by Pati Nagle
“A courier, perhaps?”
“Perhaps.”
“Will you hail him?”
Vanorin nodded. “I will offer him the hospitality of our camp and hope for his news.”
Eliani came toward them as they reached the clearing, to Luruthin's relief. She had her cloak wrapped about her and gave Vanorin an anxious look.
“What is it?”
“A rider on the road. I go to meet him.”
“I will join you.”
“That is not necessary, my l—”
“I did not ask if it was necessary.”
She brushed between Vanorin and Luruthin on her way to the horses. Luruthin met Vanorin's gaze and smiled in spite of himself.
“She has better days.”
Vanorin made no reply, though his face was eloquent. By silent consent, they both followed Eliani down the slope.
They caught their horses and bridled them, not bothering with saddles for the short ride down to the road. By the time they reached it, the rider had come around the bend of the foothills. The horse slowed to a trot as the rider saw them.
Luruthin and Vanorin placed themselves on either side of Eliani. They waited for the rider to reach them, Luruthin noting his appearance as he came closer.
His clothing was of fine make, with a cloak of rich satin, more a court garment than one fit for traveling and somewhat light for early winter. Boots of fine suede, hair in a wild, curling tangle, he had to be a Steppegard.
Luruthin frowned as the stranger brought his horse to a walk and raised a hand in greeting. What was a Steppegard doing here alone? Some messenger from Governor Pashani's court? Had kobalen appeared on their border as well?
His heart began to sink. This could not be good news. He stared at the rider's face, thinking it familiar. Not until a grin flashed across it did he realize he knew this Steppegard. At the same instant he heard Eliani draw a sharp breath beside him.
“Kelevon!”
Eliani's heart roiled with dismay. She had hoped never to meet Kelevon again. Failing that, she had hoped that more than two de cades would have enabled her to meet him calmly, but the sight of his laughing face framed with wild curls at once took her back to Highstone.
To a Midsummer's night when he first had entranced her. To the bewildering year of passion and sorrow that had followed.
Eliani?
Not now.
Is something—
Not now!
Kelevon's eyes were guarded as he bowed low over his saddle, his smile somewhat fixed. “Eliani. I am delighted to meet you again.”
Vanorin turned his head. “You know this fellow, my lady?”
He was staring at her. They all were staring at her. Eliani felt her cheeks flaming.
“What are you doing here, Kelevon?”
“Governor Othanin sent me with his apologies for being unable to attend the Council.”
She was astonished. “You come from Fireshore?”
He bowed again and threw back his cloak to reveal the sash of gray and orange he wore across one shoulder: Clan Sunriding's colors. Eliani remembered how they had flashed in the sunlight in Davhri's handfasting ribbons, the orange hot amidst the cool gray, blue, and violet.
“Then …”
She looked at Vanorin. He met her glance, then turned to address Kelevon.
“Will you come to our camp and share our evening meal? We would learn your news of Fireshore.”
Kelevon's smile widened, and his eyelids drooped lazily over his golden eyes. “Thank you, but I must make haste to Glenhallow. I prefer to travel at night.”
“Did you meet the couriers Lord Jharan sent to Fireshore?”
Kelevon's gaze shifted to the Southfæld captain. “A party of some six or seven? Korian and the others? Yes, I met them in Alpinon. They continued on, being charged to deliver their message to Governor Othanin and not to me.”
He looked at Eliani expectantly. They were all waiting for her to say something, when all she wanted to do was flee as far as she could get from Kelevon and all the disturbing memories the sight of him had roused. She swallowed.
“Come to our camp for a little while. We must talk.”
Kelevon's mouth curved in a slow smile, a smile she knew, a smile whose taste she remembered. “Very well, since it is your wish.”
Eliani turned toward the camp. Her horse, perhaps sensing her mood, started to run, and she had to rein it in. Luruthin brought his mount up beside hers.
“I do not trust him.”
She glanced at him, a wry laugh escaping her. “Nor do I, Cousin.”
Luruthin's frown deepened. He moved closer and spoke in nearly a whisper. “He does not honor the creed.”
“We have no cause to doubt him.” She glanced over her shoulder at Kelevon. “No recent cause.”
“Why would Othanin send a single courier to the Council instead of a delegation? It is an insult!”
“Perhaps some crisis prevented Othanin from attending. We must hear what Kelevon has to say.”
They reached the camp and dismounted. Vanorin summoned some of his guardians to see to the horses while he led their guest to the fire. He must have signaled the others to withdraw, for those around the fire arose and left at their approach. Eliani found herself alone with Kelevon, Luruthin, and Vanorin.
She sat and pulled her cloak tightly closed, though she was warm enough. Kelevon, watching her, smiled.
“Allow me to congratulate you, Lady Eliani.”
“For what?” Eliani glanced at him, somewhat alarmed. How much did he know of her?
He looked mildly surprised. “On being confirmed in your majority. Should I congratulate you for something else?”
She looked away, staring into the fire. Vanorin approached with a platter of carved meat, sparing her from answering. Vanorin offered the platter to Kelevon. “Would you have some?”
“Thank you, but no.”
