“Well, you don’t need me now,” Senalloy said. “I have to look in on Ryelle and Janai. The Queen was most specific that I look after all of you.”
“Thank you,” Sarai said.
“Thanks,” Bannor waved to her.
The Baronian bowed and faded out.
Bannor blinked. With his savant senses scrambled he couldn’t tell if she’d teleported away or simply gone invisible.
Corim was staring at the spot where Senalloy had been standing.
“Something the matter?” Sarai asked him.
“Oh nothing,” the burly man said. “It’s just that she’s changed. She’s been without focus since I’ve known her. She seems much happier now.”
“She wasn’t before?”
“Oh, she was okay. I guess being on the ground and involved in something is part of it.”
“I think she likes being needed,” Sarai added. “There’s an awful lot of power and talent going to waste when she’s idle.”
“That’s true,” Corim agreed with a nod. “Well, all right I better get on with my business. Hopefully, Bannor will be feeling well enough for his demonstration at seven bells.” He nodded to him. “Take care, Friend.” He bowed to Sarai and strode out.
After he heard the door in the main hall close Bannor let out a breath. He groaned. “He warned me damn it. Urgh, but I can’t leave well enough alone.”
“It’s done now, my One.” She sat on the bed next to him.
“I feel so stupid,” he grumbled. “It hurts this much and it didn’t do anything.”
“It worked fine.”
“What are you talking about? How do you know?”
She signed. “Can you understand me, my One?” She asked in that higher voice. “Does what I am saying make sense?”
“Of course, why should it not?”
“Because I am speaking high Elven,” she responded with a laugh.
“What?”
“When your head stops hurting,” she continued. “It will make more sense. Suffice that I am very happy and Mother will be pleased as well.”
How could she be speaking Elvish? Her words did sound a little different. He stopped trying to figure it out. Concentrating just made it hurt more.
“If you are happy—I am happy,” he told her.
She stroked his brow with a gentle hand. “I am happy.” She hummed a tune. “Tell me a story.”
“A story? What kind?”
“Anything,” she said. “You have to stay awake.”
“Urm,” The pain made it so hard to think. “Okay. By the summer run off—called the Vesper River, in the shadow of Radigast Peaks, was a town called Blackwater.” He drew a breath. “It was a dismal scratchy place that only desperate traders would do business in. Which is exactly why I went there…”
He spoke, halting at times when the pain was too much to find words, but struggling on. He knew it was simply an exercise to get him focused off the discomfort. He grappled with it and did his best, even when the throbbing in his skull made tears roll down his face.
Sarai listened quietly nodding at times. It was after all, their story, merely a retelling of events that she had not born witness to.
He was not aware of how long he talked. The agony made every instant seem interminably long. He couldn’t run away from it though, or fall asleep. He kept on.
The pain did not lessen or gradually taper off. Some significant time later when the slashes of light from the balcony shudders had almost gone dark, the sensations vanished. Like the lifting of a massive weight from his shoulders, he gasped.
“My One,” Sarai asked.
“It—it stopped hurting,” he mumbled. “So tired.”
“Take a nap then, rest, you have to be weary after all that. I will wake you in a bit.” She kissed him.
“Ummm…”
He didn’t remember dozing off, just being exhausted from holding back a scream. His eyes still felt heavy, but simply being without that tremendous ache was a pleasure. Candles flickered in the darkness, he felt around the bed and finding Sarai not there. After a few tries, he managed roll his feet off the bed and sit up. He rubbed his face. It felt crusty with salt and perspiration. That fast learning was not for the faint hearted—at least not so many things at once.
He pushed himself to his feet, wobbling for a moment on weak legs. That session took a lot out of him. He staggered into the washroom, turned up the lamp, and rinsed his face in the basin.
He stared at his reflection in the mirror. He didn’t feel any smarter. Sarai insisted he was. How could he know something and not know he knew?
