get a better view.
With a nudge from his tail, Basil helped them climb their little mountain. The older beetle waved a wing in thanks, and Basil replied with a courteous nod. Just then his attention was caught not by another creature, but by a fluffy cloud of mist that was sailing just over the heads of the deer people. It moved in a focused, almost deliberate, way. As the cloud turned sharply and passed right above him, he clacked his teeth in surprise.
It's moving against the wind. Amazed, he dug his tiny claws into the snow on the boulder.
As Basil watched in wonder, the mass of mist sailed straight into the gusty breeze that flowed across the mountaintop. Completely unaffected, it flew into the center of the ring and approached Merlin and Hallia from behind.
Somehow sensing the cloud, Merlin spun around. And then the wizard did something unexpected: He waved his hand in greeting. At that, the cloud did something even more unexpected. Rippling like a windblown sail, it rose into a vertical position, Then, slowly, its upper portion bent forward in a stately bow.
It's alive! Basil realized. A creature of mist! A sylph from Airroot, that's what it was. Ever since he first heard of them, he'd wanted to see one. Wise as well as mysterious, they rarely left their realm, preferring to float silently through the Harplands, where the clouds themselves made music, or to roam across the skies, moving with the wind.
All at once he remembered another creature of wind! One whose touch he hadn't felt since the day he was born. At the instant his egg fell into Woodroot and cracked open on a bed of moss, a warm breeze had swept around him—full of the smell of cinnamon and the gift of friendship. Could she, perhaps, be here? Could she find him once more?
Basil scampered over to the boulder's highest edge. Stretching his neck upward, he lifted his small head toward the sky. Then, remembering the danger of being caught as an intruder, he hesitated—for an instant. With a hearty shake, he banished the worry. His first friend might be here! And so he cried:
"Aylah, are you anywhere near? Come find me, wind sister! Come find me again."
The chill breeze scurried across the mountaintop. But it carried no answer.
"Call as you wish," whispered a voice right behind him. "Yet expect a reply you should not."
12: M YSTERY B EAST
Here's the hard truth, straight from me:
To know who you are, it is less important to find who you were than to decide who you will become.
Whirling around, Basil saw an immense creature who towered over the boulder. Never had he seen anything like this before! The creature, whose whispered voice sounded distinctly feminine, stood more than twice as tall as Merlin. As she bent her rounded head lower, her deep-set eyes, as brown as the rest of her body, examined Basil closely. All the while, her four slender arms, each with three long fingers, stirred the air as if plucking invisible strings, making some sort of silent music.
"Who—who are you?" he demanded, spreading his wings to take flight.
"Aelonnia of Isenwy am I, a mudmaker of Malóch." Her resonant whisper somehow seemed to calm Basil's nerves. He felt himself relaxing as she spoke. Just to be safe, though, he kept his wings wide open, ready to fly in an instant.
Her deep brown eyes peered at him, so intensely that he wondered if she were reading his mind. Nervously, he slapped his tail on the boulder, sending up a puff of snow. Her gaze never wavered, making him feel more anxious by the second. The tension grew and grew—until, at last, she spoke again.
"Your name I know not, little one." With each word, her delicate fingers wove flowing patterns in the air. "Yet you a riddle could be called. Truly I speak! Many creatures have I seen, in many realms. Yet none like you have I ever found. Even possible, it is, that no one else like you exists."
Basil caught his breath. A deep chill, colder than the snow, spread through his body. How could she say
With a nudge from his tail, Basil helped them climb their little mountain. The older beetle waved a wing in thanks, and Basil replied with a courteous nod. Just then his attention was caught not by another creature, but by a fluffy cloud of mist that was sailing just over the heads of the deer people. It moved in a focused, almost deliberate, way. As the cloud turned sharply and passed right above him, he clacked his teeth in surprise.
It's moving against the wind. Amazed, he dug his tiny claws into the snow on the boulder.
As Basil watched in wonder, the mass of mist sailed straight into the gusty breeze that flowed across the mountaintop. Completely unaffected, it flew into the center of the ring and approached Merlin and Hallia from behind.
Somehow sensing the cloud, Merlin spun around. And then the wizard did something unexpected: He waved his hand in greeting. At that, the cloud did something even more unexpected. Rippling like a windblown sail, it rose into a vertical position, Then, slowly, its upper portion bent forward in a stately bow.
It's alive! Basil realized. A creature of mist! A sylph from Airroot, that's what it was. Ever since he first heard of them, he'd wanted to see one. Wise as well as mysterious, they rarely left their realm, preferring to float silently through the Harplands, where the clouds themselves made music, or to roam across the skies, moving with the wind.
All at once he remembered another creature of wind! One whose touch he hadn't felt since the day he was born. At the instant his egg fell into Woodroot and cracked open on a bed of moss, a warm breeze had swept around him—full of the smell of cinnamon and the gift of friendship. Could she, perhaps, be here? Could she find him once more?
Basil scampered over to the boulder's highest edge. Stretching his neck upward, he lifted his small head toward the sky. Then, remembering the danger of being caught as an intruder, he hesitated—for an instant. With a hearty shake, he banished the worry. His first friend might be here! And so he cried:
"Aylah, are you anywhere near? Come find me, wind sister! Come find me again."
The chill breeze scurried across the mountaintop. But it carried no answer.
"Call as you wish," whispered a voice right behind him. "Yet expect a reply you should not."
12: M YSTERY B EAST
Here's the hard truth, straight from me:
To know who you are, it is less important to find who you were than to decide who you will become.
Whirling around, Basil saw an immense creature who towered over the boulder. Never had he seen anything like this before! The creature, whose whispered voice sounded distinctly feminine, stood more than twice as tall as Merlin. As she bent her rounded head lower, her deep-set eyes, as brown as the rest of her body, examined Basil closely. All the while, her four slender arms, each with three long fingers, stirred the air as if plucking invisible strings, making some sort of silent music.
"Who—who are you?" he demanded, spreading his wings to take flight.
"Aelonnia of Isenwy am I, a mudmaker of Malóch." Her resonant whisper somehow seemed to calm Basil's nerves. He felt himself relaxing as she spoke. Just to be safe, though, he kept his wings wide open, ready to fly in an instant.
Her deep brown eyes peered at him, so intensely that he wondered if she were reading his mind. Nervously, he slapped his tail on the boulder, sending up a puff of snow. Her gaze never wavered, making him feel more anxious by the second. The tension grew and grew—until, at last, she spoke again.
"Your name I know not, little one." With each word, her delicate fingers wove flowing patterns in the air. "Yet you a riddle could be called. Truly I speak! Many creatures have I seen, in many realms. Yet none like you have I ever found. Even possible, it is, that no one else like you exists."
Basil caught his breath. A deep chill, colder than the snow, spread through his body. How could she say
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