Forever

by Pati Nagle

  “Well, you can't do it,” she said, ignoring me. “They're broken. They're hooked on causing pain and the feeling of power they get from it. That can't be fixed.”

  “I fear you are right,” said Madóran.

  Len rounded on me. “As for DNA, go get a sample if you dare! But they can't be allowed to keep murdering.”

  “There's only one way to stop them,” Caeran said.

  Len stared at him, tears starting in her eyes. “I know.”

  Caeran looked at Madóran. “We need to take counsel with the others.”

  Madóran nodded.

  “Hunting the alben will be difficult,” Caeran added. “They were elusive before, and now they know we will seek them.”

  “I suggest waiting for Pirian to recover. He will likely insist on leading the hunt.”

  “After Evennight, then.”

  “Yes.”

  Evennight. The equinox. It was soon, I knew. There was supposed to be a ceremony.

  “That brings another issue to mind,” said Madóran. “Mirali has asked that Savhoran not attend the Evennight celebration.”

  Caeran frowned. “That is unkind.”

  “But not unreasonable, in her view. I declined to forbid Savhoran's attendance, but I promised to convey Mirali's request.”

  “Thereby leaving the decision to him? But what choice has she left him? None.”

  “Weren't he and Manda going to do something at Evennight?” I asked. “A … handfasting?”

  “Cup-bond,” Len said. “Yes, they are. You can't ask them not to come, Madóran.”

  “It is not I who ask it. I will offer them an alternative, however. A cup-bonding ceremony here, with my blessing.”

  Len sighed. “She'll be disappointed.”

  “Maybe,” Madóran said, “but I suspect Savhoran will be relieved. Mirali is not the only member of the clan who makes him uncomfortable.”

  “He makes them uncomfortable, you mean.”

  “Their unease discomfits him. Savhoran is painfully aware of their dread, having felt it himself until recently.”

  “Dammit,” Len muttered, and stepped off the patio, marching toward the back of the yard. Caeran got up and followed her.

  I watched them, acutely aware of Madóran a few feet away and afraid to look at him. I did a shield before my jumbled emotions got broadcast to the whole neighborhood.

  I picked up my glass and drank some tea. “Did I just hear you and Caeran proclaim a death sentence?”

  “You heard us agree that it might be needful. We will not act until all of Greystone has spoken.”

  “And Ebonwatch?”

  “Yes, since they are kin-clans. Pirian's opinion we know. Savhoran may object.”

  “Banishment isn't an option?”

  “Not when the well-being of others is at stake. If we do not kill these alben, they will continue to torture and kill others, both human and ælven. Len is correct. They are beyond rehabilitation.”

  I couldn't argue with that. Also, it would be a very good thing if they were kept from leaving their DNA all over the place and carving paragraphs of their language into their victims for the cops to find and analyze.

  “How do you atone for killing an ælven?” I asked softly, watching Len and Caeran who appeared to be having a heavy discussion under the birch trees at the back of the yard.

  “Atonement is chosen by the offender. Each situation is unique.”

  I wasn't satisfied by that answer, but I wasn't going to push it. Len leaned against a tree and Caeran took her hand.

  “I have known only a few ælven who had to make such atonements,” Madóran said. “One spent a century in seclusion, writing down everything she remembered of the one she had killed. Another built a hospital for humans and saved many hundreds of their lives.”

  “What about the other alben here? The campus killers from last year and this summer? Kanna and...”

  “Gehmanin,” Madóran whispered.

  “How were their deaths atoned for?”

  He was silent for long enough that I glanced at him to see if he'd heard me. His face was filled with such sorrow that I caught my breath.

  “I do not know how their deaths were atoned for. It may not have been done yet.”

  “You're not going to demand that the killers atone?”

  He turned to me, surprised. “I? Caeran is the clan's leader.”

  “But they all look up to you. They all speak of you with reverence.”

  A slight flush crossed his cheeks, gone as fast as it appeared. “It is not my place to demand their atonement.”

