The inside of the House was even gaudier than its exterior. Paintings littered the walls, and where there were no pictures, artists painted filigrees and swirls and plumes in colors hardly seen in nature. As one mass of men and ladies, the group poured in, pressing Link's nose in oppressive perfumes, and more familiar cattle-scents. As the door was closed, he found open space on his left hand side and edged away from the collection of bodies. And then he froze as he surveyed the entryway. It was a confused mass of dark, heavy wooden beams, varnished tables and motionless taxidermy that stared with lifeless glass eyes. Link's esophagus tightened and burned with bile as he studied the still-life scenes of quails and pheasants and foxes mounted on unlikely branches or wooden perches, and sympathized with a sad heart's whisper that these sources of food, fur and feathers ended up as erroneous décor.

"These are new," Jessel snapped dryly, shoving a thumb towards an arrangement of 'roc doves in a silk treetop. Their shining tail feathers hung down in unseasonable displays.

"They're two males, anyway," Link frowned, wondering what prompted the artist to seat competing mates in the same perch?

"Our crafters are quite skilled, no?" Bipson chimed from across the entry. "We thought more natural decorations would make the Emissary feel at home."

"I must apologize," Navi said. "But to the Kokiri, animals are the source of materials for survival. These decorations are..."

"I believe tactless may be the word you're looking for," A man in a robe trimmed in jewel tones offered. "Speaking of inappropriate, Sergeant Jesselia, your presence in no longer necessary. Thank you for escorting our guests. You are dismissed."

"Unfortunately, Captain, Talon and Link have requested me for their personal protection," Jessel responded brusquely. "I must also report that a woman from our Temple attempted to lay hands on the Emissary, and had some sort of fit in the process. I averted the potential issue, and brought our guests here straight away."

The Captain's face hardened as Jessel reported her incident and shifted his attention to the Patriarch. "Might I suggest a higher ranking officer, Talon?"

"No thank you, Captain. If you'll remember, my brother Ingo served with the sergeant during the war, and I will trust her experience."

"How could I forget?" he answered with no warmth. "If you will have no other, then I will withdraw my offer." His face shuttered like a candle in a gale, and he motioned to Bipson with a jerk of his head.

Navi's stream of consciousness relayed to Link alone as the Captain and the Mayor stepped to an open space with heads together. "I don't like how this is sounding for our new friend."

I know. But what can we do? We're only here for one night.

"What if we ask her to come to Market, too?"

Link had no answer, and all awareness snapped to the Mayor.

"I promised introductions and a drink," he invocated in invitation. "Let us proceed to the parlor." He handed his hat to a man-in-waiting who disappeared from view, and Link mistrusted the Mayor's flippant manner. It was as if Bipson didn't even notice him as a person, like a living hat rack. "My servants would be thrilled to hold your weapon, Master Link."

Another servant rushed forward to accept the sword, but Link did not relinquish it. Malon made a small noise.

"It would be bad form to wear a sword to dignitary functions," she said apologetically, and motioned to Jessel, who was surrendering all her weaponry from well-hidden places on her body, though how she held two knives between her thighs was surprising, and a marvelous trick he would not forget. He followed suit, unbuckling the sheath and gave it to the man in inconspicuous black clothing, not without reservations about leaving the Champion's blade. Semer gave up a club from his lower back, made from the foreleg of a horse, and Gellum handed over his bull-horn hafted dagger on his waist. The rest of the leaders also yielded their personal, harmful effects. Once stripped of the dangerous implements, they ventured away from the entrance.

"Now can we count ourselves safe, Sergeant?" The tall man scathed his rebellious underling, visibly surrendering his own sword that had been concealed by a fold of his robes.

"You should know better. No soldier is truly unarmed til he dies, right Captain Grand?" Jessel replied, and Link read a story in the words unspoken by the silent officer.

The house was an open layout of rooms connected by squared arches, and Bipson led them by his red nose through the spacious hall of portraits to another cluttered room.

