by Pati Nagle
He nodded. “I was not certain why, at first.”
“Nor I, or I would have mentioned it. I am sorry, Cousin.”
A smile flashed across Luruthin’s face and was gone again. He leaned forward with the cup in his hands, elbows on his knees, rocking slightly.
“I suppose it does not matter. It is a small thing, compared to all the rest.”
Eliani’s heart ached for him. She wanted to rage at the ældar for allowing him to be hurt so, at the spirits for failing to protect him. She tried to reconcile herself to the tortured path he walked.
Not by choice. How could it be by choice? Supposedly each soul chose its path, but why would anyone choose such suffering?
Davhri returned with two robes over her arm and two pairs of soft house shoes in her hands. “These should fit you well enough, I think.”
She handed a pair of shoes to Vanorin and set another beside Luruthin’s chair, then shook out the robes. Both were grey and heavy, one a little darker than the other, and smelled faintly of whiteflower. She gave them to Luruthin and Vanorin, then turned to Eliani.
“Come, you may have your pick of my robes. Remember when you used to come and play in my wardrobe?”
Eliani grinned. “I remember the time you shut me in.”
“Foolish of me. I hoped it would discourage you.”
“Instead I thought it a great game, and tried to kick my way out.”
“Much to the detriment of my furniture.”
Davhri caught Eliani’s arm and pulled her away, leaving the males to change their wet leathers and clothes for the warm robes. Eliani glanced at the door to the hearthroom as they passed. A single handfasting ribbon hung there, where before she had seen two.
“Only one ribbon at your door.”
“Inóran has mine. He took it with him.”
“He was here?”
Davhri closed the bedchamber door and went to a darkwood wardrobe, throwing its doors wide. “Very briefly, a few nights ago. He came near midnight and left before dawn. He had asked if he might bring me to visit the camp, but was forbidden.”
“Oh, Davhri. I am sorry.”
Davhri turned a smiling face toward her. “No matter. I saw him. It was enough. To know that he is alive, that he is ... well, as far as he can be. It is such a relief, after all my fears.”
“But to be kept apart from him must be dreadful.”
Davhri gazed at her, one brow rising slightly in a way that reminded Eliani very much of her father. “I imagine you know how dreadful it is.”
Eliani felt warmth rising to her cheeks. “But we have the hope of being together again.”
“So have we, child. We have not given it up.” Davhri pulled a robe of palest orange from the wardrobe, its color so light it seemed almost white, like the blossoms of a fruit tree. The sleeves were lined with a brighter flame, and the same color touched the collar.
“I think this might suit you. Let me help you out of those leathers.”
“Thank you. Is Othanin still in Bitterfield?”
“Yes. He is staying in a guest house on the public circle. The one with firevines over the door.”
“I will visit him in the morning.”
Davhri gathered up the robe and held it for Eliani, who raised her arms to the sleeves. The robe slid down over her, clinging warmly to her limbs, wonderfully soft. She sighed.
“Ah, much better. Thank you.”
Davhri smiled and handed her a pair of soft shoes. “It looks well on you. I have never been very fond of orange, but it does wear well on a Stonereach. When I first put on Sunriding’s colors to please Inóran, I received many compliments.”
Eliani paused in putting on the shoes to look up. “You left your clan for him, and now you must dwell apart.”
Davhri smiled sadly. “I asked to be allowed to come and live with them, but they refused me. I even offered to swear my allegiance, but no. I am not one of them, therefore I am forbidden to join them.”
“Oh, Davhri!”
Davhri picked up Eliani’s tunic and reached for her discarded legs. “It is not so hard. It is true that I could not ply my craft if I dwelt with the Lost. I can ply it for their benefit, now. I am making them some things in their new clan colors.”
“Inóran told you of that?”
Davhri nodded. “They are all very hopeful about it.”
“It is by no means certain of acceptance.” Eliani wriggled her feet into the warm shoes.
