WolfStar, years older than her, tenderly playing with her when she'd been a toddler.

WolfStar, desperately in love with her (although, sweet fool, he would never admit it to her), teaching her to fly when her wings had first emerged.

WolfStar, unable to keep his raging desire under control any longer, seducing her when she'd been but eleven.

StarLaughter trembled, and laughed softly. He'd never been able to deny his love for her!

He'd been so powerful, so commanding, and StarLaughter knew the entire Icarii race had envied her when she'd married him.

How lucky WolfStar had been! StarLaughter knew she'd been the perfect wife for him, her beauty and power complementing WolfStar's own attractions and abilities.

And how she had helped him! WolfStar's lust for the throne had been more than matched by StarLaughter's own desire for power. She had been the one to suggest the murder of WolfStar's father, StarKnight.

She had been the one to fire the arrow that sent StarKnight tumbling out of the sky.

And for the throne that she helped him take, WolfStar had loved her.

He'd adored her!

StarLaughter knew that even now adoration could not be very far beneath the surface of WolfStar's sneers and outward contempt.

No, WolfStar still loved her, and WolfStar would aid her in the rescue of their son.

After all, wasn't it his son who'd been stolen as well?

And hadn't he adored his son, and adored her for conceiving him?

StarLaughter's face softened into something resembling love as she stared blank-eyed into the wasted landscape. How wrong she'd been to seek revenge on WolfStar. She'd always adored him, she could understand that now, and it would take but a little effort on her part to make WolfStar understand that he still adored her.

"We are SunSoar lovers, you and I," she whispered, one hand clutching at the tattered blue robe above her breasts. "One being, one soul. Nothing can keep us apart. Nothing."

And on these twisted thoughts, StarLaughter built hope.

"I have to get away from Qeteb," StarLaughter said, at what seemed like hours later. "And then find WolfStar. Oh, how happy he will be to see me!"

She jerked her eyes around the land, seeking answers. Where could she go? Where would be safe from Qeteb?

"I know the nooks and crannies of this land better than any Demon," she whispered, and then she nodded slightly. Yes, she knew a place to hide. A place that felt right. A place that called her.

But it would take her a while to get there ... unless ...

She turned her head and regarded Spiredore thoughtfully.

Chapter 12

The Key to Sanctuary

Faraday and Gwendylyr were wandering through an orchard of green apples and cotton trees laden with pale pink and blue flowers. With them walked Azhure and two of the Star Gods, Pors and Silton. They were chatting about DragonStar, and what had happened in something called the crystal dome, but the man who observed them did not care to listen as closely as he could have.

Isfrael had other things to think about, and other deeds to be done. He stood unobserved and watched the walkers for a short while, then he slipped silently away amid the thickness of the heavily-laden boughs of the cotton trees.

Their beauty and scent left him unmoved.

Isfrael had no qualms about what he was going to do. He did not think of it so much as a betrayal or a treachery, but as an inevitability. Sanctuary was bound to crumple before the power of the Demons at some stage or the other, and whether or not Isfrael speeded up the process was immaterial.

What was important was regaining his position at the head of the Avar, managing to exclude Faraday (didn't the Avar realise that the time of their precious Tree Friend was well and truly over?) once and for all, and managing to save the Avar from the inevitable destruction of Sanctuary.

Isfrael wanted the forests, he wanted his position as Mage-King back, and he wanted the Avar to be safe forever from the axes and arrogance of the other two humanoid races. There was only one place left in this existence where he could accomplish this.

The Sacred Groves.

There the Mother still dwelt, there the trees grew thick and magical, there the Horned Ones still walked in power.

There, Isfrael could regain his place.

And perhaps ... perhaps Shra's soul had found its way there when she'd died.

"Hello," a gentle voice said behind him. "I often come here to think as well. It is a place of great beauty and contentment, is it not?"

Isfrael whipped about, only barely managing to suppress a snarl of irritation.

Leagh stood there, her distended belly making her virginal white linen gown look ridiculous, and her brown hair tumbling down about her shoulders and back as if she was trying to pretend to be a Bane (how dare she!). Her eyes, the only part of her that demonstrated some sense, revealed her trepidation.

She actually seemed to be waiting for a response, so Isfrael glanced about him. They were standing in a small glade, a waterfall and rock pool to one side, and wildflowers spreading in drifts through the short grasses of the open space.

"It's lovely," he said, and forced a smile.

Leagh relaxed a little, and she indicated a small pile of smooth-backed rocks beside the pool. "Will you sit with me a while? I have not had a chance to talk to you before."

That is because you are a plains dweller and have not been welcomed in my forests, thought Isfrael, but he sat anyway.

Leagh began to chat about innocuous pleasantries, and Isfrael replied in monosyllables whenever she paused for an answer. By the Horned Ones, she actually seemed to be enjoying herself in this pastelised version of the real, vibrant world! Isfrael would have got up and left — this woman was more than annoying — but some part of him wondered if she might have some information that could help him achieve his ends.

After all, wasn't she close to DragonStar? Might she not know something that had been kept hidden from everyone else?

Once he'd thought of that, Isfrael paid more attention to Leagh herself. He began to reply more pleasantly, leading the conversation himself, making the woman laugh with some of his tales of life in Minstrelsea.

And Isfrael reaped rewards for his pains. After a short while Isfrael realised that there was something profoundly unusual about Leagh. She was not just a "plains dweller"; she was far

more. In fact, the way she moved, her smile, and the shift of her eyes made Isfrael realise that an intriguing power played beneath the surface of her outwardly pleasant demeanour.

Leagh was as powerful, if not more so, than any of the Avar Banes had been!

But how could this be so? The Acharites had no access to power, had they?

Very gradually, and as carefully as he could, Isfrael started to redirect the conversation. He cloaked himself in an aura of innocuousness —

Aren't the horns growing from my forehead cute? See the cloth of twigs that cloak my loins:isn't that the most naively rural thing you ever saw? See my discomfort regarding my mother,Faraday: doesn't that make you want to hug me and make it all better?