“How can you be scared of the puppies?” Rachel asked.
“I am not scared of them,” Elliot replied with dignity. “I am just not accustomed to them, so I do not trust them.”
He had to admit that the dogs did not seem currently interested in devouring him whole. However, this might change at any moment.
“Cavall, Culaine,” said Luke, and the dogs backed off a little. “You like mermaids and centaurs and stuff, though.”
“They’re not animals,” said Elliot. “I can talk with them, so they’re people. I enjoy intelligent conversation. You know, the polysyllabic kind. I realize you’re still at monosyllables, but I have faith you’ll get there one day.”
“Uh-huh,” said Luke, not doing anything to justify said faith.
Elliot regarded the dogs with suspicion, then glanced up at Luke, who was looking at him. It was a moment of mutual embarrassment: they were not used to being without Serene, and yet they should obviously pretend to be friends, or Luke’s mother would wonder why Elliot was here.
“The thing is,” Elliot announced. “I think I left the oven on in—”
“Mum,” said Luke, rudely interrupting. “Can we have the key to the library?”
“The library?” Elliot asked, diverted from his purpose.
“My Great-Uncle Theodore was wounded in the Wars of the Rainbow Serpents and couldn’t fight again, so he spent his whole life collecting books,” Rachel said. “Poor old boy. Don’t let the dogs in with you, Luke.”
She took a ring, heavy with keys, off the wide belt slung around her hips, and tossed it to Luke, who caught it easily, and Elliot followed him as he went out of the kitchen and round and round and round the stairs to the very top of the tower, where they stopped at a large oak door.
The library was as big as the one at school, but quieter, with the air of long disuse. Sun streamed through half-closed curtains, and the air was thick with sunlight and silence, with gold and dust. Books rose to the ceiling, which rose to a point, with ladders that leaned against the walls.
“Is it OK to touch the books without gloves?”
“Why would you need gloves to touch a book?” Luke asked. Elliot decided that meant yes.
He climbed one of the ladders to get to one glinting embossed spine, to see if it could possibly be what he hoped it was going to be. It was.
He climbed down the ladder to display his prize to Luke.
“1,000 Leagues Across a Sea of Blood,” Luke said. “That’s a good title.”
The subtitle was Sea Monsters Demanding Sacrifice, Fanged Octopi & Murderous Mermaids I Have Known.
“It’s the account of a famous exploring party told by Maximilian Wavechaser. This voyage is how his family got their name,” Elliot explained, going over to the window and pulling the curtains open. He climbed onto the broad wooden windowseat built into the window, which was many-paned and also rose to a point, like a window in church. Luke climbed up to sit on the other side, and Elliot turned the pages until he found some of the drawings of the great naval battle four hundred years ago, made out in cerulean and gold, which he thought Luke would like.
In return Luke said that he did think it was possible that the mermaids of the deep sea communicated through hand gestures rather than speech, and asked Elliot to read the awful bit about battle tactics again. There were accounts of notable seafaring voyages undertaken in the last century at the end, including the journey led by Captain Whiteleaf’s father twenty years ago. It was a long and fascinating book, and Elliot was surprised when Luke said that he had to set the table for dinner.
“Have you boys been in the library all day?” Rachel asked, amazed. She ruffled Luke’s hair as he went by with the cutlery. “Who are you?”
“Elliot found a good book,” Luke said.
“I didn’t miraculously find the only book in there that was good,” Elliot argued.
Luke gave a tiny shrug. “I don’t know that. I’ve looked at other books in that library, and they’re boring.”
“You don’t know anything,” Elliot told him severely. “Statistically, you have to see that book being the only good one is not at all likely. The problem is you don’t get books. You tend to be an auditory or kinesthetic learner.”
“Hey!” said Luke.
Elliot was going to tell him that it wasn’t an insult, but then he decided it would be more hilarious not to. “I wish I had a radio,” he said. “They do readings of the classics on Sunday afternoons.”
“What’s a radio?” asked Rachel, while Luke sulked about being called a kinesthetic learner.
Elliot gave some thought about how to describe it. “It’s a magic box that says stuff and plays songs.”
“A music box?” Luke asked, scornfully. “We have music boxes.”
“No!” said Elliot. “It plays quite different songs.” He thought about the classic hits he listened to at home, filling his whole empty house with song, something that a mother might like, and sang a few lines of “When I’m Sixty-Four.” Rachel beat time on the lid of her pot.
“You have a nice voice, kid,” she said. “You could be a minstrel.”
“Oh, thank God, there are other jobs for people besides being a weird conscripted soldier on the Border camp,” Elliot said. “Logically there had to be, someone has to make the food, the world would be stupid and make no sense otherwise. But I was terrified it was all dumb killing people in the face.”
