After leaving Hilltop, they spent the next few days traveling along the winding road that took them out of the hills and down into the meadows and grasslands of the Lower Country. It was like a different world to Sandorin, who had never been out of the lush woodlands of Kinza'an. He took in his surrounding in quiet wonder, letting Gojen do most of the talking.

Gojen seemed quite happy to have a new audience, however unresponsive, and he regaled Sandorin with tales of his various adventures. When asked, Sandorin told him about Kinza'an and its high, tree-topped spires of limestone, and the myriad rope bridges that connected them all.

"I hope to see it someday," Gojen said.

"Get me safely back there, with the Jewel," Sandorin said, "and you will be welcomed in Kinza'an as an Elf-friend."

"Now there's some fine incentive," Gojen said, and he had them pick up their pace for the rest of the afternoon.

They soon arrived at the next town that sat across the road, a large, sprawling place with the incongruous name of Littletown. Sandorin was struck by the difference between Hilltop and the not-so-little Littletown; its citizenry went about their business in an unhurried fashion, and he saw none of the busy bustle he had experienced in Hilltop, even though there were about the same amount of people. His appearance warranted more interest here, so Sandorin assumed that not very many of his Elf-kin had passed through Littletown.

Gojen Shand apparently had, though, judging by the number of people who hailed him as they rode into town. To Sandorin's relief, Gojen told them a lot of nothing about what he was doing with an Elven companion.

One area that Littletown excelled in over Hilltop, in Sandorin's opinion, was their food. Maybe it was more temperate weather and open space, but he found that Littletown had much better fare. That night, after an excellent meal, they drank some wine and went over the next day's travel. "According to the letter he sent you," Gojen said, pointing at beautiful but very dense handwriting, "our wizard makes his home in Confluence, which is on the southern border of Giant lands. The quickest route would be to go through the small mountain range that lies to the west of here; otherwise, we'd be a good week or more going around."

"I don't want that much of a delay," Sandorin said.

"I agree." Gojen pulled out a worn, parchment map and pointed at one of the gaps in the tiny, inked mountains. "There are a few choices, but I think our best bet is to go through the pass I like to call Stone Man's Lament," Gojen said as he refilled their glasses. "It's a bit creepy, but we can ride the horses most of the way through. Although it's in Giant lands, I've heard that most Giant-kind consider the place a forbidden one."

Sandorin wasn't all that keen on traveling through Giant territory, but the savings in time would make it worthwhile. "'Stone Man's Lament?'"

"The place is littered with stone statues of Giants. Very lifelike statues," Gojen said. "Legend has it that Petrar, the Giant king, had a fearsome temper, and if you crossed him too badly he would take you to a hidden place in the mountains and turn you to stone."

"From what my father told me, I would say that legend is true," Sandorin said, "at least the part about his temper. When my father was given the Jewel of Darkness after the great battle against Gyuuma, Petrar was so angry that he made an earthquake, creating a vast chasm between our lands. He vowed that no Elf would ever be welcome in his kingdom again."

"I heard that story," Gojen said.

"It's not a story."

Gojen chuckled as he drank some more wine.

"What is it?" Sandorin frowned.

"It's just hard for me to wrap my head around it, that I'm talking about something that happened almost a thousand years ago, and your father was one of the people involved."

"We are a long-lived people," Sandorin said. "You Humans are lucky to live a hundred years; I was a boy playing with stick-swords at that age. And although I have reached adulthood, there are some of the elders who feel I should not be named King, even when I return with the Jewel, because I have yet to see a thousand summers. They think I am too young."

"Well, you look young," Gojen said. "You look to be about my age, and I have seen twenty-five summers. How old are you?"

Sandorin decided to forgive the impertinence of the question. "Nine hundred thirty-nine," he replied.

"And your father?"

"He was a few summers short of eight thousand," Sandorin said, "and if his life had not been taken from him he would have seen three times that, at least."

Gojen just blinked at him. "I… can't even imagine."

Sandorin reached for the wine. "Enjoy the summers you have left, Human, for they will pass by all too quickly."