What Do You Say to a Naked Elf?

by Cheryl Sterling

  “Quiet now,” Tivat warned, as if she hadn’t been silent the entire time.

  He pushed open a wooden door and cautiously peered out. Satisfied the coast was clear, he motioned for her to join him on a stone walkway. Buildings rose on both sides, bridges connecting several of them. Lights hung from poles softly illuminated the night.

  She glanced around. No one was in sight.

  “How do you know where she lives?” she whispered.

  “I get around,” he repeated.

  She swallowed her nervousness. “John, who are you?”

  He continued his surveillance. “Why do you ask?”

  “Lots of reasons.”

  He cocked his head as if hearing something. After a moment, he turned to her. “Jane, greater forces than you or I control things. You’ll have to wait for the answers.”

  “Yes, but will I be alive to hear them?”

  He ignored her. “This way,” he said, taking her hand.

  The supposed dwelling of her namesake, Anjinaine, lay a block down the lane. They skulked in and out of doorways until they reached one that met Tivat’s satisfaction. With a nod to Jane, he rapped on the wood.

  An eternity passed in which they stood, risking exposure. Finally a woman’s voice called from the other side, “Who’s there?”

  Tivat whispered, “We bring a message from Bryant of Malik.”

  A lock unlatched. A woman peered at Tivat, her mouth grim. Then she swung her gaze to Jane. And gasped.

  “Marion.” The name squeaked from her.

  “No, her daughter. And Bryant’s,” Jane added for good measure, revealing the secret she’d kept from Tivat. She’d never told him the reason she needed to see Anjinaine, only that it was imperative before meeting Blacwin.

  “By the two moons,” the older elfwoman whispered. She swung open the door. Jane and Tivat scurried through.

  They entered a cozy room, wood-paneled, with overstuffed chairs and comfortable clutter. A fireplace burned brightly.

  “Sit down, sit down.” Anjinaine gestured to the chairs. “Can I get you anything?” She fluttered about.

  “Tea would be nice.” Jane felt she needed to give the woman something to do in order to calm her nerves.

  Jane and Tivat sat. She took a good look at her aunt as she made their tea. Anjinaine was plump, unlike her lean brother. Gray hair escaped from a bun, and her blue eyes crinkled.

  “Why are you in Shallen?” she asked as she poured tea and handed out sugar and milk. “I can’t believe this is a social call. Not that I don’t appreciate the visit, but this one”—she nodded at Tivat—“usually brings trouble with him.”

  Jane turned to Tivat. He looked as innocent as a puppy. In a pig’s eye, she thought. As briefly as possible, she told her aunt how she’d landed in Lowth and of her recent adventures.

  “Marion’s here?” Anjinaine interrupted. “Then something’s definitely afoot. The portal doesn’t normally act this way.”

  “No, it doesn’t,” Jane agreed. She still had trouble thinking of the portal as a living entity, moving on its own, deciding who passed through it and when. “I don’t think Lowth is acting normal, either. In fact, I’m beginning to believe they’re in this together.”

  “In what?” Tivat asked, leaning forward.

  “In whatever cosmic decisions were made to be sure I came to Shallen.” All of them mind-bogglingly complicated.

  “But you were stabbed and almost drowned,” Tivat protested.

  “And I probably should have died in both cases. Instead, I kept being shoved in this direction.”

  “To meet Blacwin.”

  “I’m not so sure. Maybe it’s enough I’m in Shallen.” Jane didn’t mention Charlie’s part in this.

  “For what reason?” Anjinaine asked.

  “You tell me.”

  The woman looked flustered. “How do I fit into this?”

  “You’re familiar with Tivat.” Jane shot a glance at him. “Your presence on Earth wasn’t a coincidence, John. Things have been orchestrated behind both our backs.”

  “Now, Jane—”

  “I’m not a fool,” she lashed out, “or paranoid. Too much has happened.” She turned to the older woman. “I have one question for you, then all the pieces fall into place. Who was Bryant’s family?”

  Anjinaine set her cup in its saucer, rattling the china. She spread her hands across her lap and licked her lips. Glancing from one to the other, she said with resignation, “I knew this day would come.”

  “And what day is that?” Jane asked gently.

