Earthstone

by P. M. Biswas

  “Her cowardice,” Nala amended.

  “Nice,” Tam said. “Very nice. Insult my monarch, why don’t you? How would you feel if I insulted your ki—”

  “Quiet.”

  “Now that’s a double standard. So you can insult my monarch, but I can’t insult yours?”

  “No, be quiet.” Nala inclined her head, her left ear perking up and its pointed tip twitching. “I hear something.”

  All Tam could hear was the continued growling of her stomach, which, much like the elves around her, wasn’t listening to her at all.

  Ultimately—after half an hour of Nala and the other Sentinels standing around with identically tilted heads, like a flock of curious storks—a faint clattering became evident to Tam. The clattering of hooves.

  Tam bounded forth in eagerness—or tried to—but Tomak dragged her back by the collar. “Stay.”

  “Quit treating me like a disobedient dog,” Tam griped, but then, out of the mist, emerged a rather confused-looking human guard on horseback. He batted at the mist around him as if at flies.

  “Here!” yelled Tam, waving at him energetically. “Sir knight! Here I am!”

  “Bladeborn,” said the guard warily, reining in his horse and halting it before it reached Tam. His eyes flicked to the elves with her and widened. “Ye gods,” he breathed in wonder. And why not? He’d never seen elves before.

  “The elves don’t believe in gods,” Tam disclosed, “just so you know. Could you ride back to Queen Emeraude and tell her that her herald has secured safe passage for the delegation?” Tam puffed out her chest. “This herald. Tamsin Bladeborn.”

  The guard spent another minute gathering his wits, then said, “We received the elven king’s missive that we are welcome on his land. Are there any conditions of entry?”

  “No guards, no weapons, and nobody but the diplomats.”

  “No guards?” said the rider skeptically, but then he visibly reconciled himself to being the humble bearer of a message and not a commentator whose opinions mattered. It marked a stark difference between the elves, who felt entitled to vote and comment on everything their king did, and the humans, for whom royalty was unquestionable. “Very well. I shall inform Her Majesty of the terms, and if she agrees with them, she will approach the Wanderwood herself. If she does not agree with the terms, I will return to ask that you be repatriated to us.”

  Tam gave him the thumbs-up. “Sounds like a plan! If the queen’s concerned about me and about whether I’m speaking under duress, please convey to her that I no longer feel she has to deal with the Caradoc problem. I’ll deal with it myself. Even if it means setting them up on a hunting date.”

  “Setting who up on a what?” asked the guard, back to being confused.

  “She’ll know,” Tam said. “She’ll deduce that if I’m ready to play matchmaker, I must be relatively unharmed.”

  “Relatively?”

  “Absolutely,” Tam assured the guard. “I’m absolutely unharmed. Except for taking the occasional blow to my pride and accidentally pseudo-marrying an elf.”

  The guard’s eyes widened again. “Wh-what?”

  “Um. Ignore that. Just tell her I’m dandy.”

  “Dandy,” the guard repeated, as if unsure that word was standard diplomatic jargon.

  “Yep. That’s how she’ll know it’s me and not a very lifelike imitation of me. The elves are talented at lifelike imitations,” she added, only for Nala to poke at her forbiddingly. “Of which I am not one. I’m not an imitation. Er, I swear?”

  “Noted,” the guard said somewhat dubiously, before nodding at Tam and whirling around.

  As he disappeared back into the mist, Tam slumped. “Remind me never to become a career diplomat.”

  “I doubt that will happen,” Nala observed.

  “Thanks for the encouragement.”

  “My pleasure.”

  Tam had to admit, Nala was beginning to grow on her.

  Like a fungus. A toe fungus. Unwanted but always bloody well there.

  “How is your queen?” Nala asked abruptly.

  “How is she?” Tam scratched her nose. “In glowing health, I’d say?”

  “No,” Nala gritted out. “What manner of person is she?”

  “Oh! Oh.” Tam bounced excitedly on her feet. “Let me tell you! It’s not just her health. She glows in general. She’s very beautiful. And wise. And—”

  “Never mind,” Nala said in the tone of someone who’d ordered soup and had been given a bowl of piss instead. “Shut up.”

  “Shut up? If that’s how you elves talk, how do you… y’know, talk?”

