The two groups sat on either side of the fire, shivering and glaring suspiciously at one another. On one side sat Konrad, Serena, Reanu, and Briarstone, and on the other sat a group of twenty wood elves wearing tattered grey robes. Each of the elves had a patchy, scraggly beard and held a wooden staff with an ornately curved crook.

The gigantic head Konrad had seen in the mist was, in fact, a headdress made of feathers and bones worn by the youngest elf in the group. It was several sizes too big, and each time he shivered, it slipped down over his eyes.

The elves held a whispered conversation, and the young one spoke.

"I am Malan. You must leave our island, or you will be cursed."

The monkey jumped onto Malan’s oversized headdress and screeched at Konrad, waving his tiny fist at him.

"We’re sorry for what happened; it was an accident. My name’s Konrad, and I’m a champion of the gods."

At the mention of the word "champion," some of the elves almost toppled off of their log. They joined together again in a huddle and held a frantically whispered conversation, some of them throwing dark glances at Konrad.

"Go away from here. Leave and do not tell anyone about our island," Malan repeated.

"I can’t leave; I’m here on a quest."

One of the elves had a longer beard than the others, and he waved his staff at Konrad and the others. "Go now," he said, his high pitched voice struggling over the unfamiliar language.

"Are you here for the idol?" Malan asked.

The older elf snapped at him, and whatever he said incensed the small monkey. It launched itself at the older elf with its tiny teeth bared, and Malan grabbed the monkey by the tail.

The older elf continued to rant as he stormed away from the fire, taking all of the other elves with him.

Malan dropped the monkey, and it approached the fire, stomping its feet and jabbering angrily. It gestured and hissed and Malan reached out a hand and sent the flames rocketing into the sky.

The monkey jumped on top of the flames, rolling around with its tongue hanging out.

"How does he do that?" Konrad asked.

"Not a he... an it," Serena stammered. She was shivering violently, and she glared at the monkey from under heavy lids.

"Harper is an imp," Malan supplied, looking fondly at the monkey.

"Is he yours?" Konrad asked.

"He isn’t anybody's; he’s his."

The young elf had a habit of staring unblinkingly at whomever he was speaking to, but when he spoke, his voice had a faraway quality, as if he were talking to someone else. "Do you want to say hello, Harper?"

There was a shift, and the monkey turned into a small, hairless, winged creature with wrinkled skin and black eyes. Its mouth was wide and filled with rows of sharp, pointy teeth.

"Piss off," Harper snapped.

"He’s not very polite," Konrad stated.

"Imps are awful creatures. Being spiteful and petty is just in their nature," Serena said.

Some color had returned to the witch's cheeks, and Renau looked slightly better, but Briarstone sat stunned. He had caught the brunt of the Cold Bite and his hair and eyelashes were still covered in a layer of frost.

"You really must leave the island. We have strict rules," Malan repeated.

"You were right before, we came here looking for the idol. Are you the Witch King?" Konrad asked.

The young elf looked embarrassed, and pushed his headdress back onto his head. "No one is really. We made it up to keep people away."

"You’re a wilder," Serena said.

"Oh we aren’t wilders; we’re arcanists," Malan said, sitting up a little straighter.

Silence greeted his words, and Konrad could read the thoughts of his friends. Arcanists could be elves, but they certainly didn’t hide out in the jungle. They lived in tall towers or on floating citadels. They were rich and powerful, and kings clamored for their friendship. And they didn’t wear ragged robes that were ripped at the knees.

"You don’t believe me. That’s okay; just leave the island and don’t tell anyone you were here," Malan said.

"Look, we don’t want to hurt anyone; we want to help if we can," Konrad said.

"You have already caused enough harm; you need to go."

"I said we were sorry about that," Konrad said. "We put it back."

"It’s not about that," Renau said, shivering. "That Hedron going off was like a magical flare. Some arcanist would have detected it, if not one of the citadels."

"You think they’ll come here?" Serena asked.

Konrad had wanted nothing more than to see one of the floating citadels of the arcanists, but bringing them here to a group that clearly wanted to keep hidden was not his intention.

Malan closed his eye, and Konrad could see his eyeball moving around against the eyelid. "They will probably come here."

