Longeye by Steve Miller, Sharon Lee Page A

too much turbulence, and Elizabeth Moore's a steady, if dangerously bright, copper. Sian must be distressed, indeed, Meri thought, to allow so much to be read; she was court-trained, as surely as he was, and certainly knew how to keep her aura calm, even—especially!—under stress.
    "Don't trouble Jamie on my account," he called, and forcibly did not grin as Sian spun about to face him. "Good evening, Cousin."
    "Cousin Meripen," she said, as if she suspected the existence of the grin, despite his efforts. "We are well met."
    "So we are," he answered cordially, and bowed to Elizabeth Moore. "Good evening, Tree-Kin."
    "Master Vanglelauf," she said composedly; "we had not looked for you so soon."
    "I had not expected to return so soon," he said truthfully. "As it happens, I have news for the Engenium."
    "Which will wait," Sian interrupted. "Meri, attend me. Diathen has put a Newoman, one Rebecca Beauvelley, into my care until such time as she is wanted at court. The trees call her 'Gardener' and appear to find her appealing. She was following me, but left the path between the long curve and the village green. A Gardener she may be, and holding the goodwill of trees, yet she must not spend the night, alone and unprotected, in the wood. Please find her and bring her back. I have asked Sam to rouse the others—"
    Meri shook his head, remembering at the last moment to swallow the sigh. If he must go and find this Newoman, he did not need the trees disturbed by the efforts of those who were—kindly—not Wood Wise.
    "There's no need to send—to rouse honest folk from their beds," he said to Sian. "If Sam will come with me—?"
    He looked to Elizabeth Moore, who gave him one of her roguish smiles and a cordial nod. "I'd wager you couldn't keep him in the village. I will do my best to keep Jamie here at least—unless you want him, Master Vanglelauf?"
    In truth, the sprout would slow them, Meri thought, though he would need to practice his tracking, and it was an elder's duty to teach. He considered Sian, noting the anger tinting her aura. Sian had been court-trained. If she gave herself away by so much, the case was desperate, indeed.
    "I look forward to hunting with Jamie on another occasion," he told the sprout's mother.
    She laughed, her aura sparkling bewitchingly, and shook her head. "Always the courtier!"
    "Indeed," Sian said; "it is always a pleasure to observe Meri in the midst of behaving himself."
    He gave her a glance, eyebrow up, which she met with a frown.
    "Now," she said pointedly, "would not be too soon to go. Cousin."
    "Of course," he answered, keeping his voice smooth. Sian was in a chancy temper, indeed, and a wise man would not bait her. "Let me find Sam. We shouldn't be long."
     

Chapter Nine
    Despair made the mists thicker; the air warmer. He would, therefore, not despair. There was no reason for him to despair.
    Indeed, there was reason for cautious optimism. He had called; Rebecca had come. That the fickle mists then rose to hide them from each other—the mists were jealous; that was well known even of the keleigh , which could not abide anything to thrive, excepting itself.
    The point to focus upon was that experimentation had proved that he could call Rebecca to him, and that she could recognize him amidst this tenuous geography. That was well.
    What was required, before he called her a second time, was that he craft some way for them to connect immediately, and before the mists intervened. He must contrive to meet her at some point where the mists were thin, and follow her back out. Whether she led him to the Vaitura or to her own land, he cared not, save that he was brought out from this mist-filled and treacherous place.
    It was said that Drakin Fairstar sought her heartmate inside the keleigh , when her duty was done and her hands were grown back. When she found him, so the tale went, she carried him far away into the mountains, and hid the two of them, until they forgot they were heroes, and, by