"His castle should be here," Gojen said, "this is Confluence." He waved at the collection of well-kept buildings that perched along the banks of the Lower River. "That's the Upper River, there's the Green River, and here's the Lower River that we've caught sight of now and then on our way here. The town is named for the junction of the rivers. This has to be the place."

The middle-sized town was a surprisingly busy place, thanks in large part to its favorable location for river-based trade. Boats were lined up along the river's edge, and workers moved items off and on the numerous decks while merchants haggled with customers.

Gokur and Sandorin waited together while Gojen went to inquire about Hakkien. "I've never seen so many Humans," Gokur whispered to Sandorin. "They all look so different!"

Sandorin grunted in agreement. Among his kind, appearance was usually determined by clan; his clan of Mountain Elves were usually fair-haired, with violet or gray eyes, while the Wood Elves were dark-haired and dark-eyed, and his kin that lived by the Salt Sea had hair black as night, and eyes the color of the sea. Here, there were Humans of every size, shape and color; Sandorin wondered if Elves had distinct appearances because they lived aloof from the other clans.

He frowned as he watched Gojen stop to talk to several different merchants, each one shaking their head to whatever he was asking them. His frown deepened when Gojen joined them, shaking his own head.

"It's the damnedest thing," Gojen said, "no one here can tell me where Hakkien the Green lives. They've heard of him, say they're never met him personally, and have naught but good things to say. But they don't know where to find him or his castle."

"You can't assume he's in a castle," Sandorin said. "My father knew a mage that lived in a grass hut."

"The shamans that came to see me lived in caves," Gokur said.

Gojen rolled his eyes. "All your people live in caves," he said. He nodded at Sandorin. "You're right, though; years ago I had the dubious pleasure of meeting Nordabert the Brown, and he lived in the most ridiculous shack you could imagine. I just assumed someone of Hakkien's reputation would live in a fairly nice place, and that people would know of it."

"There's your second assumption," Sandorin said. "From my understanding, most mages meet with others on their own terms." He held out his hand. "Give me back the letter."

Gojen pulled the folded parchment from a pocket and handed it to Sandorin. "I've read it I don't know how many times. It says to come to his lodgings in Confluence."

Sandorin moved so that the parchment was in full sunlight, and he held it up close, examining the looping script. "Look at this," he said, pointing to the sentence in question. "There's a word in between 'in' and 'Confluence.'"

Gojen peered at the letter. "I thought that was an ink splot."

Sandorin tilted the letter and looked again. "I did too, when I first read it. But I think it reads 'in the Confluence.' The more I look at this the more I see the word 'the.'"

"Well, damn my eyes," Gojen said. "We'll need to stable the horses, and hire someone to ferry us across."

"Ferry?" Gokur asked. "Why?"

"Because while this is the town of Confluence, the only thing that's actually in the Confluence itself is that large island right there," Gojen said, pointing to an island in the center of the three rivers, its lone rocky peak rising up above thick, verdant woodland. "He'd have to come here for supplies now and then, so I still don't understand why the town folk don't know of him."

"Perhaps they simply don't know that it is Hakkien the Green who buys from them," Sandorin said.

An hour later they stood on the island's pebbled shore,and as the ferryman rowed away he promised to return for them in the morning.

"Have a care to stay by your campfire tonight, lads," the old man said, "There are strange things on this island."

Sandorin and Gokur followed as Gojen led them into the dense woods, and pine needles crunched beneath their boots as they walked along what looked like a natural path. The woods were riddled with them, and it was decided to let Gojen pick which trails they would follow.

Another path veered off to one side, and as they were about to pass it, Sandorin saw a faint glow on the ground, right at the head of the path. "Wait," he said to the other two. He bent and picked up the piece that had caught his eye.

"What is it?" Gokur asked, peering into Sandorin's palm. "Oh, it's just a rock."

"No, it's not," Sandorin said, and he looked over at Gojen. "We should go this way."

"Because you found a rock?" Gojen asked, his expression skeptical. "This is the path we should follow, it feels right to me." He pointed ahead of them.

"Because I found a moon-stone," Sandorin said. "I noticed it glowing as we walked by."

Gojen took a peek at the stone in his palm. "That's just a white pebble."

"It's a moon-stone. Only Elven eyes can see it glow."

Gojen took the pebble from his hand and examined it. "It's glowing right now?"

"Yes."

Gokur poked his head in between them to look at the stone again. "I don't see it glowing."