  “When the truth about Malik is finally known.”

  “Did you think it would be silenced forever?” Jane took the other woman’s hand in hers. “It’s time, Anjinaine. The portal and Lowth and fate say it’s time.”

  Her aunt looked her in the eyes, worry crossing her brow. She sighed and nodded. “Yes, you’re right. Where do I begin?”

  “How about with how Bryant came to your family?”

  “You know, don’t you?”

  “I’ve guessed. Tell me, Aunt Anjinaine.”

  The “aunt” part did the trick. The woman smiled, her eyes looking away to memories. “My father was a servant of King Rodom’s. During the last great battle with King Garmade, Shallen was under siege. In desperation, Queen Lannami, with my father’s help, smuggled the infant heir out of the city. They took him to our family’s ancient home of Traun.” She paused and drew a shuddering breath. “King Rodom died shortly afterward in battle. Queen Lannami was ambushed on her way back to Shallen. The baby remained with us.”

  “Bryant,” Jane breathed, her guess correct.

  “Dyonn,” Anjinaine said. “We renamed him.”

  “Why not return him to the crown?”

  Sadness edged the woman’s eyes. “He was too young. My parents decided to wait until he reached his majority before telling him the truth.”

  “But they didn’t.”

  “They died when he was in his teens. I’d married by then and lived in the city. By that time, Blacwin had taken over and we were prosperous again. What acceptance would a mere boy receive compared to a wizard?”

  “So you said nothing.”

  “Bryant grew older and more restless. He started roaming Lowth, then he made his trip to Earth and brought your mother back. After she left, he was bitter. He wanted nothing more to do with life. I thought it best to keep quiet.”

  “Why tell me now? You could have lied.”

  “I don’t like what Blacwin’s doing. This talk of an alliance with the goblins is upsetting.”

  Jane sighed. “Yes, well, I don’t know how all that fits in yet, but I’m sure I’ll find out. Soon.” She stood and brushed her hands across the rough cloth of her pants. “Thank you for your honesty. I’m sorry we can’t stay, but I’ve got a wizard to see and a world to save.” She nudged Tivat, who’d quietly listened to their conversation. “Wake up, John, we’re leaving.”

  “Ar! Awake, yon elf.”

  Charlie groaned and turned over on the hard pallet, every movement a struggle. His body ached as if he’d been beaten by waves against jagged rocks. His head pounded and his tongue felt twice its normal size. Peering from one eye, he saw Dave the Dwarf standing before him, hands on wide hips.

  “What do you want?” Charlie croaked.

  “Something you can give me.” The dwarf scratched his nose.

  “You’re not getting anything from me.” Gingerly, Charlie sat up. He’d been twisted more than once by the dwarf. Every time he surfaced from the effects of the drugs, Dave injected him again, sending him into unconsciousness.

  “Where’s your master?” he taunted, trying to keep the conversation going long enough to clear his head. “I thought you didn’t move or think on your own without the powerful Blacwin to pull your strings.”

  “Ar! I’m no man’s puppet.” Dave circled the cot.

  “Tell me another story.” Could he take him?

  Dave pulled a knife. “I�
��ve no time for stories.”

  “Are you sure we’re supposed to meet them here?” Jane asked Tivat. She poked her head inside the abandoned tavern where they were to rendezvous with Kevin and Ashara. “It looks awfully cloak-and-daggerish.” She sat on one of the nonbroken bar stools and looked around. Dust, cobwebs and neglect lay in every corner.

  “Oily, oily, oxen free,” she called, cupping her hands.

  Tivat clamped his fingers around her arm and jerked her upright. “Fool. Do you want to be heard? We’re not that far from others.”

  Jane gulped. “Sorry. I talk too much when I get nervous.”

  He glared at her. “Try to control it. We don’t need to get caught at this stage of the game.”

  She sat back, afraid to move. Her mind spun with what she’d learned tonight—the confirmation of Bryant’s heritage. Long-lost heir to Malik! Just as Charlie was the heir to Malin. And the child she carried? The culmination of a plot by the land to reunite the two kingdoms. But Lowth could only manipulate events so much. Who was the human factor?

  “John, who do you work for?” she asked, chewing on her fingernail.

