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By Root 679 0

or sparkled in their hair; all of them looked like elves but more beautiful than elves to the same degree that elves are more beautiful than human beings. Dallandra was never sure just how many people there were, a thousand maybe, but when she tried to count them, they wouldn’t hold still—or so it seemed. Out of the corner of her eye she would see a table with, say, ten individuals; when she turned her head for a better look, the table might be gone, or it would seem that only two or three sat there, or perhaps twenty instead of ten. When she looked at a group from a distance, they seemed to blend together while still remaining distinct, as if they were forms seen in clouds, or flames leaping from a fire. Over the laughter rang music, harp and flute and drum, of such beauty that she felt on the edge of tears for the entire time the music played.

Elessario and Dallandra sat, one to his right, one to his left, at the table Evandar headed. He caught Dallandra’s hand and kissed it.

“Welcome. And was your journey an easy one?”

“Oh yes, thank you.”

“Good, but still, you must be tired. Here, have some mead.”

He handed her a tall, slender goblet of pure silver wrapped with a garland of tiny roses made of reddish gold. Although she admired the workmanship, mindful of the old tales Dallandra set it down untouched.

“I’m not thirsty, thank you.”

His handsome face turned sharp with rage.

“Why do you turn down my drink?”

“I have no desire to be trapped here, and I won’t eat your food, either.”

“I’ve already given you my pledge: you leave when you want to leave and not a moment later. You can drink with us in safety.”

“Oh, please, Dalla?” Elessario broke in. “You can’t just go hungry the whole time you’re here.”

She hesitated, then smiled and raised the goblet in his direction. If she kept distrusting them, they would never trust her.

“To your health, Evandar, and to your continuance.” She drank off the toast. “Oh, by the gods, this mead is wonderful!”

“It tastes like the mead they made in Bravelmelim.”

All at once something came clear in her mind as she studied the feast and the feasters, the fine clothes, the jewelry, the gilded tableware and the intricately embroidered linens.

“All of this is modeled on the lost cities, isn’t it?” Dallandra waved her hand randomly round. “Your clothes and everything else.”

“Exactly that.” He grinned in pleasure at her recognition. “And later we’ll have jugglers and acrobats, just like the ones your kings used to watch.”

The feasting and the entertainments went on till dawn, a glamour more ensnaring than any ordinary ensorcelment could have been. After all, Dallandra’s own magicks would have been more than a match for any clumsy manipulation of her mind or her aura, but for that little space of time she was watching—no, she was living in—her people’s lost past, religiously remembered, scrupulously re-created by beings to whom these forms meant life itself, or at the least, the only life they knew. A sheer intellectual lust to see more, to understand that missing history caught her deep and held her tight. When the feast broke up and the folk began to slip away in the pale light of a strangely twilit dawn, Evandar took her for a long walk down to a riverbank bordered with formal gardens exactly like the ones that used to grow in Tanbalapalim. They crossed a bridge carved with looping vines, roses, and the little faces of the Wildfolk to enter a palace, or perhaps it was only part of a palace, floating in mist. Some of the rooms seemed to open onto empty air; some of the halls seemed to dead-end themselves in living trees; some of the floors seemed almost transparent, with shadows moving back and forth underneath.

The chamber that they all settled into for a talk seemed solid enough, though. It had a high ceiling, painted white and crossed with polished oak beams, and a floor of pale gray slate, scattered with red-and-gold carpets. The two walls that held no doors or windows were painted just like the outside of a tent, but far more delicately; on one was a vast landscape, a river estuary