  “Shut. Up,” Tomak reiterated, with the remainder of the Sentinels grunting in assent.

  “Look at you, copying each other like the unoriginal louts you are,” Tam retaliated. “You’d make better parrots than Sentinels.”

  Tomak cuffed Tam behind the skull.

  “Hey!” Tam objected. “You can’t do that! I’m a herald!”

  It was how Dale had once cuffed Tam—brotherly and obnoxious—and it struck a pang within Tam that Tam had no intention of indulging. She would cry over her lost comrades after she had earned the right to do so. That right would only be earned by accomplishing this mission.

  The arrival of Emeraude and her delegation was preceded by the same head-tilting routine from the Sentinels, and thus Tam was prepared for the sight of her queen galloping out of the fog, resplendent in a lush velvet dress of royal purple and riding sidesaddle on a gelding of pure white, its saddle a creamy brown leather embroidered with threads of gold. Her auburn hair was pulled back in a diamond headdress that sparkled in the sunshine, and her delicate hands were encased in satin gloves.

  She eclipsed all the ministers behind her. Dazzling as she was, how could she not?

  Tam glanced at the elves with her, resisting the urge to nudge them and say, See? See? Does she not glow?

  “That’s my queen,” Tam gloated, and Nala’s arrow wavered at Tam’s back before rising again. That waver alone said plenty. Heh. “That’s Queen Emeraude.”

  “Tam,” said Emeraude as she rode up to the forest, her eyes dark and worried, even as her ministers collectively cowered behind her. “Are you well?”

  “Spiffing, Your Majesty,” Tam said.

  A small smile curved Emeraude’s mouth. “You have done well, my herald.”

  Tam straightened proudly. Her heart was all but bursting out of her chest. Which would be messy if it actually happened, so Tam pressed a palm to it and willed it to slow down.

  “You must be my honored hosts,” the queen said to the elves, not descending from her horse, as she had likely inferred that the Sentinels were sentries and not of high rank. Unlike her ministers, Emeraude kept her poise, as if not even seeing elves could faze her. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance. But if I may ask”—Emeraude’s focus shifted to Nala’s drawn bow—“to what purpose are you holding my herald at arrowpoint?”

  “Your Majesty,” said Nala brusquely and without—to Tam’s ear—sufficient reverence, “this is a mere precaution. Our king indicated that we were to use our discretion in determining whether the human girl was about to flee.”

  “That wasn’t exactly what he said,” Tam refuted, “but I suppose you’re free to interpret what he did say as creatively as you like.”

  Nala glared at her.

  Tam grinned cheekily. “It must be tough, being creative for a change.”

  “Tam,” Emeraude said mildly, with the very mildness that presaged Armageddon for those who crossed her. “Has your life been threatened?”

  Oh no. Tam couldn’t let the negotiations go awry. Not this early. “Only for a while,” Tam clarified hurriedly, “and only at the start. This?” She jabbed a thumb at Nala and at Nala’s offending arrow. “It’s mostly just formality, at this stage.”

  “What stage is that?”

  “Comfortable mutual distrust? Nothing personal.”

  “I do not require you to rescue me from
a diplomatic blunder,” Nala hissed at Tam, sotto voce.

  “Somebody had to,” Tam hissed back. “You were barreling over that cliff like an extraordinarily ambitious lemming.”

  “What is a lemming?” Nala continued hissing.

  “A diminutive rat with no instincts for self-preservation.”

  “Then that would be you. Given how you’re diminutive. And a rat.”

  “Excuse me?” Tam couldn’t argue with being labeled diminutive. Or ratty, given the shape of her nose. But self-preservation…. “I have self-preservation!”

  Nala jeered. “You do?”

  “I… see.” Emeraude relaxed, like Nala’s and Tam’s barely audible dialogue had inexplicably bolstered her hopes for peace. To Nala, she said, “May I ask your name, my lady?”

  Nala looked horrified, like being called a “lady” was an insult of unimaginable brutality. “I am Nala, Your Majesty. Please call me by that name, or by my rank, which is Sentinel.”

  “Sentinel,” said Emeraude, “I ask that you lower your arrow, since you do not, evidently, plan to use it.”

