A spell-bound silence had fallen upon the wood. Cyrus cautiously entered via the arch of trees, looking about him in wonder. Gentle dew rested upon the grass of the forest floor, while the enormous trees which rose up above the path and came to meet at their distant canopies created the impression that he had entered into a cathedral painted with vivid green and brown, the colors of spring. He walked on quietly for a time, drinking in the ambience of the forest with no particular destination.

Shaking off the wonder with which he had become pleasantly distracted, he remembered his purpose: to locate the reclusive wise man who was said to inhabit it. Anyone who lived in this place, he reflected, could not help but grow wise; it was as if thoughts flowed more freely within its confines than out of them. In any case, he must seek out this man, and ask him how to find the Gardener missing from Rallia, or the goddess Iris, or both.

Walking farther into the beautifully dazzling wood, with the cool scent of a soft rain rising out of the grass, it became clear that the man's dwelling could not be on the forest floor. The trees here were simply packed too close together; passing through was difficult enough, but building a house between them would be impossible. True, he could have felled a number of them to do it, but if this was the kind of wise man who was willing to take down so many trees for any arbitrary reason, he was perhaps not the type with which Cyrus desired to associate.

If the house was not on the forest floor, what then? The boy was absoultely sure that his guide at L'Académie had said that the man lived somewhere within. He sat for a few moments to think about it while he rested, leaning against the base of one of the towering trees. Light and shadow played across his face as he peered into the depths of the woods extending far on either side of him. Looking up at the covering of leaves so far above, he had an idea. What if the man lived in a house suspended in the treetops? He would not have to hurt the trees which were so magnificent, and would also be able to avoid being disturbed by other travellers in the wood. This would explain it. The question, then, was how he could ascend to such a height. The hermit himself surely had a way, but the possible locations of such a passage were opaque to him.

The youth wandered farther into the woods, seeking from the path some way up to the top. As he traveled along, he eventually realized that a series of ropes which were barely visible from his current position crisscrossed along the treetops. Perhaps it was some form of transportation! He decided to trace one of the lines to its terminus, to see where it might lead. Walking along on the ground, it was difficult to follow the rope's precise angle, for there were many lesser trunks and little drops on the way through the forest. Little streams trickled across the path as he tried to keep the rope in sight, and crickets chirped at him as if spurring him on to find where it ended up.

At the ending of the line, what seemed to be a central hub was visible, connected to an ingeniously simple contraption composed of a pair of handles and a portion of the center with a wheel. With it, Cyrus imagined, it would be possible to swing along the multitudes of ropes without having to execute any uncertain acrcobatics in order to reach ones destination. Unfortunately, it seemed that this spot was not the way up to the top. Just before he was about to give up, he rounded the tree and realized that there was a rope ladder on the other side. Rejoicing, he hastened to climb the ladder and soon stood upon the platform above looking out across the expanse of trees with a ceiling of vibrant, lively green.

Searching around from his elevated post, he could see a handful of similar platforms, but one in particular caught his eye. Firstly, by its size, and secondly, by its vastly different shape. Cyrus took the wheeled apparatus in both hands, fastened to the appropriate rope, and began his sliding journey to the other locale.

Riding on the rope proved both swift and enjoyable. He nearly flew to the other side, and had to be careful not to bang his legs upon arrival; the ride had evidently been intended for someone a little shorter than he was, but fortunately his weight was still well within its safety margins.

The house, now that he was much closer to it, appeared to be rather conventional in construction, at least in terms of a tree-house. It was a simple chamber with two windows, full of a bed, several surprising bookshelves, and a chest resting against the side of the wall. There was a ladder on its side that led up to the roof, where he could see another set of ropes, presumably for the return journey. No one seemed to be in, so he crept inside after a few moments.

Even upon closer inspection, the interior was just as he had observed; of course, there was not much room for surprises in a house this sparse. This life seemed rather too uncomfortable for Cyrus; sleeping even in the winter upon the barely covered bed and having to travel down such a great distance merely to procure any food for the day.

After he was finished perusing the bare dwelling, he returned to the outside and decided to explore the roof in order to see about getting down to another platform and searching there. As he ascended the last rung of the ladder, what he saw almost made him fall off to the forest floor far below.

A gray-bearded man nearly half-again Cyrus' height was sitting there cross-legged with his eyes firmly shut. He appeared to be totally oblivious to the happenings of the outside world, which would explain why he did not investigate his arrival earlier. In fact, the man was concentrating so intently that he did not take notice of any of the boy's feeble atttempts to be acknowledged without seeming disrespectful.

"Ah... pardon me? Robert, sir? Sir?!"

The man's eyes slid open dreamily. "No need to shout, I've heard you all along."

Cyrus looked at him in disbelief. "But then why --"

He smiled. "Don't worry, it'll all become clear shortly. Let us go to the boundary of my forest domain, and then perhaps you will be able to see what I mean."

