“Well, this really isn’t serious,” said I, but I proffered my cut finger. He took my hand and stroked the fingertip with one of his own, just once. I shivered as a strange tingle ran through me, and when he released my hand the cut was gone. I struggled to contain my excitement. So they did heal! Sorcery was no doubt very different to normal illnesses, but still...
“How did you find me?” I asked suddenly, remembering the darkness and the wildness of the storm. “How did you even know I needed help?”
Ystevan gave a laugh that came close to a snort—the dragonet went right on staring. “Little one, when a human rides across the outer wards at night, it is the business of the duty guardian to see what they are up to. I was the guardian on duty, so I headed for my chambers to dress more suitably, it was not a nice night,” he added wryly.
I nodded agreement, quelling a different sort of shiver at the memory, even as I puzzled over all the unknown things he referred to.
“As for knowing you needed help,” he went on, looking amused, “I was only halfway to my chambers when you started crying out for it loudly enough for every elfin in the fort to hear. At which point I abandoned the idea of changing and came straight out to find you. Fortunately, considering your condition. And you were curled up in the side of the fort itself, you were not very difficult to find.”
I nodded slowly, understanding the essence but mystified by the detail.
“That’s why it occurred to me to try and teach you to hear us while fully awake,” the he-elf remarked after a moment. “The Lord knows I'd never have bothered trying it on a human I thought completely normal!”
“Hmm,” I said, for that had sounded rather slighting towards normal humankind. “But, I have some questions. What’s a ward, and a guardian, and a duty guardian...”
He flicked his fingers in the air as if dismissing his lack of explanation. “A ward is... Hmmm, well it’s a fixed barrier—not necessarily a physical barrier, you understand—enclosing something, but actively linked to its maintainer or maintainers—the guardians, in the case of a fort. ‘Fixed’ means that even if the maintainers were all killed it would still be there. ‘Actively linked’ means that normally they can also feel if anything touches or crosses or damages the ward in any way. There several around the fort. They’re spherical, so there’s no way around them. Are you following me?”
I nodded, fascinated, but Eraldis yawned—flame-flickeringly—and flew off.
“Now, the fort guardians,” Ystevan went on, “well, our title is fairly self-explanatory. Our job is the protection of the fort. As well as taking care of the wards, and some other things, we do this by working hard to ensure the goodwill of our human neighbors—healing livestock, people, even crops, sometimes. Humans are rather...dangerous, to be quite frank.”
“That is a somewhat lesser job for a fort this isolated, though. All sheiling-forts have a fort guardian; they're the small forts that may be on human farmland, but a torr-fort guardian is also responsible for helping them when they need it, and a torr-fort—like this one—needs at least four guardians.”
He broke off and shot a glance at me, as though to check I was following him. Apparently I did not look mystified, for he continued, “Anyway, a duty guardian is simply the guardian on duty any particular night. In daylight hours we’re all aware of the wards, and we all have our sections to check daily.
“At night, though, the ward-awareness is all channeled to the duty guardian, so that the others can sleep undisturbed, and more importantly, so that the duty guardian will wake up if anything so much as brushes the wards. Night duty starts at dusk, and we just rotate, so with seven of us at present, we’re only doing one day a week. It’s not very common to have to actually go outside for any reason.”
“Sorry,” I muttered, guiltily.
He just laughed. “Don’t apologize, child, I'd much rather fetch you in from the rain than have to venture out and drive off a particularly determined demon.”
I stared at him. “Demon?”
He just nodded as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “Yes, they chew on the wards sometimes. But enough of this. How are you feeling? We got you warmed up nice and gently, you don’t seem too bad to me.”
I dutifully considered how I felt. Well fed, rather tired, and despite my raging curiosity, not a little sleepy. “I'm quite all right, thank you.”
“Well then, perhaps you should get to sleep.” He rose to leave.