"My ancestors, all!" Bipson related to the visitors, grandly exhibiting the pictures with little flutters of his fingers. "Great grandfathers, uncles thrice removed and cousins of the ruling class here in little Farmington. The first Royals in the Beginning of the Age of Peace set our family upon this hill, you know. To remember them and their steady hands, they watch over us, as the Goddesses do." Rheumy eyes gazed out of oils, and both Kokiri boy and the fairy felt scrutinized by the dead Hylians. Though portrayed hale and glowing, thanks to Bipson, there was no doubt these people were living any longer. To a culture without such portraiture, death was finality. A name might be passed down through a legacy of lips, but faces were only seen in dreams or visions.

"All these people…" Link whispered, but mutely finished, Have we wandered into the world of the dead?

"You'd know if we did," Navi said, but hovered closer anyway, pointedly ignoring the paintings.

There was no furniture, but along the edges were a few small tables adorned with wilting seasonal flowers in a variety of vessels. True to his word, Bipson's servants had arranged a stiff-legged deer with antlers far too large for its years in a corner. He had to stay his fingers from reaching out to the proud creature, and breathed deeply. Beneath the bodies' odors, the flowers were the only recognizable smells. No deer. Was taxidermy a magic that removed all semblances of life: scent, warmth and usefulness? Link would have to ask, later.

The next room was lined with shelves and more esoteric treasures on display among the rows of scrolls and tomes. Link was relieved the portraits were replaced by landscapes, and delighted to see large, multicolored maps of the world. And so many books! The lore seemed immeasurable and puzzling, bound in a permanent form for any to learn, as long as they could read. Link and Navi's reading proficiency was letter-based at best, despite how fast they memorized the cavalcade of letters and symbols and their sounds. The shape of words could change those sounds, and they were still stumbling on fluidity. There was work to be done before the information surrounding them was absolutely available. It took him years to learn the Lore of the forest, after all. He wasn't going to be gifted with any special ability to bypass work any time soon.

As it was, the impending task of being a proper Emissary was trying to snare his complete attention. Outside, with Jessel, or behind Talon or Malon or even Navi, his message was kept along a narrow path, but that was crowd fare. He thought of the Long Night and the arduous case Saria argued over his strangeness, providing him an unprecedented acceptance, but that melted just as quickly as the last spring snows. His birthright had taken care of that, and neatly. These old men, these Hylians, Link thought, amended when he observed there were a few yearlings among the bucks, they'll argue against my own word for their idea of the truth, as the Lons had when he arrived. See the pattern, learn how the web is woven, and weave your life's tale as simply as you can. Skulltulas. Link imagined the smaller cousins of the Gohma in their sticky, silky traps, were rare these days outside of the Lost Woods, but they strung near-invisible strands across common paths when the numbers swelled. To most Kokiri, they represented unseen danger or betrayal, though Saria was adamant about her interpretation, that their webs balanced the obvious danger of most predators. What danger was waiting unseen in this house on top of the hill?

"Focus," Navi chimed.

Were you eavesdropping? His ear twitched.

"No, but right now, I think Skulltulas are a little less dangerous than a group of people with ideas."

They reached the bright, velvet and wood-paneled parlor. Cushy overstuffed chairs and long couches were set up in a semicircle that radiated around the granite fireplace. Large, clear panels of glass spanned the southern wall, and let all of summer's sun pour into the room. The choice view was unimpeded by any houses on the bluff, and the village sprawled in neat streets until the wall. The horizon was still just as far.

Another man in black stood waiting with a tiered cart of bottles and dishes of assorted tiny finger foods. Each Official gathered a white plate of ceramic and a clear glass, accepting the array of treats and requesting the liquids from various containers. Link, accompanied by Malon and Jessel, were last in the line to receive the nosh.

"Ask for Sweetwater," Jessel suggested. "Out of all the liquors they're offering, it's the mildest. I suspect you want a coherent head."

"In that case, can we get him a glass of milk?" Navi quipped quietly. "His tolerance is nil."

