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pale green weave. It seemed warm to the touch, but perhaps that was from sitting near the hearth.
    “Your work?”
    “Heléri’s.”
    Surprised, Turisan looked up at Rephanin, whose face told him nothing save that the magelord seemed tired, a small crease showing between his brows. Probably he had been at work all night and was ready to retire.
    Turisan folded the cloak over his arm. “I thank you, and I will not keep you now, but I have another request.”
    One dark brow rose. Rephanin waited silently as was his wont, but Turisan felt none of the vague menace he had often known in the magelord’s presence. Perhaps he had misjudged Rephanin. He hoped so, for he was about to ask his help and, by asking, perhaps learn whether Rephanin’s gift was real or merely legend. He glanced toward the open door to make sure no one else was present, then spoke quietly.
    “I have questions about mindspeech. I—we are both finding it distracting—sometimes even dangerous, I think. I would like to discuss it when you are at leisure.”
    Rephanin’s gray eyes held his for a moment, thenlooked down, hidden by dark lashes. “My gift is unlike yours. You would do better to ask Heléri’s advice.”
    “I will, but I would value your counsel as well.”
    “Very well. Come tomorrow at sunset.”
    Turisan nodded. “Thank you, my lord.”
    He withdrew and followed the magehall attendant to the colonnade that connected the magehall with Hallowhall. Even here the wind was bitter, and Turisan cast his new cloak around his shoulders over the velvet, sighing as its warmth enfolded him.
    Heléri’s work again, like the ribbon on his arm. She was his kindred now, being Eliani’s eldermother. Smiling at the thought, he hastened into the palace and down to the council chamber, hoping he was not late for the session.

     
    Rephanin sat musing by the hearth in his private chamber. The dim light cast by a bed of glowing coals fell on an untouched meal on the low table beside him. He should eat, but he was too tense to do so, and he would not rest if he retired now. Too many troubling thoughts revolved in his mind.
    Turisan wanted his advice about mindspeech. He found that rather ironic. How different this day might have been had he been the first to discover Turisan’s potential, or Lady Eliani’s.
    He sighed, remembering his shock when Heléri had told him that the young couple had bonded in Alpinon—not here in Glenhallow—and the relief that had followed after he had taken time to reflect on this. It should not have mattered to him where they had found their gift, but strangely, it did. A chance missed by a wider margin was somehow less painful.
    It maddened him that Turisan and Eliani had stumbled upon the gift he himself had actively sought for so long, the gift of distance speech. He was certain that either of them would have been a responsive distance partner for him, but chance had not brought them together.
    Few understood his desire. Folk assumed that since he could share mindspeech with anyone in his presence, he must be satisfied. The fact that distance—even obstacles as simple as a door—could interfere with his gift seemed unimportant to them, but to him it was a source of infinite frustration.
    Not that he had known such interference of late. It had been centuries since he had employed his gift.
    Flinching away from painful memories, he rose and added a log to the fire. It flared brightly for a moment before settling to burn.
    A quiet knock fell on his door. He almost chose to ignore it, and when finally he answered, his tone was sullen.
    “Who is there?”
    “An old friend.”
    The voice he knew at once, for he had first heard it centuries ago and had recalled it often. Indeed, it had haunted him for a time, though that was long ago. He closed his eyes briefly, taking a moment to compose himself, then rose and opened the door to Lady Heléri.
    She stood cloaked in the color of the midnight sky, a color that was reflected