He stared at the sink. What’s the word in Elven for sink? Dala. Did he know that before? What about mirror? Flectir. Floor? Subrar. Sky? Nimbril.
He stopped. He didn’t have to concentrate. What language was he thinking in now? Common? Elven? Both? It gave him a headache just considering it. Maybe it didn’t matter. How did he tell what language he was speaking in?
Whatever the case, he couldn’t be seen in the mess he was in now. He stripped off the lunch clothes stiff with exertion, and immersed himself in the warm water of Sarai’s tub. The feel of the hot liquid on his taut muscles was a decadent luxury that made him sigh in relief. He lingered for a bit, taking extra time to soap up and get clean before climbing out and toweling off.
He changed into a white shirt and black breeches and tied back his hair. Still a bit unsteady on his feet, he headed toward the main hall. One of the maids was cleaning in a side corridor.
He nodded to her. “Nemira, I hope you are well this evening.”
The elf girl dropped the cloth she was cleaning with and stared at him.
Bannor looked down at the cloth. He walked over a picked it up and handed it to her. “You might want this.”
She blinked glowing amber eyes and took the cloth from him with stiff fingers. “Uhhh, yes, master Bannor.”
He studied the effect he was having on her. He must be speaking in Elvish. Strange, he couldn’t feel himself doing it. “Nemira, you do not find me hard to understand do you?”
The maid shook her head. She looked scared.
“I have to find Sarai. Have you seen her?”
Nemira nodded and pointed into the main quarters.
“Thanks, pleasant speaking with you, good evening.”
She bowed to him.
He turned away. He was barely three steps down the hall when he heard her scrambling to another part of the house. That might put an end to all the talk going on behind his back.
He found Sarai and Wren in the main conference circle. The blonde savant was dressed for dinner in a blue silk gown, with fancy earrings and necklaces. He’d never seen her wear clothes like those. She was even more pretty than he imagined she’d be.
Sarai was also dressed for a formal dinner, in a shiny black gown with gold chasing. She had her silvery hair up, and an assortment of gold jewelry on. Seeing her fancied up always made his breath catch and his heart beat faster.
“Wren, you’re back.”
“That I am,” the blonde savant replied. “Sarai has been telling me about your interesting afternoon.”
“How are you feeling, my One?” she asked him, smiling and holding a hand out to him.
Without the ache in his head he recognized that she had spoken in Elvish. His instinct, without any real thought on his part was to respond in kind. “Better,” he answered, bending and giving her knuckles a kiss. “Much better. I am glad something worked and I did not go through it all for nothing.” He came around the couch and sat next to Sarai. She snuggled up next to him.
Wren raised an eyebrow. “Whoa, that’s impressive. I knew quick-teach could do such stuff, but was always afraid to try it. You sound like a native, Bannor!”
He frowned. “The weird thing is I can’t even feel myself do it. I know it’s good for scaring the maids at least. They always talk behind my back—I wished Nemira a good evening and she almost fainted.”
Wren laughed
.
“It’s the Dykreeni accent,” Sarai said. “It’s very hard to master, few if any humans ever get that level of proficiency.” She paused looking into his eyes. “Your people rarely live long enough. You talking like that would be—disturbing. The natural thought is that you’ve been feigning not to know Elvish.”
“I can see why that might scare them, I know they say bad things behind my back.”
“I have yet to catch even a glimmering of that.”
“You won’t either. They’re far too smart to get caught.”
“So, what else did you learn?” Wren asked.
He frowned. “I don’t know. I know what I was supposed to learn.”
“Which was?”
“Reading and writing in common, speaking, reading, and writing in Elvish, all the necessaries for the wedding ceremony, and how to take care of Sarai and the baby.”
“Run that last by me again?” Wren said, leaning her head to one side.
“I asked to be taught to how to do that thing with the energy like you do.”
“You did?” Sarai smiled at him.
“That’s what I asked for.”
“Whoa,” Wren shook her head. “No wonder you had a headache.”
