Interestingly, no one else seemed to share her experience. In the early days after her arrival, she mentioned the unseen presence of the magic to the others. But while they nodded and smiled agreeably, she could tell they had no idea what she was talking about, that her experience was completely foreign to them.

“May I walk with you, Aphenglow?” Garroneck asked, appearing next to her out of nowhere.

She nodded wordlessly, forcing her heart to drop back down out of her throat. How did a creature so huge and ponderous appear like that without a sound? He could be a wraith when he chose, as silent as death’s shadows.

“Is your family well?” he asked conversationally.

“My sister is fine. My mother doesn’t speak to me.”

“One day she will.”

He said it with such conviction she was instantly persuaded he was right. “I would like that.”

They walked on without speaking until they reached the Council chamber entry. Light spilled through the open doors into the hallway, and she could hear the sound of voices coming from inside.

“I will be standing watch,” Garroneck advised. “No one will be allowed in while you give your report. Close the doors behind you.”

“Do you think we might be disturbed?” she asked.

He gave her a small shrug. “Not now I don’t.”

She smiled, turned, and entered the chamber, pausing to seal the doors behind her as he had asked.

The others, all but Bombax, were gathered about the long Council table. Long-limbed, loose-jointed, and rail-thin Carrick, the other member of the Race of Man, lounged in a chair at the far end, draped over the arms and seat like the scarecrow he resembled. He was bald and clean-shaven, and his pale skin seemed to radiate in the light, giving his startling blue eyes an especially vibrant look. He sat up at her appearance and clapped his hands enthusiastically.

“There she is, the woman of the hour! Welcome home, Aphenglow Elessedil. We have missed you greatly.”

“Not that greatly,” Seersha said quickly, giving her a wink. “But enough so that we have agreed to hear whatever it is you wish to say. Assuming it doesn’t go on all that long.”

Aphen crossed the room and took a seat about halfway down the table, close by Seersha and across from Pleysia Ariana. Pleysia gave her a nod and a desultory wave of one hand. Pleysia, an older and more accomplished user of magic than Aphenglow, was also Elven, but the women shared little else and did not much like each other.

“Did they throw you out?” Pleysia asked, trying for humor.

“If you mean the Elves, no.” Aphenglow smiled as if she thought the attempt at a joke funny. “I came back all on my own.” She glanced at Seersha. “Which is not to say anyone was unhappy to see me go.”