We spent quite a bit of time talking about natural stones, both gemstones and others. He was fascinated with my ability to talk with the stones to bring out their inner essence and choose which aspects they exhibited. With the possible exception of the dwarven gemcutter masters, I had not spoken in as much detail and with as much passion and confidence as I was doing with Grandmaster Yandril.

  The highlight of our hike, however, was a visit inside a particularly large redwood tree. And I do mean inside. Yandril performed a delicate piece of magic that opened a passage into the Redwood tree, and we walked into it. After perhaps ten or fifteen feet, we entered a hollow space that seemed to rise for hundreds of feet and had to be fifty feet across.

  Yandril shared, “These Redwoods are mystical and have grown to three or even up to seven times the height of their natural cousins that still grew along the periphery of this great Elven city. But the place where we stood is magical and both exists and does not exist. While it appears that we walked through the tree, in fact, we walked into it.”

  “I don’t understand,” I said.

  “These trees could not reach such heights if they were hollow. But our magic allows us to enter into them as if they were. It is an Elven mystery that we do not have time today to explore, but we did have time for you to experience it.”

  He waved his hand, and a gentle white light rose to better illuminate the surroundings.

  I looked all around and quickly saw that there was a kind of blue and blue-white lace growth along the walls. There were hundreds of them in this tree.

  “What are the beautiful lace growths all over the walls?”

  He looked delighted. “Has it permitted you to see them on your first visit? That is quite remarkable. We refer to them as arbor panem.”

  “Tree bread.” I translated. “I have the pleasure of experiencing one of these wondrous creations,” I admitted, recalling the gift by the ambassador upon his departure.

  “Marvelous!” He replied. “Each represents a decade's growth, and if carefully harvested and consumed, it will replace ten magical casting points in the same manner as one of your alchemical restoration potions.”

  Even knowing this intellectually, my eyes widened as I took in the sight before me. “There are hundreds here, perhaps thousands,” I said in awe.

  “And many hundreds of trees like it.” It is but one of many secrets the elves have discovered over countless generations.

  We lingered a few more minutes and then returned to our walk along the well-groomed paths. All too soon, we made our way back to the home of my host. We entered the green space and gardens around the great tree. I had come to learn that this open space would be akin to our own front yards if it were understood that any neighbor feeling like walking through your yard was both permitted and thanked for doing so. As we approached the home, we were met by a smiling Rothilion who seemed to be waiting for us patiently upon a stone carved bench near a highly flowered bee yard with dozens of three-level beehives.

  I was not excited to drift too near the bees, even if they did appear to be docile.

  “Did you enjoy your walk, Gwydion?” He asked.

  “I did.” I looked at the elderly elf who had passed me off with a pat on my shoulder and kept walking to where the exterior stairs wound around the tree and served to travel among the different levels. “My tour guide was very generous with his time and taught me much of the history and wildlife native to this region.”

  “I am glad you enjoyed yourself, and apologize that I must pull you away from your tranquil experiences, but you have been invited to dinner with the King. We have time to refresh and change before a carriage comes for us.”

  I sighed, looking out at the alien beauty of this land. “I suppose duty must be honored, even when our hearts and minds lie elsewhere.”

  He tilted his head. “An Elfkin for sure with a heart of an elf.”

  I looked back at him, “I’m sorry, Rothilion, my mind was in the trees.”

  “That was the point I was making, my friend.” He pointed back to his Lodge. “Come, let us refresh and prepare for supper.”

  We returned to his Lodge, and I noticed that there were no real doors to secure the home. When I asked him about it, he laughed deeply. “Here in our home, there is no need for such things. Our passive magic makes it highly unlikely that someone with evil intent would get near our homes, let alone enter. In fact, had you had such in your heart, you would have been rebuffed rather forcibly to the base of the tree with more than one alarm alerting all the neighbors about potential trouble.”

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  “I’m glad it was not set off by some of my magical armaments,” I said.

  “Elves have many powerful magics, and not all of them are tranquil and benign. It is not the power you wield but your intent that the magic was designed to detect.”

  I thought about the enchantments necessary for such magic. “That is both a beautiful and deeply complex enchantment.”

  He bowed. “I am sure that an enchanter such as you would have particular appreciation for the magic.”

  “Most certainly. It is a shame more human enchanters do not make an effort to befriend elves.” I thought about it. “But then, that might change the tranquil landscape somewhat.” And I smiled at him.

  He smiled back. “In my role over the years in your city and elsewhere, I have met many, many mages.” He paused dramatically. “And I cannot fault your logic.”

  I was sure that some mages would respect this beauty and see its value, but others would add it to their calculations to acquire wealth and power.

  I turned to Rothilion. “Do you think others will see me here desiring the same things that a typical mage might desire?”

  “I am certain of it.” He replied, not meeting my eyes.

  “That will make my discussions with the King all the more difficult.”

  “I am certain of that, as well.” He replied sadly.

  On that depressing note, he showed me to a private room where I could freshen up. Dwarves were earthly. Dirt, dust, and sweat were natural to their world. Elves were sanitized, perfumed, and tidy. It is one of the cultural differences that put them at odds with one another.

