Barb Hendee - Rebel Fay

"Try," he said. "Not just for pretense… perhaps eating something might dull whatever you're suffering."

Chap agreed in sentiment. The meat smelled savory, but for once, he wasn't hungry either. Instinct and not intellect nagged him with strange notions. Somewhere in the forest beyond Crijheaiche, his Lily ran with the pack.

Wynn heard footsteps approach outside the elm.

Sgaile leaned in around the doorway curtain. "It is time." Wynn was partially relieved. Trapped inside with Magiere and Leesil for two solid days had been trying. With little to occupy them, the days crawled by, broken only by meals, Brot'an's infrequent visits, and Leesil's incessant sniping at the tall anmaglahk.

Sgaile glanced at Magiere's attire but said nothing.

Over the previous days, Brot'an had decided upon her appearance for the hearing. Magiere argued, of course, but he won in the end, and Wynn privately agreed with Brot'an's suggestions. Appearances meant much to elves, but Magiere was still grumbling moments before Sgaile arrived. She now wore a clean, light tan elven tunic with a square-cut neck and breeches to match.

Wynn had braided Magiere's hair so that not a strand would fly free, and she looked like a simple human woman. Far less dangerous in appearance, but there was nothing to be done about her pale skin and blood-tinged black hair.

Leesil changed into his oversized muslin shirt-complete with stitched rents-chocolate-brown breeches, and his own boots. He still looked a bit ragged with his hair hanging free about his shoulders. Chap was the only one who caused no grief, sitting quietly for once as Wynn brushed out his fur.

But all of their busy preparations could not dispel Wynn's fear. If Magiere was found guilty, she would be executed, and there was nothing any of them could do to stop it.

Wynn closed her eyes for a moment, trying to push such thoughts away. But she failed, and her mind wandered in directions more morbid. How might the elves decide to kill Magiere? If they believed her undead, beheading orfire were the only options… and Sgaile had once expressed revulsion at the prospect of dismembering the dead.

Wynn opened her eyes and steadied herself. No, it would not come to that. They still had Brot'an.

He had explained only the barest bits of the coming proceedings. Most Aged Father had made a claim concerning Magiere's true nature. Until this was settled, there would be no direct trial before the elders. Instead, the claim must first be substantiated as a dispute between opposing parties. Wynn grasped only scant nuances, and Chap had been no help. Instead he had filled her head with questions that Brot'an never answered.

"Where is Brot'an?" she asked, for he had not returned this day to escort Magiere.

Sgaile ignored her. "It is time. Come."

Leesil headed out, and Wynn fell in behind Magiere and Chap.

Osha was among the Anmaglahk escort waiting outside. His face filled with concern as he met Wynn's eyes. Sgaile led the way, his guards flanking and following. Chap trotted along outside their retinue.

Wynn did not see Lily or any other majay-hi. She stayed close behind Magiere as they headed inland through Crijheaiche. She had no idea where they headed, but in her mind, she pictured some mammoth oak nurtured by elven Shapers into a council hall.

Cultivated trees and brush passed by in a blur until they came to an open area and were herded between two wide oaks where many elves waited. They had reached the gathering of the elders, but there was no council hall, and the number of those gathered was greater than she had guessed.

Ancient oaks surrounded a long and gently sunken clearing covered by a lawn. Lower branches were as thick as a normal tree's trunk and grew together in bridges from one tree to the next.

Onlookers, dressed in varied attire, sat or stood upon those bridge-branches and gathered in masses between the wide trunks. Those closest turned their eyes on the newcomers, the interlopers, the humans in their midst.

One elderly woman with filmy eyes sat in a wood chair of tawny grain. All of the chair's flowing curves, from its head-high back to its armrests and legs, were made from a single piece, like the rain barrels of Gleann's home. The woman wore a maroon cloak of raw-spun cotton over a matching robe, and she held a rolled parchment on a walnut spindle in her lap. Two younger men in similar cloaks stood at her sides, and others close by shared aspects of their attire.

Their glances were more studied than others, though Wynn did not find that a relief as she stepped by them. She was gripped by an impulse to grab Magiere's hand and offer comfort, but knew she should not.

Among the crowd gathered around every inch of the clearing, many were elaborately dressed. Wynn saw hair ornaments of wood rings for tails, circlets garnished with wildflowers, sparing jewelry of polished wood and stone, and a few crystals or gems that sparked in the bright sun. Few sported metal accoutrements of any kind, although one cluster of elves wore strangely shaped broaches of copper and brass. Everywhere Wynn looked, large amber eyes watched her from within dour caramel and triangular faces.

Partway around the clearing's far side was a cluster of short figures crouched upon the grass-the Aruin'nas. Shirtless, exposing their elaborate body paintings, and with their hair shaped into spirals and curls by dried mud, two of their elders sat cross-legged on the depression's lip. Wynn squinted, trying to make out the blue-black markings on their skin. Something about those symbols reminded her of the sigils and diagrams of thau-maturgy and conjury she had seen in the guild's library in Malourne.

Clan elders were not difficult to pick out, due to their age. Each was accompanied by attendants, though many had larger retinues.

Then she caught the yellow and russet of the Coilehkrotall, Sgaile and Leanalham's clan, but she did not see an elder sitting before them.

Chap crept in beside Wynn, and there was more than one curious glance over his presence. She dropped a hand on his back, curling her fingers in his thick fur.

At either end of the clearing's floor were oval oak tables. Brot'an stood behind the nearer one, sifting through scrolls among leather-bound sheaves of paper. He looked up, his expression passive but for those severe-looking scars skipping over one eye.

Sgaile led the way downslope, and Wynn lost all self-confidence. She stepped out into full sight of the council ofthe an'Croan.

"Well met," Brot'an said.

He looked solid and distinguished in his green-gray, though he wore no cloak. Without it, his shoulders seemed too broad for his tall frame. A forest-green ribbon held back his silver-streaked hair. Sgaile and his guards retreated to the slope's base.

"What are we waiting for?" Wynn whispered.

"Most Aged Father," Brot'an answered. "It should be a quietly dramatic entrance."

Wynn raised one eyebrow. Was that sarcasm?

"Who's the prosecutor?" Magiere asked in a low voice.

"The council has not chosen one," he answered, "as the claim against you must be settled first. Frethfare is 'advocate' for your accuser. Sgailsheilleache serves as 'adjudicator' of proceedings."

Leesil sighed.

From the depression's upper edge and bridge-branched trees, a swarm of amber eyes looked down upon Magiere-and Leesil. Those behind Brot'an's table were close enough for Wynn to see their curiosity, anger, and baleful fascination. The elder elven woman and her companions displayed only cold interest.

As a child, Wynn had attended a livestock fair with Domin Tilswith. A calf born with three legs was on display at a center stall. Everyone stopped to stare and point. Wynn felt like that calf, though she guessed Magiere suffered far worse.