a consistent pressure in his ear. Why couldn't she leave him alone? All that he wanted to do was rest. He could hear her, but couldn't focus on the words. " . . . strange . . . grassland . . . can't see home . . . afraid . . . "

The child's voice was pleading. "Pick me up, Daddy. Up! Up!" She tugged on his red beard; laid her soft cheek against his bare shoulder. Her innocent blue eyes smiled up at him, full of mischief. She couldn't see why he hadn't been at home for a long time. At least it seemed like that to her. Incidents filled up and overflowed her three-year-old mind, and so many things were happening, that not everything could stay in her mind at once. Abruptly she was swung down from his shoulder. She fell to the floor, looking up at his tall figure with tears in her eyes. He wasn't looking at her, but towards the door. The palm trees outside swayed, almost as if in warning. A man stood, silhouetted against the door.

"Have you reached your decision?" he asked coldly.

"It will be war," her father replied, matching the other's icy voice. Both men stood staring at each other, then the figure turned on his heel and walked swiftly away.

The desert had been an illusion. There was no doubt about it. The people on it were real though. And what had happened to them was not in Stin's ability to say. Stin had kept track of the desert and it's people for the several centuries that he had lived. He was kept alive by the fact that no other recorder had been born yet, or was old enough to show the ability and be trained. Clearly, the population of Perkim Town could not be kept without someone to write down their history. Everybody knew that. Although his birth had been under unusual circumstances, the recorder at that time had heard from the minstrels that a new recorder was to be born. The minstrels, so-called god-sends, had the ability to see the immediate future. Several of them, though not many, had stronger abilities. They could see when rulers, priests, recorders, and other people that would have effects on history would be born. No minstrel possessing the stronger power had been born for quite a while, though when that happened, usually the recorder at that time adapted the ability to have a slight sense of things. Stin had sensed for several days the feeling of a priest in the land. He shuddered to think the outcome of that possibility! The last priest, royal though he was, had been a monster. He healed nobody. All the children in the town had been warned to keep away from him. Now, everybody thought that all priests were evil. And if one happened to be born, their parents were to be disgraced forever.

"Aeph!"

The child heard someone call his name.

"Aeph, I want you to help me pull the cloth over the house. The Elders say that there will most likely be a sandstorm, and I don't want any sand to get into the house."

This was fun! A new game for him to play. He ran towards his father excitedly. "Of course I'll help, Daddy. I'm a big boy now. And I can do anything in the world!"

Halpin came out, her chubby face wreathed in smiles. "Daddy's back!" she exclaimed.

Their father pointed towards the door. "Go back in, Halpin. It's dangerous out here."

Halpin's mouth drooped dejectedly, and she squeezed her eyes tight.

Her father took her on his knee. "You can help Mommy," he suggested.

Halpin brightened. "Okay," she said.

Aeph stuck his tongue out at her. "I get to help Daddy out here," he bragged, "because I'm a big boy."

Halpin turned her back on him. "I don't care," she retorted.

That put Aeph down a notch. "Why not?" he asked, puzzled.

"Because . . . Because I get to help Mommy!" she answered triumphantly.

Oh. That was an okay reason, he supposed. He turned back towards his father as Halpin ran back inside. "Now can I help?" he asked impatiently.

His father nodded.

"Goody!" Aeph shouted. As his father held one side of the canvas, Aeph held the other. Just as they finished, the sky turned yellow.

"SANDSTORM!" Aeph's father yelled. He pushed Aeph inside. Aeph struggled against him. But then the door was shut, no going back. Aeph pressed his face against the window. He could see people running into their houses. His father was trying to push towards the door, but the wind was too strong. The sand rose higher and higher. Aeph could see his father no more . . .

Aeph opened his eyes. His dreams had been filled with quite strange things, things about a young girl, and someone declaring war . . . Oh well, it had just been a dream, and Aeph for one didn't believe in dreams. Halpin lay nearby, snoring lightly. She muttered something about flying toasters. Aeph didn't know what toasters were, and he certainly didn't want to think about anything connected with Kemen, such as flying.

