Wynn stayed close to Magiere as they faced Most Aged Father's dwelling. She looked about for any sign of Chap, but he was nowhere in sight. Neither was the pack or Lily. Sgaile pulled the doorway's curtain aside.
"Down the stairs!" Freth ordered.
Wynn looked up anxiously at Brot'an. He nodded once and stepped through the entrance after Sgaile. Leesil went next, then Magiere, and Wynn followed with Freth close behind her.
Inside, candle lanterns lit the wide barren chamber. A stairway of living wood along the left wall led down into the earth. Wynn reached the bottom, stepping off the last stair of embedded stone, and found herself in an earth-walled chamber. At its center was a root the size of a small domicile tree.
Glass lanterns hung from stone-packed earth walls and cast hazy yellow light upon massive roots arching through the ceiling overhead. Wynn was not certain why they were here, but this underground chamber disturbed her. No elf that she knew would choose to live this way.
"Move!" Freth ordered and shoved Magiere from behind.
Magiere stumbled forward awkwardly, pulling her hand back from catching herself on the center root. She wobbled, and Wynn grabbed her arm, feeling the uncontrolled shudders running through Magiere.
Leesil whirled about, and Freth raised her blade.
"You wouldn't even try," he said. "Your sickly master still needs me."
"Enough," Brot'an warned, but his eyes were turned toward Freth.
"And Chap wouldn't let you," Leesil whispered at Freth.
Wynn's attention was pulled in too many directions. Magiere quaked in a way Wynn had never seen before. She did not usually frighten this easily-and her fear led to fury, not weakness.
A flash of gray on the stairs caught Wynn's attention.
Chap descended, his jaws already open.
Sgaile tried to reach over the stairs and grab the dog. Leesil slammed his shoulder into Sgaile's back, shoving him aside as Chap lunged off the stairs with a rabid snarl.
Freth barely caught sight of the dog before Chap's jaws snapped shut on her wrist. She dropped the stiletto with a startled inhale and jerked her arm free as the blade hit the chamber floor. Chap's snarls rang off the stone-packed walls as he drove Freth backward.
Leesil snatched the fallen stiletto before Sgaile could dive for it. All Wynn could do wastry to keep Magiere on her feet.
Freth scrambled over the bottom stair, braced herself against the wall, and kicked out. Her foot struck Chap's chest, tossing him away. Chap twisted back at her so fast that Freth gained no ground. He lunged at her, jaws opened wide.
Brot'an slipped between them, and Chap's teeth closed fast on his forearm. Chap thrashed his head and dragged Brot'an to one knee.
"Chap, stop it!" Wynn cried out.
Brot'an did not strike back. He crouched there, rigid and waiting as Chap settled to rumbling stillness.
"No more!" Brot'an said sharply.
Leesil held off Sgaile with the stiletto, but his eyes shifted toward Freth. "There's little I wouldn't pay to kill you. Don't ever touch me or mine again."
"Chap… you let him go… now!" Wynn commanded.
Chap unclamped Brot'an's arm with clear reluctance, rumbling as he backed toward Magiere. His gaze remained fixed on the tall elf rising to his feet. Dark stains spread through the gray-green felt of Brot'an's torn sleeve.
He spotted the blade in Leesil grip, and held out his hand. "Please."
"Give it to him," Magiere whispered and straightened herself.
Leesil flipped the stiletto, catching its blade, and slapped the hilt into Brot'an's palm.
"Frethfare…" Brot'an warned, tossing the stiletto to her, "keep your distance-and your conduct."
"And you too," Wynn said to Chap, though relieved to see him. "Where have you been?"
Chap ceased rumbling and the leaf-wing rose in Wynn's mind. Watching.
"This way," Sgaile said as he circled the chamber.
Wynn did not understand until she spotted the opening in the center root. Sgaile stepped through, and Wynn followed ahead of Magiere.
In the shining candlelight, Wynn at first saw only teal and saffron pillows on the floor, but her mouth went dry as she took in the rest of the small chamber.
Curled in a cradle of wood growing from the far wall and floor was the oldest elf she had ever seen. Only vague hints remained in his withered form to mark his race.
An emaciated face surrounded sunken eyes that had lost most of their amber color. Those old eyes never blinked, and patches of scalp showed through thinned hair. He shuddered with either fear or rage when he saw Magiere.
"Why are we here?" Leesil demanded.
"To be judged," Freth snapped from the doorway.
Brot'an's broad frame stood in her way. Sgaile stepped close to the frail form in the living bower and proffered a deep, respectful nod. The old one did not even glance at him.
"Judged?" Wynn said.
Most Aged Father's thin, reedy voice filled the root chamber as he spoke in Belaskian.
"No undead will poison this forest. Destroy it at once."
Sgaile did not answer or look up.
"You'll be bleeding before anyone touches her," Leesil warned.
"She is not undead," Wynn blurted out.
"Truth," Brot'an added, and moved closer to the old one. "And this is not the way judgment is rendered… especially when guardianship and safe passage have already been given. Do you now break your word as well as that of Sgailsheilleache?"
"You are Anmaglahk," said Most Aged Father, and finally turned his attention on Brot'an. "You are sworn to protect the people.Would you leave an un-dead in their midst? I do not know how this one could even enter our land."
"Her heart beats," Brot'an returned. "I know little of the humans' walking dead… but enough to know she is not one of them."
Most Aged Father's eyes narrowed upon Brot'an.
Freth pushed through into Wynn's sight. "Do you question Most Aged Father? Do you deny what we saw in the traitor's clearing?"
"The forest accepts her," Brot'an answered. "And the majay-hido not hunt her."
"Until she showed herself for what she is," Frethfare argued.
"She is not undead," Wynn repeated straight at Most Aged Father. "She hates them as you do. She is only half of what they are, and it makes her their natural adversary."
Brot'an glanced at Wynn, as did the other elves, each with their own mix of suspicion and doubt. Magiere grabbed Wynn's hand with a sharp shake of her head.
Most Aged Father's voice screeched in Wynn's ears. "Half undead is more than enough!"
"Truly?" Brot'an asked. "Is a half-blood a human or an elf, let alonean'Croan? And what would that make a three-quarter-blood?"
Sgaile lifted his head at the reference to Leanalham, and Brot'an let the question hang. And it left Wynn wondering if the girl's status among her people was not yet determined. She watched all four elves present, waiting for someone to speak up.
They were not presenting arguments to sway Most Aged Father, for at least Freth and Brot'an spoke from some equal authority here. It was their people's customs and cultural rule versus Anmaglahk authority that was being called into question, as well as anyone's status of mixed heritage. In the end, Magiere's welfare alone might not be all that was at stake, though she would likely be the first weighed in the outcome.
"And still, this is not our decision," Brot'an continued. "As Most Aged Father has wisely stated, we are sworn to protect our people… to serve them, not to rule them or decide for them. We are not a clan."
"You overstep yourself," Freth cut in. "Neither does a Greimasg'ah make decisions for the caste, nor define what it is."