Elfhome-ARC

by Wen Spencer

  2: Echoing of Merriment

  It was the elf’s tunic that caught his eye, a sun-ripe splash of yellow, like a daffodil in a raw spring morning. A female elf stood just outside the train station at the edge of Pittsburgh’s bleak Strip District. She was staring at a Coke machine as if it was the most amazing thing in the world. Her thick braid of walnut-brown hair swung back and forth as she swayed hip to hip, nearly dancing to music only she heard. She drummed her silent melody with a pair of olianuni mallets, complete with exuberant flourishes of victory.

  Oilcan found himself slowing down as he drove past the station, watching her. There was something joyous about her that made him smile.

  She was impossibly slender and surprisingly short. It made him think that she was an adolescent—she probably wasn’t over a hundred years old. A small mountain of brightly colored travel sacks and the distinctive bulk of an olianuni sat at her feet. As he rolled past her, she paused in her drumming to reach out cautiously and touch the selection buttons on the Coke machine—clearly mystified. The train aside, it could be the first machine that she’d ever seen.

  He reached the light at the corner before he realized that it was odd that she was just standing there, alone. Usually one of the elves at the train station would be herding a newcomer to safety, especially a child. He sat through the red light, studying her in his rearview mirror. It took him a minute to realize why she was alone—there wasn’t a speck of Wind Clan blue on her. Her loose tunic shirt was yellow and her leather pants and slouch boots were black. Even the ribbons and flowers threaded through her braid were yellow and black. She was Stone Clan.

  The elf clans weren’t allowing a common enemy to deter them from feuding. Since the train station was Wind Clan territory, none of the elves there would help the female.

  He sighed, put his pickup in reverse and backed up to pull even with her.

  “Hoi!” He called to her in Elvish. “Do you have someplace safe to go to? Is there someone who knows you’ve arrived here?”

  She startled, looked behind her as if suspecting he was talking to someone else, and then came down to the curb to look in his pickup window. “Forgiveness, are you talking to me?”

  “Yes. The streets aren’t safe after dark. The oni have been raiding at night. Do you have someplace safe to go to tonight?”

  Her eyes went wide at the news. “I—I’m coming to my majority.” He was right, she wasn’t an adult. “I’ve heard so much about Pittsburgh. I’ve heard the music they play here—it’s so raw and wonderful—and—and with the war and everything, the Stone Clan is receiving remuneration…”

  Oilcan sighed as she trailed off. “Do you know anyone that lives in Pittsburgh?”

  “I—I have a letter of recommendation to the domana Earth Son—is that bad?”

  His dismay must have shown on his face. “Earth Son is dead.”

  She gave a quiet “oh” of hurt as her plans unraveled. She frowned at the ground, worrying her lower lip with her teeth. “Majority” for an elf was a hundred which made them psychically equal to an eighteen year old human. Elves, though, sheltered their children so much that the extra years did little to prepare them for Pittsburgh.

  “My name is Nahala kaesae-tiki waehae lou.” There was a reason most Elves in Pittsburgh picked up short English nicknames. Literally her name was “echoing of merriment in stone,” but truly meant “laughter echoing through a cave” with the implication that it was the innocent laughter of children. The focus of sound in her name meant that her family were most likely musicians. If he had to pick an English name for her, he’d probably choose Merry.

  Merry gave him a hopeful little smile.

  “I’m Oilcan.”

  “Oilcan.” She repeated the English word, clearly puzzled by it but undaunted. “There, we know each other now. I know someone that lives in Pittsburgh.” She paused, losing courage, but then rallied to finish with, “Can—can I stay with you tonight?”

  Why were the human runaways so more streetwise than the elves who were nearly five times their age? She clearly had no idea what kind of danger she could be stumbling into.

  Maybe it the color of her hair, the hesitantly of her smile, or the open sweetness of her face, but she reminded him of his mother. Having recognized that, he couldn’t just drive away, but she was a minor female and he was an adult male, albeit still nearly eighty years her junior.

  “I’m not sure I can just take you home with me,” Oilcan said.

