Moss Gate

by Alex Linwood

  “Indeed, one. Perhaps the only one.” He turned to face Lady Harper earnestly. “What do you think? Can this young lady make herself a friend of the city?”

  Portia looked to Lady Harper as well, curious about her answer. Lady Harper considered her seriously, pursing her lips. “Of course she can.”

  “How? How do I do that?” Portia asked.

  “Help the people of the city. Perform an invaluable service,” Sir Alboka said, staring at Portia with half-lidded eyes. “It must be significant—not at the level of collecting trash, but much above that. Much.”

  Portia swallowed. That seemed like a tall order just to be allowed to learn what she’d come here to learn. But she would try. She knew the people of her kingdom were counting on her. She thought of Mark and the other orphans in Valencia—they were also counting on her, even if they didn’t yet know they were in danger. “I can do that.”

  When the advisor left, Portia and Lady Harper sat in silence in the private parlor. They had another hour or so before the innkeeper would make them leave and make room for the next elite that had rented it. And they had not yet finished the second bottle of wine he had brought for them. Portia wanted to know more about the steward, and the odd relationship Lady Harper seemed to have with him.

  Taking a large swallow of wine for courage, Portia spoke. “He looks very old. How old is he?”

  “He’s six hundred years at least. That is a lot of passages around the sun.”

  Portia’s mouth fell open. She’d never heard of anyone being that old before. “Is that normal? For elves? How old are you?”

  “Not that old, I assure you. No, that advanced age is rare, even for elves. Some have proposed it is part of magic that only he has, or those of his immediate family, for many of them are old too. That is how they became advisors to the royal family. They have seen much. Their wisdom is sound because it is based on our long history and a depth of personal knowledge.” Lady Harper rose and put her wineglass down. She brushed off her robes. “And I must tell you, young lady, it is not polite to ask how old people are. At least it is not polite to ask me how old I am. Understood?”

  Portia nodded. She had been scolded like that before and didn’t understand it. She was looking forward to getting older. Then she could do whatever she wanted. She frowned. If that day ever came.

  “I apologize, Lady Harper. I’ll try to be a friend of the city. But I am a little confused. How will anyone let me do anything for them if they are suspicious of outsiders? Or more specifically, suspicious of humans?”

  “I guess that is part of the challenge,” Lady Harper said, ushering Portia out of the room. “I must return and take care of some business. If I think of anything, I will let you know immediately. Meanwhile, do what you can. And stay out of trouble, do you understand me? Getting into any trouble would be the exact opposite of being a friend of the city.”

  This admonishment did not calm Portia’s nerves. Somehow she thought she was more practiced at getting into trouble and skirting the rules than being an exemplary specimen of a rule follower.

  She went back to her rooms and dug her knives out of her bags. Once they were strapped to her body once again, she felt more comfortable. She hadn’t realized how naked she’d felt without them. What Sir Alboka had told her about the city explained a lot about why there were so few humans on the street. It also explained why the humans who were there were so jumpy. If every elf was thinking a human was trouble, then how could any human be comfortable in public? They were constantly suspected of wrongdoing.

  There were a few hours left in the day. Even though she didn’t have a concrete plan, it seemed more reasonable to go out to the city to find something she could do rather than sit around the inn and try to come up with a plan. Or maybe that was just an excuse. She wanted to go and walk in the sunshine and stretch her legs.

  This time when she explored the city, she did it with more purpose. She made an effort to memorize the streets as she went, looking for possible future escape routes, much as she had done when she was an orphan in Valencia. Perhaps this information would come in handy. In any case, it was better to have it than not.

  The sun was getting low as she got back to the inn. There was an elf couple outside arguing with a small boy between them. Portia slowed her pace. She walked close to the wall in order to blend into the background. She wanted to overhear what they were saying. Luckily, they were too engrossed in their fight to take much notice of her.

