He thought about it a moment. He didn’t know exactly, but somehow he thought he could find it anyway. Maybe Trim would know the way. But Trim had disappeared. There hadn’t been a sign of him since Logan had first encountered Simralin.

“I can get us to where we need to go. Then it’s up to the boy Hawk.”

Ahead, cottages appeared through the trees. The sun had risen behind them, a hazy orb hanging low in the east, still screened by the forest, its light diffuse and silvery. The predawn silence had given way to a steady rise of birdsong. From somewhere not too far ahead, a dog barked and voices could be heard.

“We’ll be there in a few minutes,” she said. “Arissen Belloruus will need to hear what brought you to us. But he will be happy you’ve come.”

They passed through the trees and found a pathway leading to the cluster of houses. The scent of flowers filled the morning air. Logan breathed it in.

“I’m happy you’ve come, too,” Simralin said suddenly.

She said it in a bold, challenging way, as if speaking the words cemented something between them that she understood better than he did. He looked over at her, but she was already striding ahead of him.

“This way,” she called back.

He had an odd thought at that moment, one he hadn’t had since Michael’s death. He would follow her anywhere.

TWELVE

IT WAS THREE HOURS AFTER SUNRISE, the sky a brilliant blue sweep through the tangle of the forest branches, the sun a bright orb hanging low on the eastern horizon, the day smelling of new life and fresh possibilities. Kirisin Belloruus stood on a rise east of the city, just at its edge and deep within the concealment of the forest. He carried the three blue Elfstones and the Loden, all tucked within his pockets, and he was dressed in the clothing he would wear when they made their escape into the mountains. A handful of Elven Hunters stood nearby, armed and ready to leave with him. Another handful of Elven Hunters, all Trackers, had spread out in a screening movement that would detect any enemy approach.