She gathered the magic and spun it into a subtle, spider-silk-thin weave, imbuing each thread with a sense of urgent need and respect and an echo of the terrible desperation, fear, and grievous loss she'd felt when Forrahl died. She didn't know if the Eye could still feel emotion, but she hoped the weave would convince it of her sincerity. When the pattern was complete, and the threads as filled with power and emotion as she could make them, she cast the shining net over the crystal globe and used it as the conduit for her Spirit voice.

«It's me … Ellysetta.»

All right, that seemed a silly thing to say. The Eye of Truth was the most powerful oracle in the world. It already knew everything there was to know about her, including events that hadn't happened yet. Surely it knew who she was without her introducing herself. She swallowed the lump in her throat and tried again.

«You told Rain I was the one who could save the tairen and the Fey. You sent him to find me and bring me back. Now I am here, but the tairen are still dying. I don't know how to do what you foretold I would.»

Magic energy swirled and gathered. Not her own. She refused to open her eyes, afraid of what she would see, but against the backs of her lids Fey vision was already blooming in the darkness. She saw her web, a net of fine lavender threads, wrapped around a sphere of radiant stars that began to whirl and brighten.

«Teska, please, tell me what to do. They are your kin, too. How can I save them?» Thinking perhaps the Eye would be more likely to give her the answer she needed if she asked more specifically, she added, «If I free the tairen kitlings from the egg, will they be safe from the power that hunts them?»

The starry lights of the sphere flashed in unison. She rocked back on her heels from the surge of energy. Within that flash of light pulsed a single word, spoken not in a voice, not in a song, but vibrating through every cell of her body with absolute and incontrovertible certainty:

Aiyah.

She gulped. Shei'Kess had spoken. To her. In a voice-without-sound that was as powerful and all-encompassing as Church of Light priests claimed the Bright Lord's divine voice to be. Good sweet Lord of Light. Her lashes fluttered, as if her eyes were trying to open against her will. She kept them squeezed shut, afraid of what she might see in the Eye.

Corralling her wayward thoughts, she tried to concentrate. The Eye was tairen-made. The Fey claimed that meant it could not lie, but that did not mean the Eye would always tell the whole truth either. All she'd asked was if hatching from the egg would free the kitlings from their hunter. She'd not asked if they would still die.

«Is there also a way to free the kitlings from the Well of Souls so they can hatch, survive, and remain healthy after only three months in the egg?» There. That seemed specific enough.

The Eye pulsed again, and that voice-without-sound answered a second time.

Aiyah.

Her heart slammed against her ribs. She moistened her lips. «How?»

The vibrations of energy grew stronger, battering her senses. The starry lights spun so rapidly they became solid streaks of blazing light whirling in a dazzling ball. Her breathing grew labored, coming in shallow pants as if she were running too fast to catch her breath. «How?» she asked again. «Teska, tell me.»

She struggled to hold her weave, spinning more need, more urgency into the threads. «You sent Rain to find me. If you know how I can save the tairen, please, tell me before the High Mage of Eld steals another kitling's soul. Tell me how to stop it.»

The voice-without-sound did not speak, but the light of the Eye took up a pulsing beat, flaring again and again, pounding in a relentless rhythm. Her eyes began to burn. Her lashes fluttered, and the tiny muscles in her eyelids jumped and fought to open. Was she supposed to watch? Was that what the Eye was trying to tell her—that it could only show her the answer?

Very well. «Show me.»

Her eyes flew open.

Celieria ~ Teleon

"Hello."

Den Brodson clamped down on a surge of savage triumph and forced a genial smile to his face as he turned to face Lillis and Lorelle Baristani. "Why, hello. Where did you come from?"

The twins glanced at each other. "From home," one said, while the other ignored his question and bluntly asked, "Can we pet your kittens?"

He forced a paternal laugh. "Like kittens, do you? Well, I've never met a little girl yet who didn't. Of course you may pet them. Here, they like to play with these." He'd woven little spheres from strips of pliant wood, installing a chemar fixed with two small bells into the hollow center of each. The twins rolled the little balls towards the kittens, laughing as they batted and chased the chiming balls. "Do you live around here? I've been at the outpost all week—I'm the cook with Lord Darramon's party—and I'm sure I would have remembered if I'd seen two such beautiful young ladies."

"We are cousins of Lord Teleos." They lied with such perfect innocence, Den would have believed them if he hadn't already known the truth.

"Ah, Great Lord Teleos. A good man." As the girls picked up the jingle balls and began rolling them to the kittens, he reached for the pouch of white stones at his side, calculating exactly where to toss the chemar so he could grab the girls and haul them into the Well before they had a chance to cry for help.

The metallic snick of a hundred blades froze him in place, and magic burst around him in a flash of hair-raising energy. Invisibility weaves dissolved and he found himself surrounded by what looked like an entire Fey army. Their blades were drawn, their faces cold stone masks, their eyes like burning death.