The Elf and the Amulet

by Chris Africa

  "The one who controls the Aegis of the Gods holds the future of seven worlds in his very palm," he said softly. He leaned forward bringing his face very close to Nita's. "So, my dear, what is the Aegis? Where is it? You, it seems, are a key. A very cleverly designed key, to be sure, but a key can be used to open the right doors."

  Aegis of the Gods? The name sounded familiar, and Andrev would probably have known exactly what she was talking about.

  "What have you foreseen, Nydwon?" asked the Tsen.

  The Nydwon leaned back again on his litter.

  "Put her with the elf," he motioned to his bearers. "And if you won't shave her, at least crop that thing to a decent length."

  The elf? Nita's guard stepped forward with a knife and began cutting Nita's hair close to her head. Soon her thick auburn locks lay in a mess on the ground around her feet. When she was standing in a pile up to her ankles, the guard lifted her again onto his horse. Her head felt light and cool, a few wisps of hair tickling around her ears. She almost smiled; she had begged her father to let her cut her hair short for years.

  "Why didn't she just have me shaved and stripped?" Nita asked.

  "One does not simply order the Tsen about like a horse," he said over his shoulder. "Besides, two had already claimed the right, and none can countermand that."

  On the ride toward the other camp, Nita wondered about the relationship between the Dalatois and their strange Nydwon. What were they doing this far south? How many ships had it taken to transport this many Dalatois and their big horses from Across? What did they want with her, and why had they called her a sorceress? She had more questions than answers. She actually hoped that the elvish prisoner was Lyear.

  24: Recovery

  Chassy had fallen asleep, and when he woke up he heard Andrev saying, "We are from Waet Tree Village."

  "The weavers' village?" William asked. His voice sounded excited.

  "A few weeks ago, an old man and an elf arrived there, both strangers. The old man was very sick and kept falling into a deep sleep. During one of the sleeps, the elf left Waet, taking a piece of property owned by the old man. When the old man awoke the next morning, he made the three of us promise to follow the elf and see him safely to Death's End. We have been trying to catch up with him, but now it seems we never will."

  There was a pause.

  "Then you know the nature of the property that was taken?"

  "Yes. Are you really a merchant?"

  Another pause.

  "I will tell you who I really am if you tell me what I'm helping you to find." William said.

  "You're helping us to find an elf."

  "Elves seldom need guarding or require finding. It is the stolen property he carries which these Northmen seek. I will know what it is, or I'll hand you over to them myself."

  "It's an amulet." Chassy dragged himself halfway to a sitting position. "Andrev's and Nita's parents are innkeepers, and I am the son of the Masterweaver. Now, who are you, William?"

  But William was looking from one to the other like they were both raving lunatics. "Are you completely mad? The son of the magicweaver chasing an elf with an amulet!"

  "Masterweaver," Chassy corrected, "My father is—"

  "We call him the magicweaver," William interrupted. "Well, let me give you a little education. The Waet family weaves magic into every tapestry, linen and item of clothing produced in the village. Your little town sells its inventory to the highest bidders. And you are running around the countryside chasing after an amulet that can't be half as powerful as any of your own clothing."

  "What are you talking about?" Andrev said.

  "I'm talking about you and your clothing, boy. Weavers imbue their pieces intentionally, creating patterns of great power. But anything they touch or wear is eventually imbued by the sheer force of their personal magic." William's voice was incredulous. "How could you not know this?"

  Chassy exchanged a confused look with Andrev. How could Chassy, son of the Masterweaver, not know? How could Andrev, who read every scrap of parchment or book he could find, not know?

  "Are you saying my father is a wizard or magician?" Chassy asked cautiously.

  William laughed. "I'm saying you're all Waet sorcerers!"

  "That's ridiculous," Chassy said. His foot seemed a distant pain, muffled by the shock that was numbing the rest of his body. "Don't you think if we were sorcerers we would have flown away or disappeared or something? I’ve never seen my father working any magic or imbuing anything."