"And what will you have, sir?" asked the servant once it was his turn. The line was rote, but it was also his job not to sound pertinent or rote. He was sure none of the Officers or even Bipson really heard the servant.

"Sweetwater, please," Link said, putting all the appreciation into the two words as he could manage, and the young men shared a real smile. He wouldn't drink too much, he promised Navi.

His cup was topped off, he accepted the plate of food and sat between Malon and her father. The Mayor, the Captain and the Elder Goriyo were seated across the circle from Link, and none of the other Officials had yet touched their plates.

"A toast," Mayor Bipson saluted his large goblet filled with burgundy. "To the Emissary of Kokiri, the first Child of Farore to appear in our age."

All hands raised a cup, and every man and woman gladly draughted. Link merely dipped his lips to the rim of his brimming glass, a thin stream sucked through teeth. The burn of alcohol was still an unpleasant shock, but the sweet taste of Sweetwater reminded him of the berries Laria fermented. He did not dare take more than that taste for the moment.

"And now, may we pray to our Goddesses," Goriyo intoned without moving his bird-wing mustache. He stood and made a complicated, seven-pointed shape in the air with three fingers. Link noticed a spark of light, barely visible, following the path of the gesture to form those triple triangles before it faded. The Triforce was the Hylian's holy relic and the supposed basis of the Age of Peace, Link remembered from brief talks with Talon and Malon. "Our Golden Peace does last. All thanks to the Three Goddesses, Nayru, Farore and Din. We receive Your Blessings of Wisdom, Courage and Power."

"Our long ears do hear the words of the Goddesses," responded the congregation, except for Link and Navi, a fact that did not go unobserved by the men in navy.

"As I said outside, introductions are the first matter!" Bipson shoved a fingerling potato into his mouth, and his words came out from around the half-chewed mass. "Let's get on with it, then." He licked his lips and pointed his swollen chin at the grizzled military commander. "This is Captain Carlo Grand, a veritable hero among those who served for Hyrule in the War."

Carlo nodded his gray and black head to the Emissary. Navi's indignation for the man tingled behind Link's ears.

"Our Clothmen are High Elder Goriyo, his son of the Practicing, Goriyo the Younger, and Scholar Chudley."

Link heard a whisper from Navi, "So. Bird-wing-mustache and the off-center soul patch were father and son. They both have to see the same bad barber." He forced himself to relax his muscles. He would not smile.

"And my distinguished Officials, the Heads of State of the North Central Territory," Bipson waved toward each man around the circle as he named them. "Estern Ingot, of Metal Crafts. Arturo Wessil, of Labor Unions and Guilds. Anscom Mason, of Stonework. Ballon Trader, our Master of Cuisine-"

"Please, sir, you over-blow my importance yet again. I make sure everyone in this town has enough to eat," related a young man in a sky blue and orange robe. Motioning with his laden plate, he told, "I'm the Official of Distribution."

Link released his grin for the affable Official, easily the youngest in the room, and he reflected on why the pudgy Mayor put so much esteem in the inexperience man.

His gut tells me why, his cutting, silent remark filtered to his fairy.

"And to continue," Bipson washed his next wave of canapés with a hearty draft from his glass. "This is Jono Block, of the Carpenters, and my dear cousin, Malver Rupson, the Official of Commerce."

Despite his position, Malver's caramel linen robe was poorly tailored, scruffy at a few seams, and though it was clean, there were ink stains on the sleeves and an old red blotch hidden by the middle panel of mahogany embroidery. His shoes, even, were shined but wrinkled in age.

"An honor," Malver greeted simply and toasted Link with a sip of greenwine.

"You miser, you can't even spend your words!" Talon couldn't contain his spirit. "Link, Malver is an old friend of the family, and a cousin by marriage to Semer's sister, Eleni."

"Rosa's looking forward to next summer," Malver said warmly.

"She's fourteen already? Well, we'll have to jaw on that later. I expect yer all bursting to hear from the Emissary." Talon diverted his own attention with lightning speed, Link deemed and held a smirk below the surface. His plate and glass suddenly seemed to big for his hands, and the first wave of heat from the alchohol in his belly burned from his toes to the tips of his long ears. He set his glass on the ground in front of him and left the food on his lap. There was no way he felt like eating.

