Sherath halted Moondust about quarter of a mile east of the village.

"I'm going to see if I can get Piet to Hear me," he said to Tarke. "There's just a chance that I might be able to. He Heard me before."

"You were a lot closer to him," said Tarke.

"True. But as he's Heard me once, he's more likely to again."

Sherath extended his Awareness down towards the village, feeling for the presence of Piet ... who was in the workshop, bringing cherry-red iron from the small beechwood-fired forge, making a fresh link for a broken chain ... Sherath watched, almost through Piet's eyes, admiring the skilled economy of technique which Piet used as he coaxed the bar into shape. The man was a good ironworker. And he was alone.

– Piet, he called softly. Piet hesitated, looking around. Sherath smiled. It's okay, Piet. Don't panic – it's me, Sherath. You are Hearing me in your mind; you won't be able to see me. Don't speak aloud; answer me in your mind. As if you were talking to me, but silently.

– Sherath? Piet's answer was hesitant; puzzled; but willing to co-operate.

– Well done. Good man. Voice and Hearing are easy once you get used to the idea. They are common to all Seekers – but can't be used unless there is someone to use them with.

– Am I a Seeker, then?

– Without a doubt. As was your grandsire, and your sire. And as Jaimeh is.

– Where are you?

– Quite close. Don't stop working; you can use Voice at the same time as you work – and your people will notice nothing amiss.

– I've all but finished with this, Sherath.

– Okay, so stay inside and spend some time tidying up just in case anyone looks in on you.

– Yes, all right. Piet finished fitting the new link into the chain, and quenched it in a wooden pail of cold water.

– I'm only a few hundred yards from the village. I've brought someone with me – a friend. You haven't met her. We've brought the two unicorns. We need to talk, Piet. About Jaimeh, and Marte – and possibly others as well. Nothing to worry about – just things that you, and they, need to know. May we come down to you?

– Yes, of course. I'll talk to Annse – she'll trust me even if she doesn't understand. I'll meet you where you are. Wait for me.

– Shall do, Piet. Thank you for trusting me.

– I find it impossible not to trust you, Sherath. Sherath could feel Piet's mental grin.

– Another of the advantages of using Voice and Hearing. It's impossible to deceive someone or be deceived. Open up your Awareness.

– What the blazes is that?

– Listen. Feel. Sherath eased Awareness into the link, letting Piet feel his way through the link, seeing much of what made Piet what he was, and knowing that Piet was fascinated by what he himself saw.

– I didn't know, Piet said wonderingly. I didn't know what you are. But I feel as though I know who you are. I know you.

– Yes. As for what we are, that's one of the things that needs to be talked about. Break off now; go and talk to Annse. We'll see you soon.

Sherath turned to Tarke. "No problem," he said.

"Well, you don't have to sound quite so smug," she answered, smiling at him.

"I like that man," he said, sitting down beside the track and patting the ground beside him invitingly. "Here, you can share a honeycake with me."

Tarke slid off Moonwind's back, patting the filly's warm shoulder and making much of her. Moonwind whuffled gently in Tarke's ear.

– She Hears you, said Sherath. She knows you.

– She's lovely, said Tarke.

Sherath smiled. – That makes four of us, then, he said.

Tarke laughed and relieved him of half the honeycake.

***

Piet came thoughtfully out of the workshop, heading towards the house he shared with Annse. The big woman was not inside. She must be with Jaimeh, he thought.

She was. Jaimeh was lying on a crude bunk, on a mattress stuffed with hay, and covered over with an alp-ox hide.

"Piet," said Jaimeh. "I was just thinking about you."

"Why?" Piet grinned, echoing the question with his eyes and his mind.

"I got the feeling you were talking to someone," said Jaimeh.

– I was, said Piet. But not aloud.

– ?

– It's called Voice. You Hear me, but not with your ears. With your mind. And you can speak to me the same way.

– How?

– Like that. You just think what you're Speaking.

– You're excited. What's going on?