  "It all fits. Just one more thing they knew and didn't tell us," Andrev said angrily. "They know possibly the most important piece of information that there is to know about being from Waet Tree Village, and they didn't tell us."

  "What?" How could Andrev believe such a thing?

  "Three summers ago, Mayvis came through with a new load of books. There was one I really wanted to buy, Children of Falise: A complete Record of the Settlement of the Waet Tree. When I mentioned it, my father grew angry, and he would not let me get it," Andrev said. "I didn't understand why."

  William looked sympathetic but said nothing.

  "And Vornole knew it too. That's why he gave us those gifts. He knew we could use them. And that's why he sent us after Lyear, because he knew we would be able to protect him."

  Frowning in confusion, William looked between the two friends.

  "Vornole, I assume, is the old man who died?" William asked.

  Andrev's eyes were shining. He untied and upended his pack on the ground, pulling out the blank leather book. He was back in a world of his own, ignoring all else.

  "Then what's in this book, I wonder? And why can't I read it?"

  25: The Dalatois Camp

  The odor of horse sweat and smoke drifted toward Nita and her guard as they approached the Dalatois camp. The Nydwon had disappeared into the throng of people and mounts milling among conical tents and pot-laden fires. One woman nursed a baby draped across one arm while she stirred a pot with the other. Naked children stared up at her from games involving round polished stones, pointing and laughing.

  There was virtually no noise beyond the occasional sound of a child or a horse. Her nose on the other hand, was assaulted with smells, horses being the most prominent, but mixed with rotting waste and spicy odors from the cook pots. An aged woman wearing a cloak of beads chanted over a pungently smoking pot. A scarf fluttered on her arms like a butterfly's wings.

  Nita's guard led her toward a line of young women humbly looking at the ground. They held strings of beads, ladies' stockings, delicately woven hair ribbons and other wearables. They had no obvious use for the items, as they were all naked except for their loincloths. The guard lifted Nita down to stand in front of the first woman in line.

  "Gifts from the Nydwon," her guard said, untying her hands. "Take them."

  Gifts? Was she a prisoner or an honored guest? Rubbing her hands together to restore feeling, Nita accepted each token with a quiet thank you, hoping that was sufficient ceremony.

  "The Nydwon created this himself. Wear it to gain his favor," whispered the last woman in the line, handing Nita a broad silver bracelet and looking directly in her eyes. "But you must remove your sleeves, to wear it here." She indicated Nita's upper arm.

  "Be silent," the guard ordered. "What did she say?"

  "She only told me how to wear the bracelet," Nita said. The girl lowered her eyes.

  "Follow."

  Nita followed down narrow trails, the goblingrass so close it snagged on her skirt. Goblingrass this tall would have shredded her Waet silks; for once, she was happy for the everyday woolens Lidora had given them, despite the heat. She turned the unremarkable bracelet over in her hands. Was the Nydwon trying to gain her cooperation? Maybe she could use this to her advantage. She had never worn a dress that showed her arms, but as hot as it was, it would be no hardship to lose the sleeves, she thought. Back home, the men turned theirs up all the time during the summers, and her own mother had been known to show he
r wrists in the kitchen.

  At the end of the trail was a conical tent no larger than the rest, but painted all over with lightning bolts shooting down from the top and a wide ring of unreadable characters around the base. Nita felt that they were in some way significant, but could not imagine how. A small man wearing the head covering of the Tsen stepped in front of the opening and talked to her guard.

  "She will attend the Nydwon at nightfall. Until then, put her with the elf. "

  Nita was led to another tent and shoved inside the opening.

  "Do not attempt to leave. You will be summoned. You will choose one of the gifts to wear to your audience with the Nydwon."

  Inside the tent, Nita forgot her annoyance at being shoved. The man who faced her had been shorn and clothed like a Dalatois, with only a small flap of animal skin hanging between his legs. With no hair to cover them, his long, pointed ears stuck out to make him look even more alien than she remembered. Crouched to one side of the small space, Lyear initially looked ready to spring upon her, but backed off when he saw who it was.