  Merry nodded as if she expected the answer. “Your household wouldn’t allow you—”

  “No, no, I don’t have a household. I live alone.”

  “That’s horrible. What happened to your household? Oh! Did the oni kill them?”

  Oilcan laughed, shaking his head. “It’s something humans do when they reach majority. They live alone until they find someone to love.”

  Clearly the idea was so completely foreign to her that she couldn’t quite grasp it. “But—isn’t that lonely?”

  Months ago he would have said no. He had a comfortable rhythm to his life. He shared his work day with his cousin Tinker and split the weekends between hovercycle racing and the local rock scene. He actually had to work hard to create his time alone. But then the oni invaded and everything changed. “Sometimes it is lonely.”

  “Let us be lovers,” Merry suddenly said in English, stunning him. “We’ll marry our fortunes together.”

  He laughed after a moment, recognizing the lyrics, keenly aware that they were across the street from the old Greyhound bus station in Pittsburgh. He sang the next line of lyrics back to her. “I’ve got some real estate here in my bag.”

  Her smile was radiant with delight. “You know the song!” She cried in Elvish and dived into one of her travel sacks to pull out a hand bound journal. “An olianuni apprentice that I know let me copy his songbook.” She flipped through pages of carefully hand-drawn musical scores to find the Simon and Garfunkel song. Below the English lyrics were Elvish translations. His eyes caught on the line: I’m empty and aching and I don’t know why.

  Yes, that’s the way I’ve been feeling.

  The first line had been horribly mangled in translation. “Lovers” had been mistranslated to an Elvish word that meant members of the same household and “marry our fortunes” to “face a common enemy.”

  Oilcan laughed, shaking his head at the discrepancy between the two. “Get in.” He’d take her out to the enclaves and make sure the Stone Clan wouldn’t try to kill him for taking her home. “We’ll see what we can work out.”

  #

  The closest thing that the Stone Clan had to an embassy was Ginger Wine’s enclave out at the Rim. While the gates to the enclaves on either side stood open, the heavy doors to Ginger Wine’s were shut and barred. He rapped on the door and the spyhole opened to reveal a pair of Wind Clan blue eyes.

  “Forgiveness,” a male voice went with the blue eyes. “We are not able to take customers.”

  “May I speak with someone from the Stone Clan?”

  A slight shake of the head indicated that he couldn’t. “The Stone Clan domana are not here. They are out with Wolf Who Rules Wind ze domou ani.”

  The door guard was one of Ginger Wine’s staff since the title he used for Windwolf was the ultra formal “our lord.”

  “Anyone would do.” Oilcan reassured him. “Someone from their household? I merely have a question on propriety.”

  “Earth Son’s sekasha are here,” the door guard said hesitantly, as if he wasn’t sure he should be telling Oilcan the information. “They—they would be well-versed on propriety.”

  “May I speak with one of them?”

  “Nagarou!” The male gasped. He obviously knew who Oilcan was. For some reason, the Wind Clan elves had adopted his relationship to Tinker as his nickname. He was never sure if he should be flattered or offended. Did they call him that because they couldn’t remember his name, or because they’d adopted their domi’s cousin as their own? “They ar
e sekasha! And they are Stone Clan.” The male glanced at Merry behind Oilcan and then whispered in English, “The Stone Clan are arrogant and conceited and they eat and eat and eat as if they’re hollow. Everyone is frightened. We’re tripping over each other in our fear. It might be too dangerous for you to speak with their sekasha.”

  Recent history made clear how deadly the sekasha could be. “Do you really think they would hurt me?”

  The door guard obviously wanted to say “Yes” but elves have a thing about telling the truth. Finally he admitted, “I do not know, but if they wanted to, they could. It is their right.”

  As holy warriors, sekasha had the divine right to do whatever they wished to whomever they wanted. They were considered above the law. From what he understood, though, the very nature that made them above the law also meant that they didn’t run amuck, randomly killing people, only people that deserved it. For his own sanity’s sake, he had accepted their role as judge and executor.

  “It will be all right,” he said. “I have a few simple questions and then I will go.”