"Ye gods you’re a seer," Serena breathed.

"I’m not a full seer, I have just a small eye," Malan said. He held his finger and thumb up to his left eye, leaving only a small gap in between, and Konrad saw that the pupil of his left eye was little more than a pinprick in his iris.

"A seer?" Konrad asked.

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"He can see the fates, like the gods. He knows what's going to happen in the future," Serena explained in a hushed voice.

Malan raised a finger. "What could happen, and only some things that could happen, and only some of the time. The small eye is very fickle."

Serena took a steadying breath. "Seeing the fates is hard enough at the best of times, if too many entities are aware of the same threat of fate and try to influence it, then—"

"It all goes a bit squirrely," Malan finished. The young elf fixed Konrad with his piercing gaze. "Some things are hard to see, I can’t see much of you at all, Champion. Very fuzzy." He looked at each member of the group, one by one. "There is a way that you can help, but it’s very unlikely; it's probably the smallest thread I’ve ever seen, more of an idea of a thread than an actual fate."

Although he was looking at them, he seemed to be seeing something else entirely and speaking more to himself.

"Whatever it is, we’ll do it," Konrad said.

"If you want to stay, you have to submit to the quorum," Malan said.

"We’ll do it," Konrad replied, seeing nods from his friends.

"What I want to know," Briarstone began. His teeth chattered, and he paused as a shudder shook his whole body. "Is why out of all of us you chose to fluffing-well control me?"

Malan pointed at Konrad. "Champions are hard to control; divine resistance is very…"

"Squirrely?" Konrad suggested

Malan snapped his fingers, a smile lighting up his youthful face. "Yes!"

The elf moved his finger to Serena and said, "Witch. Too cunning."

The digit moved to Renau, who sat as though it had pinned him to the floor. "Fancy man. Immune to magic."

-

Once Briarstone had defrosted, Malan led them on a winding tour to the very top of the island until they reached a building that was unlike any of the others.

The dome of the building was large enough to rival the temple of the Mother in Tajar, with a grand entrance bordered with columns on either side. Like the rest of the island, the whole structure was covered in creeping vines and plants, which obscured the carved images on the walls. In direct contrast to the finely cut stone of the building, a battered tower of rough stone rose up behind it, reaching fifty feet into the air.

"What is this place?" Konrad asked.

"This is the Arcanists' conservatory of Mir," Malan explained, and the great doors swung open seemingly of their own accord.

The inside of the building was an immaculate space of white, glossy stone. The dome reared up above them, leaving a hole in the roof that let in a spear of sunlight. A raised dais at the far end held a dozen carved stone seats that had clearly been intended for larger occupants but now held the elven arcanists, who glared at Konrad and his companions.

"You really let the rest of the island go to the dogs, didn’t you?" Renau said, glancing around.

"The illusion has been lifted in this area," Malan explained.

"You mean nothing out there is real?" Briarstone asked.

"It is real, just hidden," Malan said.

The seer led them into an area off to the side of the central circle and gestured them into a small enclosure ringed with thick metal bars.

Renau flicked the metal bars, producing a gentle ringing sound. "Is it me, or does this feel like a cell?"

"If there’s an illusion on the island, it’s too powerful for me to even detect, let alone dispel. They must use it to stay hidden," Serena said in a low tone.

"And we have just brought the Arcanists right to their doorstep," Konrad replied.

"A whole group of elven arcanists hiding in the west of Parthanea is unheard of. There are only three citadels of arcanists, and that’s just because they haven’t found a way to get rid of each other. They won’t take kindly to another one appearing," Serena said.

"Renau, can’t you see through the illusion?" Konrad asked.

"I don’t have magic eyeballs," Renau snapped, moving to the far end of the cage and sliding down the wall.

"The illusion is placed on the island, not on him," Serena explained in a low voice. "Did you know he was a neut?"

Konrad shook his head. He had no idea what being immune to magic even meant, but from the way that Serena watched Reanu with pity in her eyes, he guessed it wasn’t good.

Malan returned to them as one of the arcanists stood up on his chair and began to read from a battered looking book.