"But I wanted merely to ask -- "

Holding up his hand with an insurmountable air of dignity, the hermit arose from his sitting position and proceeded towards the maze of ropes behind him, choosing one whose endpoint was not visible.

"I'm something of an inventor, you know. I designed and built these devices myself, and constructed all of the platforms and connections with my own two hands. One certainly has a lot of free time when one lives in a forest," he said, chuckling gently.

The pair traveled along the rope at a fast pace, but the path was long indeed. Once they had arrived at the lonely outpost of the forest, the old man walked to the other side and beckoned Cyrus to come and see. He walked around the tree trunk to discover that shortly beyond where he stood, the land dropped off sharply, craggy cliffs leading straight to the sea below. The water was relatively calm that day, with the gentle waves picking up speed in a liquid crescendo before crashing against the rocks and falling back into inertness.

"What did you want me to see here?"

The hermit smiled enigmatically and merely pointed towards the water. "Do you perceive as the water rises and falls?"

"Yes."

"So it is with the future."

Bemused, the boy turned towards the sage with a quizzical expression. "But what do you mean?"

"It is tumultuous, and vast, and never does quite what one expects. You see there, the bird looking for fish? You are that bird. Will you find what you seek?"

"I was hoping that you could lead me to find it."

"You already know the answer to your query. It is not for one such as me to tell you how to find the Gardener or Iris."

"How did you know what I wished to ask about?"

He grinned. "I know a great many things about you, Cyrus. Not least of which that you already possess a great deal more than you realize. That is so often the problem in these times; people become dissatisfied when all you truly need is always at hand. The Gardener, you know, was unhappy for just such a reason."

"But what happened to him?"

"Now, that would be telling."

The boy was confused by his refusal to answer the questions about what had happened to these people. He wondered briefly if this man himself might have been the Gardener, but he soon dismissed that thought; no one remembered him as being thin and wiry. Yet there was no explanation for how he could have known these things, since no one would have had time to tell him since Cyrus had left to seek him out. If nothing else, he was an exceptionally perceptive man.

"In any case, what did you mean when you said I already knew?"

"Well, of course you know! You've been carrying the means to find them for a long, long time."

"What would that be?"

"Your music box, young man. Come, take it out."

The music box! He hadn't thought of it for a long time, but of course it had remained among his possessions ever since he had acquired it what seemed now to be so long ago. He pulled it out of his pocket, and examined it with renewed acuteness.

"You know the song from which it came, do you not?"

He nodded. "Yes, but I assumed it was just rubbish."

"You recall the last line: Without you, my dear, I am lost?"

"Of course. But how will this let me find what I seek?"

"You have merely to use it properly. Let me demonstrate."

Cyrus placed the device in the man's hands. "First," he said, "you wind it up as usual. Once you do, concentrate on the place or person you wish to find. I will choose you. Now, you simply open the lid."

Instead of playing out its song as it normally did, it repeated a single note, which was very quiet. As the old man rotated it, it became louder and louder, until it was pointed towards Cyrus and it began to sound like a loud chime. He closed the lid.

"You see? It is very simple. Now you try it, first with me."

He accepted the box back, then proceeded to wind it again, and focused on the hermit before him before opening the lid. Sure enough, it played loudly while pointed at him.

"Then all I have to do is think of the Gardener and it will tell me where he is?"

"Precisely."

Concentrating intently, he imagined the figure of the Gardener in his mind. Of course, he had never seen him, but he made his best attempt. He carefully opened the lid, and started turning around with it gradually. Toward the west, where L'Académie was? No. To the south? The barest of responses made him jump, but it seemed that it was nowhere near strong enough to indicate presence. He turned further, starting on the way towards the east, when the box began to make a tremendous racket. Southeast! Then he was all the way back in Rallia? But how could it be that no one in that city would have discovered his presence, if he had been there the whole time?

"The Gardener is in Rallia?"

The old man slyly smiled. "He may not be the type of man you expect. He has... changed, shall we say, quite a bit from his former nature. Indeed, I do not know that he will help you at all. But that is as it may be."

"If he won't help, maybe I should try to find Iris myself... but I have no idea what she's like!"

He chuckled, as if having some private joke. "Concentrate on the general idea of her, then. The result will be the same."

Cyrus did his best to envision the goddess. Having nothing else to fix on, he focused on the idea of irises, and picked out the most beautiful one he could imagine. It was perfectly formed and moist with dew in his mind. With only a slight hesitation, he opened the box while pointing towards the west.

The tone was faint, but audible. He turned around slowly, stopping at each of the cardinal directions especially, to see if there was any increase. But strangely, once he had completed the rotation, no direction was any stronger than the other. He looked askance at the old hermit, who by this time was almost beside himself with laughter.

"What's going on here!" the boy demanded.

He had been laughing so hard, he was forced to gasp for breath as he spoke. "Well -- you see -- one cannot really locate Iris by that means. In fact, she cannot be located by any means."

