"I… don't know. You asked me to see Falconfar, so I tried to picture my favorite keep, and… Hollowtree it was."

Taeauna gave him a smile. "I'm pleased nonetheless. I'm known there, hence our relatively cordial treatment."

Rod winced. If that was "relatively cordial," just how bad would everyday treatment be?

And it's very close to Highcrag."

"And what is… Oh. Yes. The high stone hold where the Aumrarr dwell. I remember."

"You should. The sisters will give us shelter, aid, and news. Lhauntur meant to be kind, but," her face twisted in disgust, "these swords!"

Rod grinned. "I've been thinking of mine as a metal club. A greasy metal club. At least it's so dull I can't cut myself when it bounces as we walk."

Taeauna gave him an amused look, and then glanced up into the sky at a small, high speck-a lone bird, flapping along slowly and doggedly- and frowned at it.

"Will you be able to fly again?" Rod asked, watching it. Taeauna stiffened, and he added hastily, stumbling over the words, "I mean: can the sisters give you back your wings somehow?"

"No," the Aumrarr told him softly, coming to a halt and turning to look at him with something- a little flame of anger? Hope? Something else? — in her emerald eyes. "Not unless you can work a new spell that I've never heard of."

"Oh," said Rod apologetically, feeling helpless, and then muttered, "Wingless forever."

For a moment they stood silently together, watching another of the clumsily flying birds following the first toward the row of distant, jagged brown mountaintops ahead, and then he asked, "But why can't you go and charm one of these powerful wizards I heard the men of Hollowtree muttering about, to cast a spell like that on you?"