  I bathed quickly but thoroughly, applied a few powders and scents, but I could not bring myself to experiment very deeply. I was more Dwarven than Elven in this regard, but I also wanted to make a good impression and not have them smell me before they saw me. It would be hard enough without them thinking I was a barbarian.

  When Rothilion returned for me, he introduced me to his wife, Fherrin, who was just as warm and welcoming as he. We were joined by their granddaughter Keenor, who alternated between being unable to take her eyes off me and intentionally looking the other way and blushing.

  I saw human children stare at elves and dwarves in a similar way. I may have been one of the first humans she had ever seen in person. Despite being thirty, older than me by nearly a decade, she was more like a ten to twelve-year-old in the human world. She would have more knowledge than a typical child of her maturity age, but socially, they would be very similar. She would, in fact, be on par with all three of my apprentices and the couple dozen apprentices from other guilds working in my shoppe.

  The ride to the King’s Lodge was pleasant, and Rothilion pointed out many interesting features, including a river that formed a bridge by itself, flowing up forty feet before it curved back down again. It did not splash over the edges or rush down all at once, but it flowed as one constant, clear stream. A wide path was built under it, and it was the centerpiece of an amazing garden.

  I saw mushrooms the size of cart horses and flowers the size of windmills. It was an amazing ride, and they seemed to enjoy my excitement and amazement as much as I did the view.

  Fherrin commented, “It refreshes my heart to see such wonder through your eyes, Gwydion.”

  It really was quite something.

  We arrived fifteen minutes later after a leisurely paced ride. The distance was not too far, but the ride was appreciated. The wonders I experienced would have delayed and distracted me easily had I not been seated in a moving carriage.

  I did not feel like there was a spell effect on any of this to enthrall me; it was just so different from Keelwell that by comparison, it was magical. The colors and sizes of things varied so much from my accustomed world that I could not help but stare and be amazed.

  Upon arrival, we were escorted into the King’s Lodge. It was the biggest Redwood of any I had seen. If they naturally ranged in size at mature growth from 30 feet wide and 300 feet tall, and in the city, the enchanted ones were seven times those dimensions, this tree had to be one of the largest. It boggles the mind that something natural could be so large. It made TUF, the leviathan, look small by comparison.

  As other guests walked straight into the main hall and were greeted and announced, we were led to a side chamber. Rothilion said, “Since you are the guest of honor, Gwydion, you will be the last to enter for all to greet. We will enter just before you, and I will stand at the table so you know where to sit.”

  “Any advice?” I asked nervously.

  Fherrin and Rothilion shared a glance. “Tell him, Roth.”

  He cleared his throat. “I cannot say much, but you may not be as welcome here as you had hoped. And I may have been chastised for granting you Elfkin so casually. Especially in light of your Dwarfkin status.”

  “What does that mean?” I asked.

  Fherrin reached over and touched my arm. “Be mindful of your choice of words. Speak only the truth. And control your emotions.”

  It appeared that Rothilion was prevented from giving me more advice, but no such prohibition existed for his wife. By bringing her in here with me, it offered a chance to give me some advice, albeit typically vague and nebulous. Very Elven, even when they try to help.

  Soon they departed, and I stood alone in the chamber. A single Elven soldier stood with me.

  “Are you permitted to speak to me?” I asked the guard.

  He turned his head, stared at me a second, and then turned back to his neutral pose.

  “I’ll take that as a yes, but you have nothing to say.”

  And he did not respond.

  “It’s okay. I can respect that. The first guard I met in the Dwarven Hold a day or so ago tried to skewer me with a long spear.”

  The elf turned his head curiously my way despite himself.

  I smiled. “In fact, there were a dozen of them all at once. I guess that the King holds you in higher esteem.” I looked at him out of the corner of my eye. “You don’t have a sharp spear stashed around the corner by chance?”

  He smiled at me. Then, catching himself, he went back to his neutral pose once more.

  I sighed. “If we have more time, I’d like to ask you about archery. In preparation for the goblin invasion, I have teams making yard-long arrows for our longbows. We are enchanting the arrow tips with runes to cause them to explode on contact, since we would need more than 200,000 arrows to kill 100,000 goblins. I could use advice on that. If, in the future, you and your colleagues are not ordered to skewer me. I’m open to any help I can get.”

  He made no more effort to make eye contact with me, but I know he heard me. Plant seeds and see what grows later, my father always said.

  A few minutes later, the door opened, and a patrol of guards similarly dressed met me and escorted me into the main room. The lone elf soldier with me in the chamber turned out to be their captain.

  I was escorted into a large ballroom that had a series of tables throughout the room, each growing out of the floor, perhaps sung into form for this meal, alone. The guards fanned out to what I could only assume were strategic locations with clear shots at me with their bows. Two similar guards stood behind and to the sides of the head table where the King and his Queen sat. All eyes, all hundreds of pairs of eyes, were on me as I entered.

  Walk slowly and comfortably. Make eye contact with the King. Smile, and nod to him. Now the queen. Very good. Bella advised me as I entered. Her voice was far quieter and distant than it was in the Dwarven Hold.