“Without the Lady, or the guidance of another with her powers, the taig is defenseless,” Orlith said. “If worse comes, neither of us can raise its full power.”

“At the battle on my way here, a Kuakgan raised the taig—”

“We do not speak of Kuakkgani!” Orlith said.

“We speak of death and the destruction of the taig,” Kieri said. “Surely you could cooperate long enough to save it.”

“They are an abomination,” Orlith said. “It cannot be.”

“The taig doesn’t think so,” Kieri said. “And the Kuakgan I met was a healer; I saw him heal both man and horse.”

“Oakhallow,” Orlith said. “He is …” He paused and shook his head. “If the Lady is indeed gone, by her will or another’s, then by the Singer’s commands it is our charge, we remaining elves, to defend and uphold the taig by any means we can.”

“So I believe,” Kieri said. He felt a tiny trickle of hope. A Kuakgan might know what this mysterious scathefire was, might know how to heal what had already burned in more normal fires.

“You could command me,” Orlith said. Kieri stared at him; Orlith, like the other elves, had made it clear that except for associating—unwillingly—with humans, he considered himself the Lady’s subject, not Kieri’s. “If the Lady lives, and returns, and I have accepted a Kuakgan into her realm, she will blame me.”

“It is my decision,” Kieri said. “And my realm, since she is not here.” Nonetheless, he had no idea how to ask a Kuakgan for help. Master Oakhallow had come from Brewersbridge at Paks’s request, but that was days away, even for a courier, and he had none to spare. That there were other Kuakkgani he knew, but not how to find one. Perhaps the Seneschal …

“Yes, Sir King,” the Seneschal said. “There are a few kuakkgannir in Chaya, though their Kuakgan has her grove in Tsaia. But there may be a way … shall I ask?”

“Yes,” Kieri said. “At the least, we must warn anyone with an interest in the taig of the danger … if that other weapon is worse than fire.”

That night the first scathefire attack came. Faster than couriers could ride, the path of purple-white flame raced down from Riverwash, near enough that the light of the flames could be seen to the north from the highest tower in the palace. Then—abruptly, just as the flickering of the flames replaced the glow, so close they were—they died. The dark returned, but the anguish of the wounded taig did not quiet. More than the trees had died.

By midday, Kieri knew that there had been two such fires, one halted farther away from Chaya but the nearer one, less than a day’s ride. “I must see it,” he said, over the objections of his Council. “If my magery can do anything to stop it, I need to know what it is before I can fight it.”

Orlith and two of the remaining elves in Chaya rode with him, along with four Squires and—to his surprise—both senior armsmasters.