A slight curl of disdain turned Kelevon's mouth. Eliani remembered that expression as well. Her stomach seized tighter.
“Why does Governor Othanin not attend the Council?”
“Pressing matters prevented him from attending.”
Luruthin leaned forward. “What pressing matters?”
Eliani tried to catch his eye and frown him down, but he was intent on Kelevon. In his turn, Kelevon regarded Luruthin with narrowed eyes and a slight smile.
“I cannot say. I am sure the governor's letter explains all.”
“You carry a letter?”
“For Governor Jharan.”
Eliani frowned, blinking as she looked back at the fire. She must tell Turisan of this development. Jharan should know that word finally had come from Fireshore.
She must speak to Turisan. She felt frozen, numb.
“So if you are finished with your questions, I should continue my journey. I had hoped to make Glenhallow to night.”
She turned her head to look at him. “You did not used to be a night-bider.”
He smiled back. “I find that it agrees with me. I much prefer night to day. Something to do with starlight, perhaps.”
Eliani looked away, remembering a soft summer evening they had spent together in a meadow near Highstone. Kelevon had made her laugh with outlandish stories about figures he imagined in the stars—no true constellations, but creatures of his own fancy—and they had made love, over and over.
She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to banish the memory. That was over, gone. Kelevon was not her lover, would never be her lover again. She must think of him only as Fireshore's envoy.
Abruptly she stood and glanced at Vanorin. “Please excuse me. I need a few moments.”
Vanorin nodded. Thank the spirits for his calm understanding, she thought as she looked at Luruthin, who plainly seethed with hostility toward Kelevon. Kelevon seemed amused by it, but she knew only too well how Kelevon's mood could suddenly change.
“I will return shortly. Please wait.”
Kelevon shrugged and gave a
nod of agreement. She strode away, pulling her cloak close about her as if it could protect her from all harm. Uphill, into the woods, which soon became more dense and jumbled with small bushes. Finding a boulder bathed in starlight, she climbed onto it and sat gazing at the sliver of a moon, trying to calm herself. At last she closed her eyes.
Turisan.
Eliani! I have been waiting—are you all right?
Yes. We have news.
News?
A rider has come from Fireshore.
A moment's silence followed. She could sense his amazement, though it seemed muted. She realized that this was because she was holding herself closed, not sharing all of herself with him. She had done the same when they first had found the gift.
This is good news! I must tell my father.
Yes, please do. I need to know whether he wishes me to ride on or return.
He is in the feast hall. It will not take me long to reach him.
Eliani waited, huddled in her cloak. A cool night breeze kissed her cheek, and she shivered. She did not want to think about Kelevon, so she distracted herself with thoughts of the feast hall at Hallowhall. She pitied the poor bard who was composing a grand ballad about her and Turisan. His song might now end rather abruptly, if her great deed was to announce Fireshore's arrival a day's ride from Glenhallow.
Eliani? We are in private now, in the governor's chamber. My father asks why Fireshore sent only one rider.
He says Governor Othanin was unable to come or to send a delegation. He claims to have a letter of explanation for Jharan.
Is he a member of Othanin's house?
He is not even from Fireshore. He is a Steppegard.
How do you know? A Sunriding could look like a Steppegard.
Eliani winced. She had not wanted to talk about her acquaintance with Kelevon.
I have met him before.
A moment's silence followed. She would have to explain this tangle to Turisan, but not now. Not like this.
You know him. Do you think him trustworthy?
I do not know.
That alone was condemnation. To imply that an ælven did not uphold the creed was the highest of insults, and Eliani hesitated to impugn even Kelevon so. She could only answer honestly, though. She did not know whether to trust him. She hoped for guidance from Jharan.
Shall I ride on?
She could continue to Fireshore and be free of Kelevon's company, though only the spirits knew what he would say of her in Glenhallow. She liked neither choice.
No. Jharan asks you to accompany the courier to Glenhallow. Stay …
Eliani waited, wondering what Jharan was saying. Perhaps he would give her a new message to take to Fireshore.
My father suggests that you request permission to read the letter and convey its contents to us.
Eliani frowned. He will refuse. The letter is not sent to me.
The others in your party will confirm that you are a mindspeaker. It is worth attempting.
You will have the letter by morning in any case. He is—a night-bider and wishes to ride now.
Jharan asks that you try. The sooner Othanin's explanation is known, the sooner the Council can respond.
Very well, I will try.
She got to her feet, stiff from sitting on the cold rock after a hard day's riding. As she walked back toward the firelight glinting through the trees, she tried to compose a gracious request to read the letter that had been entrusted to her former lover. She could not even begin.
Vanorin heard her approach and turned to glance at her. Sitting by the fire, he and the others might have looked companionable to one who did not know better, but Eliani saw the tension in each of them as they looked up at her.
“Kelevon, I have just consulted with Lord Jharan.”
Kelevon glanced around. “He is here?”
“No.”
His brow creased as he looked up at her. It made her heart jump with fright, remembering what that expression had signaled in the past.
Vanorin broke the silence. “Lady Eliani is a mind-speaker.”
“A mindspeaker?” Kelevon laughed, then looked at Luruthin, who solemnly nodded.
