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climbed out of the car and closed the door behind him. They had brought him back to the Dunkelzahn Institute, to the same spot where they'd picked him up. The dark Eurocar pulled quietly away from the curb, its tires crunching over the snow. It soon turned a corner and disappeared from sight. Talon stood and watched it go, thinking about the job and the money Brackhaus offered. But there were an awful lot of unanswered questions . . .
    "Too many, if you ask me." Aracos said in Talon's head.
    " Actually, I didn't." Talon thought. "Haven't I told you not to eavesdrop?"
    "Hey, it's not my fault. You were thinking too loud." the spirit said in a mock hurt tone. Although Aracos was as good a familiar and ally as Talon could ask for, sometimes he found their mental connection to each other a little too effective. He lapsed into silence again for a few moments.
    "So," the spirit asked, "are you going to take it?"
    Talon shrugged. "I don't know yet. I still have to talk to the others . . ."
    "Yeah," Aracos said, almost to himself, "you're gonna take it. We going back to the club?"
    Talon raised an eyebrow. There were definitely times when his ally was a little too insightful.
    "Yeah." he said. " Let's go."
    The air near the curb shimmered as the spirit's sleek motorcycle form appeared, engine already humming. Talon was particularly proud of that element of Aracos' design. It had taken some doing, figuring out how a spirit could manifest in the form of something as complex as a motorcycle, but familiar spirits already assumed shapes as complex as animals and peoples, why not machines? It guaranteed that Talon was never without transportation and never had to find a parking space. Aracos didn't need gas or tune-ups either.
    "Well," the spirit said, " hurry up. The sooner we get there, the sooner I can get a drink. And no more revving the engine, okay?"
    Of course, regular motorcycles didn't complain, or require Long Island Iced Teas to keep them happy, so maybe it evened out. Talon sighed and hopped on, and the two of them roared off into the night.

3
    Speren Silverblade enjoyed watching sunsets, so he didn't mind waiting. Especially since the balcony of the palace on Royal Hill, facing away from the city of Portland and the Sunset Gate, afforded a spectacular view. Below the hill stretched kilometers of virgin forest and rolling hillsides cut by the meandering blue waters of the river. Only the evergreens retained their leaves at this late season, the rest of the trees having shed theirs in a riot of autumn colors. Now the forest giants waited, silent and sleeping, for the coming of spring.
    Speren also looked forward to spring, with all the festivals and celebrations that occupied his homeland of Tir Tairngire during the re-awakening of the Earth. The elves were in tune with the cycle of nature, unlike the humans and others who still raped and polluted her on a regular basis. It did Speren good to know that places like Royal Hill still existed, where the beauty of nature could be appreciated and protected.
    Of course, there were always concessions. If Silverblade had been standing on the eastern side of the palace, toward the Sunrise Gate, he would see the city of Portland, Tir Tairngire's gateway to the outside world, sprawling before him in its riot of concrete and steel, surrounded by high walls as much for its protection as to contain the city and its inhabitants, to keep them from contaminating the purity and simplicity of the rest of the Land of Promise.
    Portland was a microcosm where the elven nation could receive shipments from outside its borders, allow tourists to come and see what they had built, and generally keep the outside world away from the rest of Tir Tairngire. Speren found Portland pleasant compared to most cities he'd visited, but it was still a city. Nothing to compare with the beauty and serenity of the deep forest. He hoped this time it wouldn't be too long before he returned home.
    "Sir?" A voice interrupted