Which set of monsters?

"Which set of monsters?" she asked softly. "What?" "Which set? The demons or the Elves? Which do you mean?" He stared at her, uncomprehending, and she felt her heart break apart inside. His eyes were clear and angry, his face in- tense. He seemed so convinced. "The Elves," she whispered, "are the ones who destroyed Morrowindi." "No," he answered instantly, without hesitation. "They made the demons, Gavilan." He shook his head vehemently. "Old men made them in another time. A mistake like that wouldn't happen again. I wouldn't let it. The magic can be better used, Wren. You know that to be true. Haven't the Ohmsfords always found a way? Haven't the Druids? Let me try! I can stand against these things; I can do what is needed! You don't want the Staff; you said so yourself! Give it to me!" She shook her head. "I can't." Cavilan stiffened, and his hands drew away. "Why not, Wren? Tell me why not." She couldn't tell him, of course. She couldn't find the words, and even if she had been able to find the words, she wouldn't have been able to speak them. "I have given my promise," she said instead, wishing he would let the matter die, that he would give up his demand, that he would see how wrong it was for him to ask. "Your promise?" he snapped. "To whom?" "To the queen," she insisted stubbornly. "To the queen? Shades, Wren, what's the worth of that? The queen is dead!"