Suddenly Aeph realized that he was bathed in sweat and was crying. He had dreamt about when his father died. It had haunted his dreams for several years after it happened, but he had thought that he was safe from it now. Halpin had been too young to realize. During the makeshift funeral she was laughing.

Marcal paced back and forth. Ever since he had declared war, there had been a stony silence throughout the house. His daughter, Kina, gave him hurt looks whenever he passed. He knew it was because he had dropped her, but it sufficiently served to add to his guilt.

Marcal shaded his eyes against the sun. It was time to go to the council. He strode towards the meeting house, straining his eyes to see if he could find Ckrall. Ckrall was his chief fighter. He trained the boys and young men that were new to the army. If there was going to be a war, Ckrall would have to be close at hand.

Marin jumped up as he saw his father approaching. He had been practicing at sword-play with his friend, Ffleyn.

"Oh, that's fine." Marcal called. "I just hope you're good at that. We're going to need you."

Marin turned an astonished glance at his father. But something had caught Ffleyn's attention. He pulled on Marin's sleeve, pointing to the far horizon. Against the setting sun, two figures slowly trudged up the hill. One was tall and muscular, the other slender and small. But they somehow resembled each other.

Halpin was already awake when Aeph got out of his dismal mood. She told him that she was going to look for some humans on the grassland.

"You're crazy!" he protested when she told him. "They might be hostile. Or they might take you for someone else and kill you."

Halpin knew that Aeph was being reasonable, but she insisted on going on with her plan.

"Fine," Aeph grumbled, "but I'm going with you."

Halpin knew she couldn't argue. Besides, Aeph was a strong warrior, and he could protect her.

Later that afternoon they started off on their journey. By the time the sun set they had traveled at least five miles.

Halpin stared at the setting sun.

"I wonder what happened to our home," she said.

Aeph looked at her. That was the first that either of them had mentioned about the desert.

He shrugged. "I don't know," he said. He was surprised at his own callousness.

He briskly turned back to the fire and put on more logs.

Halpin stared at him furiously. "Don't you care?" she asked him.

"Yes," he replied quietly, "I do care. But don't forget that I'm the older one. And that means I get to make the decisions. I miss Mother just as much as you do, and we both miss Kemen and our friends."

Halpin glowered at her bare feet. "No fair," she muttered.

The next day they started walking again.

Halpin saw the people at the top of the hill first. She couldn't tell if they were human or not, but she saw that they were gesturing towards herself and Aeph.

"Aeph, look!" she whispered.

"What?"

He was still annoyed with her and refused to acknowledge that she was even there.

"It's no use now!" she told him, for by that time they were already at the top of the hill.

The oldest male dropped to one knee in front of Aeph.

"M'lord," he whispered. "Your coming, my lord, was foretold by the recorder, Master Stin. You must be taken to the Palace at once."

Aeph stared at Halpin, confused.

"I am so sorry, m'lord!" the man cried. "Of course you wouldn't know, for you came from the desert. You are the new priest. We have been praying for days that you would be kinder than the last one.

"By the way, m'lord," he added as an afterthought, "my name is Marcal, and this is my son, Marin, and his best friend, Ffleyn."

"You are very kind sir," Aeph said, "but I have no idea of what you are talking about, or why you are calling me a priest, and 'm'lord'."

"I think that all shall be cleared up once we reach the Palace. I shall take you to my house first, where you may have something to eat.

"Is that your sister with you?"

"Yes," Aeph said, "this is my sister, Halpin. And my name is Aeph."

The one called Marin smiled politely. "You look quite young to be a priest," he said. "How old are you?"

"Sixteen," Aeph replied.

"Only sixteen!" Ffleyn gasped, "Why, Marin and I are fifteen. How old is your sister?"

"I'm fourteen," Halpin said shyly. She watched Ffleyn and Marin as they gathered up their fencing swords. Then Marcal motioned for everybody to follow him.

