Jametari nodded. “And so I am, but such gifts are fickle in nature and do not reveal themselves on command, and usually tend to illuminate events of significance, not the mind of a king.”

Zachary hesitated before speaking again. “Your sister said you had a way of knowing things, that the woods and stream tell you the news of the land.”

“They do,” Jametari said.

“We’ve no word from those who pursue Lady Estora’s captors and no ransom demands.”

Jametari gazed off to the side as if caught in a daydream. “There is not much I can tell you, and certainly not the specifics you wish, for the story the land tells fades the farther west it goes.” He then turned his light blue eyes to Zachary. “The land speaks of the passing of a great host on paths otherwise little traveled. Toward the setting sun they’ve ridden, hunters clad all in black like this guard of the dead who accompanies you. They pause rarely, the hooves of their steeds like thunder on the earth, shaking the very roots of trees. The forest around them senses fury and urgency, and the creatures flee before them.”

“That’s all?” Zachary asked.

“Their passage obliterates all else.”

Zachary’s expression was downcast. He was hungry for news, ready to ride west himself. Only Laren’s coaxing, and that of his other advisors, prevented him from joining the pursuit. She did not know if he was driven more by fondness for Lady Estora and a fear of what may happen to her, or by concern of the ramifications to the kingdom if she was not recovered healthy and whole. He did not confide in Laren his personal feelings for Lady Estora, so she assumed it was some mixture of the two. Zachary had a good heart and he didn’t like to see anyone harmed, especially one as gentle as Lady Estora.

“Truthfully,” Jametari said, “my mind has been bent toward the problem to the south, not toward your lady’s plight.”

“Blackveil?” Zachary asked sharply.

Jametari nodded. “Would you and your captain sit with me for a while?”

Zachary glanced at Laren, and said, “Of course.”

All but Brienne and a few of Jametari’s attendants sat, and at first there was silence, except for the chiming of the stream and the flutter of blue jay wings among the branches of a birch.

“The story I feel from the south,” Jametari finally said, “has not changed since the Galadheon moved Mornhavon the Black into the future. The forest rests with no consciousness driving it into deeper shadow. It stagnates, remains evil and dark, yet much taint was removed with Mornhavon. Given the passage of an age, the forest might heal.”

“I do not think,” Zachary said, “we have that kind of time.”

“So you’ve expressed before. And I agree. The threat will reappear before then.”

“Is there something, then, you propose to do about it? You know my feelings on the subject.”

Jametari folded his hands on his lap. He had long fingers. “I am not sure it is so much a proposal as much as a long-held desire.” The prince paused, looked to his sister who did not appear pleased by the turn in conversation.

“What is that desire?” Zachary asked.

“To look beyond the D’Yer Wall,” he replied. “To enter the forest and look upon it.”

“Two of my Riders entered the forest and found it deadly,” Laren said. She did not add, out of respect, that suggesting to do so was madness.

Jametari smiled at her, but it was not a friendly smile. “Yes, it is deadly, and no Eletian has dared enter it since the breach, except…” He halted. His son Shawdell had entered Blackveil, for he was the maker of the breach. “The peninsula upon which the forest exists was once a fair land, but is a legend now even for Eletians. In your tongue it was called Silvermind, and in ours, Argenthyne.”

The name sparked magic in the hearts of Sacoridians, for all children were told tales of Laurelyn the great Eletian queen and her castle of moonbeams. Until this summer, Argenthyne existed only as legend, but now they knew there was a basis in reality for the story.

“It was the jewel of Avareth on Earth until Mornhavon broke it.” It was Jametari’s sister who now spoke. With a pleading look to her brother, she added, “It is gone. A sad corpse that is corrupted and decayed. You will find nothing there remaining of the Argenthyne of memory.”

“Perhaps not,” he said. “But it may be that some vestige of good yet sleeps there, some remnant of what was once fair, and now is the time to see, while Mornhavon is absent.”

“He could return in the middle of any exploration,” the sister said.

“That is possible.”

Zachary and Laren exchanged glances at what seemed to be an ongoing argument between siblings. She wondered if Jametari thought an excursion into Blackveil would help him decide which side to support among his people: the side that wanted the forest closed off forever or the side that suggested the D’Yer Wall should be allowed to fall in the hope that it would strengthen the Eletian people. Maybe the prince had already made his decision, but wanted his people to see for themselves.

As if confirming her thoughts, Jametari said, “It is in the interest of the Eletian people for us to enter the forest, to explore what remains there to see what kind of threat truly exists and what might be restored to the light.”

“You seem resolved to do this,” Zachary said.

“I am, though I fear I will not be permitted to go myself.”