  “I must get these bills collected before the end of business today or my boss will have my head,” the female elf said. “I don’t understand why you thought I would be free tonight.” She paced back and forth, agitated.

  The male elf held the hand of the small child. He looked stressed. “I’m sorry. I forgot. But I had no other place to bring him—not with our sitter gone. Uncle Wren will be back soon. He’s supposed to meet you both at the south gate at sundown.”

  “But I can’t…”

  “I know. I can’t either, though. You know my shift starts soon.” He tried to stand in front of the female elf, but she paced around him. The child looked down at his feet and kicked the ground.

  Portia stepped in front of them. Her heart beat a little faster. Blood rushed to her face at her boldness. “I can help you. I can bring him where he needs to go.”

  All three elves turned to face Portia, surprise on their faces. The female elf looked incredulous. “Why don’t I just hand him over to a kidnapper right now? I would never trust him with a human.”

  Portia jumped in. “I can understand that. I understand completely. I’m new here, and I know you don’t have a reason to believe me, but you can trust me.” She thought furiously. How could she get them to believe her? Then it came to her. “I am escorted in the city by Lady Harper of the Meadows. She can speak to my business.”

  The looks on the elves’ faces softened but didn’t completely relax. She was going in the right direction.

  “A guardian of the city… Sir Alboka… has come to see me at this inn.”

  At that, the male elf laughed. “Surely you don’t expect us to believe that.”

  “It’s true. He came this very day. The innkeeper can vouch for this. He led him in himself,” Portia said, hoping the innkeeper would cooperate and tell the truth—if he was even in the inn at the moment. “Please, come in and ask. He’ll tell you that. I will take care of your child and bring him where he needs to go.” They were almost there. She could see it on their faces. They were considering her words.

  But then the female elf’s face blanched as she looked Portia up and down. “Even if what you say is true, you hardly look like a substantial bodyguard,” she said, skepticism in her voice. She crossed her arms and looked at Portia, all her weight on one hip.

  “I know my way around a knife. I can defend myself—and him.”

  Portia pulled out her longest knife and went through a defensive routine, showing them her skills with the blade and footwork. When she completed the rapid-fire motion, she re-sheathed her knife and gave them all a small bow. They were impressed, Portia thought. That much was plain. But they were also a bit afraid of her too, for they had backed up against the far wall.

  Portia cursed herself for not thinking things through. How would she get them to trust her now that she had waved a weapon around? “I’m sorry. Perhaps that wasn’t the best idea. Please don’t run away. Just talk to the innkeeper.” She motioned for them to enter the front of the inn with her two hands together in a prayer, begging them to enter. With a slow nod, the female elf turned and walked into the inn, followed by the male elf and the child. The child couldn’t take his eyes off Portia and was dragged into the building while staring at her, his eyes round.

  To Portia’s relief, the innkeeper was at the front desk. Now she just had to say the right thing so he wouldn’t get defensive. She rushed to him, around the other elves, and said, “This is the honorable innkeeper who hosted Sir Alboka today. In his private parlor. It wa
s most impressive.”

  The innkeeper looked up, surprised at Portia’s words, then a small smile of pleasure came to his face. He nodded agreeably. “This is true. But then again, I often have royal couriers as guests here. My inn is known for its impeccable hospitality.”

  Portia piped in, wanting to keep the innkeeper’s good mood. “It’s true. I was a witness to this very thing since I was in the private parlor with Lady Harper of the Meadows to receive him.”

  “She was indeed,” the innkeeper said. Portia exhaled a small sigh of relief. She got him to admit she was there, part of the group receiving Sir Alboka, without running into any resistance. From her experience with people, she knew their first reaction was usually to say no when asked for a favor, such as vouching for her. But she did not have to ask for such a thing directly, not this way—she had only to get him to talk. “Would you like to see where the Guardian of the City sat?” he continued, soaking up the moment.

