“How long do you think he has left?” he asked, once they were in the hallway.
“Without knowing what is wrong with him, I cannot say.” Linis wiped his eyes. “He was once a noble elf, strong and proud. It pains me deeply to see what has become of him.”
“Do you think he knows anything at all that could help us? Maybe without even being aware of it, I mean.”
Linis shrugged. “There’s no way to tell. Whatever is happening to him might have opened his memory, but it has also severely clouded his mind. I cannot even say how he was able to recognize you as Gewey’s son. As things are, I suspect that he cannot be of much assistance.”
After asking one of the servants for Ursil’s whereabouts, they were directed to a parlor where they found her sitting at a small desk, poring over a ledger. A look of consternation was carving deep lines across her forehead.
“I have no mind for this sort of thing,” she muttered grumpily. “Lord Broin was supposed to send one of his men here weeks ago to sort this out.”
“What’s wrong?” asked Jayden.
She shoved the ledger away. “I manage the day to day operations of this manor, while Lord Malstisos always kept the books, ordered the provisions, and dealt with the merchants. Now I’m having to figure it all out on my own. And it’s maddening.”
She took notice of Linis’s grim expression. “Did he fall asleep?” When Linis nodded, she continued: “He’s not always like that, though I must admit his episodes are happening more frequently of late. Goes on and on about the Great War, he does. Do you think you can help him?”
“I’m afraid not. Whatever ails him is beyond my skills.”
“I thought so. Thank you for trying, though. How long will you be staying with us?”
“Not long,” said Linis. “But I will return.”
“That’s good. He needs his friends, now more than ever.”
Jayden couldn’t help but wonder if his father would somehow be able to cure the elf. After all, he was a god. Then again, if he had already been here and seen Malstisos’s condition, why hadn’t he helped him then? Despite what people thought, were the powers of a god actually more limited than they believed? The stories suggested there was virtually nothing they couldn’t do. Healing of all kinds was reputed to be well within their capabilities.
Ursil told them that she had sent word to Amon Dahl, and that they should treat the manor as if it were their own home while they waited for a response.
Jayden wanted to spend the time exploring Baltria, but Linis fiercely opposed the notion, warning that it was far too dangerous until they knew more about what was going on and who precisely had sent their attackers. While Linis went off alone to retrieve their belongings from the inn, a disappointed Jayden settled for strolling through the manor, along the way taking an increasing interest in the artwork that was displayed on nearly every wall and in every corner.
Though the house retained its comfortable quality throughout, in the lesser-used portions the décor became far more elegant. Even Millet’s house could not compare to the treasures he came across here. One tapestry in particular caught his eye. It was woven in such fine detail that at first he was close to mistaking it for a painting. The effort and skill that had gone into its crafting must have been enormous. But superb as it was, what caught his attention most of all was undoubtedly the subject matter.
It depicted the final battle between Darshan and the Reborn King, flying high above the desert sands while locked in a mortal struggle. With streaks of blue lightning crashing down from the heavens above, vast gusts of fire and wind swirled around the combatants in a mighty tempest.
Jayden focused on the image of his father. It looked very much like him – almost as if the artist responsible had known exactly what he looked like. His father’s expression was dire, and his eyes burned with white flames.
“That’s my favorite,” called a tiny voice from behind.
Jayden turned to see a young girl, no more than eight years old, with sandy hair and wearing a blue and white dress.
He smiled down at her. “It is? Why is that?”
“Because it’s Darshan, silly,” she replied in a tone that suggested he really should not need to be told this. “He ended the war for us.”
“Yes, he did.” He looked back at his father’s image. “At least, that’s what people say.”
“Of course he did. Why would you say he didn’t?” Her cheeks puffed out and her arms crossed firmly in front of her chest.
Jayden held up his hands. “Calm down. I didn’t say that. What I meant was, sometimes people exaggerate a bit.”
“Not my mother,” she said, stubbornly. “She said that she saw Darshan, and my mother never lies.”
“And just who is your mother?”
“She’s the cook,” the girl replied. “She used to work for King Jacob in Althetas and decided to move us here last year.”
“Why was that?”
The girl shrugged. “I don’t know. Something about the riots.”
“What riots?”
She twisted her tiny face. “Don’t you know anything? Humans and elves don’t get along out there. Well, some of them don’t. Mother says it’s just a bunch of thickheaded idiots who don’t know what’s good for them. They don’t like it that elves have been moving into the cities.”
“And what about you? How do you feel about it?”
She spread her hands. “It doesn’t bother me. They’re like you, most of them.”
Without thinking, Jayden touched his ear. “Like me?”
“You know…nice.”
He pressed his hands to his hips. “And why would you think I’m nice? We’ve only just met.”
“Because Lord Malstisos wouldn’t let you into the house if you weren’t,” she replied flatly. “He doesn’t allow mean elves inside.”
“And what about mean humans?”
“Those too.”
It was then Jacob noticed an ever so slight curve to the girl’s ears. She was a half-elf, he realized. A newbreed, as they were being called. It was little wonder that her mother had brought her here. There was no denying that news came slowly to Sharpstone, but even there they’d heard of the widespread hatred being displayed toward newbreeds.