Wait! I hadn’t yet broached my reason for being here. But...for one thing, it hadn’t been mentioned, and for another, I would make my case better after a good night’s sleep. So I simply bid the he-elf goodnight, and was bidden it in return.
My mind came back to the present again. I eyed the he-elf, so friendly and engaging in my memory, but now so...wary. Had I already asked him to heal my father? Surely I had! What had his reply been? Well, that was fairly clear.
So I needed to ask him again.
I licked my lips and glanced at Sir Allen. He stood staring at us with narrowed eyes and an expression of such intense frustration on his face that I suspected he had indeed planned to read our lips.
I turned carefully back towards the window before speaking. “If I have your word that I am indeed safe from any further attacks of forgetfulness, might we go somewhere rather more private to continue our discussion?”
Lord Ystevan also glanced at Sir Allen. “I think that would be an extremely good idea.” He reached across to me again and Raven ran up my dress and disappeared back down the front of it. He made to turn towards the door…
“Ah, your word, Lord Ystevan?”
He paused and looked down at me. Amusement touched his eyes but also something close to respect. And an odd sadness. “I give you my word,” he said and offered me his arm. I took it and we turned and walked back down the long room to our host.
“Sir Allen,” I said when we reached him, “I am very grateful to you for arranging this meeting, but now that Lord Ystevan and myself have sorted out our misunderstanding, we would not dream of taking up any more of your time.”
He eyed me, clearly trying to determine if I were myself. “Do you plan to take up any old hobbies, my lady?” he asked obliquely.
“No, indeed, Sir Allen,” I replied promptly. “I have sworn off drain-pipe climbing. I hope I can visit you again soon, but by the front door.”
Sir Allen, clearly as reassured as he could be in the circumstances, nodded and went to the drawing room door. By the time Lord Ystevan and I followed him out there was nothing but the distant tramp of boots along a paved corridor and a certain amount of dirty straw strewn over the hall.
~+~
CHAPTER 32
OF SAFYR AND SORCERY
“Have you a private room?” I asked the innkeeper of The Star and the Ram.
“This way, my lady, my lord,” the man said, and ushered us into a private chamber behind the inn common room.
When we were seated, I eyed Lord Ystevan expectantly. I was definitely ready for something to drink. But the he-elf just sat there, looking at me with much the same expectant look I was giving him. I chewed my lip in frustration.
“Ah, can I get you anything, my lord?” prompted the innkeeper, after a few more moments of silence.
Lord Ystevan started slightly. “Ah…yes, of course. Tisane, please. Dandelion, if you have it.” He looked inquiringly at me and I nodded my agreement with this choice. He belatedly took out his purse, and I was relieved to see him tip the man enough to justify the use of the private room.
“Sorry,” he said distractedly, when the innkeeper was gone. “Amongst the Elfin it is always the she-elves who initiate hospitality, as you kn... Uh, well, sometimes I forget the human ways.”
I stared at him, fascinated by this snippet of information and eager to learn more...though his slip of the tongue suggested I knew already. Or had. Before...before he stole my memories. I couldn’t help frowning at him as I thought about it.
Yes,
no wonder he was so wary. He was waiting for my fury to break against him. And the more I remembered, and the more I thought about what he’d done, the greater the anger that welled inside me. But...my father’s healing was more important. I couldn’t rage at him, no matter whether he deserved it or not.
Still, I found it hard to begin again. “What did you mean about dragons and creation?” I asked at last.
He was silent for a moment, clearly trying to link my question with what he’d said, and when, then his eyes cleared. “Oh, that’s a long story,” he said quietly. “I’d better not start on it now.” Something about the way he spoke made me suspect he’d told me it before.
I turned my mind to what I could remember, hoping more would come back to me. Surely I must have asked about my father very soon? Yes...I had...hadn’t I?
The following morning, Haliath brought me a large breakfast, in bed. I wasn’t entirely sure what everything was, but it was very tasty. There was an egg of some kind, various cooked roots, equally indeterminable, a piece of venison, and mushrooms, of which I could recognize the family but not the type on my plate.