  “If no one demands atonement for such a...a transgression, and none is made, then what happens?”

  Madóran shook his head slowly. “I have never known such a case. Atonement is important to the soul of the transgressor. Ælven do not neglect it.”

  “Except when there's disagreement, and a council is called.”

  “A council of adjudication. Yes. But even in those cases, atonement has been offered. It was just believed insufficient.”

  He met my gaze, and those grey eyes seemed to look right into my heart. I reached for my tea.

  “Pardon all my questions. I'm not criticizing, I'm just trying to understand.”

  “I know.” I could feel his smile. “You are a relentless inquirer. You will be an asset to Ebonwatch.”

  The shift in his tone—a trace of affection—sent a tingle through me. I took a bigger gulp of tea than I intended, swallowed hard, and felt the chill sink into my chest.

  “Can I ask you a different question?” I said when I could breathe again.

  “Of course.”

  I looked at my hands. “I know you said my khi was OK, but I'm wondering if exposure to infected blood could make me a carrier. I wouldn't want to endanger anyone.”

  Like Lomen. I slid a little shield into my thoughts.

  “We do not know exactly how the curse is transmitted,” Madóran said, “but here is what I understand. It can be passed from ælven to ælven. I have never heard of it passing to or from a human. It apparently passes through close contact—I believe your current term is transmission of bodily fluids—but exposure does not always result in infection.”

  Madóran shifted in his chair and I looked up. His face was troubled. “Caeran and Savhoran were both exposed in fights with Gehmanin,” he said, “but so far Caeran has not fallen under the curse.”

  So far.

  I looked at Caeran, now speaking earnestly to Len, still holding her hand. He was under a lot of pressure. I’d forgotten the added stress of being exposed to the curse.

  “Does it take a long time to incubate?”

  “My impression is that it can, although for Savhoran it took only a few months.”

  This was not good news. If Caeran eventually came down with the curse, that would leave as a gene base for Project Ebonwatch only Lomen, Faranin, Bironan, Madóran, and the three ælven I hadn't met: Mirali, her baby, and her partner. We'd need more—a lot more—to preserve the species.

  I hadn't actually talked to any of the ælven about that goal, except a little to Lomen. I wondered if I should present the idea to Madóran. He was the healer, after all—the one who might best understand the implications.

  Might be better to propose it in a company meeting. If there ever was one. If we ever got all the fires put out enough to actually organize the research effort.

  It occurred to me that if I had access to cryogenic storage, I could take DNA samples from the two alben (after they'd been hunted down) and store them for future use. Gene therapy might someday help the ælven population issue.

  We could even harvest the female's ovaries. Cold thought; I didn't like that I'd come up with it. Sometimes my brain was a heartless SOB.

  I allowed myself a moment of picturing that procedure. Or would her eggs produce children afflicted with the curse? Did the disease impact the DNA of the victim, or did it manifest elsewhere?

  It wasn’t worth pursuing imag
inary vengeance. I had a vague idea that Madóran wouldn’t approve of such thoughts, and anyway the problem of saving the ælven was more interesting.

  I wondered if a human female could serve as a surrogate parent for an ælven child. Could that help with the low ælven birth rate? Or would the child somehow end up mortal?

  In vitro fertilization. Add that to my list of things to learn.

  Too many ideas. I shook my head to clear it of the what-ifs. I needed to focus, to zero in on what was most important right now.

  I could feel Madóran watching me. I glanced at him. He was smiling slightly.

  “You are thinking deep thoughts,” he said.

  I sighed. “Just trying to figure out the best way I can help.”

  “You will find it.”

  Something was niggling at me; something I’d talked about lately. Not the alben. Not Pirian. Something about ælven and humans. I frowned, watching Caeran and Len still deep in their heart-to-heart.

  Caeran’s son rarely had to shave.

  I drew a deep breath. Looked at Madóran, who still watched me intently.