Once they had started on their way to the house, Halpin turned to Aeph.

"They don't seem any different than us," she whispered.

"I know," Aeph replied, "but it seems that I really am the priest that they're talking about."

"Well in that case I guess that we can't find out about what a priest is supposed to do. Or what I'm supposed to do, being your sister."

"I think that we will find out at this Palace," Aeph said.

Once they reached the Palace (they had been slowed down somewhat by Kina's addition to the party, for she had insisted on going with them) they were greeted by a guard who took them immediately to the King's advisor.

"We must see the King," Marcal told him.

"You can tell me what you need to tell the King." the advisor said.

"We must see the King," Marcal repeated, more firmly.

"The King is not old enough to take matters into his own hands. He is still at an age where his breeches must be dusted with a whip!" the advisor shouted. "He is not wise enough to make decisions by himself. Now tell me what you need to tell the King. Have I made myself clear?"

Aeph stepped forward.

"We must talk to the King. And I am royalty. You must obey me."

During the walk to the castle, Marcal had told him a little bit more about being a priest. One of the things that he mentioned was that every priest was royalty. They were almost as powerful as a King, and they lived in the Palace.

The advisor bowed his head. "As you will, my lord," he said meekly.

He led them to a doorway with a golden falcon engraved on it.

"These people must see the young King Jonathan," he whispered stiffly to the guard at the door.

"This way then," the guard told him.

They followed the guard to the throne room. A small fair-haired boy was sitting on the huge throne, talking to a man clearly recognizable as a wizard by his red robes.

"King Jonathan, you have visitors."

The guard stayed at a respectful distance.

"Hello," said the King. He smiled at the group. Then he looked at his advisor's sour face. "Tinole, I hope you were nice to these people, for they certainly haven't done anything wrong."

"They wish to speak to you, King Jonathan. I tried to get them to tell me their council, but they insisted that they had to talk to you."

"Good. I'm getting bored with doing nothing. You always take all my fun away. So please leave, Tinole."

Tinole looked shocked. "But . . . "

"LEAVE!" Jonathan shouted.

The wrinkled advisor scurried out.

"Now, what were you going to tell me before that old raisin hindered you in the Entrance Way?"

"King Jonathan, don't you think-" the wizard began.

"He is a raisin, Griyor, so I can call him that if I want."

He turned back to the group.

"Your Majesty, the priest has arrived," Marcal stated. "And here he is." He gestured at Aeph.

"Welcome, Brother," King Jonathan said. He smiled warmly, then tickled Kina under the chin. She laughed, then crawled onto his lap.

Griyor turned his full attention to Aeph. "My lord, I must teach you at least one spell, for you will not know any. Come to my room at sundown this evening with your sister. All you need to bring are some dried ang leaves. I think that your sister has a very good chance of becoming a Druid."

Halpin looked at him. "A Druid?" she asked, puzzled.

Aeph spoke. "Do not forget that we are from the desert. These people have many customs that differ from ours. We do not know much of your history. Only the most recent bit. Also, we do not know what ang leaves are."

"I do." Halpin's voice was timid, as it well might be, considering the force of Aeph's astonishment.

"How in the names of Miral, the goddess of healing, and her consort, Gryl, do you know what ang leaves are?"

Halpin looked close to tears. "I don't know," she said. "It just came to me."

"I'll tell you when you see me tonight," said Griyor. "Until then, you'll just have to wait. Oh, by the way, it does seem that we have the same gods."

Once the priest and his sister had left, Marcal turned to the King and said, "Your Majesty, Yernl Town has declared war on us. Should I start training the troops?"

"Remember," King Jonathan said softly, "Where castles have knights that never fight / Where cherries have no stones. If you remember that poem and truly believe it, how can you think of war? We will surrender if we must, but we will never fight. I hope to be able to talk to their leader. There may yet be peace. I know that I am young, but I hope that I will be the ruler my father wanted me to be."

Griyor was boiling a kettle of water over the fire when there was a timid knock on the door.