Gojen elbowed him. "Last time I checked, you weren't an Elf."

"Oh."

Sandorin suppressed a snort at the disappointment in Gokur's tone.

"We go this way, then," Gojen said, and he glanced over at Sandorin. "I'm thinking you should keep an eye out for more of these."

It was actually quite ingenious, Sandorin thought as they made their way into the island's interior. Hakkien had obviously set the stones as guideposts, and Sandorin could see the faint glow of each stone whenever they approached the proper turnoff in each path. He now had a good handful of the pebbles in the pocket of his cloak, and he knew they never would have chosen the correct way without them.

A few more pebbles, a few more twisting, dappled paths, and the three men found themselves in a small, sun-lit clearing that kissed the slopes of the island's tall, rocky hill. Sandorin saw neat rows of vegetables growing on one side, while the equally neat rows of a tiny vineyard filled the rest. At the end of their path was a low stone cottage that appeared to be built right into the hillside. A variety of herbs grew on the low, sloping roof, and next to the arched, wooden door, three square windows winked in the sunlight.

A dark-haired man stood in one of the rows of grapevines, clad in a long, simple wool tunic that was the color of woodland pines. What looked to be a tiny white dragon glided lazily above his head, and the creature chirped at him while he worked.

"How did you come upon your path?" the man asked, not taking his attention from the vine he was trimming.

Sandorin and Gojen exchanged a glance, and then Sandorin answered, "Moon-stones."

The man turned from his task and smiled when he saw the pile of pebbles in Sandorin's hand. "Aaye, Sandorin-heru," he said, bowing. "Amin elea lle heru atar e' lle anta." He smiled. "Except for your eyes," he said, switching to the Common tongue. "If I remember correctly, Komon's eyes were the color of the brown topazes the Dwarven tribe of Melchor was famous for. Unusual for your clan, I think. But you do have the look of him." The dragon flew down to perch on his shoulder.

Sandorin nodded. "Aaye, Hakkien," he said, returning the formal greeting.

Hakkien the Green's smile widened as he walked over to join them. "I was hoping that the moon-stones would work; not being Elven myself I couldn't be completely sure of the effect. I'm so pleased that you made it here safely."

"All thanks to my guide, Gojen Shand," Sandorin said, indicating Gojen. He gestured to Gokur. "This is Gokur, who joined us along the way." He decided that Gokur could supply his surname if he wished.

Gokur hurried forward, his hand outstretched. "Gokur Shiningbrow," he said, shaking Hakkien's hand. "I've never met a wizard!"

"And I have never met a giant," Hakkien said, peering at Gokur's golden eyes, "so there we are." He took in Gojen's lanky frame. "My thanks to you, Mr. Shand, for your fine work in getting everyone here—and finding me. I'm afraid I was deliberately unclear, as I like my privacy."

"I almost led them down the wrong path when Sandorin discovered the moon-stones," Gojen admitted, "and both Sandorin and I almost missed the bit in your letter about you actually living in the Confluence. I was mightily puzzled that no one in town knew anything about you."

"That's because Hakkien the Green has never set foot in Confluence," Hakkien said. "Now, if you asked them about a man named Chom, they would tell you that I come from the other side of the Confluence, from a small town called Ern on the Green River." He waved toward his house and said, "Please come in and have some tea. Of course, you'll stay for dinner, and I can put you up for the night—no one will come back here after sundown, they all think the island's haunted."

Hakkien's bermed cottage was surprisingly roomy inside. Every wall was filled with books, and even the rafters held shelves overflowing with dusty tomes. A small kitchen sat off to one side in the front room, and while the men set their packs down Hakkien gathered extra chairs so that they could all sit around the tiny, cloth-covered table, and the dragon flew over to curl up in a woven basket next to the iron stove. While they drank their tea Sandorin gave Hakkien more details about the attack on Komon, and the theft of the Jewel.

"I did hear of the other attacks," Hakkien said, his hands cupped around his mug of tea. "'Lady Gyokuu,' as she's calling herself these days, has certainly gotten ambitious. Thank goodness her minions were unsuccessful in taking Queen Shara's Jewel, and that they did not get both of the Jewels your father had." His gaze flicked to the empty setting on Sandorin's torc, and then he sipped his tea. "But here is an interesting thing; Gyuuma's son, Kougaa, had been against the first attack initiated by his father a millennium ago, and he was furious when his father's concubine elevated herself to Queen and ordered this second attack. Kougaa has been trying to find a way to have his people allowed back in the Lower Lands, and his hope for doing so has been shattered by that woman's greed."

