A sharp pain in her rib pierced the veil of her sleep. Mags groaned and rolled over, pulling her blanket over her head to block out the morning light. Again, something nudged her, and this time it was accompanied by a voice. "Rise, little thunder cloud. You cannot walk the path asleep!"

  "The hells?" she grumbled, rising up on an elbow and peering through one eye. Her vision swam, blurry from lack of sleep. "Cut it out, Marek, or I'll..." The wide eyes of Yuze greeted her. They were bright and lucid, and the man's face appeared almost completely devoid of wrinkles. "Oh," she said dumbly. "What do you want? I'm trying to sleep."

  "The stone is in the stream, the feyling convenes with her people, and the warrior instructs the mage," Yuze said in his typical elaborate phrasing. "Only you and I remain, and I can't wait any longer, curse you. Come and be enlightened!"

  Unable to summon any sort of a reasonable reaction, Mags flopped her head down and curled up in the warmth of her blankets. "Don't need enlightenment, thank you very much. Just another hour or two of shuteye. Now, if you don't mind."

  Something whacked the top of her head, and Yuze cackled. "Dim as a moonless night! Can’t you see I’m serious? Get up or I'll keep hitting you!" Another whack, this one hardest of all, finally drove the fatigue from her mind.

  Mags flung off her blankets and threw open the flap of the tent. Squinting against the sunlight, she shouted, "Hit me again, old man, and I'll knock your weird ass out!"

  Yuze giggled. Hunched over his gnarled walking stick, he had the mischievous grin of a child plastered on his face. "As if you could touch me." Quicker than any old man had a right to be, he flicked out his stick and struck her twice, once on the side of her arm and the next atop her hand after she'd raised it to block the first.

  "Quit that!" she cried, eyes ablaze with anger. Few in her family had the gall to wake her so rudely. Mags woke with a temper most mornings, and it didn't go away till she ate something. "Listen, I don't know what you want, but leave off already!"

  Suddenly composed, Yuze said, "Follow me and I will. You must come now. I have something to show you." When she made no move to follow, the devilish bastard flew at her again. His stick was a blur. Three strikes this time, and hard as a swordmaster's. Welts began to rise from her thigh, shoulder, and forearm. "Last time I ask, Tiny Tower. Come, eat on the way, and then listen with heart and soul. That's all I ask."

  Mags' eyes widened and her nostrils flared. She gaped at Yuze, who was calmly walking off into the woods. "How'd you know… Who told you that awful name?” she hollered, but the man of course didn't answer. She wracked her brain and couldn't remember a single time Marek might have used the insult. He'd only done it a few times in their lives, and for good reason. Infuriated and confused, she balled her fists and shook them. "At least wait a bit! I need to put on my boots!"

  Yuze cackled and lifted one unshod foot. "Shoes are for the weak!" he called back. "Come, the grass is soft, and the journey is short!"

  Mags was so angry, and the situation so absurd, that she found herself laughing. Muttering under her breath, she said, "A right bastard, but he's got wit. Geezer always has a quick response, doesn't he? He’d fit right in at home.” At this point, she knew full well she'd never get back to sleep. Worse, she had grown curious. So wearing only her trousers and nightshirt, she jogged in Yuze's footsteps.

  True to his word, Yuze didn't take them far. A quarter-mile up a short hill, he stopped under the broad boughs of an oak tree. It was an old thing, trunk so thick it would take ten men linking hands to wrap around it. "And here we are," Yuze said, staring up into the branches. "Did you know the Shirgrim Oak rarely grows from seed? Strange thing, if you consider all the acorns they shed."

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  "I didn't," Mags admitted. Frowning, she folded her arms and waited for something, anything to make sense.

  Yuze dipped a hand in his robes and drew out an apple. "Eat!" he said cheerfully. "Then listen."

  She caught the fruit as it spun her way. Its skin was bright red and the flesh firm. Where Yuze had gotten a perfectly ripe apple, she couldn't say. Her belly was empty, though, and the thought of eating superseded her better judgment. Mags took a bite.