"Come in," he called. He knew that it would be the new priest, Aeph, and - what was his sister's name? Ah, Halpin. Unusual enough names, and when one considered what those names were likely to represent . . .

The door opened. Halpin still looked a little bit timid, and Aeph looked repentant. He held a small pouch in his right hand.

"Halpin showed me where to find them," he said. "We had to go to an herbalists for them. Marcal told us where there was one."

Griyor motioned them inside, then shut the door, bolting it.

"Spells are sacred," he said softly. "A non-magic-user should not hear a spell being taught or explained. This is one of the first things a mage must know. Now listen closely."

Back in the throne room, King Jonathan sat on the throne. The news of war was bad. If only his father were here! He would know what to do about it.

"Always try to keep peace, my son. But you must defend your people if necessary. It is good that you have the makings of a proper King."

And now his father was dead, killed by sorcery. He had become King from Prince all too quickly. He had been taught in kingly arts, but he lacked his father's wisdom. He needed to know what to do about the coming war. If he listened to his father, that would mean fighting. And his father was the one that knew everything about how to handle problems like this.

When he was younger, he had wanted to be a mage. When he was older, he had decided being King would be good enough. When his father was killed by sorcery, he had all but shunned magic. But now Yernl Town was stirring up rebellion, and their only defense might be magical! The priest seemed nice enough, but he was from a land only heard of in occasional myths. Now it seemed that it was real - and then the recorder of Perkim Town had announced that it was illusion. Jonathan did not know what to make of it.

In Griyor's rooms, Aeph was telling Griyor what little he knew of magic.

"Sir, I know that if a spell-caster's concentration is disrupted it can be fatal. Also, many mages and other magic-users have symbols of their god or goddess to draw strength from. Sometimes-" he stopped, then went on. "Sometimes, if a magic-user's powers are too strong, he--or she--will not be able to control them. He may die."

"That is enough," Griyor said. "Did you know someone who died of excess magic? No, that is a foolish question. Ignore it. My memory is fading. I forgot for a moment that magic cannot be used in the desert, except for occasional elemental magic. Now, Halpin. I know I said earlier that you have a good chance of becoming a Druid. I ought to explain what a Druid is. A Druid is a type of mage, but they do not align themselves with any god. That does not mean that they are devoid of faith, just that they do not draw power from a god. They draw their magic from nature, and if they are not around nature they cannot work their magic well. In the middle of a town, for example, they might be able to cast a few illusions, but not heal anything. Occasionally a Druid will have foresight, as do some minstrels, but they mainly heal people, and they teach others to be closer to nature. After you and your brother know a few spells, I may take you to meet a Druid. Then you may be able to get some true teaching. Until then, you must make do with wizard spells. Aeph, you will soon be able to find new spells on your own. That is one gift that a priest has. This may be because priests need to know more spells than anybody else. But for now I will teach both of you together, until your magic gifts take separate paths - from each other's and mine.

"I will teach you two a healing spell now, which is why I asked you to bring the ang leaves. Open the pouch." This last was so much of a command that Aeph set down the pouch on the table without thinking. He was abruptly stopped by the wizard.

"You are a priest, Aeph. You should not take orders from anybody but the King and your sister, for you two are related by blood, a stronger tie than almost anything. This is because of sympathetic magic. But I will teach you of that later. Right now, I told you to open the pouch because it contains the components for the spell. I did not say to give the pouch to me. Now think about what you are doing, for you must be in control of yourself always."

Aeph opened the pouch.

Inside, he caught a glimpse of what seemed to be green parchment. On closer observation, he realized that the "parchment" was hundreds of small green leaves dried together like sheets. Unconsciously, he drew out a single sheet. They were very fragile, he realized. Trembling, for he sensed that the leaves were somehow powerful, he handed the leaves to Griyor.

"Will you teach me this healing spell that you speak of, wizard?"

"Aye, I will, and I would hope that you one day may put it to good use, my lord," Griyor replied. "Now, follow what I say, both of you, for a miscast spell can be disastrous. Are you right handed or left hand?"