“I know. They know it, too, but they have decided to act as a clan whether or not they are accepted by the Council. Ebonwatch sounds better than Lost, does it not? I think it was a good suggestion, Eliani. Your father will be proud of you.”
Discomfited by this praise, Eliani began to collect her leathers. Davhri picked up the two bracers and handed them to her.
“These are very handsome, by the way. Fine work.”
“Thank you. They are borrowed, actually. Mine were left in Ghlanhras.”
“Ah. I thought you had worn blue leathers, not green, when you came before. Though I was not thinking very clearly then.” She smiled wistfully.
“I am glad to see you better, Davhri.”
“Thanks to you, child. Come, let us set those leathers by the fire, and see about washing these.”
Luruthin and Vanorin had put on their robes and were sitting before the hearth, still sipping tea. Davhri collected their clothing and bustled away to the kitchen again. Eliani arranged her leathers on a chair to dry, then sat in another chair and poured herself more tea.
She glanced at Luruthin. “You will come to the Council, will you not?”
He sighed. “Yes, if Othanin and Kivhani will have me.”
“Good.”
“I want to see Clerestone again. To say goodbye.”
Eliani swallowed a mouthful of tea too hard, raising an ache in her throat. She set aside her cup and rummaged in her pack until she found her comb. Untying her hair, she leaned toward the fire as she combed the dampness out of it.
Vanorin followed her example and combed his own hair, braiding it back in a simple plait instead of the hunter’s braid he usually wore. Eliani got up and went to stand behind Luruthin, untying his hair.
At her first touch he jumped, then he sat stiffly, but gradually he relaxed and leaned his head back. She combed his hair slowly, gently, until it was smooth and free of tangles, then kept combing it while the fire’s warmth dried it.
Vanorin was watching. Perhaps wishing himself in Luruthin’s place, she thought, but when she glanced at him his face wore a look of pity as he gazed at Luruthin. Leaning forward a little, she saw that Luruthin’s eyes were closed, his cheeks wet with tears.
Eliani blinked away the threat of her own tears. Time enough for grieving after they must say farewell. For now, she would not add to Luruthin’s pain by visiting her own upon him.
Davhri returned from the kitchen and came to the fire. Luruthin sat up, wiping at his face, though Davhri was busy hanging the kettle and seemed not to notice. She added a piece of wood to the coals, then turned to Vanorin.
“Let me show you the guest room. You and Luruthin may put your things there, and take your rest whenever you wish.”
“Thank you.” Vanorin stood up and picked up his pack.
Luruthin followed, his hair spilling loose over his shoulders, gleaming warmly in the firelight. He caught at Eliani’s fingers as she handed him the strip of leather that had tied his braid.
She watched them go, then put away her comb and carried her own pack to Davhri’s bedchamber. A moment later Davhri came in, stepped out of her slippers and sat on the bed.
“I am sorry for Luruthin. It must have come over him very recently, no?”
“Some few days ago, though I think it had been coming on for a while.”
“Has he...?”
“Yes, but not lately.”
“I thought so.” She smiled sadly. “Inóran fasted before coming to see me. He wanted me to have no illusions.”
Eliani watched Davhri put out the lamp at her bedside and slide into the bed, marveling at her calm acceptance of Inóran’s fate. Perhaps she had done her grieving and was finished with it.
Eliani crawled beneath the covers with Davhri and closed her eyes, thinking of the Turisan. He and his riders were nearing the Steppe Wilds. Her spine tingled at the thought of how near he was, only a few days' travel away.
Not long. Too long. A day was too long. She was weary of sacrifices, though she knew that henceforth her life would be filled with them. She had chosen the path willingly. Her gift had demanded no less.
Bitterfield
Luruthin sat on the bed, gazing at nothing. Vanorin moved about the room, preparing to rest. When morning came, Vanorin would leave to find the guardians of his command, while Luruthin would remain here. Trapped. Hiding.
The familiar panic rose in him, but Luruthin fought it down. It was senseless, he knew it, and he was beginning to have better command of it.
If only he were not so hungry.
Vanorin sat down on his own bed, facing him. “Is there aught I can do for you?”
