by virtue of the equilibrium of the world of mists, which requires that elfin constructions remain visible, the only things that disappeared, intermittently, were the sunny slopes of a roof, a mysterious veranda, or a door decorated with a hanging vase of violets.
By the time they came in sight of the Council headquarters, Petrus had forgotten that he was annoyed and hungry. The noble house was preceded by a large, rectangular courtyard planted with hundreds of plum trees and crisscrossed by pathways of light sand. It was surrounded by a delicate moss that broke like a wave at the walls of the enclosure, which made the edges of the garden seemed mobile, uncertain, and in spite of its mystery the place seemed open to the flow of that world.
They stood for a moment silently contemplating the tide of plum trees.
“I can only imagine what it’s like when they’re in bloom,” murmured Paulus.
A host of elves strode along the passages admiring the trees. The next day would be winter, but that November afternoon, the soft air gave the impression that autumn would never end and, from one languid moment to the next, one warm flow of light to the next, they would remind themselves, not to forget to love. Oh, how I would love to love! thought Petrus, brushing his paw over the fringe of a ribbon of cool moss. Oh, how pleasant life is! thought Paulus and Marcus, smiling vacantly. Such a lovely autumn! Oh, love! thought the elves on the pathways, and the message was carried, beyond the Council, the city, the mountains, a message born of trees and seasons which kept this world together.
They could have stayed in the warmth of that dream of love for a long time, but a hare elf was coming to greet them.
“We were informed of your arrival,” he said when he stood before them.
The three friends bowed, and Paulus and Marcus took on their human form.
“If you will come with me,” said the elf, “I will take you to the library.”
When he noticed what Petrus was holding beneath his paw, he asked:
“Is there a problem with your clothing?”
The squirrel in which Petrus was stuck blushed to the tips of his ears.
“Unfortunately, it, uh, got dirty during the crossing,” he stammered.
The hare elf’s face lit up with surprise, but he commented no further.
“Let’s go,” he said, and they followed him along the main path that led to the Council headquarters.
Access was through a gigantic gate reinforced by tall, circular pillars. The vigor that emerged from these columns of dead trees, after an immemorial life, was phenomenal, and stepping over the raised edge at the bottom of the gate, the friends placed their palms on the pillars. The surface was rough, streaked with centuries and shot through with deep dissonances. Across from the entrance, a wooden veranda ran all the way around another, smaller, rectangular courtyard which was planted with the same plum trees and carpeted with the same cool moss. Tall, open doors faced them and on either side.
“The north door leads to the high chamber and the quarters of the Head of the Council, the west door to the inner gardens, and the east door to the library,” their guide informed them. “By inner gardens, I mean the ones where it is possible to walk about, but there are others visible from inside the building.”
They headed to the right and, passing a great many elves, went past the wooden partitions adorned with long banners of silk and printed with the emblem and motto of the Council. Beneath an ink drawing of snowy peaks in the mist one could read I shall always maintain, written in the hand of every leader from the dawn of elfin times. Petrus lingered for a moment by one of the pen drawings. Through an optical illusion, its curves also formed a line, in such a way that one’s gaze moved constantly from the tenderness of the rounded signs to the austerity of a single brushstroke. The hare elf paused in turn.
“It is said that this was drawn by the hand of the elf who witnessed the birth of the bridge,” he said.
He was about to add something when he was interrupted by a movement near the north door. A group of elves emerged, and everyone drew back against the partitions to let them go by. They turned left and came up to meet our foursome.
Two hare elves were marching in the lead. They were clearly the candidates