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still lay in a deep sleep and might sleep forever.
    Denoriel was frowning but more in thought than in anger now. "I had not thought of that," he admitted. "It is true that while I do not like iron—it roils my belly and makes my mouth taste like cat pi- . . . ah, sorry, makes my mouth taste foul—but I can abide it without much weakness, so long as it does not touch me direct."
    "And if your charge was threatened by men with steel swords, you could fight." She sighed. "There are many who could not, no matter how great their desire."
    "True." Denoriel pursed his lips thoughtfully.
    The healer nodded wisely, and his temper cooled. So, this lady, whose wisdom he respected, saw nothing to scorn him for—and now that he came to think of it, if Seleighe must needs go to guard a child in the mortal realms, well, perhaps he was the only one for the task. "So," she said, interrupting his musing. "Tell me of this red-haired babe and why you must protect it."
    And when the tale of the two futures for England was told, Mwynwen sat quietly, watching her salamander dance in the flames. Very softly she said, "It was only two hundred mortal years ago, just about when you were born . . . I knew Alhambra and Eldorado before . . ." After a pause to swallow, she went on, "Denoriel, it is important —I cannot tell you how important—that the child survive and take the throne."
    "Well, what should stop it, if it is fated to rule?" he asked testily, still unreconciled to the notion that he must needs waste his time in such a task. Truly, what could harm a mortal child in the close custody that any of royal blood must have that an elven warrior could defend against?
    "Does it not occur to you," she said slowly, "that if Aleneil saw these futures . . . Rhoslyn and Pasgen would also see them."
    "Good Lord Koronos!" Denoriel exclaimed, sitting upright suddenly. "How could I have forgotten my dearly beloved half-brother and -sister? No, I had not thought of it, but of course, nothing is more likely than what called to Aleneil also summoned Rhoslyn."
    "And they are not likely to keep their vision from Vidal Dhu . . . ?"
    "No, not at all likely. They are favored pets . . ." but he corrected himself before the Healer could. "No, that is unfair. They have their powers and they are very useful to Vidal Dhu. Still, they would not dare keep such a vision from him." But once again, his feelings got the better of his tongue. "And why should they wish to? They are as rotten—"
    Mwynwen sighed, her expression full of melancholy. "Denoriel, give them the benefit of some doubt."
    He did not argue, but the stubborn lift of his chin offered little hope that his opinion would change. Mwynwen sighed again. "Well, you are right in that they would not dare keep the tale of the vision from Vidal Dhu. And then even if they preferred the rule of the red-haired child, Vidal Dhu would not. Think you, would Vidal Dhu let matters progress as they will?"
    It was now Denoriel's turn to sigh. "No, indeed, he will not." Then he frowned. "But even Vidal would not harm a child."
    "He would not need to harm the child," Mwynwen pointed out. "He would only need to steal it away, leaving behind a changeling that would soon sicken and die . . ."
    Denoriel's hand tightened on hers. "But how can I guard against that? The child will be in line for the throne and will be most carefully guarded. How could I make a place for myself in the child's household without betraying my true nature? And even if I could manage that, could I watch day and night for who knows how long?"
    She narrowed her eyes in thought. "No, you could not. The Sidhe do not sleep, as do mortals, but even the Sidhe must rest. We will need to content ourselves with checking on the child every day or every few days to make sure its soul is whole. If it is not . . ." She leaned closer to him and Denoriel could feel her shivering.
    "We will know that a changeling has been substituted, and that we