Soon enough she had arrived, and she was back in her childhood for a few precious moments before taking out the pouch with the Elfstones and spilling them into her palm. She stood staring down at the perfectly formed gemstones, admiring the simplicity of their design, the stunning depth of their blue color, and the play of light through their smooth facets. She had never seen them, had only been able to imagine how they would look. Her imagination had not been equal to the task.

She took a deep breath. What should she do next?

Three stones—one each for the heart, mind, and body of the user, representing a combination of personal strengths that must be brought to bear. The weight and intensity of those strengths would determine the success of her effort.

But she had no image she could bring to mind of what it was she sought. She knew nothing of the place in which the missing Elfstones might be hidden, or even what they looked like. Those who had lived at the time they’d been stolen were long dead.

On what could she focus that would reveal what she wanted to know? What image would it take?

For a moment, she felt overwhelmed. What she had been given to do was so important that even the thought of failure was debilitating. This was the only chance the Druids might have to find what they sought, the only opportunity that might be given to them. And the opportunity belonged to her. What she made of it might well influence everything that happened afterward. She could not afford to make a mistake.

But what must she do? What image must she attempt to summon?

She stood lost in thought for a long time, considering her choices, finding them weak or convoluted or simply useless. Why was she finding this so difficult?

Finally, she walked over to a fallen log and sat down to think. She knew she was distraught, confused, worried, and a dozen other things and all of these were working against her. She took a moment to distance herself from the present, recalling the times she had come here as a child. She looked out across the few segments of the Rill Song that were visible through the trees where the river snaked its way west, a silver thread amid the deep greens. She looked at the sky, streaked with wisps of clouds and washed with sunlight. The day was bright and clear and smelled of home.

She wondered suddenly if perhaps she did belong here among her own people rather than at Paranor with the Druids.

Perhaps Ellich and the others were right.