  The male and female elves looked surprised. They turned to consider Portia once again, as if seeing her for the first time. The little boy elf’s eyes could not have gotten any larger than they were already. He backed up and hid behind the male elf’s leg and peered at Portia. The female elf approached Portia. “My name is Celaireth, this is my husband, Mawon, and our child, Finrod. It would help us a great deal if you could take Finrod to the south gate to meet his uncle Wren.”

  “I would be honored. My name is Portia.” She gave the elf family a small bow.

  The male elf reached into his pocket. “I can give you five coppers—”

  Portia interrupted him, waving away his hand. “There is no charge. It’s on my way.” The innkeeper raised his eyebrows at this but didn’t say anything. Portia wanted to get Finrod out of there and to the south gate before his parents changed their minds. She paused though, realizing she did need something from them. “My only request is that you tell any who asks that I did this service for you.”

  Celaireth nodded at Portia. “Do us this service and we will gladly speak the truth of it.”

  Portia nodded and then reached forward to take Finrod’s hand. He reluctantly put his little hand in hers and she drew him from the inn. She knew she had to get to the south gate by sunset, and it was already close to that time. The sun was hanging close to the horizon. They had to hurry.

  Portia walked down the street, determined. She pulled Finrod along to walk faster. Turning back to look at him, she found he was still staring at her with round eyes. It was beginning to make her uncomfortable. He opened his mouth, and a deeper voice than she expected told her in a very grown-up tone, “I should not be guided through the city by a human.”

  She shook her head in surprise at his pronouncement and nearly let go of his hand. There was nothing she could say to that. Instead, she turned back around and dragged him even faster through the streets towards the south gate of the inner city.

  Chapter 11

  They walked quickly through the streets. Portia noticed a few concerned glances at her dragging Finrod. She realized how bad it looked—a human dragging an elf child. If she wasn’t careful, someone would think she was kidnapping the boy. She stopped walking and turned to face him, crouching down to be at his level. “I need you to follow me without me dragging you by your hand. People will think I’m doing you harm.”

  He looked at her, fear warring with an elitist attitude. Finally, he drew up his courage and said to her with just a touch of disdain in his voice, “Of course. As I said, I shouldn’t be following a human, much less being dragged by one.”

  Portia squinted at him. How old was this child? He looked tiny, but he spoke like an adult. It was confusing to her. Perhaps it was an elf thing. “You are correct, of course. But you did hear your parents? It’s not safe for you alone. Will you do me—or should I say us—the favor of walking with me. And quickly. We must not be late to meet your uncle Wren, for I have no access to the inner city.” She paused for effect and then gave him a devious smile. “Or would you rather spend the night at the inn with me?”

  Finrod raised his chin and looked down his nose at Portia. “Never.”

  “Then walk. And quickly. Without me having to drag you,” Portia said, trying to stay calm and not reveal irritation in the tone of her voice. But she was irritated. She thought this elf boy was very spoiled.

  “Very well. As long as you stop grabbing my hand.”

  “As if I want to touch your hand.” She felt silly and childish saying such a thing, but really, he was too much.

  She stood up and they walked together quickly down the street. Finrod had to do a little half trot every few steps to keep up with her, but thankfully he didn’t complain. They made good time. She thought they would arrive just a bit early, which was perfect.

  As they turned a corner into the neighborhood just before the inner city, a pack of young children swarmed around them. They seemed to come out of nowhere. Portia guessed they were waiting in the nearby alleyway for any passersby. The children had jostled uncomfortably close as they had passed, touching both Portia and Finrod, which raised Portia’s suspicions immediately. She quickly felt around her body for her money bag and her knives. All was still there. She breathed a sigh of relief.

  Realizing perhaps a moment too late, she turned to Finrod. “Are you missing anything?”

  He looked at her, surprise and confusion on his face. He was still nonplussed from being jostled by the strangers. He clearly did not like being touched by others, especially those who did not ask first.

  “What do you mean missing?” he asked.

  “Like money. Anything in your pockets,” Portia said, impatiently.

