After the first dozen or so introductions, Rain began sending little private communications to her on weaves of Spirit, things like «You didn't like Lord Braegis at all, did you, shei'tani? Can you tell me why?» or «You seemed to like Lady Clovis. Perhaps we should arrange for you and Marissya to meet her for tea.» His Spirit voice was calm, reassuring, and even occasionally wicked: «Lady Zillina had best not lean over tonight or those br**sts might just leap for freedom.» The intimacy of the conversation—private words shared only between the two of them—made the ballroom seem less crowded and the nobles a bit less terrifying. Occasionally Rain would reach over to stroke the hand she kept on his wrist, lift the corner of his mouth in the faintest of smiles, and whisper in her mind, «You're doing fine, shei'tani. You bring pride to this Fey.»

One of the few genuinely friendly faces in the crowd was a Fey-eyed border lord named Teleos from the west, whom Rain greeted with a warmth he'd not shown any other Celierian. Even without Lord Corrias's whispered summation, Ellie knew who Lord Devron Teleos was. His family's ancestral estates lay at the foot of the southernmost Fey' mountains, guarding the Garreval, gateway to the Fading Lands. On that land, fifty miles north of the Garreval, the battle of Eadmond's Field had been waged, and Sariel had died.

"Lady Ellysetta." Teleos bowed to her. "The gods have shone their grace on the Tairen Soul indeed. You make me envy him his good fortune.”

Ellysetta blushed at the generous compliment. Just as she'd sensed the false welcome in the other lords, she sensed the truth in Teleos. Like the Fey, he looked at her and saw beauty. How amazing. "You are too kind, Lord Teleos," she replied, "but in truth, I received the greater grace. What girl has not dreamed of Rain Tairen Soul and Fey devotion?”

"And all this time, I believed the thought of me would send them fleeing in fear," Rain quipped with a faint smile. In a more serious tone, he told Teleos, "My thanks for your courage in Council yesterday. It is good to know that common sense still prevails in some parts of Celieria.”

"I should have spoken sooner." Teleos's green eyes held genuine regret. "Had I known what was done to Ser vel Jelani, I would have, but I never suspected such animus.”

"Dax tells me you are the descendant of an old friend of mine, Shanis Teleos," Rain said.

"My great-grandfather's great-grandfather," the border lord confirmed.

"He was there that day at Eadmond's Field. I am glad to know he survived it. He was a great warrior, and a true friend.”

"According to the family history I learned as a boy, he saw an opportunity to flank the Merellians and took a force of his best men to circle round from the north. He wasn't on the field when you … when the Rage took you.”

Rain nodded somberly; then a ghost of a smile lightened his eyes. "He always could read a battlefield … and had the gods' own luck. We were chadins together in our youth at the Warrior's Academy in Dharsa. Then I found my wings, and he went south to Tehlas, to continue his training under the tutelage of his uncle and namesake, Shannisorran v'En Celay.”

That was a name Ellie had read in numerous tomes of Fey history and poetry. Shannisorran v'En Celay, Lord Death, one of the greatest, deadliest Fey warriors ever to have walked the earth, as infamous in battle as Rain was for the scorching of the world and Gaelen vel Serranis for sparking the Mage Wars.

"I did not see your folk there by the Garreval when we passed through the Mists," Rain said. "Shanis always kept the custom, but I suppose things have changed.”

Lord Teleos smiled at the probe. "The land remains in our family, but we no longer live there. After the Wars, the king granted Shanis a northern estate bordering Eld and the Feyls. We now guard Orest and Kiyera's Veil.”

Rain nodded. "So Dax told me. It is a handsome land .. . and a dangerous one. The Eld I knew always coveted that stretch of the river." Orest, the City of Mist, lay at the foot of the Feyls, wreathed in the mists and rainbows of numerous waterfalls that fed the mighty Heras River. About a mile northwest of the city in the river gorge, Kiyera's Veil was a legendary gauntlet of towering waterfalls pouring into the Heras from opposite mountains, filling the gorge with water and mist and blocking a pass rumored to lead into the Fading Lands.

"And still do." The border lord's expression became grim. "I lose a dozen villagers every year to Eld raids—not murdered, just gone—but the attacks seem to be lessening of late.”

"You're the first I've heard to blame the Eld and not dahl'reisen.”

Teleos grimaced. "Yes, well, Sebourne and his pack don't think a fly dies on the borders these days except by dahl'reisen hand, but the raids on my land just don't have the feel of dahl'reisen. I can't really explain why.”

"Do not discount your intuition, Lord Teleos. You're Fey enough to perceive things beyond mortal senses. The Eld I knew always longed to drive a wedge between Celierians and Fey. Murdering Celierians and blaming the Fey—or the dahl'reisen—is just the sort of deception they would employ." From the corner of his eye, Rain saw Lord Corrias signal. "It has been a pleasure meeting you, Lord Teleos. I hope we have the chance to speak again.”

Teleos bowed graciously. "The pleasure is mine, My Lord Feyreisen. It would be my honor to host a dinner for you before you return to the Fading Lands. Though I'm unlikely to instill trust in those who doubt the Fey"—his Fey eyes gleamed with wry humor—"I know many lords who remain more open-minded about certain things than Sebourne.”