  “I—” Nala blinked, as if caught in a lie she had thought was undetectable. “I was—”

  Emeraude only regarded her serenely.

  That serenity had often disarmed and disconcerted Tam. Now it was doing that to Nala, and it was amazing. Tam had to suppress a snicker at how Nala grudgingly lowered her arrow and slung her bow across her back.

  “Aw, so you like me now?” Tam taunted the elf. “You don’t plan to shoot me?”

  “Don’t make me change my mind,” Nala muttered. She saluted Emeraude, a mark of respect she hadn’t shown Emeraude before. Emeraude’s insight must have impressed Nala. “Your Majesty,” said Nala, “allow us to check that you are indeed unarmed as our king requested.”

  “Of course. We carry only our saddlebags, which you may inspect as you see fit. The sandalwood box borne by the dappled stallion at the rear is our gift to your leader, and may also be inspected. As for our persons,” Emeraude said wryly, “we would prefer to remain unmolested unless it is necessary, but we will cooperate with any such inspections.”

  “Bodily inspections will not be necessary, as we can smell what your clothing contains. Other than your bodies,” Nala elucidated clumsily, and Tam was amused to see the Sentinel’s stoic façade crumble before Emeraude’s imperturbability.

  The Sentinels inspected the saddlebags perfunctorily, clearly already having sniffed out the contents of those bags and confident that there was nothing incriminating in them. The sandalwood box, however, attracted their attention.

  “The sandalwood has an intense scent and partially obscures our senses,” Nala said. “We must perform a closer appraisal.”

  “You may proceed,” Emeraude permitted them, and Nala indicated that her Sentinels open and sift through the box.

  The Sentinels, seemingly puzzled by the box’s contents of gold, jewelry, and silk, withdrew after ensuring that the box contained no weaponry.

  “Your Majesty, you may now enter the Wanderwood and journey to the court.” Nala bowed to Emeraude. “We Sentinels will escort you, but it is more to protect you than it is to contain you.”

  “More to protect me,” Emeraude remarked with another smile, this smile sharper than the last, “but not entirely to protect me?”

  Nala blinked again.

  “Get used to it,” Tam whispered to her. “She does that with everyone.”

  “I beg your pardon if I have caused any offense, Your Majesty,” said Nala stiffly.

  “No, you have not. You needn’t apologize.” Emeraude lifted a shoulder in a graceful shrug. “I cannot fault you for upholding your duty, and it is your duty to protect your birthplace. It only deepens my faith in your king, that he has the loyalty of those so devoted to their duty.”

  It was very characteristic of Emeraude, to couch a compliment in a gentle warning that she could perceive the truth of any situation.

  “There are animals in the woods that may alarm you or members of your delegation,” Nala said, “but I and my cadre of Sentinels will guard you from harm. You may rest easy.”

  “A-animals?” The third minister down fidgeted on his horse, causing his horse to fidget too. “What kind of animals?”

  Nala’s answer was deadpan. “The feral kind.”

  Tam hastened to explain before the poor minister gave himself an aneurysm. “She means that they’re just—they’re very different from the animals we’re used to. Their birds don’t have beaks, for example. Just faces. People faces. It’s creepy, but it doesn’t make them any more dangerous.”

  “Yes, it—” Nala began, but Tam elbowed her in the side.

  “What are you doing?” Nala hissed again. “I do not require an interpreter.”

  “Uh, yeah, you do. You want them to ‘rest easy,’ don’t you? They’re not going to rest easy if you shower them with lurid descriptions of just how beastly your beasts are.”

  “It is in the nature of beasts to be beastly.”

  “That’s so deep.” Tam rolled her eyes. “You’re a genius.”

  The march to the elven court progressed amidst spooked gasps from the human delegation at the creatures they saw. A minister almost fainted when a bird landed on an overhanging branch and squawked, “Humans! Humans in the Wanderwood!”

  The bird cackled at the cowering minister—a disturbingly sadistic cackle—before chirping, “Humans! Look how round their eyes are, like pebbles! Pluck them out, pluck them out!”

  “I’ll pluck your feathers out if you don’t cease your quacking,” Nala groused, even as every minister but Zameen dove for cover, their hands shielding their eyes. “Did our king not command you to stay out of the way?”