  A look of calculation crossed his face and then was gone. "So, they've captured you as well. It looks like you fared somewhat better than me." His voice was soft, but as contemptuous as ever.

  "And yet, we're both prisoners. You might try to be nice," she said. "We've been trying to catch up to you for decans." She plopped down and started spreading out the gifts.

  "Why have you been looking for me?" He sounded wary.

  "Because Master Vornole was so concerned for your safety, he sent us after you."

  Lyear snorted. "Children? He sent children after me? And I suppose the rest are outside playing?"

  Nita glared at him. "We were separated."

  He glared back, "Well, I'm not going to give it back, you can just go home and tell him."

  "I can't tell him anything, he's dead," Nita's eyes narrowed. Lyear didn't even flinch at the words.

  "I'm not giving it to you, so you'd better stay out of my way."

  Nita stared at him. "What kind of person are you? Vornole's final words were to ask us to get you safely to Death's End. His final thoughts were of you. And even now, when your friend has died, you don't care about anyone else."

  Lyear's hand snaked out and grabbed her chin. His fingers were painfully tight. "I cared, girl. I watched him withering away for weeks. He was my only human friend. But the short-lived die early, and he was older than most. My tears will do him no good, and neither will yours." He released her and she rubbed her jaw.

  "Now, tell me what he told you."

  Nita scowled. "He told us exactly nothing. He just made us swear that we would find you and see you and the amulet to Death's End."

  "So, you're deathsworn, then. Well, I don't need your help. You'll only be in my way."

  It took Nita a moment to realize that Lyear was referring to the promise she, Andrev and Chassy had made to Vornole on his deathbed. It must be a wizard thing.

  "We can talk about that if we ever get out of here. Right now, I want to know, does that amulet have any magical properties that can help us?"

  "No more so than you," he said, snorting. "Besides, they confiscated both of our packs. We don't have access to it."

  "How many guards could you take out?" Nita missed her rapier, but she was glad Toad had taught her how to defend herself without a weapon.

  "Not all of them, if that's what you're wondering," Lyear said.

  "I asked how many. I could handle two myself. Could you take the other two?" Nita said.

  Lyear grunted in amusement. "Do you expect me to believe you could take out two of those guards with no weapon? If you're so good, how did you manage to get captured?"

  "There were hundreds of Dalatois on horses with weapons surrounding us, and my friend was being held captive." Nita glared at him. "Well, the person who I thought was my friend."

  "So you waited until your two hundred horses joined up with another thousand, and now you're planning an unarmed escape."

  Nita felt like telling him to shut up again. He was by far the most arrogant, irritating... But he had a point. Suppose she escape the tent? What then? Wander aimlessly, horseless, in unfamiliar territory? She frowned.

  "Well, what's your big plan?"

  "I've barely been here a day. I'm going to meet the Nydwon and assess my situation. And if I make a plan, you can be sure you won't be part of it."

  Nita scowled at the uncooperative elf and considered her options. Maybe the items given to her by the girls would be of some use. There was a sort of net she supposed was meant to be worn on her head, several bracelets and pendants, a pair of long, silk stockings—Waet silk!—and a belt pouch. All were jeweled and gilded in gold or sewn with gold thread, except for the silver bracelet. It was a simple silver band that would wind around and around the arm from elbow to shoulder. She tried to push it up, but her sleeve made her arm slightly too thick for the bracelet.

  "Will you please help me with something?" she asked Lyear.

  "Why should I?" he said.

  "Because it may give me an advantage with the Nydwon," she said. Maybe logic would win him. "She—he—made this bracelet, but it must be worn above the elbow, and I can't remove this sleeve by myself."

  He gave her a thoughtful look and nodded. "Move closer, then." His lip curled as though the thought of being close to her was repugnant.

  She did, and he made short work of the sleeve, although his long delicate fingers hardly looked capable of tearing the fabric so easily. Now the bracelet was much too large. In order to keep it from falling in the dirt she would have to hold her arm constantly at an angle.