  He turned from his supersleuth surveillance game. “Why do you ask?”

  Jane blew out a breath. “Oh, puh-leeze. There have been too many coincidences to deny it. Escape on a night when Charlie was on duty? Stopping in the middle of the road in front of my car? Despite facing criminal charges, you bring my mother back here, and we manage to find each other, out of all the places in Lowth? And when I suggested escaping from Isleighah, you couldn’t wait to leave. Is it life on the lam or paying a debt to society, John? There’s a saying on Earth: ‘You can’t have your cake and eat it, too.’ Why not ’fess up and tell the truth?”

  He studied her for a long moment. “You’re not just fluff and nerves.”

  She tilted her head. “And you’re not just a tracker in bunny fur.”

  “Obviously. I’m sorry, Jane. I can neither confirm nor deny your suspicions.” He cracked a twig into thirds and arranged them on the bar.

  “Oaths and sacred trusts and things like that,” he added, a twinkle in his eyes. He switched gears before she could react. “We can’t wait all night for Ashara. I’ll leave a note.”

  “Leave a note? Are you nuts? Someone else might read it.” Jane rose and dusted off her pants. This bar was different from any she’d been in—a wide plank floor, dirt and grime. Three empty kegs sat in the corner. How bad did a society have to get before the people stopped coming to the bars?

  “Not all messages are written in Elven,” Tivat said. “Or in words. Where do we go next: Charlie or Blacwin?”

  “Charlie,” she said without hesitation. His continued silence gnawed at her.

  Tivat nudged one of the wood pieces into a different position. “Okay, message sent. Let’s go.”

  Jane gaped at the three pieces on the table. “That’s it? That’s the message?”

  “Ashara will know what it says.”

  “If she’s still alive,” Jane muttered. She had complete confidence in the Elven warrior, but Kevin was another matter.

  “She’s alive,” Tivat said with conviction.

  They continued their espionage game, weaving in and out of alleys and doorways. Several times they hid when Tivat heard someone coming. Twice, they returned to the underwater tunnels.

  “Do you know where they’re holding him?” Jane asked after they’d traveled for some time. She’d lost all sense of direction.

  “I have my suspicions,” Tivat said. He turned the knob on a filthy-looking door in one of the lower channels.

  Jane punched him in the arm, her anger burning. “You’ve known all this time where Charlie is? Did you tell Ashara?”

  “I don’t do Ashara favors,” he said grimly, resentment bubbling to the surface. “And it’s a suspicion only. Blacwin keeps his prisoners in different locations. We might have to look in all of them.” After checking the other side of the door, he drew Jane into a dimly lit corridor. “We can start here.”

  They saw blood in the hallway before they reached the cell. Lots of it. It looked like a true-crime TV show. Jane felt her own blood rush from her head and pool in her gut. She swayed and grabbed at Tivat’s arm.

  “I can’t look,” she gasped. Did Charlie lie dead inside?

  Tivat propped her against the stone wall. Her legs made of rubber, she slid down and immediately put her head between her knees. I will not faint. I will not faint.

  Tivat left and returned a moment later. He knelt at her side.

  Jane forced her head up. “Tell me the truth,” she whispered. “I can take it.”

  “He’s gone. No, not dead,” he amended, catching her as she tilted. “Not here.”

  “What?” The seeds of hope burrowed into her soul, ready to take root.

  “He’s not here, Jane,” Tivat enunciated. “But you should probably see this.” He helped her up.

  With his support, she wobbled into the prison cell. A badly wounded dwarf lay crumpled on the floor.

  “Ar!” he said, not lifting his head. Blood bubbled at the corner of his mouth.

  “Where’s Charlie?” Jane asked, holding her hand to her nose. The place reeked of death.

  “Gone.” A rasping breath shook the dwarf. He touched the wound on his chest, where a red stain rapidly spread, and gestured to the blood-splattered cell. “No more.”

  Dead?

  Everything turned gray. Jane’s head buzzed and sweat beaded on her forehead. A tight cramping centered in her stomach. It pulled feeling from the rest of her body.

  “I’m going to be sick,” she cried, hand outstretched, grasping for support.