  The door guard considered him for a minute and then unbarred the door. “Please, nagarou, be careful.”

  #

  Merry refused to face the sekasha, even though the warrior was of her own clan. She cowered in the front garden, too afraid to go deeper into the enclave. Oilcan couldn’t understand why the lower caste elves were so terrified by the higher caste that they claimed to be perfection embodied. He knew from personal experience that anyone could become a killer. Wasn’t it better that the sekasha were so righteous that their violence was controlled and not random?

  The door guard summoned Ginger Wine, the elegant red haired head of the enclave. She also tried to convince Oilcan that talking with the Stone Clan sekasha would be unwise.

  “Everyone is on edge here,” Ginger Wine murmured in English. None of the Stone Clan must be fluent in the human language. “It’s as if suddenly we all have two left feet.”

  “I will be careful.” Oilcan promised.

  The female elf sighed and nodded. “I’ll take you to Earth Son’s First.”

  Ginger Wine led Oilcan through the sprawling public dining rooms of the front building to the inner courtyard. Apple trees heavy with ripening fruit filled the square acre protected on all four sides by the enclave’s other buildings. It was an area that normally no human would ever see.

  From the kitchens to the right of them, there was a crash as if dozens of metal pots had been dropped, and High Elvish quickly devolved into shouted low Elvish.

  Ginger Wine sighed and bowed an apology. “Forgiveness, I must attend to that. Thorne Scratch on Stone is over there.”

  Oilcan wondered through the acre of apple trees until he found the female sekasha.

  Thorne Scratch was undeniably Stone Clan, with the brown hair and dusty skin that marked the clan. Her wyvern armor was iridescent black, shimmering like an oil slick in the dappled sun as she moved through her sword practice. Tattooed down her arms were the spells that triggered her protective shields, done in stone black.

  “Forgiveness.” Oilcan bowed slightly.

  Her eyes flicked to him, checking his position, and then her focus returned to her practice. “Well?” She had a smoky rasp to her voice like Janice Joplin. “What is it?”

  “A young female of the Stone Clan arrived today by train. She came with letter of introduction for domana Earth Son, but he is dead.”

  “I know.” She snapped. “I killed him.”

  “Condolences on your loss.”

  She whirled and her sword’s point was suddenly at his throat, a strangely small prick of pain considering the danger it posed. “Do you mock me?”

  “No.” And seeing the doubt in her eyes, he held out his own hard won truth. “My father killed my mother in a drunken rage. Afterwards, he was so grief-stricken by what he had done that he tried to kill himself. I imagine you must regret what happened—even if you thought it was necessary.”

  Tears glittered in her eyes and she turned away from him. “That is not the same.” She growled after a moment. “Your mother’s death is tragic. Earth Son’s death was inevitable.”

  “It doesn’t lessen your pain.”

  She glanced at him and surprise flowed across her face. “You—you’re human?”

  “Yes.”

  She sheathed her sword. “I thought you were one of Jewel Tear’s household. You have the Stone Clan coloring. What are you doing here?”

  “A young female of the Stone Clan arrived—”

  “Yes, yes, you said that. Your point being?”

  “The city is not safe for a child to be wandering around alone.”

  “Child?”

  “She is very young.”

  “A double?”

  Oilcan nodded. It meant that the elf only needed two numbers to count represent their age, not three or four. It was the Elvish equivalence to “teenager.” Since majority came at a hundred, Merry was definitely a double.

  “Gods save us from idiots.” Thorne Scratch growled in her raspy voice. He wondered what she’d sound like if she sang something slow and tragic. “What is a double doing traveling alone to this oni-infested hellhole?”

  He could only spread his hands in ignorance. “I wish no harm to come to her, so I’ve taken her into my protection.”

  “You?”

  “Is there someone else that will? Would Jewel Tear take her?”

  Thorne Scratch looked away, fighting to keep anger off her face. “Jewel Tear could not, even if she wanted to. She came here destitute. She has pushed herself to her limit, and perhaps beyond it, taking in Earth Son’s household. She is trusting beyond reason that the clan will compensate her for Earth Son’s failure. Jewel Tear can not do anything for your double.”