  The apple crunched loudly. Juice spilled down her chin, and she moaned in delight. "By Dalen's beard and the Old Gods beneath him! This is delicious!"

  Yuze shook his bald head. "Dalen may be a god, but he certainly isn't old. Ask the Aiel and they'll set you straight. Now, about the oaks."

  Mags was torn. On one hand, Yuze had just blasphemed against the deities she'd grown up with. On the other, her mouth couldn't abide a second longer without another bite. She gave in to her craving and crunched again.

  "Similar to the Ardean Aspen that grows in the far south, the Shirgrim Oak duplicates itself time and again. Rather than doing so with fresh shoots that rise from the roots below, the oaks take advantage of storms, decay, and the inevitability of time." Yuze pointed to a limb on the far side of the tree. It had cracked under the immense weight of the bough, and one end lay on the leaf-strewn ground. "You see, eventually this grandfather will die, but one of its fallen boughs will set down roots of its own and rise toward the heavens in its image."

  Mags finished the apple and contemplated eating the core. Never in her life had she tasted any fruit so delicious. Her tongue practically tingled with the sweetness, and every bite had been crisp and refreshing. In the end, she tossed the core into her mouth and chewed it happily.

  Yuze chuckled. "Wise to consume all of the Divine Fruit. You'll thank your gluttonous heart later you did so."

  "Divine Fruit?" Mags asked, her words garbled.

  "Indeed. Plucked that centuries ago! Anyhow, that's the extent of your lesson. You're welcome. Now, catch." The old man flicked one foot forward, and a branch flew toward Mags.

  She caught it on reflex. "I appreciate breakfast," she said, cheeks coloring with a thread of the rage Yuze had kindled earlier. "Best apple I ever had. Doesn't mean I'm good with you poking me, whacking me about, and flinging sticks at me."

  Yuze lifted his walking stick and slammed it down with impressive strength. It sank half a foot in the soil. Then he began striding toward her. "Oh, young one, you're lucky I have such keen eyes. I haven't picked you out for your intellect—that's for sure."

  Mags bit her lip. "Insults and injury. A random lecture on blasted oak trees with a touch of blasphemy! How did Gorb and the others tolerate you this long?"

  "Because like you, Marigold, I am more than I seem." Yuze dashed in, robes billowing behind him. He changed direction at the last second and spun. Then, before she could so much as blink, he smacked her forehead with his open palm. "Fight me, little one! Or am I mistaken? Were you not born with a storm in your heart?"

  Mags growled. Turning on her heel, she gripped one end of the stick like a blade and rose to the bait. "Quit! Hitting me!" she screamed. Mags thrust low, then high toward Yuze's chest. He dodged both with disturbing ease, which only infuriated her more. She slashed again and again at the old man, not once getting within an inch of his frail body.

  Yuze laughed like the madman he was. After half a minute, he went on the offensive once more. A second time and then a third he slapped her forehead, cackling all the harder each time. "That head of yours will be the toughest part of you to break. My, you're a stubborn one!"

  Face burning, Mags tried to counter Yuze's assault. She used every trick she'd learned, and none succeeded. Finally, she rushed him blindly and raised the stick high to bludgeon her pesky opponent. Yuze sidestepped the attack, dipped low, and swung a heel neatly around the back of hers. The ground greeted her enthusiastically.

  Mags coughed, the branches above spinning a little. Then the bright eyes of the wanderer appeared a foot from her face. Yuze's grin was devious and kind at the same time. "I am older than the oak," he whispered, “and older than the grove itself. I've searched for you for a thousand years. Now, finally, the time has come."

  "What are you talking about?" Mags asked, desperate for any kind of answer.

  Yuze's smile fell away from his lips. Eyes still shining, he said, "It's time for you to wake." He tapped her forehead with one finger, and the whole world faded into white.