Just like his first telling in the tent, every set of eyes looked at him with a hunger and dangerous curiosity. None were desperate to hear his words, but each man and the woman he'd met at the bottom of the hill were waiting for his own walk-through of an alien culture with ears alert. Courage, he steeled himself. I am not a rock to be thrown.

He let them gaze a while longer, building his moment, and finally, ripping through the web of his anxiety he uttered, "I am Link of Kokiri, though I am a Hylian by birth. My mother fled a settlement in the far east, and found the forest. How she reached the center of the woods, I do not know. It's a vast environment that spans from the base of the Mountains Where Nothing Grows to the edges of the Southern Salt Marshes, what is marked on the map as the Death Mountain Range and Lake District. Kokiri is dense with trees and undergrowth, streams and valleys and bottoms full of pine and hemlocks. There are few paths, and none bear markers Hylians would see, let alone at night in thunderstorms." It was a friendly warning, not a threat.

"Which settlement was it that she left?" Carlo questioned, taking advantage of Link's pause. "Few go farther east than the Lons."

"I don't know if it even had a name," Link told them, but he realized if he continued that story, the fact that the Children of the Forest could leave would be revealed. "All I know is what the Guardian Spirit, and Source of Life for the Kokiri, the Deku Tree, told me about the night she apparently fled from attackers." Well, it wasn't totally a lie, and most of the men were sharing inquisitive looks. He forged ahead before they could ask more.

"When she got to the Meadow, she bargained with the for my life in exchange for hers." He noticed Ballon, Jessel, the servants and the Mayor were the only ones to show a degree of sympathy, evenly sharing his tale with a rotating gaze. "This secret was kept from me for thirteen years while I learned to survive as a True Child of the Forest. So, each Kokiri boy and girl are gifted with the companionship of a fairy at the beginning of their life, except-"

"And how is it that their lives begin? I've not heard a satisfactory answer yet," Sterling interrupted, lacing his words in innocence and tapped fingertips together.

Heads swiveled back to Link. Navi nodded and gave his brain a reassuring little nudge, and he told them plainly, "In the warm springs, after the snows are finished and the leaves begin to green, the Deku Tree produces a flower, or more rarely two or three. The fairies of the Deku Tree's meadow tend each blossom until the petals close. Our Wisest, named Saria, tells us that the Deku Tree pours some of the Life into each bud, and the red body of a Kokiri is formed. After several moons, and it can vary, depending on conditions, the babes are ready to be plucked. Saria climbs the branches and retrieves the newest member of the tribe. He or she is entrusted to the care of a Child who is willing to raise the new one, and a fairy is appointed by the Deku Tree."

It was an answer they were obviously not expecting, or had not really thought about, Link comprehended when he gauged the shock evident in clenching fingers of the "O" mouthed Officials. The Clothmen, unfortunately, looked less sincere, and their disbelief did not reach their eyes.

"So Saria was called to the Meadow when my mother gave me to the Deku Tree, and she was the one who raised me. I had to prove myself to be a Child of the Forest, and worthy of the honor. For thirteen cycles of the seasons, I learned to gather the abundance of Kokiri Forest, hunt the elusive animals and observe the workings of nature and the balance of the ecosystem. Saria took me on many journeys, and taught me how to identify plants, their signs, how they inhabited the forest, when to gather food, how to track animals.

"My Brothers and Sisters, yes, despite my blood, that is who they are to me," Link explained when he saw Carlo's lip turn. "They also had a hand in teaching me Survival Lore: how to bed against winter, how to outrun a forest fire, hunting, killing, skinning and breaking down an animal into useable parts. There was so little that went to waste, when a cache of marrowbones can be the difference between surviving a lean spring and the strength to see the Long Days of summer. I learned how to knap stone and make leather and sinew and food. Even if you're just hiking to see the trail, finding food feels like an accomplishment, that you have found what the forest has hidden among the poisonous plants or indigestible trees. And Laria can make potions we call medicines from anything."