  "How is an enchanted bracelet to going to win you the heart of the Nydwon? Seems he would be the one to gain power over you." Lyear stared at the bracelet.

  "Enchanted?"

  Nita looked at the little band on her arm. It had somehow shrunk so that it fit snugly, against her skin. It was inscribed top to bottom in a flowing, exotic script that she hadn't noticed before putting it on. She turned it on her arm and saw that it was decorated on all sides.

  Fear seized her. Why had she trusted the Dalatois girl? What would the bracelet do to her? What was the enchantment?

  "What's happening?"

  "This should be interesting." Lyear leaned back on his arms with a smirk. "How am I supposed to know? You're the one with a plan to get us out of here. I only hope that bracelet was no part of it."

  Nita could not remove the bracelet. She tried bending the silver and pushing it over her elbow by force, but all she accomplished was to make her arm sore. It was as though it had grown right into her skin. Worse, it seemed to be elongating, growing branches or something.

  "It's not going to come off. Why don't you just learn how to use the thing, instead of panicking about it? Better you use it than let the Nydwon control it," he said.

  "Panicking?" She was not panicking! But then she felt tears in her eyes. She realized with some embarrassment that Lyear was right.

  The tent flap rustled and a bald head poked through.

  "What is wrong?" he asked. He looked at Lyear. "Is she ill?"

  "Nothing is wrong," Lyear snapped. "She's a child away from her mother. You cut her hair and stolen her belongings. Can't you see she's afraid?"

  "The Nydwon will be furious to see her in this condition. You must calm her down."

  "Okay, I'll try, but she needs her mirror, so she can make herself presentable for the Nydwon. It was a gift from her mother. It will calm her," Lyear said.

  Nita looked up at him. How did he know she had the mirror? The guard ducked out of the tent, but was back a moment later, with the mirror.

  "You must return it to me before the audience," he said as he left.

  Nita had no need for the mirror, not caring the least how she looked, but she clutched it to her chest anyway. "How did you know I had the mirror?"

  "I know a lot of things you don't know," he said. "I got it for you, use it already."

&n
bsp; Why did he care how she looked at the Nydwon's audience? She pulled the mirror away from her chest and looked into it. Her mother's face stared back—not her mother, she realized, just herself with short hair curling up around her ears just like her mother's. Tears filled her eyes again and dripped on to the mirror, pooling and then running off the edge. She used her discarded sleeve to dry it, then decided maybe she should collect herself. After all, if she was going to get Lyear safely to Death's End on her own, she would have to gain his cooperation. He didn't seem the sort to be convinced by crying, irrational girls. Maybe if she could come up with an escape plan, he would stop being so hostile towards her.

  She took another look at her hair. What was that her mother always said?

  "Beauty is the lazy woman's wit."

  Nita blinked, then blinked again. She was looking at the back of her mother's head as it turned slowly toward her, revealing a face crisscrossed with cuts and bruises. But it was her father's voice speaking, his hand touching her mother's face tenderly.

  "Easy words to say until your natural beauty is stolen from you," her mother answered bitterly. As she reached to touch the broken skin, Nita noticed that two fingers were missing, the stubs cauterized.

  Nita dropped the mirror and rubbed her eyes, then peeked at it. This time, it was her father who filled the frame, one eye patched over with a bloody bandage.

  Nita stared in horrified fascination at the mirror scene. This would happen. This would happen if the amulet wasn't delivered safely, she just knew it.

  "What do you see?" Lyear demanded.

  "Just—just my reflection. I didn't realize my hair was so short." The mirror cleared and it showed only her reflection again.

  "You did not notice the silver has grown to your neck?"

  Glancing back in the mirror, Nita saw silver veins growing up her neck.

  26: Waet Sorcerers?

  Magic might be a matter of willpower, Chassy had decided. He concentrated very hard on clearing his mind of anything but the trees. He squinted slightly, to blur the world around him. He visualized his body lifting off the ground and gliding weightless through the trees. He threw all his will into it.