"I'm left handed," said Halpin. "Aeph's right."

"In that case the spell will differ slightly for each of you. Halpin, I will instruct you first. Take hold of your left fore-finger. Do you feel a strong pulse there? That is the pulse of your magic. Everyone has it, but in magic-users it is much stronger. As you cast this spell, or any spell, you must concentrate on drawing a tiny amount of magic from there and to whatever you are using it for. This is vital, as loose magic in the air or too much of it can have terrible results." As he talked, he poured a bit of the boiling water into a silver chalice. "If the wound is already partially healed, such as a forming scab that you wish to heal more quickly than nature would allow, you do not need the components. You must always use the words of the healing spell though, for it is these words that activate the ang leaves to heal people, and cause the healing itself."

He produced two leather bound books from somewhere inside his voluminous robe. One was green with gold runes, the other was night-blue with silver runes. Griyor handed the green book to Halpin, the other to Aeph. Halpin traced the runes with her forefinger. She felt them radiating power.

"What are these for?" she asked. She opened the book. The pages were blank.

"They are spell books," Griyor replied. "Whenever you learn a spell, the words will appear here. You must be very careful never to lose these books.

"Now," he continued, "I must finish teaching you the spell. Aeph, were you listening too?" The young man nodded. "Good. Listen to the rest, also. Whatever I tell Halpin to do with her left hand, you do with your right. If you hadn't been listening, I would have had to relate this all over again. Halpin . . . " His voice trailed off. The girl had been watching a swarm of butterflies outside the tower window, and now they flew in, settling on her clothes, hair, any surface available that they could cling to. She laughed in delight.

"I told them to come, and they did! Look, Aeph. They listened to me!"

Aeph was grinning, and Griyor was struggling to maintain his composure.

"You shouldn't be able to do that, yet!" he finally burst out. "You haven't had any training!"

"She's always been good with animals," Aeph said innocently.

"Is there something wrong with that?" Halpin asked, sweetly.

"No," Griyor replied. "I guess that it mainly proves that you're to be a Druid. But you should be paying attention to the lesson."

Halpin was instantly apologetic. "I'm sorry. I just couldn't resist. They're so pretty! But I will learn the spell now, I promise."

"Very well, then. Do you have a cut or scrape anywhere?"

Halpin unlaced her boot and showed him where she had cut her toe while crossing the river.

"That will do perfectly." He dropped the leaf sheet that Aeph had handed him into the chalice he was holding. The leaves thickened slightly as they absorbed water. Griyor scooped some of them out and mashed them together. He then fitted them over Halpin's cut.

"Now, listen to these words. Learn them. Argat laniel/Jesten toro"

He repeated this, then took the leaves away from the cut . . . which wasn't there!

Halpin gasped. "You healed it!"

"Aye, I did," Griyor agreed. "Now both of you, open your spell books and look at them.

They did as he bade. The words he had spoken were written in flowing script across the front pages of both books.

Jonathan paced back and forth in front of the throne. He wasn't quite sure that he had done right by telling Marcal there would be no war. But he had only told him this because he was unable to decide how to approach even rumors of a war, let alone a real one! He would have to talk to the priest, that was for sure. But the priest didn't know two things about the grassland, though he was certainly clever.

Jonathan knew that he would have to find something to persuade Yernl Town that he could rule properly. His father would have become High King in time, he knew. If that had happened before his death then Jonathan would be able to control Yernl Town's actions, for he would be High King now, albeit a young one. He sat down on the huge throne to think. Instead, he fell asleep.

A flag snapped somewhere in the distance. The young nobleman whirled around, the thin circlet on his head that denoted his rank slipping over his eyes. He pushed it back up, cursing his long slippery hair that wouldn't provide enough of a surface for the gold band to grasp.

The flag that had drawn his attention showed a golden falcon grasping a sword in its talons, on a field of red. Below it was a smaller blue flag picturing a palm tree in an oasis. The youth relaxed. Those were the coats of arms belonging to his regions.