"Kougaa wanted to end their exile?" Sandorin frowned; he had not heard anything about that back in Kinza'an.

"Yes."

"How would you know that?"

"He asked for my help in brokering an agreement with the other Four," Hakkien said. "It's a shame, really. I'm not saying it would have been easy—especially with convincing the Giants—but he had a decent chance. Until now, of course." He finished his tea, and rose from his seat. "I think I will go with you. I want you to meet with Prince Kougaa; I think you might find him to be an unexpected ally."

Sandorin's frown deepened. "You want me to meet with the Demon prince, whose people killed my father three moons ago."

Hakkien met his gaze evenly. "Those were not his people. Let me tell you something; in all the conversations I have had with Prince Kougaa, not once did he speak of a desire to possess the Jewel of Darkness, or any of the Jewels of Power. His desire was—and is—to take his people back to their lands, for them live in peace with the other peoples of this world."

He gathered up their empty cups, and set them gently in a carved stone sink that was against the opposite wall. "You have brought along some interesting companions, Sandorin," Hakkien said while he pumped some water in the sink and began to wash the cups. "Tell me how you you came to travel with a Giant, when all the stories say that King Petrar declared Elves to be their enemy."

Relieved by the change in subject, Sandorin told Hakkien of how they came upon Gokur in Stone Man's Lament, and as he spoke he could feel Gokur's golden, shining gaze upon him.

"My goodness, you must be Petrar's son," Hakkien said, staring in wonder at Gokur. "Turned to stone five hundred years ago because you couldn't achieve your true height." He turned to Sandorin. "And he transformed after you touched him?"

Sandorin nodded. "How did you know of the tale?"

Hakkien waved a soapy hand at the books that filled every crevice of the front room. "I like to collect the writings of other mages whenever possible, and I have a set of notes penned by a Giant shaman, who wrote of his failure to heal a young Giant prince who had reached his sixth century, yet could not grow to his full height. The shaman fled Giant lands after the young prince had been enspelled by the King, and he lived among men for the rest of his days." He wiped his hands on his tunic, and fetched a slim, leather-bound volume from a crowded shelf next to the fireplace. "Here it is." Hakkien opened the book, flipped through the pages, and then he tapped his finger at a passage and read, "'The king's anger was very great with his son, though the poor boy was hardly to blame for his lack of stature. In his wroth, Petrar set a cruel condition for his son's release from the Words of Stone; that only the touch of an Elven hand could ever set him free.'" He looked up from the book. "What an amazing thing. You are very fortunate, Gokur, that Gojen chose to lead Sandorin through that pass, and not the others."

Gokur could only nod, his jaw tight, and his eyes bright with unshed tears.

"See, you should have pledged your thousand years to me instead," Gojen said, clapping Gokur's back.

His words made Gokur laugh, and Sandorin was glad to see the sorrow leave Gokur's eyes.

"You seem to have an uncanny knack for choosing an unusual path, Gojen Shand," Hakkien said, his gaze focusing on Gojen.

Gojen shrugged. "Going through Stone Man's Lament seemed to be the best way."

"Even though that pass is spelled to be hidden from Human eyes?"

"What?" Gojen frowned at him. "I've traveled though there a good handful of times."

"I imagine that whatever companions you took were amazed that you had found it."

Gojen's frown deepened. "So I have a reputation of getting people to their destinations quickly, what of it? Mind you, it was Sandorin who discovered the path that led us to you. I would have taken us the wrong way—I saw red marks on the trees, and I thought you put them there."

"Oh, I didn't say that it was the wrong path," Hakkien set the book on the table, and he laid a hand on Gojen's shoulder. "I did put them there. It was the path I marked for Kougaa, the Demon prince. Only someone with Demon blood would see the flame-runes that I had inscribed on the trees. You must be half-Demon, my friend."

"H-how would you know such a thing?" Gojen sputtered.

Sandorin snorted. "He's a Wizard, you fool. They see far more than we—or they—want to see, which is why most of them are mad, or holed up in citadels, or both."

Hakkien merely smiled at them all, his dancing green gaze daring them to guess which applied to him.

"It will be time for supper soon," he said, glancing out the window at the late-afternoon sky. "Sandorin, there is a small glade a few paces to the north of here that has a lovely waterfall that I use for bathing; you and Gokur can wash off the dust from your journey while Gojen and I prepare our meal."