  “Steady,” Tivat said from somewhere in the vicinity of Jupiter. For the second time in minutes, he lowered her to the floor. He joined her, holding her in his arms for comfort.

  Jane fought to keep control, tears springing to her eyes. Charlie! The reality of his loss was too much to comprehend. He couldn’t be dead. They hadn’t come this far for Lowth to blindside them now. The dwarf must be wrong.

  Drawing a shaky breath, she said, “Where is he? Where’s his body?” There’d been a struggle, but what had happened to Charlie?

  “Took him away,” the dwarf wheezed. His eyes glazed over.

  Took him away? Numbness settled on Jane as a blanket of winter snow. So many people had died since she’d come to Lowth—Warren and Nare from the village, Randolph the shepherd, not to mention goblins and sandobbles. Poor Capp’ear, who’d changed from trying to kill her to giving his life. And now her wonderful, stick-in-the-mud Charlie, who never wanted his world upset.

  “Jane?” Tivat asked, his voice gentle.

  She lifted her head, not realizing until that moment that she sobbed against his chest. She swiped the tears away and tried to smile, failing miserably.

  He handed her a poor excuse for a handkerchief.

  “What do you want to do?” he asked.

  Only one thing remained. Maybe, this was her destiny after all, to meet Charlie, conceive an heir, and carry on alone.

  Crappy plan, Lowth.

  “Go home,” she said, her voice sounding watery and faraway. She looked at him, knowing how important eye contact was in telling a lie. “Take me out, John.”

  They left the dwarf in the prison cell. Jane laid a hand on Tivat’s arm and turned to face him.

  “We separate here,” she said.

  “Jane . . . ,” he protested.

  “No, John. You need to find Kevin and Ashara. I don’t know the city as well.”

  “Come with me.”

  “I can’t.” She stopped, unable to speak for a moment. The enormity of what had happened and what she must do overwhelmed her. “I need to be alone for awhile. Find someplace safe for me and come back with the others.”

  He looked as if he’d argue, then decided against it. Sighing, he took her arm and led her through a maze of hallways.

  They stopped at another abandoned building, a storefr
ont judging by the shelves and broken boxes.

  “Stay here,” Tivat warned. “No matter how long it takes, even if daylight comes.” He pulled something from his pocket and handed it to her. It looked like beef jerky.

  “I’ll be back, Jane.” He hesitated, then leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the forehead. “Take care.”

  He slipped away. Jane counted to one hundred and followed.

  It took less than fifteen minutes to be caught by Blacwin’s guards. She flagged them down as she walked into a more populated area. Holding up her arms to show she had no weapons, Jane stepped forward.

  “My name is Jane Drysdale of Earth. Take me to your leader.”

  They shoved Jane into a too-small, hot room. One guard posted himself outside the locked door. Another stood watch, his fingers curled around a knife blade in its sheath. Heckle and Jeckle, Jane decided to call them. They wore black uniforms with hats as shiny as a crow’s eye.

  She perched on the edge of an uncomfortably hard chair, waiting for Blacwin’s promised arrival. The size and furnishings of the room suggested an official office of some obscure bureaucrat—the liaison to the assistant to the undersecretary of civil and goon affairs. Not a cheery place.

  Blacwin took his time. Evidently, even a Prince of Darkness and Ruler of Hell needed his beauty sleep.

  Jane sat for at least half an hour, wilting from the heat, feeling the sleeplessness of the past two days. Charlie’s disappearance and likely death crushed her. Had she dragged him to his fate, or had it been preordained? What did it mean? All along, she’d thought she and Charlie were to reunite the two kingdoms and rule them as one. Their child, or children, would inherit the titles and everyone would live happily ever after. But something had gone wrong. The dwarf had murdered Charlie and shattered her life.

  With Jeckle watching every movement, Jane vowed not to show her devastation. Time enough for grief later.

  She jumped as the door snicked open. Jeckle drew his knife, daring her to make another move. Instead, she turned her head toward Blacwin the Wizard.

  He looked as unlike Merlin as possible. In his midseventies, with sparse hair except for thick eyebrows, he glided into the room. A patch covered his left eye and a scar split his face. He dressed in black from head to foot, a long cape settling around his ankles as he stopped before her.