In the distance three other young people appeared. The youth smiled. He could be calm, the enemy troops had not arrived yet.

"Cousins! Over here!" he called. The other young people were not truly related to him, but he had known them since he was about seven or eight. Now he was fourteen, and they were all in their early twenties. It was fun, he decided, being friends with the priest, high Druid, and swordsmaster. Especially since he was the King.

The circlet slipped down over his eyes again.

Jonathan pushed his crown back up to sit on the top of his head. He hated the heavy thing, but he had to wear it. If his dream were true, in seven years there would be a war, and he would have to fight. Of course, it was very likely that there would be one sooner. All that his dream meant was that the one in seven years would be very important in some way.

Halpin glared at the words in her spell book. She wished that she could glare at her mind instead, but that was impossible. Her brain was refusing to memorize the words of the spells.

Aeph came in the room. He spied his fuming sister and grinned for a second. Then he straightened his composure and walked over to her, placing his hand on her shoulder.

"My dear sister! What ever is the matter?"

"I can't memorize the cursed things!" she exclaimed. "I don't know why, I just can't! Maybe Griyor is wrong, maybe I'm not meant to be a Druid and this book knows it! Or maybe it's just my stupid mind."

Aeph put his arm around her shoulders. "Halpin, you are not stupid. I think that Griyor is right, and you are meant to be a Druid. You have always been very good with animals, and things in nature don't usually harm you. Unlike what they did to the rest of us." Aeph smiled reminiscently and rubbed a scar on the back of his neck. When he was younger, about eight, he and the other boys in the village would play a game in which they split up into two teams and battled one another. Halpin always watched them and begged to play. They told her that she couldn't because she was too young and she was a girl. She complained to their mother, who told Aeph that Halpin had to be allowed to play. Aeph was very angry, but he and the other boys had to obey the word of a mother. It was ingrained in their systems to do so. The boys got together to plan a way to get back at Halpin for complaining. They decided that they would go deep into the desert, where no one had ever been before. They would then disappear behind the huge rocks that were thought to be there. When the wind was low, one could see tall spires in the distance. They were presumed to be rocks. Of course, no one actually knew. That was why they didn't tell their parents where they were going. At the end of they day they would reappear, but they wanted Halpin to be sufficiently scared first. They would tell their parents (if they asked) that that was how they played the game and Halpin was just too young for it.

On the morning of the game the boys gathered deadwood for their "swords" and got food from their parents. Aeph's mother gave him food for Halpin too and told him to be nice to Halpin. Aeph dutifully agreed and the group set out. Halpin lagged behind, but she kept in sight of the group. They reached deep desert at about midday. A very strange sight awaited them. There were no rocks, but there were tall twisted trees that were sprouting leaves. Halpin looked at one of them. "What are those?" she asked Aeph.

"I don't know," he had replied. He turned to the oldest boy, a ten-year-old named Dalon. "Do you know?" he asked. Dalon shrugged. "Never seen anything like 'em before. I'll ask my da when we get back. Or maybe one of the Elders would know." Nobody else in the group knew either. "Maybe they're spirit people," one boy suggested. Dalon rejected that idea. "Nah, if they were spirit people they wouldn't be frozen like that." "Well, maybe they're, uh, enchanted spirit people," the boy guessed. Dalon scoffed at that. "That's child stuff! Don't tell me you believe in those old stories." Various boys made guesses, but Dalon laughed at all of them. "C'mon," he shouted. "If we don't play soon, we won't get any game in at all before we have to go back!" That was the cue for the boys to slip away and hide. They did so, slightly clumsily. Halpin turned around.

