We could hear them long before they appeared as the various bangs, clangs, tinkles, squeaks, scrapes, rattles and unfamiliar animal noises gradually increased. Mora and Suman obviously relaxed and smiled at each other so the rest of us assumed that friends were approaching. From the amount of noise it had to be more than one.

Then, from a part of the forest that didn't seem to have a road going through, but did have an area clear of trees that may have once been a road, came three wagons. They were covered with large signs in what I took to be the local language, and had a great assortment of objects hanging all over and under them that made much of the noise we'd heard by there swinging back and forth and hitting one another. Most of these object were of unknown purpose, but the ones whose purposes were obvious and the general aspect of the wagons and their drivers made it clear to me that this was some kind of traveling entertainment troupe. In my village we had had entertainments from time to time, but never a traveling troupe.

There were happy greetings between Mora and Suman and the five people on the wagons. The rest of us couldn't understand what was said, and we determined right then to learn the local language as fast as we could. About all Lira, Siil and I had learned so far were a few local names of things having to do with horses and barns. The others, of course, knew nothing.

Mora introduced us all around and said they were going to be staying with us for a few days as they always did when they came this way.

The group was composed of the Tirkenez family; Piro and Lamori, their son Fortas and his wife Tima and Budin, their associate. Budin was not human or any of the other races I'd met or heard about. He was about seven feet tall and was covered with black hair that stood straight out; all but the soles of his feet, the palms of his hands and his face. His face was dark brown with sparkling black eyes and sharp white teeth. He looked very fierce yet fuzzy and gentle at the same time. We were told his race was the Akoril, which meant "the people" in his language. (Naturally!)

We all road together down to the farm where we found lunch just ready. There was plenty for the troupe and special food ready for Budin just as though the cook had known he was coming. The house knew, of course and there were three extra bedrooms ready.

There was a sixth member of the troupe we hadn't seen because she was napping; Fortas and Tima had a little girl of three named Shuah. She was cute, bright and sparkling with intelligence.

We were all sorry we couldn't converse directly, especially Mora and Suman who had to translate. Then Fairaan, one of the gnome guards said, "I noticed that when we were in the tree everyone was speaking our language. But the humans certainly don't speak our language - could it be that everyone understands when inside a tree no matter the language?"

"You have it!" cried Siil, "Why in earth didn't the rest of us notice?"

"Let's all go sit around the tree in the front yard when we finish lunch and maybe we can have a proper conversation," suggested Suman.

"I don't know if that's the best idea." Siil replied, "We think this area is safe but we don't know for sure. If anyone here or passing by is in secret alliance with the enemy, they may report odd happenings like a group of people holding hands and sitting like statues around a tree. That may bring unwanted attention to us."

"What if we make everyone invisible?" I asked.

"There are too many of us." Sill said, "It's almost as noticeable if we all can't be found anywhere."

"I have an idea." said Mora, "Does it matter how big the tree is?"

"I don't think so." I replied, "I think the tree spirit is the same whether it's lived in a tree for a thousand years or if it's just taken up residence in a seedling."

"Good. Let's try something. I have a hobby of growing miniature trees in pots. Some I start from seeds and some I've found that were old, but stunted, growing in rocky places. I'll go get one and perhaps we can all sit right here in comfort. If anyone glances in the window it will just look like we're sitting talking."

While Mora was gone, Suman told the Tirkenez family and Budin what we had been talking about and what we were going to try.

Mora came back with a beautiful gnarled little piney looking tree in an elegant glazed ceramic pot. "This is one of my favorites. I found it down by the sea growing in a pitiful bit of soil in some rocks. I've had it about twenty years, but I think it's probably more than a hundred and fifty years old. I'll set it here near Justin and when we're all sitting comfortable holding hands, Justin can take us in."

We all rearranged ourselves so we could easily form a chain holding hands; even little Shuah had a hand between the hands of her parents. When everyone was comfortable, I laid my hand on that gnarled little trunk.

At first I though nothing had happened. Then I realized there were subtle changes; I was sensing as I did when in a tree rather than seeing and hearing. The tree was too small to "take us in" so we just stayed as we were.

"Greetings tree." I said, "I hope you're not unhappy with all of us joining you."

"Not at all," it said, "when the Great Tree contacted all of us about you I knew there was no chance you would come into contact with me, yet here you are. I will be glad to help in any way I can."

"Thank you. We are having a little experiment on communication. Some of us speak different languages and can't understand each other, but that seems not to be a problem when we're in contact with a tree."

"What Justin means," cut in Aril, "is that you and others like you can be of great help to us and we greatly appreciate your willingness. Not only can we communicate through you to the Great Tree and other trees we and others are in contact with, but we may be able to contact others who don't understand our language. Piro and Lamori, are you understanding this?"

"Of course," replied Lamori, You are speaking our language now. But I thought you couldn't."

"No, we can't. We are not really talking and hearing, we are communicating mind to mind and it seems like we're talking and hearing. What about you, Budin? Are we communicating in your language?"

"Indeed, this is greater than any magic I've ever witnessed. We've never allowed any other race to learn our language. I presume you are not speaking and hearing my language, but your own."

"That's right, I don't know a single word of your language, but I understand you just fine; I assume you're speaking to me in your language."

"No, I was speaking in the common language, but it's the same thing; you don't understand that either."

"We're forgetting our manners again," said Siil, "allow me to introduce ourselves." and he proceeded to introduce us to the little tree. "We understand you originally grew near the sea."

"Yes, when my previous tree died I decided to choose a new sapling on a cliff overlooking the sea. It is precarious. Many times the little tree was nearly uprooted by storms or nearly died of too little water, but it's a very hardy tree and survived until we were removed and brought here. It's been an easier life here but less interesting. Now I expect it will become interesting again. I gather that you are thinking of keeping small potted trees with a person who can communicate with us in places where permanent trees are not available."

That is certainly our first thought - there are many other possibilities. Do you think it might be too hard on such a tree as yours to travel about with us?"

"Not this tree, as I said, it's very hardy. I can, of course, let you know of any needs the tree has or distress it's feeling. Other types of trees may be more delicate. We'll just have to try it and see."

"Wonderful! Mora, is it very difficult to pot trees like this? Are there many people who do it?"

"The difficult part," Mora replied, "is training them to be beautifully shaped and keeping them small without killing them. There are indeed people who do this as a hobby; we have shows too. This little tree has won prizes for me. It should be much easier to start them and keep them in good shape if the person doing the work can communicate with the tree spirit. I think we have a wonderful secret weapon here."

At this point the front door opened and Malcolm came in. Seeing what was in progress, he came over and sat on the floor in front of me and touched the little tree. "Well, it looks like you've been putting your exile to good use. I couldn't have asked for a better gathering."

Read Part Three 

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