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and
     sift through the folder in front of me. There are a couple of maps of the Elvin
     plane, coordinates, and a one-page overview of the mission. This’ll make the
     third portal I’ve been tasked with in a month. Ever since the atoll mission,
     the Council has given me nothing but easy assignments. Zthane Nightstorm, who
     is sitting next to me, leans over and taps a location on the map. “Pretty
     remote. Middle of a forest. You’ll have to hike to it.”
    Yuck. The last two locations
     were at least within driving distance. Even still, I ask hopefully, “Some
     driving, though?”
    “Nope.” He gives me a grin
     that’s filled with extraordinarily white, straight teeth. Zthane is a Goblin,
     but more often than not, I imagine him as a green Julius Caesar. He’s tall,
     with closely cropped peppered hair that looks Roman-ish, plus he’s got this
     straight nose that looks like it ought to be on a marble bust. He’s pretty
     good-looking and radiates some serious influence and power, especially since he’s
     something like the equivalent of a General in the Guard. “What do you know
     about Elvin forests, Chloe?”
    “Not much,” I admit. “I’m
     assuming they’re a lot like the forests on my plane.” Aren’t they?
    “They’re similar in that
     there are trees, but Elvin forests are a lot drier than those on the rest of
     the planes. They’re more like deserts than traditional forests with sandy dirt
     that only specialized plants grow in. There’s water around, but usually deep
     underground. The trees that you’ll be seeing excel at surviving in drought-like
     conditions with deep root systems.”
    He slides over an aerial
     photo. Everything is green, green, green. I give him an incredulous look. “This
     is a desert?”
    “Weird, right? But yes, it
     is. It’ll be arid when you go. The trees provide a lot of shade, which is a
     good thing, because out in those forests, you can get heatstroke and sunburnt
     in the blink of an eye.”
    I can’t help but wonder if
     Zthane’s ever had a sunburn. His skin is a creamy matte-pea green that’s
     surprisingly attractive. Not that I would say that to him, because Zthane
     Nightstorm isn’t the sort of guy who’d be flattered by somebody telling him
     he’s good-looking. He’s such a by the book, military-style guy who cares more
     about orders than looks. It’s part of why he and Karl are best friends.
    Speaking of, Karl comes in
     and sits down across from us. He slaps a folder against the table and shoves it
     toward Zthane. As Zthane peruses it, my former personal Guard tells me, “That
     there is a list of the Guard going with you.”
    I glance at the folder. I
     learned early on that there’d always be a Guard team with me on missions;
     apparently, I’m too fragile or “valuable” to actually send out on my own. Jonah
     assures me he normally has a team with him, too, but he gets one, two people,
     tops. I’m sent with five. “Anybody I know?”
    Karl taps a finger against
     his lips. “Does Kellan count?”
    The conference room suddenly
     feels too small, even though there are only three of us sitting at a table that
     could hold twenty. I force my face to stay passive.
    Zthane pulls a sheet of
     paper from the folder. “Excellent. He’s already complaining about not being
     sent out enough since coming back. This’ll give us at least a few days’ worth
     of complacency, no?”
    Does Jonah know he’s back?
     Why didn’t I know? I shoot Karl a look that translates to: You didn’t
     tell me?
    “You know Kellan,” Karl
     says, carefully avoiding my unspoken question. “Dude’s never okay with sitting
     on his thumbs, not when he can be out working.”
    Zthane scribbles a few
     notes, signs his name, and slips the paper back into the folder. Then, with
     bemused annoyance, “I wish he’d stay put for a spell. I’ve missed him.”
    Zthane is Kellan’s mentor,
     even though Zthane is only in his early thirties. I’ve