“Excuse you?” said a voice from the door. “Being a soldier is the noblest profession in the world.”
“Killing people in the face is a downside,” Elliot said. “You have to admit that. I’m Elliot Schafer, by the way.”
“Adam Sunborn,” said the boy, marching in. “And this is my brother, Neal.”
The two boys clattered in, walking as if they owned the room and possibly the world. They were Sunborns, clear as a fine day: big and blond and blue-eyed. They looked like practise sketches of Luke, before the artist had got him right. They spent all of dinnertime talking about how they hadn’t gone to the Border camp because they had been born and raised to fight, and Luke shouldn’t have either but should have come to serve in one of the lesser fortresses with them and learned through action.
“He could have been our comrade-in-arms,” said Neal.
“I’ve got one,” said Luke. “Her name’s Serene.”
“A girl?” Adam sneered.
“I think you should meet her,” said Luke, deceptively mild.
“I don’t think you need any more of this delicious stew, Adam,” said Rachel.
“I deplore violence in all its forms,” said Elliot. “But she’d kick your ass.”
“Why wait until Serene’s here?” inquired Louise, coming in late and mussed with her dark-haired friend, who would have been very pretty standing beside anyone but Louise. “I’ll kick both the brats off the tower as soon as dinner’s over.”
Louise spoke with friendly menace, and Rachel hit Adam’s hand when he reached for more food with a spoon. Neal and Adam didn’t pursue an argument, but Elliot saw their darkling look at him when he spoke, and knew they did not like him.
He hadn’t expected them to.
The next day Elliot figured that Luke would probably wish to do one of the awful things he enjoyed, something outside involving weaponry, and so like an excellent and considerate guest he decided to entertain himself.
Since he was pretty sure Luke would expect him to be in the library, Elliot acquired a book and cunningly hid out of doors. He wandered around the woods for a little while until he found a tree that he thought looked appropriate and comfortable, then carefully stowed his chosen book into his hoodie and climbed up into it.
He was reading peacefully for an hour or so in the green-glowing quiet, until he heard the sound of twigs snapping underfoot and bodies shoving through the undergrowth. He looked down and saw the glint of two blond heads, and Adam Sunborn looking up at him.
“Well, well,” he said. “Look, Neal. There’
s a snotty little bird up in a tree.”
“That’s not a terribly good insult,” said Elliot. “The mixed metaphors, with the bird and the snotty thing, it doesn’t work. Maybe if you’d just called me obnoxious. Wait, I’m sorry, should I define obnoxious for you?”
He was not terribly surprised when Adam grabbed one of the lower-hanging branches. He expected him to climb up, but instead Adam shook it violently. Elliot clutched his book protectively and fell out of the tree.
Falling out of the tree was extremely unpleasant. A branch bashed him on the face on his way down, he hit his head, and his whole body felt jarred by the stupid ground. Elliot levered himself up on one elbow.
“Wow,” he said, tasting blood in his mouth. “That was a witty retort. I certainly have learned the error of my ways, and that I should hold you in far higher regard!”
Adam strode toward him, and Elliot was just considering whether he was going to get punched or kicked when Luke emerged from the trees and knocked Adam off course.
“Where have you been?” Elliot demanded.
“Looking for you!” Luke snapped back. “How was I supposed to know you were off hiding in trees, you lunatic?”
“Don’t be rude to me when you’re rescuing me, loser,” Elliot told him. “That’s terrible manners. You’re the worst.”
Luke made an incoherent sound of rage, which for some reason seemed to encourage Adam Sunborn, who moved toward Elliot. Luke held up a hand.
“You’re not doing it!” said Luke. “Where’s the honor in hurting someone who’s not as strong as you? What does that prove?”
“It might stop him being such a brat,” Adam suggested.
“Doesn’t,” Elliot contributed. “This is not the first time somebody’s ever wanted to punch me in the face.”
Luke frowned for some reason, but supported him by saying: “That is obviously true. He’s extremely annoying.”
“See, you two are not original souls. Kids at my old school used to hit me all the time, I have collected the data on this subject, and I am in the perfect position to tell you that it has no useful results whatsoever. It just means I’m bleeding as well as annoying.”
“Also, the value of someone does not rely on their ability to hurt others,” said Luke. “You guys aren’t proving you’re better than him if you knock him out of a tree.”
Neal’s lip curled as he looked down at the ground where Elliot was still lying. It didn’t seem a great idea to get up, when the two Sunborn cousins were obviously dying to knock him down again, plus his head and his face hurt. Elliot touched his mouth, and his fingers came away red.
Neal said: “What value does he have, exactly?”
Luke had to give it some thought, which Elliot found offensive. Eventually, he said: “He’s clever about some things. And he makes up songs.”