The girl cocked her head and looked him up and down. Her eyes then widened as realization dawned. “Hey, you’re like me, aren’t you?”
Jayden nodded.
“But you look more like an elf…except for your eyes. Was your father an elf?”
“My mother.”
“Maybe that’s why,” she reasoned.
Jayden at first thought to correct her. His sisters had not inherited the same elven physical characteristics that he had. But the girl seemed pleased with herself, so he decided against it.
“Is your father here?” he asked.
Her expression became sad. “No. He died in a fight just before we moved.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“It’s all right. He’s with the Creator now. I’ll see him again one day.”
“I’m sure you will.”
As quickly as her sorrow had come, it vanished again, replaced by a bright smile. “My name’s Velly,” she said, thrusting out an arm.
He shook her hand and bowed. “Mine is Jayden.”
“Are you staying for dinner?” she asked eagerly.
“I am.”
“Good. Then you can sit beside me. I’ll save you a seat.”
Just then, the sound of a woman calling Velly’s name echoed from far down the hall.
Her shoulders sagged. “That’s my mother. I have to go. She doesn’t like it when I wander off too far.”
“Well, then, you’d better hurry. I don’t want to get you in trouble.”
Flashing him a grin, she set off running. “See you at dinner,” she called out over her shoulder.
Jayden waited until she had disappeared around a corner before walking on in the opposite direction. He’d always had a w
ay with children. His aunt Dina often teased him about it, saying that it meant he would one day be a good father.
“Don’t let the Village Mothers see you,” she would say, whenever she spotted him displaying this skill. “They’ll have you married off in a heartbeat.”
While walking along, he noticed a full-length mirror hanging in one of the antechambers. Pausing, he rolled his shoulders and tucked his hair behind his ears. He really did look like an elf, albeit a rather big one. The elves on the Steppes were broad shouldered and squared jawed. However, it wasn’t his appearance that gave him away; it was his blood. Elves could sense their own kind, and they immediately knew that he wasn’t full-blooded. Most of them he’d encountered so far didn’t seem to care about this, but he knew there were some who would look upon him as nothing but an abomination.
“Who cares what they think?” he said to his reflection before setting off again.
He found Linis reading in the garden and told him about the riots that Velly had spoken of.
“Yes. Some people simply cannot accept change,” he responded. “Elves are just as guilty of this as humans.”
“I wonder why things aren’t that way here?” Jayden remarked.
Linis leaned back in his chair. “Baltrians have always been a welcoming people, certainly when compared to the humans of the west. The elves who came were not seeking conflict, so they were able to fit in. Those who are resistant to change are trying to hold on to a world that no longer exists. There is no place for them here.”
“Is that why some have gone to the desert?”
“Yes. But I don’t think they’ll find what they’re seeking amongst the dunes.”
“What are they hoping to find?”
“A life they can understand.” Linis paused for a moment. “You see, my people – I should say, our people – are still struggling to find a new place in the world. Before the war we had our lands to ourselves. No human dared to enter them. Now the borders are open, and we are no longer detached. And we are vastly outnumbered by humans. It’s simply too much for some of our kin.” He shook his head sadly. “As much as people claim to accept that change is inevitable, in their hearts what they really desire is for things to stay the same.”
Jayden’s thoughts turned to Velly. In his eyes, her bright smile somehow captured the very essence of what the world was gradually becoming. Yet to think that such a beautiful child could also elicit a hatred that drove some people to near madness was beyond his comprehension.
“Anyway, why are you so concerned about the troubles in the west?’ asked Linis.
“The little girl I just met,” he replied. “Her father was an elf.”
A knowing look came over Linis. “I see. Dina and I have discussed this many times. The newbreeds.”
“Aren’t you worried what will happen once you have children?”
“What parent is not afraid for their children?”
“Yes, but most children aren’t threatened with death from the bigotry of others.”
“If only that were true,” Linis sighed. “The fact is, newbreeds are only the most recent addition to the world’s venom. Some people will always find a reason to hate. Fortunately, they are a minority. In the end, what was strange and new gradually becomes common. People grow accustomed to what is happening around them. It might take generations, but it happens eventually.”
He reached over and slapped Jayden on the knee. “Enough of this dark talk. I don’t want you worrying over such things.”
“I wish I didn’t have to,” Jayden responded.
That night at dinner, Malstisos was noticeably absent. As she had promised, Velly saved Jayden a seat beside her at the table. Her mother also introduced herself briefly before returning to the kitchen.
Just like they did back home, Jayden noted that the staff ate in the main dining hall. Malstisos was apparently well thought of by all present, and a toast was made to his recovery. It turned out that most of the gathering originated from the west, though a few had been born in Baltria. Jayden tried to learn what he could from them, but they were reluctant to speak.
“We do not talk about violence at the table, young man,” scolded a woman with a careworn face and silver hair.
“Forgive me,” he said. “I didn’t mean to be rude.”