“My partner is Lord Turisan, Jharan's son.”
A myriad of feelings seemed to cross Kelevon's face. He glanced away for a moment as if musing.
“A mindspeaker. Truly?”
“Yes. Lord Jharan has asked me to request that you give me the letter you carry for him. I will read it and convey its contents to him through Turisan.”
Kelevon's eyes narrowed. “I was charged to place it in Jharan's hands.”
“Do you question Lady Eliani's honesty?”
Luruthin's voice was quiet but full of challenge. Kelevon glanced at him, then looked at Eliani with a smile.
“No, but I am just—amazed! I had not heard of this.”
“It was revealed only two days ago.”
Kelevon gazed at her, still smiling, his eyelids drooping lazily. “Our own Eliani a mindspeaker. All the world will be pleased to learn of this.”
Eliani shifted her stance, growing impatient. “Will you give me the letter?”
Kelevon's smile widened. “Of course.”
He reached into his silken tunic and withdrew a parchment sealed with orange and gray ribbons. Standing up, he bowed gallantly and held it out to her.
Eliani accepted it and glanced at Lord Jharan's name written on the outside of the parchment. The hand was tall and spidery—Othanin's hand, she presumed, though she had never seen it before. She sat down, arranging her cloak comfortably about her, and broke the seal.
Turisan? I have the letter.
Excellent!
She willed herself to open a little more to Turisan, enough to convey the words to him as she read them. Even that raised panic in her, though she did her best to ignore it and turned her attention to the letter. It covered only a single page, all in the same thin hand.
To Lord Jharan, Governor of Southfæld, greetings from the Governor of Fireshore
I have received your message bidding me to attend Council in Glenhallow. Alas, to my great regret I am unable at this time to comply. Matters here require all my attention at present, however, I have good news to share with you—there are no kobalen threatening our borders. We see few of them here, though winter may draw them north to our warmer climes. Should we have any news of this nature to share with you, rest assured I will send it at once.
Fireshore has no standing guard, so I have no support to offer you against the increased activity of kobalen. My ardent hope is that they will be no threat to you or to our good neighbors. If I should prove mistaken in this hope, I will of course send to you what ever help it is in my power to give. Our numbers are yet small, but let it not be said that Fireshore failed to contribute to the destiny of all ælven realms.
I send you this word with my good servant, to whom I hope you will extend the hospitality for which Glenhallow is so justly famous. Pray believe me to be,
Yours in service to Fireshore,
Othanin
Eliani frowned as she folded the parchment, feeling dissatisfied. She fingered the ribbons, noting that one was a trifle frayed.
That is all?
Yes.
Does the courier know what matters are so important as to keep Othanin away from Council?
I think not, but if you wish, I will ask again.
Do.
She looked at Kelevon. He was sitting with his arms clasped loosely over one knee, watching her in apparent fascination.
“What keeps Governor Othanin so busy of late?”
He shrugged. “I am not privy to matters of governance, so I really cannot say. I know there has been difficulty with the darkwood harvest this year.”
Eliani frowned. That seemed insufficient to warrant the governor's absenting himself from Council, but she shared Kelevon's comment with Turisan.
What shall I do?
Turisan was silent for a moment, consulting with his fa
ther and the Council. Eliani waited, resigned to spending the night in discomfort what ever Jharan decided. She began to long more than ever for the solitude of that mountain peak.
Bring the courier to Glenhallow.
Very well.
Eliani?
Yes?
Turisan hesitated. Eliani could sense his fear of angering her. It was as if all they had built together had been smashed, and they were back to their initial awkwardness. She hated it but did not know how to cure it.
You seem upset. Can I be of help?
She drew a breath and carefully let it out. Not now. I will explain when I see you in Glenhallow.
Very well. I … Spirits guard you.
Thank you.
She felt him withdraw, became aware that she was staring into the fire. The others were silently watching her.
Spirits help me. I cannot see my path.
She stirred and handed the letter back to Kelevon. “Lord Jharan wishes to meet you. We will ride with you to Glenhallow.”
“Excellent!” Kelevon returned the letter to his tunic and stood up, casting a sly glance at Luruthin. “We have so much to talk about.”
Eliani rose, as did the others. Vanorin and the guardians set about dousing the fires, breaking their newly made camp. Eliani fetched her packs and bow and joined Luruthin and Kelevon with the horses. Vanorin was there, tightening the girth on her saddle.
“Thank you, Captain. Thank you for all your service.”
Vanorin gave a nod, smiling slightly. “It is an honor to serve you, lady.”
Eliani gave a sudden bark of laughter. “But not a plea sure.”
She laughed again at his silence, and saw an answering glint of humor in his eye. She liked Vanorin, she decided. She turned to her horse, her body protesting with weariness as she hauled herself into the saddle once more. She cared little that she would be riding through the night. After this evening's events, she would have had no rest even on the softest bed in Hallowhall.
Hallowhall
“My deepest concern is that Othanin was unclear in his reasons for not attending this Council.”
Turisan had not seen his father look so stern since he had brought him the kobalen's ear. The Council, hastily summoned, looked equally grave as Jharan's gaze swept across them.
