It was night now, the sky was clear, and they could see the stars. By their light, they saw a mist rising from what had been the forest floor. Shouldering the precious sacks, (they) paused to take a long look back towards the basin. Then moved on to find their people.

A youth was struggling up the pine-strewn slope. His face was streaked with blood, his hair was wild, his eyes dark with shock. At the sight of Feyrwarl poised upon the brink, he reached out and cried again: “Don’t go down there!”

Steeling her nerve, (Vala) filled the bowl with water, and, cupping her palms, lowered them into the bowl. The water swirled, went cloudy. . . . But instead of clearing, (it) darkened, then turned black.

No more Aelyth-Kintalyn, he’d told them. And no Án Telfahn, either. When he left, he must make sure of it—and he knew how! He strode to his desk, picked up a quill, and began to write.

Time to go, (Urolf) told himself. Aelyth-Kintalyn is quite used up. But if he simply left, that would leave the place wide open for the exiles to come sneaking back. . . . He couldn’t have that. No more Aelyth-Kintalyn, he’d told them. And no Án Telfahn either. When he left, he must make sure of it—and he knew how! He strode to his desk, picked up a quill, and began to write.

Mortals have such short lifespans, and even shorter memories. Now, let’s head off trouble at the gate—and work on our story as we go.

“Well, now hear my words: You shall this very day leave our domain and never set foot in it again on pain of death. Take him off.”

The water swirled, and glowed, and slowly an image formed. Leana floated on her back, eyes closed, her hair uplifted, waving like lake weed in the currents. Her face was bone-white, her lips were black, and ripples played across her face.

The lake lord would never treat any woman as Urolf treated Leana. But the lords of Aelyth-Kintalyn have ever been thus. Proud—no: arrogant. Ruling purely at their own pleasure, acting only to gratify themselves, whatever the cost to others.

One glimpse she had of a pale face, mouth open on a shout. Then she, baby, harness and all were engulfed in a thunderous wall of water.

One glimpse she had of a pale face, mouth open on a shout. Then she, baby, harness and all were engulfed in a thunderous wall of water.

Leana gazed around at all the gear laid out, ready. And thought of all the endless days stretching before them. “I have to go, I must,” she murmured. A short while later, she was out the door and slipping down the Concourse toward the trail. Bonus: Leana’s Lullaby

Leana knelt by the cradle. “If Urolf makes you his heir, I’ll stay for your sake,” she whispered. “But if not . . . ”

“Oh, my dear. I am so sorry.” (Vala) sighed. “You couldn’t have guessed just how hard it would be, leaving home to live with strangers.”

By their own set law and custom Urolf ought to make this child his heir. But would he? “We’ll soon find out,” (Leana) said aloud.

“My lord Urolf bears the news well. But there’s ill-feeling among the clan, and he knows it. Whatever some say in public, they won’t accept an heir of mortal blood.”

Vala smiled. . . . “It speaks to all who live in this place: Yul Kinta, human, and any in between.” Leana’s color came and went. “What do you mean?” “Come, I think you know full well. You are with child.”

“We reach An Telfahn through a portal deep in these woods—” “Portal? You mean a door?” “Not—exactly.” “Oh, I see. It’s invisible, like the boundary gates.” “Not at all. In fact”—a hint of mischief touched his face–“I’ll show it to you tomorrow.”

Turning from her casement, Leana went to her harp and played sad songs of love gone wrong, the plaintive notes drifting out over the treetops and up towards the stars. . . .

Vala sighed. “You dismissed your ladies.” Leana shrugged . . . “They hate me.” “They resent you.”