The cursed towers 234
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still. Above the conflagration, the seven sons of the queen-dragon soared and swooped, bugling in
triumph.
"Let us hope they have no' enjoyed wreaking their revenge on humankind too much," Meghan said
bitterly.
Iseult looked rather surprised. "Are ye no' glad?" she asked. "We have won the day now, and the war
too, if I am no' mistaken. They will think twice about marching on us again."
Meghan nodded and drew her plaid up to cover her white hair. "Aye, happen you are right. Nonetheless,
they are fellow human beings burning alive in there, innocents among them. I am sick to the very depths o'
my soul with all this slaughter. Can ye no' feel their terror, their agony?"
Iseult looked back at the town. She nodded slowly. "But I'm glad. Glad! My leannan lies as if dead and
many I knew and cared for are gone. I hope the one who betrayed us was sheltering within that town and
I hope he does no' die too quickly!"
Meghan nodded her head brusquely and turned away from her into the snow.
Lilanthe stood within a grove of tree-changers, her roots deep in the delicious soil, her body swaying as
she enjoyed the warmth of the breeze that blew down the valley. She could hear little rills of water
trickling down into the river as the snow and ice melted, and the susurration of the tree-changers' leaves.
They were talking among themselves in their deep, thunderous voices and she listened with pleasure. It
was time for them to return to the forest, they were saying. Green grow glad free flow ramble . . .
Free grow ramble, she replied and they bent their leafy heads toward her, murmuring in welcome and
appreciation. Then a few strode away toward the forest, none looking back or making any gesture of
farewell. Tree-changers were solitary creatures. They wandered at will through the woods and rarely felt
any need for social interaction. Those that stayed did so only because the soil was tasty and the sun
warm.
Lilanthe remained with them until the sun was close to setting. Then quietly she pulled up her roots and
walked away toward the fires glimmering beside the river. She did not look back or wave or say a word,
though it wrenched her heart to be leaving the company of her kin. Lilanthe was half human though, and
she longed for companionship.
Dide was sitting on a fallen log, playing his guitar and singing.
"O Ea let me die,
wi' a wee dram at my lip,
an' a bonny lass on my lap,
an' a merry song and a jest,
biting my thumb at the sober an' just,
as I live I wish to die!