"We're expecting visitors," said Piet, more for Annse's benefit than Jaimeh's. "Annse, the Healer who worked on Jaimeh is waiting for me just east of the village. He has someone with him. I know I can trust you; you must also trust me in this."

"Always. You know that. Tell me, Piet."

– It would be a lot easier this way, tried Piet, and was aware even as he tried that it was no good. He sighed.

"They are Seekers. Sherath tells me I am too – like my grandsire. And like Per, although no-one knew he was – probably not even he did. He tells me Seekers have ways of talking to each other that other men can't use. Mind to mind. It works; I can Hear him, and Jaimeh, and Jaimeh can Hear me. I wish you could – but you can't, it seems. There's more to it than hearing as you would with your ears. You feel the other person's mind; you know them. It's impossible to explain unless you've experienced it, Annse. But because of that I know that Sherath can be trusted. Totally. Not just with healing, but with everything."

Annse smiled at him. "Well, for someone who took years to make up their mind about me, you've come a long way, Piet."

He bent and kissed her swiftly. "You don't mind?"

"No; why should I?"

"I can't get over how lucky I am," said Piet.

"Go on; you'd better go out to meet them if they're waiting for you. I'll tell people to expect them."

– Jaimeh; this is good. There is something very good about this; but I don't know yet what it will mean. Jaimeh's response was no more than a sleepy smile, but Piet was fully Aware of it.

***

The two unicorns lifted their heads from their grazing and looked down the track. Piet came up the track swiftly; almost running. Sherath and Tarke stood.

– Welcome, Piet, said Tarke, smiling at him.

My heavens, she's beautiful, thought Piet, taking in the litheness and golden-ness of her, the almond-shaped eyes, and the shine on her dark hair. Sherath and Tarke both laughed.

– You will have to learn to guard some of your thoughts, Piet, advised Sherath with a smile.

– What can I say but "Thank you", added Tarke. Don't be embarrassed, Piet. You'll just have to get used to it.

– I'm sorry. I've obviously got a lot to learn.

– Don't be sorry, either, said Tarke. It was very genuine. And much appreciated. She rested one hand on his shoulder. You'd better take us down to your people.

– Piet; a thought, said Sherath.

– Yes?

– Moondust would carry you, if I asked him.

– Are you sure?

– You're a Seeker. He's a unicorn. The two tend to go together.

– But he'd never let me touch him when he was with the others, Piet told him, still unsure.

– Did you ever try to reach him with your mind? asked Sherath.

– I never thought of it. Didn't know I could.

– Try now, suggested Tarke. Use Awareness. Feel his mind.

Piet hesitantly extended Awareness towards the unicorn, amazed as he made the link. He reached his hands out, and Moondust sniffed cautiously at him, then nuzzled at Piet's hair. A delighted grin spread across Piet's face.

– He's so strong, he commented. So ... I can't find the words.

– He's a unicorn, said Sherath. You don't need any more words than that. It is what he is. I'll help you up, he suggested.

Piet placed a foot onto Sherath's offered hand and was on the unicorn's back almost instantly.

– You're pretty strong yourself, he remarked, grinning down at Sherath.

– It's in the breeding, said Tarke with a smile.

***

There was a welcoming committee consisting of the entire village population waiting for them by the hearth. Most were curious; they knew one of these apparent adolescents was the one that had saved Jaimeh's life; most were excited. Some were wary, after all these were devils ... or were they? They were certainly something strange. Bern's face was openly hostile, but he said nothing, just leaned on his stick and glowered.

Piet slid gently down from Moondust's back. "People, listen to me. Meet Sherath, and Tarke. They are friends. Our hearth is their hearth, our food is their food. Talking of which, it must be nearly ready," he suggested with a smile, and turned to Sherath. "Will the unicorns graze with our beasts?"

"They'd probably appreciate the company," said Sherath. "As I do," he added, looking round the group of people with a warm smile. He was answered with several smiles in return.

***

It was full dark. The village children had gone to bed some time before; what seemed like a vast quantity of mead and ale had been consumed; the adults were sitting round the fire.

