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Tower Reilloch. This telkiira here—” he held up the dark stone in his hand—”seems to indicate the direction and distance to the next stone. I can feel it in my mind, far to the east almost certainly somewhere in Faerun. And I suspect that if we were to examine the second stone, we would find directions to the third of the set, which would in turn reveal the location of the selukiira I saw.”
    He set the telkiira on the low table by the divan, and stood up, frowning as he paced around the room. The study seemed darker, more threatening than it had a right to. Ancient mysteries and hidden peril whispered to Araevin in chill, dead voices.
    Seiveril ran a hand through his hair and said, “Well, this is quite a day you have brought to my doorstep, Araevin. One stone missing, one stone found. Deadly battle and foul sorcery on Evermeet’s shores. I fear that great and terrible events are afoot.”
    “I am sorry, Lord Seiveril. It seemed prudent to bring the Tower attack to your attention.”
    “No, you did well, Araevin. I did not mean to suggest otherwise.” Seiveril sighed and continued, “I must go to Leuthilspar and confer with the queen at once. We will see if we can divine the location of those who stole the Gatekeeper’s Crystal from Reilloch. Amlaruil will want to send our foremost champions in pursuit of the thieves. In the meantime, Lord Muirreste and his knights should suffice to reinforce Tower Reilloch against any additional raids.”
    “What about Philaerin’s telkiira?” Araevin asked.
    “Finding the other stones may offer some insight into why the daemonfey wanted them,” Ilsevele observed. “And if you know why the daemonfey want the lorestones, we might understand what exactly they are trying to do with the Gatekeeper’s Crystal.”
    “Or perhaps they wanted the telkiira because they don’t want that high loregem found,” Seiveril mused. “Could it be a weapon they fear? Some secret weakness they’re afraid we might exploit?” He looked up at Araevin and said, “I will seek Corellon Larethian’s guidance in this matter, but for now, take the stone. My heart tells me that we need to answer this riddle that Philaerin has set for us, whether he meant us to or not.”
    “I think so, too,” Araevin said. He picked up the stone and slipped it into the pouch at his belt, murmuring a spell of safekeeping as he did so. “I meant to return to Faerun soon, anyway. I’ll leave tomorrow.”
    Ilsevele fixed her eyes on him and asked, “You’ll leave
    tomorrow?”
    “I think,” Araevin said, “I meant to say that we will
    leave tomorrow. That is, if your father will allow me to
    carry you off thousands of miles from home.”
    “I stopped trying to tell Ilsevele what she could and
    couldn’t do a century ago,” Seiveril said with a laugh. “I’m pleased to see that it didn’t take you quite so long to learn not to do that. But both of you—be careful.”
    In the depths of the High Forest stood a great stone bluff, a rocky for blanketed by a shaggy cloak of twisted felsul trees and hearty blueleafs. Between the arms of the hill stood a weather-beaten stone door, overgrown with ivy. For years companies of adventurers had gone there to explore its depths and seek out its hidden treasures. They knew it only as the Nameless Dungeon, and had no idea how or why it had come to be built. But the elves of ancient Eaerlann had known the place as Nar Kerymhoarth, the Sleeping Citadel, and refused to name it aloud. They had meant for its secrets to remain hidden for a very long time indeed.
    Sarya Dlardrageth studied the door in the stone hill, her arms folded across her chest.
    Without taking her eyes away from the door, she asked, “Did any escape?”
    “No, my lady,” Nurthel replied. “Lord Xhalph slew them all.”
    The elves of the High Forest and the nearby realms had long maintained a watch over the ancient elven road leading to Nar Kerymhoarth to warn away would-be explorers. Sarya had no