“That puts a tremendous amount of faith in that sigil of yours, which you’ve not tested.”
“Granted. But Myranda, Lain, and the rest made it clear that in any battle with steep enough odds and high enough stakes, sometimes one must take a leap of faith.”
She thought for a moment. “Ignoring that one glaring weakness… it’s not a bad plan. But what if they figure out you’re setting a trap?”
“That’s the beauty of it. It doesn’t matter if they know. So long as I can keep Epidime out of my head, once I get to the cave he’ll have no option but to follow me inside. If he fails to follow me, I’ll make it as far as Entwell itself and warn them of his intentions. Entwell is home to the most profound and distilled mystic and martial knowledge in our world. In his hands, it would be catastrophic, apocalyptic. But he could only hope to partake of that knowledge if he could slip unnoticed among them. Perhaps he could achieve that if they were unaware of the threat he caused. There is no possibility he could do it if they were prepared.”
“Interesting… Epidime must do what you want him to do, trap or no.”
“Concocting such a plan is, as you’ve said, a necessary skill in my line of work.”
She dosed out some more brandy.
“This will be the third glass,” Desmeres observed. “To what shall we toast?”
Genara raised her glass. “To surviving the next few weeks.”
“And many years more.”
She nodded. “I’ll drink to that.”
They tipped back their cups and set them down.
“Well then,” he said. “I suppose we’d best start planning how best to set the stage. Because we are surely entering the final act.”
“Can we start by working out what happens after?” she asked.
“That’s a tad presumptuous, isn’t it?”
“Not for me. Because if you fail, I’ve still got a problem that needs to be solved. For that matter, if you succeed, I’ve still got a problem. While the world in general and you in particular benefit from a victory, it still doesn’t address the most troubling facts. You’ll have to defeat Epidime, who will come in the form of one of the Elites. That means to defeat him, you’ll have to kill or capture another one of them. And good luck getting them to listen to your frankly laughable story of demons and D’Karon after that. So you’ll still be at odds with them when the battle is over if you survive, and even if you die I’ll still be your accomplice. Either we’ll share a noose or I’ll hang alone because you’ll already be dead.”
“Don’t be absurd.”
“In what way is that absurd?”
“The Alliance Army doesn’t hang traitors. They behead them or throw them in the dungeon to be forgotten.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “That sets my mind wonderfully at ease. Thank you so much for your insight.”
“Genara, as I’ve said, Myranda is your way out of it. All you need to do is survive long enough to gain an audience with her. She has the influence to acquit you of wrongdoing and the wisdom and intuition to grasp the truth of your words.”
“That’s all well and good, but I very much doubt a cluster of angry Elites is going to humor my request to see a woman who is arguably the second most powerful noble in the whole Northern Alliance.”
“Then betray me.”
“You know I’m not going to do that, Desmeres.”
“Yes, I know you aren’t going to do that, but the Elites don’t.”
He stood and pulled a parchment and quill from his things. “Take a letter. Anrack, I must write this quickly, as I’ve only briefly been able to escape Desmeres’s clutches. I am through being held captive by him and serving his traitorous purposes. He has taken shelter in the Cave of the Beast. You can find him there. Bring your best men and I am certain you shall defeat him. Genara. Fold it, seal it, and address it to the Elites.”
She looked to the page, and back to Desmeres. “I suppose that could work… I hope you don’t mind if I change your wording a bit. If this is intended to be me I think it would be best to make it less blustery.”
“By all means, make it your own.”
She scratched out and folded her message while he fetched a candle. A few drops of wax sealed it.
“There we are. It’s all over but to deliver the message and await our destiny.”
#
Desmeres and Genara made one final swing out to the road, entrusting their message to a traveling merchant. As soon as they’d sent the note on its way, the fact of their next clash was set in stone. Now there was little to do but get their affairs in order and make their way to the appointed location.
“I cannot believe, knowing full well you are about to face the full might of the Elite, you’re still taking the time to take me to visit his blasted gnome of yours,” Genara said. “We should just get to the Cave and get ourselves ready!”
“It will be days before the Elite intercept that note. I hardly think a simple merchant will know how to get in touch them directly, so the note won’t even be heading in the right direction until it is in the hands of a proper messenger. And then it will be days before the message reaches Anrack, and days more for him to gather an appropriate size force. We have the luxury of time.”
“And you’ve chosen to use that time to visit a little man in the middle of the forest.”
“I may not have an opportunity after. I feel it’s best to have one’s affairs in order before a significant risk.”
She glared at him. “You know, the fact that you don’t seem the least bit concerned about purposely luring a demon toward you is just short of infuriating.”
“Would it make you feel better if I wrung my hands in dread?”
“It would at least be a sign of sanity, and…”
She trailed off as she realized there was an odd sound coming from the forest ahead. It was music, pipes, horns, chimes, and twanging sounds she couldn’t identify forming into a loose and raucous cacophony that grew louder as they approached. As the source of the din came into view, she shook her head.
“… never mind. At this point, sanity would be out of place,” she said.
