“I have heard that you’ve been quite busy lately, off in the Wild and all that kind of business.”
“Yes?” Selric said curiously. “I would think with all the business going on lately that my travels would be insignificant.”
“You wouldn’t happen to have had any adventures recently; say, in the last week, near Silvershot Way?”
“Not that I can recall,” Selric lied. Mendric knew of his brother’s trip to the Fiend’s house.
“If you have accusations,” Mendric said sharply, rising from his seat, “state them in court, before the King, as is our right as born and titled nobility.” Faldir fidgeted, then cleared his throat. “Should I send word to my father…and grandfather…that the Stormweathers are suspect in strange happenings?”
“Sir Stormweather, please sit down. I’m afraid you misunderstand me. I have come to beseech the great Stormweather family for aid. I have been given a task to catch a criminal I cannot find.” Faldir rose and looked at Alanna. “My dear, would you please come over here?”
She looked up from where she sat, genuinely surprised. “Me?”
“Yes,” he said, smiling wearily. “You have nothing to fear.” She approached and he sniffed her neck, causing her to giggle and step back slightly. Faldir stood as if thinking, then pulled a piece of vellum from his cloak. He unfolded then smelled it, then sniffed the air near Alanna another time. The Stormweathers looked at each other curiously.
“Is this your writing?” he asked her, holding the note before Alanna, without giving her enough time to read it. “Is that your perfume?” She denied both, but Selric recognized the paper, and the flowing script. He could tell from where he stood that the letter was the note he had watched Cinder pen in her room after they returned from the Fiend’s home and its simple creation in her room lent it her aroma.
“Do you know anything about it?” he asked Selric, who played coyly ignorant. Mendric truly was ignorant in that part of the tale. “Please, I beg you Master Stormweather. If you can help, I need it. Desperately. The King will have my head if I do not find this villain very soon. And our people are dying.” He looked pleadingly, his face lined with wrinkles of immense worry. “I received this letter last week. It had been wrapped around an arrow and shot into the wall of one of our barracks.” He raised the letter and began to read it aloud.
“To the Watch: The man you should be looking for is known as Olaf Svenson. He lives at 232 Silvershot Way and owns a leather shop. When I was there, the Fiend, Olaf Svenson, had just fled. I found three dead bodies there, freshly killed. Put out the word, gentlemen, and stop the murders.” He handed the note to Selric. “It isn’t signed,” Faldir said, “as you can see.” Selric could smell the perfume. While actually in Cinder’s room, one could notice the smell of perfumes, lotions, and powders. “Everything must come out tainted,” he thought with a chuckle, since they had not purposely scented the note.
“I will not ask for a confession,” Faldir continued, “but all my years as a constable have taught me intuition. I believe you know something. This note was a great help, and as of last week we were finally able to stir the King into action. Hopefully, it is not too late. But we need more.” He pulled forth another letter and handed it to Mendric. “This is a writ, signed by me, giving the bearer practically free reign throughout the entire city, except, of course, the palace and the noble villas. Use it if it will help you to investigate more quickly without hindrance. If any resist you, show this to any member of the Watch, and they will do as you bid. Anything you find will help my investigation. Now, thank you for your time, and, by the way, if you truly know nothing of this, spreading any of the privileged information is punishable by death.” He took Cinder’s note. “Good-bye. I can see myself out,” he said, turning and marching away, pulling the doors closed behind him.
Alanna sat on Selric’s lap, while the men stared at each other. “Well?” Mendric asked.
“Well, what?” Selric replied.
“Is that the note?”
“Yes.”
“What are you going to do?” asked Mendric.
“I haven’t a clue. Start looking, I guess. With this.” He reached over and grabbed the writ. Mendric released it.
“Keep me informed,” Mendric said. “I’d like to help, but investigating is not my business, and I’m still a little swamped with the estate. If you find this guy, let me know, and I’ll dispatch him promptly.” Selric nodded and rose, setting Alanna down and walking off. She trotted after.
“Selric, what is all this talk? Is that why you’ve been so preoccupied?” Alanna asked.
“Bah…it’s nothing my dear,” he said with a shake of his head. “I don’t want you to know anything about it. I’ll take care of it, and you stay in this house until I say different,” Selric said very sternly. Alanna looked belligerently at him. “If you love and care for me...” he added, his anger fading and concern evident as he raised his finger in her face, “...I have enough worries without adding your safety to it.” Alanna smiled slightly and nodded in obedience, leaning in and setting her cheek to his shoulder. She felt capable of taking care of herself. Being a pampered noble lass was unfamiliar to her, but she could grow to love it. That was what worried her.