  “The way is our home! The humans are in the way, not us!”

  “They’ll be out of the way even sooner if you don’t interfere with the talks.”

  The bird’s black-and-white tail bobbed up and down. Its uncanny face twisted into a cruel expression as it surveyed the humans, but eventually it caved to Nala’s intimidation tactics. “Hmph,” it chirruped and flew away.

  The ministers tugged their capes low over their faces, ostensibly to safeguard their eyeballs from avian theft. Only Emeraude and Minister Zameen remained unflustered, although they did grip their reins a tad more tightly.

  “I… think I need to go back,” said the minister who’d been nearest to the bird. He was distinctly wan, his rotund form sweating in his heavily ornate clothing, perspiration darkening it at the armpits. “I m-might throw up.”

  “Nonsense,” Emeraude said with a steely cheerfulness. “You had a very meager breakfast, Minister Foltecht. There isn’t much to throw up.”

  “Ah,” drawled Minister Zameen, also effortlessly placid, as if having her eyeballs targeted by a diabolical hybrid bird hadn’t daunted her at all. “But Minister Foltecht requested extra rations, even if it meant depriving his squires of a full breakfast. Perhaps he has more food to throw up, after all.”

  It was a takedown at least as vicious as the threats of that bird, and Tam would’ve clapped in admiration if it would’ve been appropriate. Was it appropriate for a peasant to savor the humiliation of a noble? No, likely not.

  But it felt so, so good.

  The court wasn’t as busy as it had been when Tam got there. Instead of hundreds of elves milling to and fro, the considerable space had been cleared and a circular carpet placed on the ground. Upon the carpet were seated King Eras and what Tam figured were his own ministers, reclining on luxuriously oversized cushions all arrayed in a semicircle on the left. The cushions on the right were unoccupied; they must’ve been set aside for the human delegation.

  At the center of the carpet was an elderly elf Tam had never seen, sitting cross-legged and apparently meditating, her eyes closed. Her hair was a soft halo of white curls, and her brown skin was wrinkled yet radiant, like timeworn, crumpled vellum that still retained its richness. There was a powerful aura around her, tangible a
s the heat of a flame, but it was a soothing power—a quiet pulsing that seemed to send invisible ripples outward, a pulsing echoed in the heartbeats of those around her.

  Or Tam assumed that it was affecting the other humans, too, for Tam’s own heartbeat had changed the instant she’d seen that old woman, slowing and calming as if synchronizing with some outside force, steady and regular as a metronome.

  Whether it was a deliberate effort on the part of Eras to control the humans and make them more amenable to nonviolence, Tam did not know, but she could bet that Emeraude had not only noticed but was taking copious mental notes on the phenomenon. Zameen was more vigilant as well, but Minister Foltecht and his ilk appeared to be benefiting from the elf woman’s calming influence, no longer as jittery as they had been. Then again, it could just be the absence of eyeball-stealing monsters that was pacifying them. The elves, pointy-eared though they may be, looked homely in comparison.

  The elven ministers weren’t as richly garbed as their human counterparts; they were clad in lovely but unadorned clothes, no ornaments decorating their clothing or their bodies. King Eras was just as austere, his muted maroon robe woven from what appeared to be a very fine material, but which had no crystals or gems sewn into it.

  Beside Eras sat Loren, armed with an ornate, ceremonial, useless-looking bow and as palpably uncomfortable as a man sitting on a bed of thorns. It was clear that Loren’s fake weaponry wasn’t intended for use so much as it was intended to convey that the elves had the upper hand, that they had the choice to arm themselves while the humans had no such choice.

  Loren wasn’t at ease with his weaponry; that much was obvious. He was clad in the same green outfit he’d worn when he healed Tam. No, Tam realized as she registered the minor detail of the tunic flaring at the waist, not the same outfit. Just the same color.

  Tam couldn’t help but huff at Loren’s vanity, at his constantly wearing the precise shade of green that complemented his eyes. Loren immediately turned to frown at her, as if he could sense her derision through the bond.

  Loren pointedly ran a finger down the bow he had slung across his back. He wasn’t remotely as formidable as Nala was, though, bony where Nala was sinewy and dainty where Nala was hardy. How comical it was for such a scrawny creature to pretend at menace!