  “Have the ælven ever tried breeding humans with high ælven content?” I asked.

  He blinked. “I do not understand.”

  “The child of an ælven and a human is mortal. If that child breeds with another ælven, is their offspring more like an ælven? Longer-lived, maybe?”

  Madóran’s eyes widened. “I do not believe such a thing has ever been attempted.”

  I looked back at Caeran and Len. “Might be worth a try.”

  “It would be wrong to impose such a requirement on anyone.”

  “Oh, they’d have to participate voluntarily, of course. But maybe they could be offered incentives.”

  That sounded so cold. Would I need incentives to mate with an ælven? Granted, females weren’t my cuppa, but for a good cause, I’d be willing to give it the old college try.

  “It’s easier for ælven to have kids with humans than with each other, right?” I asked.

  “In some cases. Human females can conceive with ælven males.”

  “What about ælven females?”

  Madóran shook his head. “Our physiognomy is different. The ælven female … this is rather technical.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  He gave me a long, almost skeptical look. “Very well. Conception occurs differently in humans than in ælven. The human female is always open to the seed of a male. If she carries a fertile egg, she will likely conceive.”

  I waited. Madóran seemed to be searching for words.

  “An ælven female is ordinarily not open to conception. Her body has a barrier that no seed can pass. When she couples, her partner’s seed is blocked by this barrier. She—they both—experience pleasure, but they do not conceive.”

  “Wow, most humans would love that!”

  He smiled wryly. “Our problems are opposite. Humans seek to avoid conception. Ælven yearn for it.”

  “How does it happen, then?”

  He spoke in a low, almost reverent voice. “Very rarely, during the ecstasy of coupling, the barrier in the female’s body opens and draws in her partner, binding them together physically for a time. This permits the male’s seed to impregnate her.”

  Bound together physically? I had a vague memory of hearing about something like that, but not in humans. Dogs, maybe?

  “And a human male can’t ... doesn’t ...”

  “I have never heard of a human male achieving conception with an ælven female. I believe it is impossible.”

  OK, scratch that. But a breeding program still might work. And human females could participate, which was good if ælven females were scarce.

  How many generations would it take to achieve immortality? Or was that possible? Maybe high-ælven-content humans would still be mortal, just longer-lived. Like in Tolkein.

  But there were those half-elvens. They got to choose whether to be mortal. Convenient.

  I wondered if Tolkein had known any ælven. Looking at Madóran, I could imagine that he had.

  “These questions stray from the subject of the alben’s curse,” Madóran said softly.

  “Yeah. I’ve been thinking about the ælven’s future, too.” I met his gaze. “You’re a healer, and you’ve been around a very long time. Do you think the ælven are in danger of becoming extinct?”

  He leaned his head back, appraising me, then slowly nodded. “I have feared so for a good while.”

  “Well, it might be worth trying the breeding thing. Might buy you some time, if nothing else.”

  He laughed softly. “And it took a human to think of this. How dull-witted we are.”

  “No, you’re scary smart. This just didn’t occur to you. Heck, humans have only really understood genetics for a couple of centuries.”

  A corner of his mouth twitched into a smile. “And it might take a few more for the ælven to pay attention.”

  “Nah, all you need to do is come out of the woods now and then.”

  His smile faded to a sad shadow of itself. “We shelter in the woods of a purpose. They are our refuge.”

  “And I don’t blame you. But I’d still like to help you. There’s a lot going on right now, so it would probably be better to wait, but down the road a ways I’d be interested in organizing that breeding program. Totally voluntary, of course.”

  “You would only see the beginning of such a program, not its final result.”

  “That’s OK.”

  Madóran gazed at me, his expression hard to read. A shadow of a smile hovered on his lips.

  “You are remarkable, Steven. A man of many ideas. Caeran was right.”

  Not too many people had ever referred to me as a man before, rather than a boy. I felt myself blushing, and glanced toward Caeran. He and Len were coming toward us, crossing the lawn hand in hand.