Slightly embarrassed to be waited on in such a way, I tried to get up afterwards, but Haliath insisted on tucking me back in, ‘at least for the forenoon,’ as she put it. Having secured my acquiescence, she glided out, bearing my empty plate, and Ystevan took her place in the doorway and knocked on the doorframe.
“Uh. Come in,” I said, slightly flustered at this courteous behavior since the door was open—in so much as there was a door; it seemed to be a thick curtain—and it was his home. He entered, tall as I had suspected, and graceful as he came and perched on the edge of the bed.
He was dressed rather differently today. Instead of the fine attire of the day before, he wore plain clothes in browns and greens, with a pair of stout undyed boots. It reminded me of the sort of thing worn by gamekeepers and huntsmen. He still wore a sleeveless over-robe, buttoned at the front, but it was only knee length, and it was green. But he seemed exactly the same, it was just the clothes that were different. No sign of Eraldis, though.
“Good morning, Serapia,” he greeted me.
I felt pleased he remembered my name, for all it was not a hard one. “Good morning, Ystevan.”
He smiled as if he too, was pleased I had remembered his name, which was a hard one. Although, mine was perhaps as hard to him as his was to me.
“I trust you are well rested and further recovered?” he inquired.
I nodded, uncertain how I could introduce my reason for being there into the conversation.
“When you said you were kin to us,” he asked me, “did you mean Torr Elkyn specifically?”
“Torr Elkyn is...here?” He nodded, so I said, “Yes. We call this area Elfindale, and it belongs to my father. I mean,” I stumbled, blushing suddenly, “I'm sure he doesn’t claim right here, but generally, in human terms, he is the Duke, you see,” I managed, feeling that I was tying myself in knots, trying not to give offence.
Ystevan just smiled, looking more amused than anything, but he looked slightly surprised as well. “Your father is a Duke?”
“Yes,” I said, chin rising, “I am Lady Serapia Ravena, and he is Alban Serapion Ravena, the Duke of Elfindale. It was his great great grandfather who married the elfin lady.”
“Hmm, I wondered. It was before my time, but the match is still remembered here. You are certainly our kin.”
“Was the lady a relation of yours?”
“No, not of mine. She was of Clan Elendal. I am of Clan Valunis,” he added, with a smile. “Tell me, now that we have been more fully introduced,” he looked at me with a sharp, but friendly gaze, “why did you come here?”
I returned his gaze firmly. “I was looking for you. For the Elfin of Elfindale, that is.”
He nodded without any sign of surprise. “I thought as much.”
I couldn’t help remembering his sister’s words the previous day. “Is that why you let me wake up here? Instead of at the inn? Though I don’t see the point of putting me there. I would have had to come straight back up here.”
Ystevan laughed very softly. His gold-green eyes gleamed. “You would have woken up at the inn and you would have remembered nothing.”
The hair rose slightly on the back of my neck. I believed that he could do it.
“You still could, of course,” he added lightly. “But although you are human not elfin-kind, your age requires that we ensure your safety as well as your silence. And since you are our kin, we have twice the reason to take good care of you.”
That made me feel rather warm inside—though I couldn’t help wondering just how old—or rather, how young—he took me for. Despite my growing womanly attributes, I was still skinny and under-sized after those years in the gutter. In light of what he’d just said, I didn’t feel in any hurry to correct him. “Thank you,” I said softly.
“You’re welcome. But may I ask why you have sought us out? You have come a long way, have you not; for I believe the Duke lives in London?”
I nodded. “Yes, I’ve come a long way.” My heartbeat accelerated as the time came for me to make my appeal as persuasively as possible. “Well,” I said after a deep breath, “I'm here because of my father. He’s...he’s very ill.”
Ystevan regarded me closely. “That should not be a problem,” he said simply. “He counts as a neighbor of this fort, and he is kin to us. But what is the nature of his illness?”