  “What of the other domana? Forest Moss?”

  “Bite your tongue!” Thorne Scratch snapped. “Do not even suggest such a thing. He is mad. I would not give monkeys to him, let alone a child. And do not even breathe a word to her of the possibility that he would happily take her, because she can not imagine the pain he would put her through. Doubles think of now and tomorrow and maybe the day after that—they do not think in hundreds of years.”

  Oilcan nodded. “Is it acceptable then that I continue to take care of her?”

  She studied him a moment before asking, “Why are you doing this?”

  “Because it’s the right thing to do. There are the oni and wild animals and—I’m ashamed to say—some humans…”

  She cut off his honesty with a huff of impatience. “And there are some elves that would see a child of another clan as prey. We are kin at even our baser nature.”

  He’d suspected as much.

  “What is your name, human?”

  “I’m Oilcan.” He held out his hand without thinking. Normally elves didn’t shake hands, so he was surprised when she took hold of his hand with both of hers. Her fingers were strong as steel and rough with calluses. They were a good match to his own rough hands. “I’m nagarou to the Wind Clan domi, Beloved Tinker of Wind.”

  “I see.” Thorne Scratch scanned the courtyard. “And where is this double?”

  “She’s waiting in the front garden.”

  Thorne released his hand and sent off with a long purposeful stride.

  Oilcan hurried after her. “Go soft with her. She’s in the front garden because she was afraid…”

  “Yes, yes, they always are.”

  #

  Merry squeaked when she saw the sekasha bearing down on her. As Thorne silently studied her, Merry edged slowly sideways until she was tucked up against Oilcan, looking very much like she wanted to hide behind him.

  “Where are you from?” Thorne Scratch broke her silence to ask quietly.

  “Summer Court.” The city was named for the fact that the Queen held court in the city during the summer. It was located in Elfhome’s version of England, approximately where London stood on Earth. Merry had come across half the wo
rld by herself. “The Stone quarter by the ninth bridge. My household is small, beholden to Crystal Vein of Stone, who is beholden to the clan head, Diamond. I studied under Bright Melody of Fire.”

  Thorne nodded. “Did you sever ties?”

  Merry’s lip trembled and she whispered, “I severed ties.”

  “Why?” Thorne snapped.

  “I had to.” Merry flinched in the face of the sekasha’s anger. “It was the only way they’d let me go.” Merry caught hold of Oilcan’s shirt and twisted the fabric around with her fingers. It was as if she soaked courage through the touch. She raised her chin to meet Thorne Scratch’s eyes. “If I’d stay, I’d have to play everything the way it’s always been played, because only the ‘gifted,’ the ones that play like gods walking the earth, can change anything. You have no idea what it’s like, to see your whole future laid out for you and it’s nothing but fitting into a neat little box they’ve designed for you. And all of a sudden, there’s this place across the ocean where you won’t be locked in because you’re—you’re just acceptable.”

  Thorne shook her head and looked away. “I’d tell you at length what an idiot you’re being for coming here—but I was just as stupid at your age, so I have no right to criticize. What is done is done. Try to be a little more wise. You are in a city full of enemies. And terrifying as I might be, I am the only one that you can trust fully. Anytime you think you’re in danger, day or night, come to me, and I will keep you safe.”

  Merry gave a tiny wide-eyed nod.

  Thorne turned to glare at Oilcan. “I am trusting you. Betray me, and I’ll have your head.”

  Merry squeaked again in alarm.

  “I won’t betray you.” Oilcan bowed to the sekasha.

  Then Merry all but dragged him from the enclave by the tail of his shirt.

  #

  There—permission granted. Oilcan melted on the hot leather of the pickup’s seat in the late August heat. He still wasn’t sure how he was going to work Merry into his life, but at least he knew that he wouldn’t have holy warriors chopping off his head for shacking up with an underage female.

  Snow Patrol had come up on the random play of his ancient iPod, and Merry had her eyes closed, air-drumming in accompaniment. She seemed sublimely happy.