  “What do you mean? What did he say about me?” I whispered.

  Madóran leaned toward me and laid his hand over mine.

  That you would lead us out of darkness. You and Lenore.

  = 14 =

  I drew a sharp breath, overwhelmed by a sudden awareness of Madóran. He hadn’t opened himself completely, not the way Lomen shared with me, but it was enough to make me shiver, and it gave me an instant hard-on.

  I shielded hastily. Probably did no good.

  Madóran drew back and reached for his tea. He disappeared from my mind as fast as he’d come.

  I was shaken. His soul, which had scarcely brushed my awareness, was as wondrous as Lomen’s, and completely different.

  Len stopped in front of Madóran and stood waiting for his attention. He put down his glass and looked at her.

  “I have a plan,” she said.

  Madóran nodded. Caeran, standing a little to one side, watched them both.

  “We’ll host Manda and Savhoran’s cup-bonding here on the night before Evennight. That will be our Evennight celebration. We’ll do a feast, and a ceremony—the whole nine yards. Will you preside?”

  “I would be honored.”

  “Then afterward I’ll drive you home so you can do a ceremony for Mirali and the others, and I’ll come back right away.”

  Madóran glanced at Caeran, then looked back at Len. “Will that not be tiring for you?”

  She shrugged. “Someone has to stay here with Steve and Manda.”

  “Savhoran will be here.”

  “He can’t help during the day. We talked,” she nodded toward Caeran, “and we think it’s better to have an ælven here at all times.”

  “But then you will be alone on your drive home,” Madóran said.

  “I will ask one of the others to accompany her,” Caeran said.

  Lomen!

  Shut up, I told my heart.

  “That one would miss the Evennight celebration.” Madóran looked at Len. “Unless you are willing to stay for it?”

  Len shook her head. “If Savhoran isn’t welcome, then I won’t attend.”

 
Madóran closed his eyes, looking weary. After a moment he opened them again.

  “And is Pirian welcome at your celebration?”

  Len’s face was unhappy, but she nodded. “He can come, assuming he’s well enough.”

  And he behaves himself. I didn’t need telepathy to read that thought.

  Madóran sighed. “I suppose this compromise will serve, though I regret anyone having to miss Evennight.”

  “We may find an alternative to that,” Caeran said.

  “But not to the two separate celebrations. It bodes poorly for the unity of Greystone.”

  Caeran nodded. “I intend to discuss this with Mirali. If she cannot abide the fact that Ebonwatch is our kin-clan, she may wish to change clans.”

  I sucked a sharp breath. Mirali was the clan’s only ælven female, as far as I knew.

  “We would hate to lose her,” Madóran said.

  “Yes. I hope she can find tolerance within her heart.”

  They would lose her child and her partner, too, if she left. It would create a devastating hole in the clan. Could they recruit more ælven somehow? Had they kept in touch with anyone back in Europe? Caeran’s mentioning the possibility of Mirali switching clans implied that there were other clans to switch to.

  Which implied that there was a bigger gene pool to draw on. How big, though? If they were threatened with extinction, that meant the birth rate was way lower than the death rate. Or the death/curse rate.

  Were the ælven scattered all over the world? How many were left?

  “I must see to Pirian,” Madóran said, rising. “Lenore?”

  She stared hard at him, then sighed and followed him indoors. I looked at Caeran.

  “Hell of a week,” I said.

  His lips twitched into a faint smile. “Yes.”

  I stood, collected the lunch dishes, and went into the kitchen. Len was nowhere in sight. Madóran was at the stove, ladling the green soup into a bowl. He glanced up at me, then opened a drawer and took out a spoon.

  “I thought they didn’t eat regular food,” I said quietly.

  “Mostly they do not, but they crave greens after feeding. It aids their digestion.”

  “But Pirian hasn’t...hunted.”

  “He fed from the human victim, before he became a victim himself.”