  Finrod felt around his pockets, a scowl on his face. “My allowance. Those jerks took my allowance.” Before Portia could stop him, he bolted down the alleyway where the kids had disappeared. She swore under her breath and tore after him.

  “Finrod! Stop!” she called. He moved surprisingly fast for such a little thing. It took her half a block to catch him. She grabbed his arm and stopped him from running further. Luckily, the other children were nowhere in sight. Her greatest fear was that he would get injured fighting with one of them—or worse. But they were gone, and it was only her and Finrod in the alleyway. “You can’t do that. It’s too dangerous. Didn’t you see how many of them there were?”

  Finrod once again jutted out his chin. His eyes smoldered. He pulled to run off again, but Portia gripped his arms tightly, refusing to let go.

  “They had no right. They took my money,” he said, spitting in anger.

  “They had no right, but they did it anyhow. And getting yourself killed or injured by them is not going to make it any better. Do you understand me? They could really hurt you.” She squeezed his arms for emphasis, staring into his eyes and trying to get through to him.

  The anger gradually faded from his eyes. His chin came down, and he nodded slowly. He stopped trying to fight her to run after them. Portia tentatively loosened her grip on his arms, finally letting go when it was clear he was going to stay by her side.

  “Let’s go,” she said. “We need to hurry if we are not to be late.”

  He nodded glumly back at her. They walked out of the alleyway once again. This time, he reached out tentatively and took Portia’s hand. She looked down at him in surprise but said nothing. Portia gripped his hand tightly in return. They walked faster.

  They rounded the top of the hill and Portia could see the red wall of the inner city boundary. She breathed a sigh of relief. They were nearly there, and the sun was still not yet set.

  Just as they started down the hill a man stepped in front of them. His face lit up into a bright smile as he looked at Finrod. “There you are, child,” he said. “I’ve been waiting for you. You’re late.”

  Portia squinted at the man. He was acting as if he knew Finrod, but she was instructed to find his uncle Wren, who surely must also be an elf. She looked down at Finrod. He was scowling at the man. If Finrod knew this person, he didn
’t like him. That was enough for her.

  As she faced the man again, she stepped between him and Finrod. “I think you have us confused with someone else.” She used her most polite tone even though the man made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She didn’t like him either.

  The man just gave a jovial laugh and continued his eye contact with Finrod over her shoulder. He wouldn’t even speak to her, continuing to address Finrod instead. “Who is the scrappy one with you? Ah, never mind, it doesn’t matter. Little man, it is time to go.” He reached out to grab Finrod’s hand. But the small elf ducked out of the way, moving to the other side of Portia, keeping her between him and the large imposing man.

  “I said you are confused. Leave us alone,” Portia said, losing patience. She tried to walk around the man while leading Finrod.

  The man shifted his position to prevent them from passing. His laughter stopped abruptly. Finally, he focused his eyes on Portia while an unpleasant look came onto his face. He squinted at her. “Little girl, you can get in a lot of trouble for harassing elves in this place. I suggest you leave my ward alone. We are going to be late.”

  “He is not your ward,” Portia said.

  “And you say this based on what?” the man said, crossing his arms.

  Portia’s heart thumped in her chest. What if she was wrong? What if this was Finrod’s guardian? Could the elves have been lying to her before? She looked down at Finrod. “Do you know this man?” Finrod shook his head emphatically. He shuffled behind Portia again. Portia looked back up at the man. “He doesn’t know you. That’s the end of it. Go away.”

  “Fine. I’ll go away,” the man said, acid in his tone.

  Before Portia could react, he stepped forward and grabbed both her and Finrod, one with each arm. He had her by her good knife arm. Her other was holding Finrod. But even if he had grabbed her other arm, she still wouldn’t want to pull a knife, not if she could help it—Finrod was too close. She had no idea how the elf boy would react. Accidentally hurting Finrod was the last thing she wanted to do. The man pulled them to a nearby alley.