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had driven through the final storm surrounding the earth, but had been broken on the rocks. With tattered sails, sinking, the white ship bravely carried them through, and appeared in the fog in the deep mountain lake just ten miles north of their homes. Even so, they barely made it to the rocks of the shore, for the night was stormy and wild. They clambered ashore, lucky to have escaped with their lives, but Penny clung to the broken prow, crying, and she would not let go, even though the ship was sinking.
    She would have been pulled down had not Richard and he grabbed her away. The white ship sank out of sight in the water, her swanprow pointed up toward the sky. Years later, Penny's husband funded an archeological expedition to drag the bottom of the lake. They found many treasures the ancient peoples of Britain had thrown in the water as gifts to the spirits and elfs, including many coins, and fine gems. Perhaps they knew that this lake at times touched the other worlds, unseen. There were gold torcs and bracelets, and even a chariot inlaid with brass, driven by stallions into the water, a gift for the gods. But of the white ship there was no sign.
    Thomas found writing in the margins, in Penny's careful hand, trailing through and around the dragons and griffins, sailing ships and sceptered kings, and the star-maidens dancing in the marginalia. The message stretched across numerous pages.
    The note read:
     
TOMMY, I READ THE CHAPTERS IN THE BOOK WHICH DEAL WITH THINGS YET TO BE, AND I SAW THE PICTURES HIDDEN IN THE LETTERS WHICH SHOW YOU AS AN OLDER MAN SITTING AT A CHURCH, READING THIS. I WILL BE IN HEAVEN BY THE TIME YOU READ THIS, LOOKING DOWN. NEVER DOUBT THAT WHAT YOU DO IS RIGHT.
     
    “I'm not that old,” muttered Tommy, rubbing one hand across his balding head. The message continued:
     
THIS BOOK IS WRITTEN IN ELF-LIGHT INKS, AND THE DIFFERENT LETTERS WILL SHOW AT DIFFERENT TIMES. THE PAGES YOU CAN READ IN SUNLIGHT WILL TELL YOU FACTS AND LORE; THE SPELLS APPEAR BY MOONLIGHT; THE OMENS SHOW ONLY ON CLOUDY DAYS; THE STORIES ARE FOR CANDLE-LIGHT. THE DEEPER SECRETS ARE HARDER TO READ. SOME APPEAR ONLY BY THE LIGHT OF THE MORNING STAR, AND ARE INVISIBLE AT MIDNIGHT, OR BY THE LIGHT OF ORION, AND CANNOT BE READ DURING THE SUMMER. THE LOVE POEMS SHOW ONLY BY THE FIRELIGHT OF BURNING ROSE PETALS, BUT MOST OF THEM ARE SAD.
THE NAME YOU WILL NEED IS ON PAGE SIXTY-SIX, AND THE LIGHT OF THE SWORD WILL SHOW IT. NO ONE WHO CANNOT DRAW THE BLADE WILL KNOW IT. MANY TIMES I ALMOST FORGOT WHAT WE FOUR DID IN VIDBLAIN, SINCE IT WAS SO LIKE A DREAM, AND SO LITTLE LIKE LIFE. I HOPE YOU REMEMBER VIDBLAIN, KEY-BEARER, EVEN IF THE HARPIST IS FRIGHTENED AND THE SWORD-BEARER IS FALLEN.
I WAS SENT TO GUIDE US ALL ACROSS THE SEA TO THE WEST, IN THE ONE WHITE SHIP THAT THE WINTER KING DID NOT FIND AND BURN. THE WHITE SWAN OF THE PROW SPOKE ONLY TO ME, WHICH MADE RICHARD JEALOUS, I KNOW. BUT I TOLD YOU EVERYTHING IT REVEALED TO ME. EVERY SECRET I TOLD BUT THIS ONE:
I WAS TOLD THE PATH ACROSS THE SEA TO THE SUMMER COUNTRY. THERE WINTER IS UNKNOWN, AND DEATH NEVER COMES, AND LOSS AND SORROW HAVE NEVER FOUND THOSE BRIGHT SHORES. EVERYONE KNOWS THAT PATH: IT IS TAUGHT THEM BEFORE BIRTH. BE BRAVE AND JUST AND NOBLE, AND THE PATH WILL COME CLEAR TO YOU.
THE BOOK SAYS THE CHILDREN OF LIGHT WHO ABIDE IN THE SUMMER COUNTRY LIVE IN THOSE PALACES, NOT FOR ALL TIME, BUT ONLY FOR THEIR FEAST-TIMES, THEIR SOLEMNITIES AND CELEBRATIONS, OR WHEN THEY HAVE BEEN WOUNDED WITH SORROW IN THEIR LONG WAR AGAINST THE DARK. EVEN THEY NEED A TIME OF REST AND OF JOY. IT IS NOT THEIR FINAL RESTING PLACE, NOR THEIR FULLEST JOY. AND AFTER THEIR REPOSE, THE ANGELS OF WAR STREAM OUT AGAIN FROM HEAVEN TO URGE THEM ON, THE SONS OF LIGHT ARE CALLED TO MANY BATTLES ON MANY WORLDS, AND INSIDE THE SOULS OF SO MANY MEN.
WE FOUR WERE THOSE WARRIORS IN THAT TIME. SINCE YOUR CHILDHOOD DAYS YOU HAVE KNOWN REPOSE; PERHAPS YOU HAVE PARTLY FORGOTTEN. BUT THE HORN-CALL SOUNDS AGAIN, AND