He sighed. “Right.” He lolled his head on Sarai’s shoulder. “So, you two are all dressed up. Where are we going?”
“You have to perform, remember?”
“Perform? I was just going to play the pipes to satisfy you and your mother.”
“Well, Father wants to hold a little party and invite some of the Felspar clan over, since they will be taking care of me.”
Wren put a hand to her chest. “Family Kergatha has been asked to moderate.”
“Moderate?”
Wren frowned. “It’s a fancy way to say we’ll be there to do introductions. It’s on short notice, so I don’t know how many of the Felspars will actually show up.”
He let out a breath. “Anyone else showing up?”
“Well, all of our circle of friends and relatives of course,” Sarai answered. “There might be a few others.”
He looked around at the dim light coming in through the veranda shudders. “So, when does it start?”
“Another half bell or so. I explained to mother what you were going through and we both decided to give you a reprieve until a little later.”
He frowned at her. “How magnanimous of you.”
“My One, I was serious. A deal is a deal. In fact,” she rose from the couch and went to some cabinets and looked through a few drawers. “Ah.” She pulled out what looked like a series of silver tubes held together with slats of wood. She came back with the strange and dreaded object in hand and held it out to him.
“Pipes,” he grumbled. He took the odd contraption from her. It felt odd now, not cold and clumsy like before. His fingers seemed to naturally curve toward the key tone reeds.
He thumbed the feed valve on the bottom. The object didn’t seem alien anymore. Strange.
“So,” Sarai urged. “Play.”
“Now?”
“Yes, now, best to know now so you don’t disappoint Mother in front of a crowd of people.”
He let out a breath. He still didn’t know how to play the damn things. What was the middle note the maestro had taught him? He lifted the pipes to his mouth, drew a breath, thumbed the feed and fingered the valves.
He blew.
Even this simple thing had been a challenge in the past, just to make a passably pure sound. This time with barely any preparation, he blew a single clear unwavering note.
He pushed the pipes away and stared at them. He glanced at Sarai. His wife to be leaned her head to one side. Wren looked at him and smiled.
“Well,” Sarai said. “That’s a good start.”
Bannor furrowed his brow. This knowing and not knowing was so confusing. Did he or didn’t he?
He pulled the pipes close and thought of the tune that he had heard Corim playing earlier in the day. He remembered back to the Maestro’s demonstrations and considered the things he must do.
He drew a breath, positioned his fingers and blew. The first note and then the second. After several notes he stopped. Something didn’t feel right. Something in him wanted something else.
Fishing around he moved to the steps before the main door and positioned himself on the stone flags. He closed his eyes and blew out a breath. Tapping his foot he set a time. Placed his fingers, and exhaled a long tremulous note then trailed into the next. The melody seemed to flow from him, his fingers moving without thought, his breaths measured to take fermatas and cross bridges. It seemed to take a long time but like awaking from a dream he realized he’d stopped.
He looked down to Sarai. Tears streaked her face and her violet eyes were shiny with emotion. She had grabbed a pillow from the couch and was hugging it tight.
“Star? What’s the matter?”
She blinked at him with dewy eyes. “Bannor,” she said in rough voice. “That was beautiful.”
“Does that mean I pass?”
She rose from the chair came and put her arms around him. “It means I love you…”
* * *
Chapter Twenty-Three
Party Crashers
« ^ »
It had been over a millennia since I last saw a garmtur. I am both pleased and appalled by one with so much of Gaea’s gifts. He bears the burden well, this young one, and cares about his brothers and sisters. That at the very least is commendable.
—Damay Alostar,
Senior Kel’Varan, retired
Sarai dressed him in new colors for the party, this time far more reserved. She and Wren finished primping in front of Sarai’s mirror, or more specifically, Sarai helped Wren with the details. The blonde savant while pretty, didn’t have a refined sense of court coiffure and skin powder. Sarai fussed over her, which was a surprise to Bannor. She had always been relatively derogatory of the blonde woman with terms like ‘show-off’ and ‘know-it-all’.