A festival or celebration of sorts had consumed the forest floor near a stream. Easily fifty tiny people dressed in gay colors danced out a complex routine on the floor around a barrel twice as tall as the largest among them. When they turned to see who was approaching, the musicians suddenly stopped and the whole of the celebration seemed to vanish in the blink of an eye, each gnome finding cover in a heartbeat. Only one of them didn’t hide. Instead he scampered up a tree to a branch that brought him to eye-level with this horse-riding visitors. He had the telltale waver of inebriation as he perched atop the branch.
“If it isn’t the watered-down elf now! And by gum, he’s brought along a lady.” He turned to the seemingly vacant stretch of woods behind him. “Everyone, out! Out! Back to celebration. These folks are friends. What we have here, my fellow gnomes, is a lumbering lummox who actually keeps his promises.”
“I see the woodsmen came through with their promise of the barrel as well.”
“Oh, they did. They certainly did. And just in time for the rest of the clan to visit. I got the word out just after you left. Here I thought I’d be sharing that little cask, but look at this lovely barrel. I’m still dreaming about what I’ll build from it when I’ve drained it.” He looked to Genara. “And who is this… beauteous specimen?”
Ahead, the musicians crept back out and began to play their tune again. One by one the revelers returned to reveling.
“My name is Genara Copperwright,” she said.
Gwellin looked upon her with the same wonder of someone witnessing the sun for the first time. He hopped first to the neck of Desmeres horse, then to the neck of Genara’s. His small size meant he had to pace a few steps up along the steed’s neck to come eye to eye with the woman, but once he had he looked her over with raw admiration.
“Look at you, madam…” he said quietly. “All of
the beauty of a gnome woman, but writ large. You are like a monument!”
“I’ve heard more flattering complements,” she said.
Gwellin called “Clear the stone! And bring out the inks and paints!”
The gnomes who had taken to dancing atop the slate beside Gwellin’s door cleared it. Several of the others rolled out cloth bundles of charcoal, powdered pigment, and tiny brushes. Gwellin hopped down and took up one of the bits of charcoal, tracing out sweeping lines upon the slate. Others joined in, following behind with an almost choreographed sequence of painting, tracing, defining, and coloring. As he painted, Gwellin spouted poetic observations.
“No, it isn’t the beauty of a gnome. It’s an entirely new type. Yes. Not the button nose and apple cheeks of a gnome woman. Your face is sharper, longer, more pristine and angular. And those lines around your eyes and around your mouth. You don’t have the lingering youthfulness so often found in the gnomish. You have an elegance, a maturity…”
Genara glared at Desmeres, then at Gwellin. “These descriptions of yours are bopping you back and forth between earning a kiss on the cheek and a slap in the face, little man.”
“Forgive me, but I am beside myself. I am agog! Please, step off the horse. I want just once to see you in your full grandeur.”
“I’ll step off the horse, but if you want to see me in my full grandeur it’s going to cost you more than backhanded compliments.”
He stepped down, more out of an eagerness to be free of the saddle for a few minutes than to satisfy the whims of the gnome. As she stretched a bit, a murmur of appreciation came from most of the crowd of revelers. It was the first most of the knee-high creatures had seen of a woman her size, and the eye for beauty and novelty was evidently common among the gnomes. One of the younger gnome women, dressed in a bright red outfit that was as much an art piece as winter gear, paced up and tugged on the leg of her pants.
“What’s your name again?” the woman asked.
“… I’m Genara Copperwright.”
“You’re a Copperwright? I’m a Copperwright!” she said.
“Err… No. That’s just the family name. I’m… a hostess,” Genara replied, for the first time in quite a while seaming somewhat sheepish about the specifics of her profession.
“Oh… Are you an artist’s model? Because you are very striking.”
“I’ve posed a few times,” Genara said.
“Turn around please!” Gwellin called, still sketching furiously upon the stone.
Genara sighed and turned, muttering under her breath. “This better be worth it, Desmeres.”
The gnome woman paced around to address her again. “My name is Nipinine. Do you have any of the copperwork your family has made, Genara? I’ll trade you for some of mine.”
“… Let me see yours first,” Genara said.
Desmeres stepped down from his horse and walked to the blur of activity atop the slate, where a rather impressive clash of at least three different artist’s styles was coming together into a unique portrait of Genara. He had to hold Dowser extra tight, as the puppy had been struggling aggressively since they’d approached the area and Desmeres didn’t want to think about what sort of unfortunate chaos would result from a disobedient puppy getting lose in a crowd of gnomes.
“I would say I’ve come through with my end of the bargain, wouldn’t you?” Desmeres asked.
“And how. And how, Lumineblade,” he said without looking up.
“And now for your end?”
“Hmm? Oh, right, right.” He hopped to the patch of frozen ground above his door. “Your attention please, everyone!”
The music stopped, and all eyes turned to Gwellin.
“Us forest and mountain gnomes don’t get to have a good close look at things like these this diluted-elf or that stunning human woman, let alone the horses, without having to run and hide, right?”
A murmur of voices agreed.
“And we sure don’t get to fill our cups with booze like this very often, do we?”
This garnered a much louder agreement.
