Roch Shan is muddy. When it was in my hands, I took it back to the lady's rooms for another afternoon of elusive conversation. I set the chalice on a western windowsill.
"So quickly time passes," remarked the lady as it grew late. "It is time for bed again."
As she took down her hair, I moved to the chalice, where the last light of the setting sun was reflected in dancing lights on the surface of the water. I leaned down and set my lips to the water just as Elin began her spell. I felt the drowsiness, but the shock of cold water in my throat washed it away, and the reflected sun kept my vision bright.
I drank the last sip of water just as the sun disappeared completely and Elin finished her song. I sank to the floor and pretended sleep, until I heard her soft tread leave the room, and the door swing closed behind her. Then quick as I could, I was up and after her.
She walked silently down the hall and into the servant's wing, out a side door, and into the night countryside. She picked up speed as she moved farther from the manor. I had all could do with following her. There was no way to stay hidden, but she never once looked back.
I had not had time to catch any sort of shawl, and I was mightily cold. She wore only a thin shift but was seemingly not bothered.
I began to worry about the terrain we were crossing. Some of it was familiar and some of it was half-familiar and some of it was altogether strange, though I had made extensive explorations of the area. We waded through a little stream, which I recognized, but the wetting of my feet did nothing to improve my chill.
Then we came to another stream, a deal wider than the first, and with no call to be there. Except for the size, it looked exactly like the one we had already crossed. Lady Elin strode through it as easily as she had the first, the water barely skimming her white ankles. But by the time I struggled through it, I was wet to the waist.
I ran to catch up with Elin, only to find her at the bank of a third river, this one three stones' throws wide. No such water exists in Roch Shan.
She stepped in, her feet making no ripples in the river's glassy surface. As before, she walked easily, never sinking below ankle depth. As I followed, the water deepened. I was in it to my neck before I had gone a quarter of the distance. I was not born with flippers; I cannot swim. So I stood and watched her step lightly through the water until she was completely taken by the night.
Then I made my way back, which was somehow a far longer journey than the coming had been. It was late morning when I arrived, footsore and muddy from head to toe, at the manor doors. Her ladyship was in bed and sound asleep.
"This is what I need," I told Laird Rheagel, "to hold the sea: one moonstone, ground fine."
"You shall have it," he said.
That evening I used the chalice to feign sleep, as before, and at night slipped out after the wandering lady. Also as before, I had no wrap. It wasn't enough that the Lady Elin was bound and determined to kill herself. No, she would have me catch my death as well. Wherever she had inherited her fey blood from, it had come with no sense. The Sight will never substitute for what any fool can see.
Then I was at the third river, the still black water. Elin made her usual careless crossing. I waited until she was gone from sight, then drew out the moonstone packet Laird Rheagel had given me. I took the tiniest pinch of the powder and sprinkled it on the water.
Like the tides responding to the call of the moon, the river receded, parting on either side to make me a path. I walked forward, tossing a bee's thimbleful of moon dust ahead of me with every step.
When I came at last to the other side, I found myself in a country I had never seen at all. I stood at the foot of a high hill, black against the gray sky. The warm winds of late spring curled around me and ruffled the grasses. I glanced at the sky: as I had expected, the constellations had shifted. The Hunter, the Maiden, the Beast—they were gone. In their place shone the Crown, the Hand, the Tree—elven figures all.
I was shaking like a dry leaf. Oh yes, I was scared—this land was none to trespass in—but I was joyful too, in a fierce way. No feeblebrained witch-hunter could have followed the path I had navigated.
I put a foot on the hilly slope, gathered my sodden skirts, and began to climb. I was out of breath by the time I reached the crest, and I paused to rest. A good thing, for in the silence I caught the faint sound of voices. I crept forward and saw figures standing at the base of the next hill. Behind them, leading into the side of the hill, was a small opening. It spilled enough light to clearly illuminate one of the two figures: Lady Elin.
"No," she was saying, "no danger—none there has the skill to break the charm you gave me."