"So what makes a Seeker a Seeker?" asked Piet, eventually, putting a burning twig to his pipe and looking up sideways at Sherath.

"What makes a unicorn different from a packbeast?" asked Sherath in reply.

"It's in the breeding," said Gort.

"Yes. As it is with Seekers. Somewhere way, way back among your ancestors, Piet, was someone like myself and Tarke. There's very little difference between us and Men – but that little difference makes a lot of difference."

"Like yourself and Tarke?" asked Annse. "What are you – if not men?"

"We're Elves," said Tarke, with a slow smile.

There were murmurs of disbelief and astonishment, which slowly subsided into an expectant silence as neither Sherath nor Tarke spoke.

"Elves are only myths," growled Bern.

"No," denied Tarke, smiling at him. "We're not myths. A long time ago – a very long time ago – men and Elves mixed freely together and each knew what the others were. But even when I was a child, that was a long time ago."

"You're only a child now," said Piet.

"In many ways, we are," said Sherath. "But both of us are over three hundred years old."

"Prove it!" spat Bern.

"About a hundred years ago, a woman from this village had twin children. They were abandoned; called devils and changelings. Am I right?" said Tarke.

"Yes," whispered Karinna. "My great-great grandmother had such children. I forget their names."

"Lekki and Linka," said Tarke. "We found them. They are still with us; and still children. They've probably hardly changed in the past hundred years. They look about five years old."

"Lekki and Linka," whispered Karinna. "They were six when she left them in the woods. Just six. And they looked like four-year-olds."

"Karinna, there is Elf blood in your family. And you are a Healer. A good Healer," said Sherath, catching her attention and holding her gaze with his eyes. – Are you also a Seeker?

– Is this what Piet was talking about? asked Karinna.

– Yes, Tarke replied. And it's also an answer to Sherath's question. You are a Seeker. Which is probably why you're a good Healer. Piet, do you Hear?

– Yes, I Hear. Welcome, Karinna.

Karinna smiled, and sighed. "I never knew my father," she said. He left to become a Seeker before I was born. With my mother's blessing – he was always restless. And his mother was also a Seeker."

"And you are," said Tarke. "Your great-great grandfather, who sired those twins, must also have been a Seeker. It's unlikely that he was a full Elf. A Seeker is usually half-Elven."

"All Seekers? But surely I must be much less Elf than half?" said Karinna. "It was so many generations ago."

"It doesn't work like that," said Sherath. "It's not like Dwarvish inheritance. Now Dwarves and men can parent children; the first generation will be half-man, half-Dwarf. If they breed back to Dwarves, their children will be three-quarters Dwarf; if they breed back to men, the children will be three-quarters man. Roughly. There's a lot that goes into Dwarvishness. How much do you know about breeding animals?"

"Quite a lot," said Karinna. "As a Healer, I have to understand."

"That makes it easier to explain. You know that any animal inherits half of what it is from each parent, then; and may or may not pass on those things to its own offspring."

"Well, obviously," said Piet. "But go on."

"Elvishness is simple," said Tarke. You can inherit it from one parent, which would make you half-Elven, or a Seeker. You can inherit it from both parents, which would make you full-Elven. Or you can inherit it from neither, which makes you not Elven at all. If two half-Elves have children, the children can be half-Elven like their parents, or full man – or full Elves. Changelings. Lekki and Linka."

"And a half-Elf can pass on that Elven inheritance to his children, and theirs, and theirs?" asked Jaimeh. "So if I'm a half-Elf, my children may be as well?"

"Yes," said Tarke, looking at Marte. "And that is why we needed to come here. Because I think Marte is also half-Elven."

"She's my niece," said Karinna. – Marte?

– Yes. Marte looked over at Tarke. "So ....,"

"Yes," said Sherath. "You and Jaimeh could have full-Elf children. And those Children will never grow up – properly – without Journeying with other full Elves. They would never be able to have Children of their own. If that happens, it would be wise for them to travel with full Elves for some time. They will be very slow to grow – in size and looks – but never backward in anything else."