His princess was not one for overt decoration, but like everything she did, she did it well; especially with three attendants to assist.
Word of his being able to understand Elvish had apparently spread fast, and much of the tittering that he heard in the background was absent.
Refastening an earring, Wren stood up and turned around. She looked to him where he’d been sitting on a bench watching the whole procedure. “So, what do you think?”
Sarai came and stood behind Wren, hands on her shoulders. When they had first met, she and Wren had been about the same height. Now Sarai was much taller, able to put her chin on the top of blonde woman’s head if she chose.
Wren was a powerful little package, the drape of the soft blue fabric accenting her trim physique especially the bare midriff that showed off her flat stomach. With her blonde hair brushed to a bright sheen and coiled on her head she looked every bit the nobility she was.
“You look like the fetching daughter of a baron that you are,” he responded. “If you looked like that more often you’d probably be married three times over.”
She sighed and rubbed the back of her neck. “Maybe.”
“Are we ready?” he asked.
Sarai nodded. She looked down at Wren. “He’s right, you know. I’m surprised you don’t have a permanent attachment already.”
Wren shook her head. “One half of the men are too challenged by a girl who can protect herself. The other half get killed by my enemies.” She let out a breath. “It still hurts to be honest. I’m afraid I’ll get someone else I care for killed.”
“Oh come now,” Sarai said, taking Wren by the hand and gesturing Bannor to follow. “Your three best friends have husbands.”
“Are you one of my best friends now?” Wren asked Sarai with a raised eyebrow.
His wife-to-be smiled. “Might as well be, it’ll keep us from killing each other!”
Wren laughed. “There is that.”
“What about that fellow Thanos?” Bannor
asked. “He seemed to think you were already engaged. I imagine he’s pretty durable.”
“What’s this?” Sarai asked.
“One of Aarlen Frielos’ sons,” Wren filled in. “She’s been trying to get me to work for her for summers since she first saw me kill an avatar. She’s run out of bribes and coercion so she’s working on a different persuasion.”
Sarai leaned her head to one side. “Is he handsome?”
Wren puffed out her cheeks and blew a silent whistle. “Oh yeah, in-your-dreams handsome, well mannered, smart, wealthy…”
“So the problem is?”
“He’s Aarlen’s son.”
“Is she bad?” Sarai asked. “I mean I’ve heard the legends, but I never put stock in them.”
The door person opened the main entrance door for them. Sarai nodded to the elderly elf. They turned down the corridor toward Kul’Amaron. Their footsteps echoed in the long passage.
“She’s not as bad as she used to be,” Wren explained. “The legend was she was evil incarnate. Then the eternals caught her and gave her an attitude adjustment. She’d been reformed for about a decade when I first met her and she was scariest creature I’d ever met.”
“She’s still scary,” Bannor added. “It’s different though, the hostility isn’t there, but the potential for violence still is.”
Wren pointed a finger at him. “That’s it exactly! I couldn’t put it into words myself. When I knew her at first she was aggressive and ruthless, she didn’t care a whit about who or what she destroyed to get what she wanted. Now…” Her voice trailed off as they climbed the steps to the bridge-way that would take them to the inner bastion. “Now…s-she—she’s—nice. It’s a creepy nice though. Hard to describe.”
“She would kill without a qualm,” Bannor said. “Killing a bug, a person, or a world are all the same to her—it just requires the necessary provocation or justification.”
“She sounds like one bad lady,” Sarai remarked with wide violet eyes. Her voice echoed in the passage and flattened out as they left the confines of the building out into railed walkway. It was already night outside, and the dome of the heavens gleamed with stars. Bright firelight flickered from the windows of the citadel and a particularly bright shaft of illumination shone into the sky from high up in the structure. “So, I suppose the prospect of being related to her is pretty daunting.”
Reality's Plaything 3: Eternal's Agenda Page 40
