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en now。 And when you heard that voice I thought you might faint。 And； Aina； you're not the fainting type。〃
I smiled。 I couldn't help it。 He could still do that to me。 Even in the worst moments； he had a knack for pulling it out of me。
〃You're forgetting about Dunkelzahn and that ancient business；〃 I said。 〃I doubt they're likely to have forgiven me for that。〃
〃Probably not；〃 he replied。 〃But you must try。〃
〃And where do you suggest I try first？〃 I asked。 〃Tirnanog？ Let's see。。。 I have such close relationships with the Elders there。 Alachia in particular。
Yes； we've bee the best of friends since that nasty business with the dragons。 Oh； I'm sure she'll help my cause。
〃And then there's Tir Tairngire。 My relationship with Aithne is particularly strong。 After Hebhel and Lily； I doubt he would piss on me were I on fire。 Not that I blame him。〃
〃That was a long time ago；〃 he said。 〃There are more pressing issues than things and people dead and gone。〃
I made a slow circuit of my study。 So many years of keeping track of the wisdom。 Anticipating this time。 Now that it was here； I was reluctant to act。 No； afraid to act。
〃Once； a long time ago； someone said to me that memory is all we have。 Even as we speak； there is a slight lapse in time between what we hear and what we understand。 All our experience is a kind of lag。
〃Everything is memory； Caimbeul。 Nothing has any meaning without it。 'He who cannot remember the past is condemned to repeat it。' See； even a human philosopher understood it。 And he blinked out in a heartbeat。
〃Don't kid yourself； Caimbeul。 The past is very much with us。〃
I closed my eyes and let the past wash over me like the sea rushing over the shore。
Three birds are sitting on a branch。 They are about to soar into the blue sky when an arrow pierces the hearts of two of them。
The third bird flies away； frightened and lonely。 She knows the hunter is after her。 Will always be after her。
We have always been a meddlesome race of beings； we Elders。
I suppose it es from a long time of being privileged。 Few have known of us。 And none have been able to stop us from doing what we wanted。 Oh； well； there was that business with the great worms； but even they must sleep eventually。
What was that amusing little saying from the ix？ 〃Who Watches the Watchmen？〃 I used to see it scrawled across the bottoms of bridges and on the sides of buildings during the late nineteen…nineties。
So； though we'd been given a thrashing； while the cat's away （or the monstrous serpents）； the mice will play。 And so we did。
Myself； I have always preferred a low profile。 None of the flash that has marked the passage of my fellows。 The tales that have floated about me were easily written off as fables。 That wasn't by accident； for I have believed for a long time that our presence is more a danger than a boon。
Perhaps had I been more vigilant； certain events of the past wouldn't have e to pass。
I had been traveling to England。 Why； I can't remember now。 Although I believe it had something to do with that collection of stones in Wiltshire。 There were rumors of power there。 Tremendous magical power。 It was whispered in the harems and in council rooms。 In market places and among the nomads。 There were always places of power and this was one of them。
Stupidity。
That's how I came to be there。 Had I bit of sense in my head I would have left them all to die。 Hacking their lungs out； puking up what they'd barely managed to down a moment before。
Ignorant； superstitious peasants。
I knew there was a reason I'd stayed in the east for so long。 In the east I wasn't looked upon as a black devil。 The color of my skin was hardly …merited upon。
But here among these backwards Englishmen with their pasty skin and bad teeth I was something to be feared； hated； and possibly killed。 And the place they'd put me in might well do that。
It was called the Tower； but； of course； it wasn't。 More like several castles and towers collected together。 Not that I'd had much of a chance to see any of it。 I'd been brought here in the middle of the night and hadn't seen much of the light of day since。 Sometimes I wondered if anyone even remembered I was there。
Once a day a jailer slid a plate of bread and porridge through the grate。 I could hear him muttering catechisms under his breath。 It would do him little good and likely lose him his head； given the political mood。 But don't we all fall back upon the icons from our youth？ The stories we recite to keep the monsters at bay。
And that was how I knew I must appear。 Oh； I'd lost the pointed ears； thank goodness。 The more obvious signs of my elver condition were muted now。 Magic was at a low ebb； though for some reason belief in it had never been higher。 There were more charlatans and mountebanks claiming to turn lead into gold than you could swing a dead cat at。 And they did a great bit of that； too。 To drive out the demons。
Demons like me with my black skin and my white hair。 My hair I could dye。 Luckily； my eyes had changed to a brownish…gray color； otherwise I'd probably already be dead。 What would they make of Vistrosh and his ceathral skin and pink eyes？ I wondered。
But here I was locked up tighter than a miser's hoard。
And how had I e to be here？ My own weaknesses； as usual。
〃Help us；〃 I'd heard。
I looked down and saw a young child； a girl； maybe eight。 She wore a ragged tunic and her feet were bare and dirty。 What desperation drove her to ask for help from any passing stranger？ Much less one who looked like me。
〃They're sick；〃 she said。
〃Who is sick？〃 I asked。
〃Everyone；〃 she replied。 〃Everyone except me。〃
But she didn't look well herself。 Her eyes were bright and glassy and as I drew closer； I could feel the heat of fever radiating off her。
〃Please；〃 she said。 Her hands reached out and I thought she might actually touch me； but she pulled away。
〃What makes you think I could do any good？〃 I asked。
〃Someone has to；〃 she replied。 〃Or I'll be all alone。 They'll。。。 die。〃
I didn't want to help them。 For as far back as I could remember I'd been trying to keep out of these things。 To let Fate take her own course。 It wasn't for me to decide。 There were other matters that needed my attention。 But as I looked into that pale feverish face another child came to my mind； and I found myself being led into the rude thatched hut。
The air was thick with the odor of a low…burning peat fire。 There was a hole cut in the roof to let the smoke escape； but that only helped a little。 Pallets lined the edge of the room。 On them lay several people； all of whom were in various stages of the same sickness。
The grippe。
Why these people were so ill from it I didn't know。 It was a mon enough problem…not as frightening as the plague or cholera； which could pass through a town and leave it devastated hi a matter of days or weeks。
At my feet lay an elderly woman。 I knelt down beside her and took her wrist in my hand。 Under my fingers her pulse felt erratic。 I was closer to the power here； the pull of it