The five friends sat in the booth at The Unicorn’s Run once more, Cinder in the corner; Fiona, then Selric on one side. Melissa, then Dirk on the other. They had all nearly forgotten their troubles, hoping since the Watch was now fully on the hunt, maybe things would be safer: that they would not have to find, confront and kill the massive Fiend. They drank and discussed their adventures and the other strange things that had happened in their lives. Cinder, as usual, flirted with the most handsome of the men in the bar, ignoring her friends’ conversations. But every meeting she returned to be with those she loved. She simply liked being there, being cared for and thought about after she made love to them, after she left, after all was said and done; being desired because she thought differently and did things differently. She was ever -pleasant, ever-supportive and ever-loving. These were traits Cinder herself had come to nary appreciate, but if her friends liked these facets of her, she knew that they truly liked her inside, as a person, not just her heavenly flesh.
No one spoke of the Fiend or what they were going to do about him, It. They didn’t speak of the future at all. The present and the past were all they cared about this night. But Fiona and Dirk knew that It still preyed upon Selric’s mind; he was quiet and distant at times, coming back to his amiable nature as if forcing himself. That evening, though, he felt more at ease than he had since that last meeting with It, just as he had that day in Alanna’s arms and it reflected in his calming mood. The “wolf” attack worried him and he knew it was more than coincidence; the creatures were more than wild wolves that had found some underground way into the city, but he refrained from speaking of it.
The friends spent two consecutive nights in this way, reveling in each others’ company. The second night, Cinder even paid attention to them, telling them of things elven, and answering questions about the differences such as, “What’s the biggest difference between elves and humans?” Fiona had asked. Cinder thought for a moment.
“Relationships to other beings,” she answered. “Elves view humans as children, some good, some bad, but all have goodness inside them somewhere: children who still have much growing to do before they can be accepted as equals. We take joy in other creatures, especially the innocent woodland animals, driven by nature, not personal desires. These are who we seek to dwell with, but we’ll take creatures like humans in small doses. Humans, however, view themselves as the masters of the world, with all other beings subject to their interpretations of what life is and how life will exist.”
“That’s a very dark view of us, Cinder,” Selric said.
“But you agree,” Cinder said arrogantly. He nodded slowly.
“Most of us,” Selric said.
“Most,” Cinder agreed with a friendly smile.
&
nbsp; “What about half-elves?” asked Fiona. “How different are you?”
“Oh,” Cinder smiled proudly, “we’re much different than both our parent races. We’re much more passionate to all others.”
“I believe it,” Dirk said quietly. Cinder smiled slyly at him.
“This comes from the very fiber of our nature: the love required to create life from two such diverse peoples. We have the curiosity of humans with the patience of the long-lived Faeries. We’re semi-empathic, able to feel strong emotions in all others, though I found that alcohol negates this, which is why I like it so much. It blocks out everyone else’s feelings, which naturally puts me more in tune with my own; heightening my own passions. Some sages believe that if strongly enough moved, we can actually send out emotion, and influence others. Like, if I were feeling very passionate, they think it would make my mate feel heightened passion in his or herself.” She smiled slyly at each of them.
“Is that why it’s so...” Dirk started, then fell silent. Cinder nodded and smiled.
“What did you like before coming to Andrelia?” Selric asked. “What kind of things did you do when you were with the elves?”
“Well,” she thought, “let’s see. Mm, well. I liked walking in the forest, and small animals, singing in the sunshine on a grassy knoll. There was a calm pool surrounded by the most beautiful violet flowers where I loved to dip my feet and commune with nature. Elven things. That’s how I was raised, but when I met humans, I was so intrigued that they influenced my likes and how I thought. I think now I’m more human than elven, but I don’t know for how long. I don’t know how long this human passion can continue.”
“Hopefully not long,” Dirk mumbled.
“Why?” she asked sweetly. “Don’t you like the way I am when we make love?”
Dirk shrugged and looked embarrassed. “Yeah,” he then said dumbly, “but it would be different if you weren’t so passionate with everyone.”
Cinder smiled and shrugged helplessly. “I can’t stop. Not yet. There’s so much more I need to know about you, all of you; humans I mean. To you, all passion stems from your drive to procreate; to mate. To control that passion in myself would put limits on all my other feelings and separate me even farther from the ones I wish to learn about. I truly do it to sympathize, to be like you all, not for the physical pleasure of it, Dirk, though I cannot deny that it feels unbelievably wonderful.” She looked sincerely at him, her brows raised. “To ask me to stop studying this way would be like asking you to not adventure again.”
“I would,” he said seriously without hesitation, to the surprise of them all. “If you’ll stop, I will.” Cinder smiled at his earnestness and the fact that he cared so much that he would give up his dreams. “You’re gonna get hurt one of these days,” he said scowling.
“Oh, Dirk. You worry too much,” she said, reaching past Melissa to gently stroke his cheek. “No one would want to hurt me, not in a bad way. Our adventure showed that. Those ratmen didn’t hurt me, did they? They treated me like some goddess.”
“So you won’t settle down and stop being such a...” he stopped himself, just short of saying something he meant but never said, not wanting to hurt Cinder’s feelings.