“Thank you. No.”
Rather abrupt, he knew. He misliked the concern on Vanorin’s face, so he tried again.
“You have been most patient and generous. Thank you, Vanorin, for all your support.”
Luruthin held out his arm, and Vanorin clasped it with a small smile. As they touched, the brilliance of Vanorin’s khi nearly struck Luruthin breathless. He knew an urge to draw upon it, and pulled his arm away as if he had touched fire.
Vanorin’s frown deepened. “What is it?”
Luruthin squeezed his eyes shut. “You recall how the creed forbids one to draw on another’s khi?”
“Yes.”
“I nearly did so, just now.”
Vanorin was silent. Luruthin took a deep breath and looked at him. The Greenglen looked troubled.
“If it would ease you–”
“No! Thank you, but no. I will not f-feed upon my friends.”
He pressed his dry lips together, struggling to master his grief and his hunger. It was not as bad yet as the worst he had felt, but it would not be long. He feared he would lose self-command in another day or two.
“This is a cruel fate.” Vanorin's voice was quiet. “I am deeply sorry for you.”
Luruthin managed a smile, but could not bring himself to speak words of thanks. The rage inside him overpowered gratitude. He was angry at his fate, at the alben and their vicious leader, and most of all at himself, for succumbing.
He lay on his back and stared at the heavy beams overhead. Darkwood. No escaping it in Fireshore, where it seemed nearly everything was made of darkwood.
It reminded him strongly of the room where he had been held in Darkwood Hall. It was not that room, he told himself over and again. He was nonetheless trapped here for a day’s time, and that raised all his fears again.
When the sun rose he knew it, despite the shelter of the heavy darkwood and the clouds that yet covered the sky. He lay listening to small sounds: rain still falling gently, a footstep out in the house, the crack of a fresh log on the fire.
Vanorin stirred and arose, then began to comb his hair. Luruthin was reminded of Eliani’s kindness to him earlier. How good it had felt, to be touched with gentleness and affection. How painful to know he might never feel such again.
He sat up, found his comb, and set his own hair in order, braiding it loosely and tying it off halfway down its length, leaving a long span free below the tie. He peered at it, searching for white threads among the auburn.
Too soon, but it would come. He remembered Kelevon’s appearance in the mountains, his hair all streaked with white and blowing in wild curls about his face.
Luruthin wished now that he had followed Kelevon and hunted him down. He had been weak and ill at the time, though now that he knew why, he saw Kelevon’s attack somewhat differently.
Vengeance was against the creed. He might not hunt Kelevon for vengeance’s sake, but he could hunt him to stop him causing further harm. Luruthin knew, remembering that bloody night, that Kelevon would hunt ælven again.
Vanorin went out. A soft knock at the door made Luruthin look up. Eliani opened it a small way and leaned in.
“I am going to see Othanin now. Shall I...tell him? Or ask him to visit you?”
Luruthin swallowed. “Ask him to visit, if it suits his convenience.” Anything to break his sense of confinement.
Eliani gave a nod and a wan smile, then withdrew. Davhri took her place, carrying a small tray with the blue ewer and a cup upon it. She poured tea for him and let the ewer on the bedside table.
“I have some books if you care to read...”
Luruthin shook his head, knowing he would not be able to concentrate on a book. “Thank you, no. I think I should try to meditate, and rest.”
“Very well. Call if you need anything. Even just company.”
She left the room, closing the door again, shutting him into silence. He sipped his tea slowly, savoring it. It reminded him of Heléri, his eldermother, who was famous for her delightful blends of tea. He was glad he had decided to attend the Council, for it would give him a chance to see Heléri once more, to bid her farewell.
So many friends he must bid farewell. He brushed the thought aside, knowing that to dwell on it would only grieve him. He finished the tea in his cup and filled it again, then piled pillows and cushions against the headstead of his bed, and leaned back against them.