Even if the room was filled with stuffy old men and a few new friends, talking about his life in Kokiri felt good, and deep in his heart, the pain of homesickness that had lapped against a dam was sieving through in his very telling. A peace was coming to him as every word was like Laria's jewelweed tallow on poison ivy sores. Still, the niggling flea of suspicion bounced at the back corner of his mind.

"After a few years, Saria taught me more about plants, and I grew my own dwelling," He couldn't help a proud smile. "Soapberry bushes and beargrass. Simple, but it was mine. I transplanted the shrubs and shaped them. If I had the time, I would have eventually added evergreens and spring flowers and sedum so it would have been attractive all year round. At least soapberry keeps its leaves in winter. Everyone has the choice of materials, living or supplemented with deadfall. One Brother grew berry canes to perturb predators, or so he said. The village had a buffer of hunter's security to it, and our hearing is very sharp."

"Each bee, every flower, rock and Child is a small part of the Living Web, and I was learning to live in harmony with it all.

"Sometimes, there are beasts that can threaten to tip the balance," Link continued, flavoring his words with a bit of mystery. Jessel responded with wide eyes. "Such as the monstrous Gohma, the queen of arachnids, so we say, tears through fragile greenery and eats without discretion to produce young that would overrun the forest. I was called one morning-" He decided not to tell them of the Long Night, and his battle for acceptance. Only if things went that direction, maybe he would dispense that bitter tale. "A queen was on her way towards our little village, and I found the Kokiri Sword, an old blade, practically one of our own legends. I killed her, and left her body to feed the scavengers of the forest, for even they have a part in our world. As thanks, and proof of my efforts, I was gifted companionship with Navi." And it was really best not to include anything about the Deku Tree's death…

"Then why did you leave?" This time, it was the Elder Goriyo who questioned him. "If it was as harmonious as all that, it sounds idyllic."

Carefully, Link sighed. "My blood dictates that I will take the shape of a Man, and Men cannot be Children."

There. That poignant bit of melodrama was worth practicing. Almost every face was struck with a quick pity, then understanding. Only Goriyo's crinkled eyes tightened. "The Lore of Survival was also a gift, as was the sword. And on my last night, each of my Brothers and Sisters granted me their title of 'Kokiri Champion,' one who defends the tribe with unarguable courage."

"Ah. You do revere the attribute of Courage, then?" Were they taking turns? Goriyo the younger posed his query and sipped his own orange liquor.

"In a sense, survival is useless without courage," Link deflected. "We must be brave and do things that test our courage. We must hunt, and to take life for your own survival takes courage and compassion. There are tales of dark Brothers that abandon their courage to hide in the dark, and give up the will to live in such a world." Skullkids would be too much. "I'm sure Farore does approve of our way of life, though," Link said cautiously, each word a mask, hoping that closed the line of questioning.

"What honors your ceremonies must include," Sterling purred. "You must tell us how Farore likes to be worshipped."

"Fire, and a direct hit," Navi bristled before Link's mouth could find words. "Lemme take this. Good job, by the way. That was creditable of a Champion's telling. I know what it meant to you."

Her tiny face was blunt and her tone was straightforward as she floated from the shoulder she'd been resting upon. "I would like to tell you that the Kokiri worshipped her, but as the Spirit of Life bids, the Children of the Forest are ignorant of their Mother. I knew a little from my Master, the Deku Tree, who told me that there is a great protector of the East, and the North and West, but we did not give them names. Instead, fairies encouraged the youth-like people to revere the qualities each of those spirits embodies: Lore, Life, Volition, plus Laughter, Compassion, Love and Opposites, which provides interest. These line up with your basic tenants, as far as I know, but there are no truer ceremonies for Farore than a hunter's perfect killing throw in a hunt that will provide Life for the village, or the completion of a complex beaded garment that will protect Life against the raging weather, nor is there anything more honorable than raising and guiding the Life the Deku Tree bestows to the Forest. All these acts show Courage and Wisdom and Power."