“The one we have to thank is Desmeres Lumineblade. I say that makes him a friend of the burrow. Agreed?”
The gnomes, in one voice, shouted their approval.
“So be it. There are gnomes here from all over Melorn and far into the Eastern Mountains. By the time everyone heads back to where they came from, half the continent will know to treat you as one of the clan.”
“And what about me?” Genara said, glancing back at them as she looked over a tiny, intricate copper chain that Nipinine had been wearing as a necklace.
“Of course you are! I wouldn’t be surprised if half of the gnome villages started painting pictures of you!”
“Ah… That’s… flattering,” Genara said, the faintest blush coming to her face.
“Just remember this phrase: Narissa Naruma. Utter it and any gnome within earshot, if it is safe, will answer in kind.”
Nipinine tugged again at her pants. “Let me see your copperwork, please.”
Genara removed one of her earrings and handed it down to the curious gnome. The hammered, shaped, and styled copper coin was massive in Nipinine’s hands.
“Oh…” Nipinine remarked. “It’s… um… very… big and… simple…”
“It isn’t one of father’s best…” Genara said. “It doesn’t compare to yours.”
“No, no! I love it! It’s hard to do simple well. The hammer marks give it a wonderful texture you just don’t see in gnomish work. Please, accept the trade?”
“If you like.” She looked up, blushing a bit more deeply as she realized she’d quickly returned to being the center of attention. “Are we… through here?”
“What! No! One more full turn, please!” Gwellin blurted, rushing back down to the patchwork portrait.
She obliged, a bit more swiftly than he would have liked. The artists launched into a final flurry of activity. All at once, they stopped and backed away, leaving a hectic but utterly breathtaking portrait behind. It wasn’t exquisite in its detail, and in truth may not have matched the skill of even Desmeres if he’d taken his time, but the splashes of color overlaid with contrasting lines of definition, combined with the different styles of the artists involved, produced an effect that was truly without equal.
“There… Once I’ve sketched a face, I’ll never forget it…” Gwellin said. “Go with my blessings. Unless, of course, you’d like to stay for a drink or five?”
“No, no.” Desmeres said. “We’ve got matters to tend to.”
“So be it! Go, friends of the burrow, and may the luck and favor of the gnomes go with you!”
Gwellin hopped down from the stone and wove himself back into the crowd, accepting a drink and seeming to instantly forget his large guests were even present.
“Thank you, Genara, friend of the burrow,” Nipinine said, lugging her freshly acquired earring.
The celebration swelled to full strength again as they climbed to their horses and gave the gnomes a wide berth.
Desmeres and Genara rode for quite a distance before the sound of the music and frolicking finally faded away.
“Gnomes are… curious creatures,” Genara said.
“Bundles of enthusiasm and innovation looking for an outlet,” Desmeres said. “And as seldom as you’re likely to see one, I’m not sure you’re ever far from one.”
She jingled the ‘necklace’ in her palm. “This is bar none the finest piece of metalworking I’ve seen. I wish I had a pair. I’d wear them as earrings.”
“You should have said so. If we survive, we’ll find out where your little friend calls home and you can pay her a visit. As you’ve seen, they’re happy to share their workings. They are prolific in their chosen fields. I myself am rather intrigued by a weapon Gwellin had pointed at me during my first visit.”
She shook her head, drifting into deep consideration. “So much I’d never dreamed of…”
#
Some hours later, G
enara was still silent. They had pitched a tent and started a fire to heat their evening meal.
Desmeres looked to Genara, who seemed lost in the flames, eyes turned to their flickering shapes as she idly scratched Dowser. The puppy refused to leave her alone, hopping to her lap whenever the opportunity arose, and she’d finally given up trying to convince him to leave her be. Now he was flopped on his side, head in her lap as she sat on a blanket on the ground and rubbed under his collar.
“You are uncharacteristically silent,” Desmeres said.
“Just thinking…” Genara said. “I really thought I was worldly, you know? I’ve read books. Many, many books. It used to set my mind at ease. I’d look out over the dining room at Clennock’s and see the faces of the nobles and gentry and think to myself, ‘I’ve read more books anyone in this room.’ It made me feel good, cultured. Even if I didn’t exactly have a cultured role. Even if I didn’t really matter in the grand scheme, at least I had a good view of the grand scheme. … But in the weeks since you came and sent my world crumbling… I’ve seen more of the Northern Alliance than in my whole life before. I’ve learned things I always imagined were stone cold fact were actually tissue-thin lies. I’ve learned things I assumed were fantasy were absolutely true, and yet more fantastic than I’d ever imagined. I met the hand of fate, I’ve seen creatures most will live their lives without catching a glimpse of. I’ve got gnomish jewelry, and a weapon by ‘the great Desmeres Lumineblade.’”
“It sounds as though you’ve gained a fair amount from our accidental association.”
“Too much…” she said. “I’m not a young woman anymore, Desmeres. I’m not old, mind you. But I’m awfully late in life to have my eyes opened by things like this. What have I been doing that I’ve remained so hidden? So in the dark?”
The Redemption of Desmeres Page 33