I could feel his gaze upon me. “It’s...it’s sort of a wasting disease.”
“A wasting disease?” said Ystevan, “no problem, but a ‘sort of’ wasting disease? You’d better be more specific.”
I wanted to squirm under his eyes, but resisted. “Its cause is...somewhat unusual,” I admitted, still shrinking from naming the evil.
Ystevan’s eyes hardened somewhat with irritation. “You are not being entirely truthful, little one. There is something important that you are not saying. I cannot possibly say whether or not you are like to find help here if you do not trust me with all the details. The Queen will hardly wish to allow one of her guardians to travel all the way to London only to find that this concealed factor makes any action on their part impossible. There are things that cannot be healed, even by elfin skills. They are not many, but they exist. Perhaps your hesitation stems from your fear that he is afflicted with one of these diseases, but all the same, you must share with me all you know of it.”
I could not hold his gaze while I told him, and lowered my eyes to the blankets. I started right back at the beginning of the tale, seeking to offer some explanation in advance. When I first mentioned sorcery, I thought I heard Ystevan draw in a sharp breath, but I did not dare look up, simply continuing with as much control as I could manage to the sorry end.
“So you see, soon he will die, and I will lose him. And I can’t! And I know you elfin can heal him,” I finished. The dream had not been coincidence. I wasn’t even sure if there was such a thing.
There was a long silence, until eventually I risked a peep at his face. It was closed, and his eyes had gone hard and dark and almost angry. When time dragged on and on, and still he didn’t say anything, I finally ventured a timid, “Well?”
“There can only be one answer to a request such as yours,” the he-elf declared, his voice like iron. “And that is No.”
My stomach knotted at this, but I wasn’t prepared to accept it. “But he’s not a bad man,” I returned urgently. “He was foolish, many years ago, but he has been truly penitent for such a long time...”
Ystevan cut me off by taking my hand. “Little one, you are bound to be partial, but there is no such thing as a good sorcerer. They are all damned and the sooner they are in hell the better.”
I yanked my hand away and waved it angrily in the air. “He is not damned! And he’s not actually a sorcerer. Please don’t be so quick to jump to conclusions! I've tried to explain, but you’re not listening, are you? Let me try again...”
&nb
sp; I would have launched into another account of the matter, but he captured my hand again.
“Peace, little one. At any account, there is no point going on at me, it is not my decision. Since you have come so far, you may as well go before the Queen and make your request. The answer will be No, please don’t hope for anything else for you will be disappointed. But I suppose if you do ask, it will make you feel better about it.”
I regarded him with a mixture of mutiny and relief. Perhaps the elfin Queen would be more sympathetic.
The he-elf patted my hand reassuringly. “You will still be made welcome here. Your father’s evil is not yours.”
It was nice to hear that, I had to admit. I’d been a little afraid his manner would change towards me once I had told all. I shot him a look. “I know London’s a long way away,” I pointed out. “And no doubt what I'm asking isn’t even easy. But he is a good man. And any elfin who saved him, it would be worth their while.”
He fixed me with a sharp look.
“I brought some jewels with me,” I said frankly, “but they’re gone with my horse. But I've got many, many more back home, and the elfin who saved my father could take their pick.”
He frowned, his expression rather indeterminable. “Don’t be so quick with your bribes. You should not be so willing to give your jewels away. They don’t like it.”
I was confused. “Sorry? Who doesn’t like it?”
“The safyrs,” he replied, then seemed to notice my bewildered look. “The jewels. Or that is to say, the jewel-spirits, the safyrs.”
I stared at him. “The jewels don’t like being given away,” I repeated, astonished.
“Indeed not. Jewels like to stay in one family, passed down the generations with respect and veneration, if not love. Being bartered like common coin upsets their safyr. Or angers them, depending on their disposition. If they get really, really angry, and they’re powerful by nature...well, I'm sure you’ve heard of plenty of ‘cursed’ jewels. They’re not really cursed, of course, just angry.”
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