A very pregnant pause dominated, Navi's words still ringing in long ears when the Elder Goriyo rumbled a dark chuckle through his mustache. "Well said, Miss Navi. From Sterling's frantic letters, we thought the Emissary was a brutish primitive, though all other reports also contradicted that. You clearly adapt well."

He doesn't believe her, or us, Link realized in dismay. I spilled my heart, they know more than Malon might have, and their holy leader doesn't think we're honest. Couldn't he see what Link told was all true? Was that practiced line his downfall?

"I've been putting a coherent speech together since Sterling first attacked me," Navi revealed to him. Her back was to him. "Time for Plan Two."

There was a plan?

"Of course, now listen." She flapped a few times, and shone a tint brighter than usual. Aloud and clear as sparrow's song, she said, "I have learned much as well, traveling with men educated on the local faith, but what I have to say next is straight from the Spirit of Faron, the Source of Life in the Eastern Mother's Embrace: this boy is the next in the Cycle of the Hero, for his Spirit is marked well, and remembered by the Forest. He cleansed the East of a cursed monster with a legendary blade and sacrificed his own childhood home for a quest of his choosing. His quest, as you know, has been chosen, but I, Navi the Fairy, am to be his Divine Guide, the blessing of the Northern Mother's touch of Wisdom. As I said, I did not know their names before we met the Lons."

With that anchoring name, Link came back to the ground. His head had been flying with the fairy's words. None of that had been in Sterling's sermons, and she had never mentioned…His quest had already been chosen. Like his trip to the Deku Tree, she knew all along the burden he was meant to carry, and he still didn't. Dare he ask?

No, not with the Clothmen off balance. Clearly, she knew things they weren't expecting her to know, so he had to run with it, and hope they didn't notice he was as clueless as they thought.

"B-but, the spirit of Faron- How could you not have made the connection between 'Faron' and 'Farore?'" Sterling sputtered, hearkening to that fateful introduction on the plains. "And if you knew of this 'Eastern Mother,' why were you so disbelieving-"

"When you attacked me? I had to be sure there was a connection, or that would have backlashed, too," Navi implored politely. "You seemed eager to denounce whatever wasn't part of your cannon, and at the time, it was simpler to hold my tiny tongue. Besides, the Deku Tree almost never uses 'Spirit of Faron' in his titles, so it was new to me, too. Fairies communicate with him all the time, but it was rare that he told us anything about himself. Only when Link was preparing to leave the forest did that old leaf-shedder really give me some information."

"Such is the way of great spirits," Scholar Chudley confirmed with a drink. "It is only in hindsight that all the pieces overlap and fit into perfect alignment with the Goddesses' plans. The name 'Faron' meant nothing to you, until Sterling could bring you to the first enlightenment." Oh, this was not good. The Scholar's silky exponentiations snaked through the parlor. "And now, here we are with the Diving Guide, and Farore's Chosen Agent, as if our Book of Mudora spun characters into real life. For your second enlightenment-"

"It is not ours to give!" Hissed the Elder Goriyo. The contest of wills was electric, as both Chudley and Sterling were fervent to reveal the nature of the beast, but too many strands of Goriyo's web bound them to silence. "Much as we would like to tell you, it is clear where you will receive instruction."

Every pair of eyes and ears was trained on the Clothmen, but Link's mind interlaced Saria's childish frustration with Goriyo's words: "I'm not the one who will answer that." Why this pattern? Why couldn't he get a straight answer, or enjoy his life without feeling there was this great, unresolved riddle hanging over his head? What did he ever do to the spirits who were obviously jerking him around-

And then the import of Goriyo's words sank in, and Link gasped one word: "Where?"

Talkative as Chudley was promising to be, now, not a holy man or Official would volunteer anything. Bird-wing mustache fluttered in a sigh.

"Very well. We shall have to accompany you to Market. Otherwise, you'll never get an audience with the Royal Family."