Velly peppered him with questions about Sharpstone for most of the meal. Jayden was surprised to find anyone interested in the happenings of what amounted to nothing more than a few thousand villagers, some farms, and a handful of shops. Velly, though, did not tire of it in the least.
After they had finished eating, Velly’s mother hurried her off to bed, though not without a great deal of complaining and begging. It wasn’t until her parent’s voice became raised and stern that she finally obeyed. Soon after she had gone, Ursil informed Linis that her lord was now awake and asking for him. Jayden offered to go as well, but Linis thought it best to go alone.
“Malstisos seems distracted by you,” he explained. “In his fragile state of mind, I don’t want to put too much on him.”
Jayden accepted this as being sensible. Then, just as he was about to return to his room, he was invited to join a few of the maids and groundskeepers in a rear garden for an after-dinner gathering. About a dozen or more were there, sipping plum brandy and wine and chatting about trivial subjects.
“So where are you from, lad?” asked a stout gardener. He spoke with a Baltrian accent and his dark eyes bore the creases of middle age.
“Sharpstone,” replied Jayden, accepting a cup of wine from a young man standing close by.
“Is that right? A long way to travel. What brings you to the door of Lord Malstisos?”
“He and Linis are friends,” he explained, not wanting to give too much away.
“I see. And you say you’re from Sharpstone. I didn’t know that elves hailed from there.”
“My father is…human.”
The man gave an embarrassed smile. “Forgive me. But you do look like one...an elf, I mean. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.”
“I’m not offended. People where I’m from don’t make an issue of it. So I never have.”
“Well, you won’t have any problems here either. But you should be careful if you leave Baltria. East as well as west. Foul rumors are spreading.”
“You and your foul rumors,” chirped up a young woman, joining in the conversation. She was sitting on a bench beside a small fishpond. Her flaxen hair was braided down her back, and her blue eyes twinkled in the lamplight. She gave the gardener a disapproving look. “What are you trying to do? Frighten the poor man to death?”
“It’s all right, really it is,” Jayden assured her. “News comes slowly to our village. And even slower to my farm.”
“You’re fortunate,” she said. “The world seems determined to go insane these days. I envy anyone who can stay out of it.”
This remark was met with several nods and murmurs of agreement.
“Bren is right about one thing, though,” she continued. “Outside of Baltria, you should be mindful. Particularly of elves moving east. They don’t like humans, for sure. But they like your kind even less.”
Jayden felt a rush of irritation on hearing the words ‘your kind.’ He didn’t like being made to feel different, even though he was well aware that some people looked down on him. Not that they would ever dare to speak their opinions out loud. When he was just six years old, he had seen his mother beat a man nearly senseless for calling him a half-breed. This young woman wasn’t intending offense, of course. Far from it. The way she had smiled at him suggested something entirely different.
The topic of conversation then changed, and his annoyance was soon forgotten. By midnight, with the wine continuing to flow freely, the gathering was showing no signs of dispersing. Bren, the gardener, began to tell lurid stories of elf plots to kill all of the newbreeds, but he was promptly silenced by the young woman. Her name, Jayden had learned by now, was Leanna. She was well-manner
ed and proper, unlike her more boisterous co-workers, and was not drinking nearly as much.
“Bren means well,” she said, offering him a seat on the bench beside her. “He’s just paranoid at times. He sees plots and schemes everywhere he looks. He actually believes the temples are becoming corrupt, like in the days of the Reborn King.”
Jayden stiffened. “Corrupt in what way?”
“What does it matter?” She gave him a curious look. “Don’t tell me you believe that rubbish too?”
He gave her a reassuring smile. “No. Of course not.” Despite there being ample room on the bench, he became aware that she was sitting very close to him. “So tell me about yourself, Leanna. You seem more…cultured than the others.”
She gave him a tiny smile. “How kind of you to notice. I am in fact a Lady of Althetas. Or to be more accurate, I used to be.”
“What happened?” He blurted out the words before thinking. Fortunately, she didn’t appear to be bothered by the indelicate question.
“My father disgraced our family during the war,” she explained. “He was a spy for the Reborn King. When this was discovered, King Jacob stripped us of our lands and title.”
“I…I’m sorry.”
She touched his hand. “No need to apologize. I was too young to remember any of it. My mother moved me here to get away from the shame he brought upon us. But she made sure I was taught proper etiquette.”
“And what of your father?”
The question just slipped out. Jayden instantly reprimanded himself for continuing to press her on the subject, but Leanna’s reaction remained one of calm acceptance. She was clearly a person who had learned to cope with the past. Or at least, had learned how to hide her pain well.
“He was killed by those from another family just before we left the city. They blamed him for the death of their daughter during the siege of Althetas.”
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked,” said Jayden.
She waved a dismissive hand. “It was a long time ago, and I barely remember him. And if I’m honest, he deserved his fate. I’m happy here in Baltria. I have a good life, filled with friends who love me and whom I love in return. And at least here, I don’t have to worry about the troubles between the races.”
The Godling Chronicles Page 7