"Are you ready, then?" the other spoke. It was a man's voice, rich and musical. He was silhouetted against the bright opening, standing just inside the hill, and I could not see his face. But no mortal was ever built so tall and lithe.
"I am ready," she said. The elven man reached a hand to her, and she stepped forward as if to take it. But although he moved not, all her reaching brought her only a hair's breadth from him, no closer. She cried out, a wail of sorrow and frustration.
"One more night," he said, dropping his hand. "One more night and the strong slow spells will be finally bound; the pattern will be entire; the crossing will be complete."
She made a reply, but I could not hear it—the wind had picked up. By the end of the elf's words, it was the force of a strong storm, whipping my hair across my face. As I watched the two, I saw that he was drifting away, or we were. In any case, the winds were blowing a wide rift of black water between us.
Before Elin could come on me, I turned and picked my way back down the hill and through the water, across the streams and to the manor doors. The lady never overtook me, but still she was there by the time I returned.
I went to Laird Rheagel. "This is what I need," I told him, "to chain the zephyr and your lady: one eagle's wing—and it will be the last thing I'm needing, for success or failure, tonight this ends."
"You shall have it," he said, "but mistress, bring me success."
I didn't bother joining Lady Elin at all that afternoon; I caught up on some much-needed sleep and went to her at sundown. She didn't look like she'd even noticed my presence or the lack of it. She was ashen white except for her cheeks, which were flushed blood red, and her eyes, which were feverishly bright. She was burning herself up from the inside.
With the sunlit water I resisted her song of sleep, and followed her out into the night. This time I didn't notice the cold: my fear was hot inside me.
I kept close behind Elin as we crossed the three rivers and came again to the twilight shore. Her pace quickened as we topped the high hill. On the next slope stood the elven doorway, and a man was waiting.
I began to run then, as fast as I could, nearly tripping over my sodden skirts, but I caught her at the foot of the hill. She whirled to face me, her eyes lit with panic.
"Oh no," she whispered, her face crumpling, and then shouted out, "no, oh no no no!" She struggled like a wild thing, but she was very weak, and I held her easily.
"Lady," I said with pity, "you cannot make this crossing. It is killing you."
"It is the other world that is killing me," she cried passionately, "never this one. All my blood has called me here. Witch that you are, woman of wisdom, can you not see that this is my only chance at life?"
"You are no changeling," I told her. "You are an untaught sorceress, caught up in magic that far exceeds you. And you have duties, scared bonds...Lady that you are, life of the land, how can you forsake Roch Shan?"
"Roch Shan!" she laughed derisively. Her laugh was high and brittle, a sound like clattering glass. "Roch Shan is dead already!" She abruptly ceased fighting and collapsed at my feet. "Please," she said hoarsely. Her voice tore from the back of her throat, formed not from sound but from the pure emotion of desperation. "Please!"
I felt for her, for she was doomed. She had walked the elven lands, and there would be something in her forever caught there. But howev
er she denied it, Roch Shan was a part of her, and her soul would dissolve before those bonds did.
I looked up, glancing at the elf before us. He had made no move during the whole struggle. He stood just inside the passage leading into the hill, framed in light, watching. He met my eyes.
He was clad in what seemed to be diamond-studded silk, dark blue or perhaps purple. He wore a silver circlet. His hair was night-black, catching the light from the doorway in a reflective blaze, and his eyes were starry bright. He had a bittersweet face, perfectly formed, with no human blemish to give the eye a respite. He smiled at me, a dark invitation. I trembled.
Elin, at my feet, reached up to clutch my elbow and bring my attention back to herself. She spared no glance for the elven lord. I wondered suddenly if she understood this land any less shallowly than she did Roch Shan. The elf's eyes were upon me, and I wondered further whom he had opened his borders for.
I fumbled under my belt and found the eagle's wing. As I withdrew it, Elin's eye fell upon it and she lunged upward, but her assault was frantic and clumsy. I evaded her and flung the wing to the ground.
Immediately the winds flared up, reaching gale force within seconds. The elven hill began to recede. The winds tangled my skirts around my legs and tore away Elin's howls of protest. The light from the hill disappeared into darkness; the wind died. Elin was