away, embarrassed should the others have seen it. Elise was so much more relaxed around other people than Culver, especially when expressing her emotions.
"The gate is closed," said Tomen, drawing his sword. "Who closed it?"
"Where is it?" asked Culver. "I can't see it anymore. We haven't walked that far."
They all looked around them, seeing only the garden. Flowers rose up all around them. Wynne muttered a spell but could not command her powers. Did she forget how? She tried another spell; her eyes darting to find some evidence of her spell. Culver watched Wynne fight the panic welling inside her. She looked around wildly, her hands shaking.
"I closed the gate. You are my guests," The silky voice purred over their ears. A man clad in a black cloak wearing a pointed black hat stood on the steps above them. They had not noticed the steps or the house; so powerful was the image of the garden. The house was of stone built long and low and resisted the stains of time, perhaps by the owner's sorcery. He started to descend the stairs. His beard was black, streaked with two thick strands of white, but blacker still were his eyes with pinpricks of red in the center. They seemed to suck all light from around him. His expression was unreadable. Tomen immediately drew his sword and rushed the man. He held his hand out palm facing Tomen and the Tuor stopped as if he hit a wall and went sprawling. Elise and Culver rushed to his side. Tomen regained his balance quickly but Culver held him back.
"Blackthorne!" said Wynne, guessing where they were at last. "No wonder my spells did not work."
"Quite so, Lady Wynne. And I am delighted that you have brought the Faerion to me."
"She doesn't have it!" shouted Culver.
"Oh, yes she does, Culver of Paglo." He glanced at Wynne but her face showed nothing. "Do you know I've even purchased some of your poetry? I enjoy it immensely. I sit here in the garden in the evening, reading it aloud. I don't know why Tuors don't honor you more."
Culver blushed. He muttered his answer and Blackthorne had to strain to hear it.
"Elise is all the honor I need."
Elise kissed him.
"This is an honor for me," said Blackthorne, turning to Elise. "A weaver has come to my home. So, we have a poet, a weaver, a sorceress and a warrior. Be welcome Tomen, son of Tangol. My home is yours during your stay."
"And how long will that be?" asked Tomen. "We are your prisoners."
"That is a question only Wynne can answer. I need some information and the sole source is the Faerion. I do not wish the book for myself, only to read a selection of it. Then you may return it to the Daerlan and King Oalaria. I sure he would be tickled to get it back. Navir could never get it for him. But Navir found many distractions on his journeys. Come, I have a meal prepared for you."
They followed mutely and found a banquet laid out before them. They sat down but no one touched the food except Culver who had eaten several mouthfuls before he noticed the others watching him.
"What's wrong?"
"We don't know," said Tomen. "We were waiting to see what happens to you."
"Me? Why?" He swallowed as it dawned on him. "Poison?"
"We don't know yet." Tomen smiled.
"Quit teasing him," said Wynne. "If it was poison something would have happened by now."
"That's not reassuring," said Culver.
"You should have stopped him," said Elise. "What if it had been poisoned?"
"He ate so fast, there wasn't time to stop him," said Tomen. "Does he really eat like that all the time?"
"Like what?" asked Culver. "I have seen you wolf down food and belch afterward without blinking."
"I do not need to be lectured by a poet."
"Enough," said Wynne. "We should eat to keep our strength up. I don't intend to spend much time here."
"I will keep my eyes open for a chance to escape," said Tomen. "I have useful skills." He looked at Culver for a moment then back to Wynne. "Blackthorne probably won't spend much time watching me. I'm afraid he's more interested in
"The gate is closed," said Tomen, drawing his sword. "Who closed it?"
"Where is it?" asked Culver. "I can't see it anymore. We haven't walked that far."
They all looked around them, seeing only the garden. Flowers rose up all around them. Wynne muttered a spell but could not command her powers. Did she forget how? She tried another spell; her eyes darting to find some evidence of her spell. Culver watched Wynne fight the panic welling inside her. She looked around wildly, her hands shaking.
"I closed the gate. You are my guests," The silky voice purred over their ears. A man clad in a black cloak wearing a pointed black hat stood on the steps above them. They had not noticed the steps or the house; so powerful was the image of the garden. The house was of stone built long and low and resisted the stains of time, perhaps by the owner's sorcery. He started to descend the stairs. His beard was black, streaked with two thick strands of white, but blacker still were his eyes with pinpricks of red in the center. They seemed to suck all light from around him. His expression was unreadable. Tomen immediately drew his sword and rushed the man. He held his hand out palm facing Tomen and the Tuor stopped as if he hit a wall and went sprawling. Elise and Culver rushed to his side. Tomen regained his balance quickly but Culver held him back.
"Blackthorne!" said Wynne, guessing where they were at last. "No wonder my spells did not work."
"Quite so, Lady Wynne. And I am delighted that you have brought the Faerion to me."
"She doesn't have it!" shouted Culver.
"Oh, yes she does, Culver of Paglo." He glanced at Wynne but her face showed nothing. "Do you know I've even purchased some of your poetry? I enjoy it immensely. I sit here in the garden in the evening, reading it aloud. I don't know why Tuors don't honor you more."
Culver blushed. He muttered his answer and Blackthorne had to strain to hear it.
"Elise is all the honor I need."
Elise kissed him.
"This is an honor for me," said Blackthorne, turning to Elise. "A weaver has come to my home. So, we have a poet, a weaver, a sorceress and a warrior. Be welcome Tomen, son of Tangol. My home is yours during your stay."
"And how long will that be?" asked Tomen. "We are your prisoners."
"That is a question only Wynne can answer. I need some information and the sole source is the Faerion. I do not wish the book for myself, only to read a selection of it. Then you may return it to the Daerlan and King Oalaria. I sure he would be tickled to get it back. Navir could never get it for him. But Navir found many distractions on his journeys. Come, I have a meal prepared for you."
They followed mutely and found a banquet laid out before them. They sat down but no one touched the food except Culver who had eaten several mouthfuls before he noticed the others watching him.
"What's wrong?"
"We don't know," said Tomen. "We were waiting to see what happens to you."
"Me? Why?" He swallowed as it dawned on him. "Poison?"
"We don't know yet." Tomen smiled.
"Quit teasing him," said Wynne. "If it was poison something would have happened by now."
"That's not reassuring," said Culver.
"You should have stopped him," said Elise. "What if it had been poisoned?"
"He ate so fast, there wasn't time to stop him," said Tomen. "Does he really eat like that all the time?"
"Like what?" asked Culver. "I have seen you wolf down food and belch afterward without blinking."
"I do not need to be lectured by a poet."
"Enough," said Wynne. "We should eat to keep our strength up. I don't intend to spend much time here."
"I will keep my eyes open for a chance to escape," said Tomen. "I have useful skills." He looked at Culver for a moment then back to Wynne. "Blackthorne probably won't spend much time watching me. I'm afraid he's more interested in
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