"You mean she's hidden from the world?"

"To all except the other Flower Maidens, yes. Even I do not know how to reach her. But, in a sense, I do know where she is."

"You do?! Where?"

He smiled to himself, and said only, "It will do no good for me to tell you. I think you will find out yourself in time. In any case, would you care to dine with me this evening? I do not often receive visitors, and I would be most honored to have you as a guest."

A little indignant about the man's refusal to tell him Iris' location, he had no better idea of how to proceed, and so he acquiesced to enjoy the hermit's hospitality for the evening. They went together back to his home, and from there traveled down a rope that he had not used before. Once their trip had ended, he was led into another tree-house of nearly equal size to the previous one.

"This is my humble storehouse. I do not have much, but the forest does provide. There are mostly fruits and nuts, but there is some delicious cider if you would care to partake."

"You made it yourself?"

"Of course. Where else would I get such a thing from? I seldom go down onto the forest floor, and I have not left this wood once since I entered it. Ah, how long ago that seems, now... but this place clears the mind in a way like no other I have known. You know, I traveled widely in my youth. I thirsted for knowledge, and wandered about endlessly looking for new experiences. Until one day, I fell in love... I have said too much. Forgive an old man for rambling."

"Please, tell me what happened."

"...I am ashamed. You see, I loved the woman for a long time, and we were truly happy together. But in secret, I grew discontent. Settling down was not the path I wished to take. I ran away then, seeking to further my own selfish interest in knowledge, and left the poor woman without so much as saying goodbye. My ignoble deed was so abhorrent to me, I fled as far as I could, leaving the country and resuming my wanderings; yet I could not regain the same comfort in learning new things, and was plagued by restlessness. Until at last I ended up stumbling upon this forest. The serenity I found here was without equal in all the places I had been. Thus, though my shame remained, I was no longer able to leave. Indeed, the outside world has much less appeal than it had before. Haven't you noticed how clear things become as you peer up into the leaves?"

The boy nodded mutely. He knew not why it should so affect him, but thought took on strange and fascinating paths in the solemn halls of arching trees.

"At any rate, all of that is in the past now. You and I are here, so why not enjoy the pleasure of a meal while we are together? Let us dine."

He set out coarsely crafted wooden plates and goblets, laying them out upon a crude table and taking various foodstuffs down from his many shelves. "Shall we?"

Not having realized how hungry he was until the food was laid out upon the table, Cyrus acquiesced eagerly and sat down to enjoy the meal. As they ate, the old hermit continued to talk about what path he would have to take.

"Since the Maidens are the only ones who know where Iris is, you will have to seek them out."

"Are their temples not spread far and wide across the world?"

"Yes, but there is no other choice. Although I do not know how exactly it is done, I know also that all of the Maidens' powers must be used in tandem in order to reach Iris. They are aware of your quest, but cannot seek you out themselves. Instead, you must go to them. You have now the means to find them, but reaching their domains is another matter. What you must do is find a boat."

"A boat?"

"Yes. Find a boat; a small one, mind you, for there is no captain who would be willing to take you to all of those places without an outrageous fee. You must sail it yourself."

"But I don't know how!"

"Fear not. You will learn soon enough how to do so. In any case, once you arrive, each of them will challenge you to make sure you are worthy, and then grant each of their powers in turn."

"You mean I'll gain the strength of the goddesses?"

"Assuming you can meet their challenges, yes."

"And what then?"

"I do not know. As I said, they will tell no one how to reach Iris, except that they can only reach her if all four are present -- or, presumably, a reasonable facsimile thereof. Perhaps someone who possessed their powers. In other words, you."

The prospect was rather intimidating, but it seemed that this was the only course. "Very well, I shall do it."

"I would expect no less." He arose from the table. "It grows late. If you wish to return to L'Académie before nightfall, you must go now."

Not desiring to leave the wood, the youth almost tried to argue with him, but then realized the unavoidable truth of his words. "Thank you for all you have told me."

Half to himself, the man muttered, "If only it were nearly enough."

"What?"

"It is of no consequence. It is time." The hermit appeared to be struggling with something more that he wished to say, but shook his head slightly. "I wish you good luck on your journeys from here on, and farewell."

Cyrus looked at him wonderingly for a moment, curious what it was that he was about to say, but responded only, "Farewell." He returned via the system of ropes to the tree where he had first ascended up into the platforms. Climbing down the ladder, the enchanted silence returned to his hearing, and as he walked through the long pathways of trees, the sun's rays glimmered gently through the thick coverings of leaves. Once again, he came to the boundary between the wood and the outside world. Almost, though he could not explain why, he was tempted to run back, and ask the man's permission to stay in the forest and not have to go on this arduous journey, but soon got ahold of himself and dismissed such foolishness. Fate was what it was, and he would see his task through until the end.