"Aeph? Dalon? Thanir, I know you're there. Come out, you guys. It's not funny." Halpin stamped her six-year-old foot. "Aeph, come out or I'll tell Mommy." There was no answer. She looked behind several of the trees, but no one was there. Then she had an idea. She climbed swiftly into the branches of a tree. There was Aeph, sitting very awkwardly with a sharp branch sticking into the back of his neck. Halpin giggled. Aeph growled at her. "Get me out of this, please, Halpin. I beg of you." Halpin broke the stick off, and then she pulled it out of the back of his neck. She jumped down, and Aeph slid down slowly, acquiring several more scrapes on the way. Halpin walked over to another tree and peered up. There was Dalon, in the same situation. Every tree she looked in had an awkward boy scrunched up with branches sticking into his body. She helped them all down without getting hurt herself. Ever since then, she hadn't gotten hurt easily by most things.

Aeph shrugged out of his memory. He looked at Halpin, who was staring at him oddly.

"Are you alright?" she asked. "You were standing there for over five minutes. I was getting worried."

"I was remembering the first time we saw trees. They have many of them here, don't you agree? They look taller, straighter. The ones in the desert were so knobby looking, and so funny . . . That was a long time ago, wasn't it?"

"Eight years," Halpin replied. "I wonder what happened to Mother and Father? I wonder what happened to Thanir, and Dalon, and Kemen . . . Aeph? Do you suppose we'll ever see them again?"

"Of course we will," he told her, putting more conviction into his voice than he felt. "It might take a long time, but we're not going anywhere, and neither are they. We'll find a way, don't worry."

"I hope you're right . . . " Halpin's voice was unconvinced. "But I'd better learn these spells before Griyor comes. Maybe he'll be able to help me learn them better." She turned back to the book.

Somewhere, far away from the Palace, the Druids gathered. Pale fingers of mist appeared and vanished as each Druids arrived.

"I think that we should meet this child as soon as possible and teach her the true ways. This wizard is good-hearted, but he knows nothing of our ways." Shial-Kem stood, proudly. "We must hurry, for she may be able to stop the war if we start teaching her now."

"She is not a child. She is older than a Druid normally starts training. She is already fourteen." Tonkel stood at his full height and glared at Shial-Kem.

"This is a special case, Tonkel. I agree with Shial. We should bring her into our customs as soon as possible. You saw as well as I, in the scrying bowl, what her brother was thinking. That, combined with the commanding of the butterflies -- the wizard is right, she shouldn't be able to do that yet, not without tutoring -- is undeniable proof that you must reconsider before giving such a strong answer." Linel laid a soft hand on Tonkel's arm. "Please."

"Perhaps." Tonkel turned away. "I shall think about it, but I warn you, I don't like it. Not at all."

Thoran, fourth and last Elder, stood. "You three have voiced your opinions, now I shall give you mine. She is not from here. She is from a land with no magic -- a land that has turned to illusion! This speaks strongly against her, yet I speak for her. She is not too old to learn our art, and it seems that she has learned some on her own already. She will learn quickly, of this I am sure. We must bring her here, and if you are right, Tonkel, then we shall send her back with no memory of this. And, furthermore, if she is suitable, I shall teach her myself. Shial, the war is not at all the most important of our concerns. We speak of other things long before we consider that."

One of the younger Druids stood. "What war do you speak of? The war that Yernl Town presses for should be beneath our notice."

Do we tell them? Thoran mindspoke Shial-Kem. Rumors will spring up soon enough. Shall we allay them? Or do we wait? Thoran looked at Shial-Kem.

You have always known my views, she replied. I find them more appropriate, normally. Do as you wish, however.

You brought it up, Thoran growled. But he smiled reassuringly at the young Druid who had asked. "It may become . . . bigger, in a sense, than it seems to be currently. That is all that we meant."

You should be more careful before you speak, Thoran thought to Shial. But he grinned at her when she looked hurt. But I love you anyway, my friend. So it is agreed upon that we shall bring this child here, to our Grove, and see what she may become? This last was directed to all four Elders, who stood distinctly in their green robes, no longer clothed in the grey of the Novice. He did not truly have to ask the other three once all had discussed it, but it remained customary to do so. That way if any of the three had changed their minds or thought of a new point, they could bring it up while the council circle was still invoked. No one answered, although Tonkel still looked a little disconcerted. That will pass, Toran thought to himself. But it is time to contact her now.