Luxurious, this. He had not enjoyed such comfort in many days. The nearest to it had been Ulithan’s cave, but not even Ulithan had been able to offer a true bed. He closed his eyes, determined to enjoy what might be his last night in such a bed.
Sunrise set the sky aglow, casting a gentle warmth on the houses of Bitterfield. Eliani drew a deep breath, enjoying the smell of damp earth overlaid with the scent of morning fires. The rain had ceased, though a clouded sky suggested this was temporary.
As she and Vanorin walked into the public circle they were hailed by Mishri, the theyn's daughter, who ran up to them smiling, a cloth-covered basket in her hands.
“Welcome back! I am so glad you survived your adventures!”
“No more glad than we. I gather our friends are here?”
“Yes, I was just bringing them some food. They will be happy to see you.”
Mishri led them to a guest house. As soon as they entered, they were surrounded by members of Eliani's escort, all talking at once. Mihlaran, Cærshari, Sunahran, and Revani all greeted her joyously. She was surprised to see a fifth guardian with them.
“Hathranen! We thought you—were lost at Ghlanhras!”
He clasped the arm she offered, and she noted a tone of distress in his khi. “Not there, but I became lost as I fled. I could not get to the gates, so I ran through the city and climbed over the wall. I intended to cut through the forest to the road, but lost my bearings and ended up wandering for days.”
“How dreadful!”
Sunahran smiled in sympathy. “He stumbled into Woodrun three days after we arrived there. You should have seen him then.”
“Well, I am glad to see him now. All of you!”
Mishri had laid out the contents of her basket on a long table, and now called the guardians to break their fast. Eliani declined their invitation to join them.
“We have broken fast. I have another errand, so I will bid you farewell for now.”
Accompanied by Vanorin and Mishri, she went back out. Folk were stirring in the town, traders beginning to set up their wares in the public circle. A market day. It seemed strange to Eliani, such a normal activity. These folk must be aware of the threat in Ghlanhras, yet here they were, offering gourds and bread and jewelry for trade.
Eliani turned to Mishri. “Has Othanin broken fast?”
“Yes, I took him some food earlier. He spent half the night talking with my father.”
“Will you take us to his house?”
Mishri nodded, and led them to the same house where she had stayed on their earlier visit to Fireshore. Othanin welcomed them and invited them to sit by his fire.
“I am glad to see you again, Eliani.”
“And I you, Governor. I have a boon to ask of you.”
“Oh?”
“Luruthin....” She swallowed, her throat suddenly tight.
Vanorin came to her rescue. “Luruthin asks that you visit him. He is at Davhri's house.”
Othanin nodded. “I will be glad to.”
Eliani cast Vanorin a grateful glance. “Thank you. Have you planned your trip to Alpinon?”
“First I must go to Woodrun.”
“I advise against that. It would place you in needless danger.”
“Woodrun is where my people have gone. I must make contact with them, and confer with the theyn.”
“The ælven armies are on their way there. Until they arrive, there is too much risk in your going there. You could go after the Council. You must leave soon for that, in any case.”
Othanin gazed at her. “You do not think my people will see that as cowardice? I fear many of them think poorly of me as it is.”
“You have suffered enough at the hands of the alben.” Vanorin's voice was gruff. “Let any who doubt your courage speak to us. We shall enlighten them.”
A small smile flickered around Othanin's mouth. “That is kind of you.”
Eliani leaned toward him. “Write a letter to Theyn Doriavi. I will carry it to the army, and see that it is delivered to her. Tell her you will come to Woodrun after the Council.”
The governor gazed into the fire. After a long moment, he stirred.
“I will think on this. Meanwhile, I will visit your friend.”
Luruthin had just poured the last of his tea into his cup when he heard voices out in the house. Davhri had a visitor, a male. Sitting up, he listened more closely and was certain the voice was Othanin’s.
He got up, set the cup aside, and straightened his borrowed robe. He felt nervous, which was absurd considering what he and Othanin had been through together. Yet Othanin was governor here, and he only a supplicant.
A gentle knock was followed by Othanin’s voice. “Luruthin?”