“What?” she asked, “a slut, whore, sleeze, tramp? What word did you have in mind? Even if I had as much ‘sex’ with as many people as you seem to think, what is so horrible about it? What is so wrong in sharing intimacy with another? Is it so different than a shared conversation, coming together in body instead of in mind. Why is it a thing to be hidden behind doors and walls and frowned upon when it is so very natural and part of the world? Someday I may see it with your eyes, but sitting here right now I cannot fathom it. Making intimacy into something to be shunned baffles me beyond reason.” She looked, not unhappily, at him, a look of skeptical curiosity on her face. Dirk shook his head in abstinence and refused to continue speaking about it. Cinder smiled in understanding at his frustration, as he gazed down at the table. Melissa fidgeted between them. Melissa wondered then why Dirk was so worried about making Cinder chaste when Melissa was what he seemed to be looking for in that regard.
“Dirk, maybe it will wear off soon,” Fiona said, having heard enough. “She hasn’t even been around humans a year yet, give her a chance.” Cinder didn’t necessarily agree, but if Fiona’s words gave Dirk some security, she didn’t want to dash it, so she smiled at him serenely. Dirk returned her pleasant look.
“Is that why you’re still here? Sex?” Dirk asked.
“Curiosity about humans and the way they live. I told you thirty seconds ago,” she said, then looked straight into Dirk’s eyes. “And, because I love the four people sitting at this table. Can’t you feel it? It is very strong. If the sages were right, then you should feel some inexplicable affinity toward me.” She grinned as if she knew he did, and indeed, she saw his face brighten.
“Is that what your part is?” Dirk uttered, not knowing really what it was he meant, but his mind went back to his lonely walk the night he decided that his friends were worth all of their bad traits, because of how much they all cared for each other.
“Why are you here?” Cinder asked Dirk.
“I guess it was because I had nowhere else to go,” he said. “But now...I like all of you, and I want to be with you.” His discomfort at baring his soul was obvious on his face.
“But what do you want to do? What are you hiding from?” Cinder asked, probing. At first Dirk played ignorant, but under her eyes he felt compelled to answer. Cinder, however, said it for him. “Loneliness. You’re afraid of being alone, and you cling to us.”
“That’s not true,” he said angrily, though he knew, he felt inside, that she was right. “I like you all,” he objected, as if to deny he were there only for selfish reasons.
“We know,” Cinder said softly, and Dirk fell silent. “A man who is admired by other men and desired by women feels alone unless in our company. You do not find that odd? You do not think there is some destiny in that?” Cinder asked as if she knew something they did not.
“I dunno,” Dirk said, looking at her curiously. “What do you think?” he asked, wanting Cinder to share her insight.
But Cinder instead turned to Fiona. “Fiona?” Cinder asked.
“What?” she said nervously, blushing.
“Your reason?” Cinder pressed.
“Come on, Fiona” Selric said, laughing. “Out with it.”
“Only if Selric goes first,” she argued and then Selric grew red, but continued to smile.
“All right. All right,” he said nodding his head at her. “Why am I here? What am I hiding from? Well...my family, I suppose.”
“Deeper,” Cinder murmured.
“Now wait a minute,” he protested, laughing nervously.
“I quit,” Fiona said, trying to get out of the booth and realizing perhaps Cinder was more elven, more intuitive and magical than she portrayed. “I have some things to do.”
“Not so fast,” Selric said, holding Fiona’s slight and firm backside tightly to his lap as she tried to climb over him.
“Selric, we’re waiting,” Dirk—of all people—said, eager to learn something about his friends.
“All right. All right,” Selric repeated.
“You said that already,” Cinder teased.
“Okay. Fine.” He fell silent for a moment, then began to speak softly, “Since I was little, I’ve had this great...great...weight on me. “Selric, you’re a Stormweather. You’re going to be a knight and do what is right. You are going to get married to a nice noble girl, have three kids, serve the King, and uphold the family name,” they told me all day, everyday. There was no leeway. I had no choices in my life at all. It was all laid out. One road; one long straight road with no turnoffs anywhere. Just go straight and uphold the family name. So I started to fail.”
“I can’t imagine you failing at anything,” Dirk said just as softly.
“Not on purpose, anyway,” Fiona added.
“That’s terrible,” Dirk said, his eyes full of compassion. He had idolized Selric since he had known him, wishing he would have lived the young nobleman’s life. Now he saw that it was not as rosy as it appeared. “Well, you’re free now.”
“I don’t know,” Selric mumbled, then smiled wickedly. “Fiona!” he then said, tickling her lean ribs.
“No, no,” she said. “What about Alanna? How does she fit in the story? How about...how about...”
“Now, Fiona,” Dirk demanded loudly, slapping his broad hand on the table.
“Fine,” she said arrogantly, trying to get off Selric’s lap in protest, but he held her tight. “Me? Well, I want to be somebody.”
“More,” Cinder said, shaking her head in disapproval.
“I want to be powerful,” she continued, with a look a defiance to the Faerie. “I want to have power to control things, people, destinies.”
By Moonlight Wrought (Bt Moonlight Wrought) Page 38