"Are we on trial, Malan?" Serena asked.

"Oh yes, absolutely. You have broken several of our rules and placed the whole island in grave danger," Malan replied with a bright smile.

"What's the punishment for that, then?" Briarstone asked.

"Normally the Curse of Forgotten Tears," Malan replied. "It’s Odred’s favorite."

The group of elven arcanists all wore deep frowns, and suddenly their patchy beards didn’t seem quite so comical. They stood one by one to speak in the elven tongue, and finally the oldest-looking elf with the long beard spoke at length as the other elves murmured and nodded in approval.

"Who is he, and what’s he saying?" Konrad whispered.

"That’s Master Arcanist Odred; he’s talking about the person who came to steal the idol," Malan said.

"I didn’t come to steal it," Konrad replied.

"He’s not talking about you."

A magical image of a girl was projected into the center of the room. She prowled carefully around the ruins of the island, a thin blade in her hand. Her hair was jet black and cut short, enhancing her sharp, aquiline features. She wore adventurer's clothes, leather armor, and well-made boots. The green dress and blond hair were gone, but there was no mistaking the confident movements and sharp gaze.

"Issie," Konrad said under his breath.

"You know her?" Malan asked, his eyebrows raised.

Harper looked from Konrad to the floating image of Issie, waggling his eyebrows and giving a throaty chuckle.

"No, not really. Not at all actually," Konrad said, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks.

"She has been here for several days, and we have not been able to catch her. She is very clever. She has already hurt several elves trying to steal the idol."

The quorum seemed to reach a consensus, and cheers rang out around the chamber.

"What’s going to happen to her?" Konrad asked.

"When we catch her, she will have the curse of forgetful tears."

Issie, why are you crying? The words came unbidden into Konrad's mind, and despite how poorly Issie had treated him, he feared for her.

The image dissolved, and Konrad was sure for a moment he saw Issie look directly at them, a smile of triumph on her lips.

"Now they’re talking about you," Malan supplied.

The elf called Odred spoke even more passionately, and the miniature elf arcanists nodded in agreement, some tapping their staffs on the floor.

An image of their recent battle appeared in the air. The elves hurled fireballs from the tips of their staffs as Serena fought to deflect them. Konrad has his hand raised to ward off Briarstone, who stalked towards him, battling through the cold wind that assaulted him.

"Here it comes," Malan said, watching the image excitedly.

The Cold Bite exploded out from Konrad in every direction, ice and wind howling around the square, and Konrad winced as he saw his companions covered in biting frost.

Odred pointed his staff directly at Konrad as he continued to shout, and the arcanists cheered in agreement.

"Let me guess, the curse of forgetful tears?" Briarstone asked.

Malan nodded. "That’s what Odred has decided, but don’t worry; I think this will work out well, although I’m still not sure if we can get the blacksmith here."

The young elf stepped down to the center of the chamber, and a reverent silence spread. Despite being only a child, it was clear that the seer was held in the highest regard by the wood elves. Malan addressed the short occupants of the large chairs, speaking only a few words in his faraway voice, and reaching up to stop his oversized seers hat from falling over his eyes.

The small group of arcanists jumped down from their seats and huddled together, whispering and glancing at Konrad and his friends.

"We’re going to have to rush them," Briarstone said, eyeing the elves warily. "Konrad, a quick blast of that cold will do; just point it the right way this time."

"Malan said there’s a way out of this. We can’t hurt them," Konrad replied.

In truth, Konrad was wary of calling the Cold Bite again; something about its hunger made him cautious, and his stomach turned at the thought of all of the elves and his friends reduced to mindless ice zombies.

Serena dipped her fingertips into a pouch at her belt, and they came away covered in a sticky black substance. "I will not be cursed," she stated in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Renau, you get to the front. Operation Human Magical Shield, soak up their first barrage," Briarstone whispered.

"I’m not a magic sponge, Briarstone," Renau hissed from his position on the floor.

Malan returned to them, and Harper flapped behind him and landed on his headdress.

"Good news," Malan said. "They are going to let you go."

"Just like that?" Briarstone said, his eyes narrowing.

"Yes. I told them, in return you would repair the island and catch the thief."