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or any of the others. His ears strained for evidence of the hissing that had
flowed through the tunnels earlier. It was difficult with his heart thundering
blood past his ears. Maybe, he mumbled, whatever is down here already ate
its fill.
We can only hope so, but can t count on that, Rocking-ham answered.
What should we do?
There are too many ways out from here. We run a good chance of becoming lost.
I say we wait here until sunrise, then try to sneak back out the way we came.
What about the woman?
Nee lahn?
Yes.
Rockingham s face took on a pained expression, but Mogweed could tell it was
mostly feigned. Her life wins us our freedom.
Genuine sorrow winced for a beat in Mogweed s breast, but he quickly pushed it
away. He lived. That was all that mattered. Besides, the nyphai race had
always been cold to his people.
The silence became awkward after only a few moments. Neither wanted to dwell
on this last thought.
Words were needed to free them from the memory of Nee lahn s violet eyes.
You re truly a shape-shifter? Rockingham asked. He had settled his back to
the wall so he could rest and keep a full view of the chamber.
Mogweed s head bowed slightly, suddenly shamed by his heritage or at least by
the reputation of his people, as undeserved as it might be. We are called
si lura
.
And you can just change your shape whenever you want.
Yes, once I could.
How wonderful that must be.
Mogweed raised his head, shocked to hear such a thing stated by a man. Humans
had always hated them. Surely the thought of shifting disgusted them.
To shed an old form and pull on a new one; I wish I could do that sometimes:
simply walk away from an old life and start a new one. New face, new body.
Rockingham s eyes drifted inward at some private memory. His eyes quickly
focused back. That would be one way to get out of my present predicament,
he said with a slight laugh.
This man was odd, nothing like the people Mogweed had expected to find on this
side of the Teeth. In his wood, humans had always been the hunters, the terror
of the forest paths. He wanted to know more of this strange man. What is this
predicament you speak of?
Rockingham stared at him, his eyes judging and suspicious. Then he sighed and
grew resigned. What does it matter if I tell you? I was sent to fetch a girl
from the valley here a child the lord of this land suspected was a wit ch.
A tentative smile crept to Mogweed s lips. Surely the man jested with him. He
had heard stories of wit ches, but everyone laughed at such tales.
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Rockingham caught his expression. This is not a fireside fable. The Dark Lord
was right. She is a wit ch.
Doubt thick in his heart, Mogweed wondered if the man was using the trickery
of his tongue to try to fool him. This is the girl the winged monsters asked
about?
Yes, but she escaped me, and the master will not let that go unpunished. I
must either run far away, beyond the Black Heart s reach, or retrieve the
girl.
Where is she?
Rockingham s features hardened. How in the Mother s foul grace do I know? If
she s smart, she s out running with her tail tucked between her legs and won t
stop until she crosses the Great Western Ocean.
But if you could catch her, you d be safe?
Not only safe, the Dark Lord would shower gifts upon me gifts of magick and
riches.
Mogweed s mouth dried. He slipped beside Rockingham to lean on the wall, too.
Magick? This lord of your people, he has skill in this?
Oh, yes, I d say he has skill. Rockingham shuddered. He can do some&
amazing things.
He must be greatly revered.
Rockingham looked at Mogweed, his face wide with shock, then burst out
laughing.
Revered
! he said between gasps. You know, I never heard anyone use that word in
connection with my august lord. He clapped Mogweed on the shoulder. I like
you, shape-shifter. You have an interesting view of life in our lands.
Mogweed did not know how to respond to this praise, unsure if he was being
mocked.
What brings you to these lands anyway a shape-shifter who can t shift?
We& I seek a cure. Books mention a place called A loa Glen, where powerful
magick still resides.
Suddenly light dawned in Mogweed. He stood straighter and faced Rockingham.
Is that where your
great lord reigns?
Rockingham s eyes suddenly looked sorrowful, and he shook his head. I hate to
tell you this, friend, but
A loa Glen is a place of myth. I have traveled much of these lands. Such a
city does not exist.
The man s words were like stones tossed against Mog-weed s chest. It didn t
exist? His voice choked in his throat. Are& are you sure? He glanced at his
body: the thin arms, the wan skin so weak that clothing had to be worn to
protect it. He couldn t be stuck like this forever! You must be wrong!
I don t wish to hurt you, and would let you have your dreams, but such a
place truly was destroyed long ago, sunk under the sea.
Then how am I to free my body? This question was not meant for Rockingham,
only for his own crying spirit.
Still the man answered, his voice a shrug. My master could do it, I m sure.
His magick is without equal.
Mogweed s heart tensed. He grabbed at this hope and clutched it to his chest.
He would do this?
My lord is not one to grant wishes easily. But who knows? If I presented you
to him as a friend& His voice suddenly soured. But that s impossible. I
could not show my face in that court, not after failing him.
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