"They'll also be into everything and insatiably curious," added Tarke with a grin. "It's part of being Elven. Elf Children are not all joy! Giving the changelings back to the Elves is a tradition strongly based in common sense. It has to be done – eventually. But it doesn't have to be done so young. And you and Jaimeh could always come with them, you know. You'd be very welcome."

"Very welcome," added Sherath. "Just how many of you are related to everyone else?" he asked Piet.

"In some ways, most of us, if you go back far enough," said Piet. "If not directly, then through other relationships. Bern is my uncle; my father's brother. He is also Annse's cousin – his mother and hers were sisters. Their great-grandmother was Dwarvish. From the iron mines in the far North. So our child will be related to Bern twice."

"And part-man, part-Dwarf... and possibly half-Elven," said Sherath, looking at Tarke. – This could be a problem.

– What could be a problem? asked Piet, his Voice suddenly sharp with concern.

– Piet, some of this may have to wait until a little later. But it must be said before we go.

"Annse, how long have you and Piet been trying for a child?" asked Tarke.

"Years," said Annse. "It just never seemed to happen."

Sherath heaved a big sigh. "There's always been a legend that Elves and Dwarves hate each other. It's not true – but there's a reason for the legend. Elves and Dwarves cannot breed together. It doesn't work. If the proportion of Dwarf in a Dwarf-man cross is too high, it also prevents interbreeding with Elves or half-Elves. The babies die in the womb at a very early stage – usually three to six weeks. Until whichever parent is part-Dwarf passes on just little enough of that Dwarvishness. You may have lost many children before you even knew you were carrying them, because they were just a bit too much Dwarf."

Tarke turned cautiously to Bern. "Bern."

"What." He looked up at her, eyes smouldering. She was Aware of his mistrust and hatred. It was palpable.

– Sherath, she whispered.

– You could be right. Piet ... Bern could be half-Elven. And is part Dwarf. In which case, he's what would be called a 'split'. Even though Elves and Dwarves themselves get on well, the inheritance doesn't. Just little enough Dwarvish blood to allow a half-Elf child to grow is just enough to make them ... unstable. The Elf in them fights with the Dwarf in them. As though half of them hates the other half. As though they are two people in one. Split between half-Elf and Dwarf.

"Bern; you too could be half-Elven," said Tarke gently.

"Not on your life, girl!" – There is no demon-spawn blood in me! His Voice was vicious, like a whiplash in Tarke's mind. She almost flinched.

– ...and there is no-one who hates all that is Elven so much as a split does, Piet, added Sherath. The child that Annse carries could be another Bern.

– Like Bern? Always? asked Piet.

– The split can be prevented. It can even be cured. Tarke and I could ensure that your child will not be a split, even now, while it is within Annse.

– How? Without hurting it ... or her?

– It's fairly simple. Not easy, but simple. An Elf can suppress the Elf in a half-Elven – or suppress the Dwarf, said Sherath. I'd rather suppress the Dwarf – but then I'm biased in favour of Elves. And seeing that there is so much Elven blood in this small community of yours, it would be better for the child to retain its Elven inheritance. But the same thing may have to happen for its own children, eventually. And possibly even for that child's grandchildren. Until all the Dwarf was bred out.

– ... I see. Sherath....

– What?

– Could you do the same for Bern?

Sherath grinned, his back to Bern. – I could. We could, rather – it would take both of us. But not without his consent – which I don't see him giving, Piet.

– We could dart him, suggested Tarke, half-laughing.

– What, in public? He'd never forgive me, said Sherath. Although I have to admit it's an idea. Karinna, are you listening?

– Yes, I Hear you.

– Bern's leg is still troubling him.

– Yes, it is.

– Could I suggest that you let him have some of the same herb tea that you give to Jaimeh tonight? I want to add something to it. It will just make them both sleep deep and well – it's not dangerous. And it will help them both to heal faster.

– Of course. Karinna smiled at him. You're devious, Sherath.

– But you like me, he said, his eyes projecting acres of warmth at her.

Her own eyes softened in response. – This is true.

– I like you, too, Karinna.

----