“No, I don’t,” said Elliot, even more vastly offended.
“Yes, you do,” said Luke. “You sang the song to me and Mum.”
“That was not my song,” said Elliot. “That song belongs to the Beatles.”
Luke rolled his eyes. “Elliot, beetles do not write songs.”
“Uh, do you guys mind?” Adam demanded.
“Oh, I’m sorry, are we not paying enough attention to you loathsome weasel bullies?” Elliot inquired. “Do you feel your dignity as someone who pushes little kids out of trees is somehow being slighted?”
“You’re not a little kid, Elliot,” said Luke.
“I’m considerably below average height!” Elliot snapped.
“Oh my God, what a little snot,” exclaimed Adam, and surged forward. Luke was suddenly in his way, pushing him back with a small shove that obviously made Adam more mad.
Violence was like that, Elliot had noticed. One move toward it and all at once everything was allowed: anyone could be hurt, out of a mix of pride and anger and stupid disregard for the fact that you could be hurt as easily as someone else.
“You think you can take both of us?” Adam asked.
A corner of Luke’s mouth kicked up. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I really think I can.”
Neal started forward, then stopped abruptly because the end of a whip had sailed out from among the trees and curled itself around his wrist.
“I do not like to hit a gentleman,” Serene said, emerging from behind a screen of leaves, “but since you are responsible for shedding the blood of the defenceless, I am prepared to make an exception.”
“Serene!” Elliot exclaimed. “You’re here! And you’re my hero!”
He was fully prepared to swoon.
“You’re the elf girl, then?” asked Neal Sunborn.
“I am Serene-Heart-in-the-Chaos-of-Battle. Keep a civil tongue in your head or lose it.”
Neal and Adam stared at her.
“Are you going to make your name known to me, knaves?” Serene asked dangerously.
“Neal Sunborn,” said Neal, getting a look that Elliot had seen before on the faces of boys in the war-training course about to be soundly beaten by Serene: both hunted and smitten. “This is my brother, Adam.”
“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Elliot said conversationally to Luke. “If they’re your mum’s sister’s kids, how are they Sunborns too?”
Serene frowned. “It makes perfect sense. Of course the children bear their mother’s name. The woman is the strong one, who bears the child and begins the family. You can’t be sure who any child’s father is.”
Elliot considered. “That’s a good point, actually. It’s why the Egyptians married their sisters.”
“I don’t know that family,” Serene said, “but that does not seem to me like a good solution.”
Adam and Neal looked defeated by the whole situation—having to fight a girl who was looking pityingly down on them, and the way people kept having conversations without including them. When Luke began to explain that while actually a lot of men took the Sunborn name when they married Sunborn women—having met Rachel and Louise, Elliot thought he understood—his mother and father were both born Sunborns, from different branches of the family, because the Sunborns were a vast clan and long might their glory shine, so on et cetera. Which made Serene start talking about the house of Chaos.
At which point, Adam and Neal gave up and simply slunk away.
The rest of the stay at Luke’s house, graced with Serene’s shining presence, was rather nice. There was sunlight and the woods and Rachel Sunborn, and the dogs proved to be all right after all—Culaine was Elliot’s favorite. Sometimes everybody would get together and play terrible games, like throwing knives at trees who had done nobody any wrong. Elliot would fetch a book at those times, but he was obscurely gratified to see that either Luke or Serene always won.
The only real problem came at the end of the holiday, when Rachel and Louise Sunborn had to ride away with a border patrol in order to deal with a gang of brigands who were waylaying people on the northern roads.
She and her men were gone all day, and still gone when it was time for bed.
Elliot finished his book in bed and pondered going to get another one. He only had so much time left, and he had so many books to get through. He slipped out of bed, and as he was making his way to the library he stopped to investigate the fact that a candle was still burning in Luke’s room.
“What are you doing here,” said Luke in a flat voice, who was staring at the ceiling. Elliot didn’t see why he needed a candle to look at the ceiling. It wasn’t going anywhere.
Elliot came to a decision. “I’ve come to bother you.”
“Isn’t it enough to bother me every day, all day? Do you have to bother me through the night as well?”
“Yes. You shouldn’t sleep with animals, I’m sure it’s unsanitary. Come here, Culaine,” said Elliot, and when both dogs shuffled over across the bedclothes to be patted, Elliot pushed Cavall gently away. “Not you. Culaine’s my favorite.”
Luke sat up. His blond hair was sticking straight up: he looked like an offended dandeli
on. “They’re both good dogs. You can’t have a favorite.”
“Of course I can, loser,” said Elliot. “I’m very judgmental.”
The door creaked open and Serene stood in it, looking severe and beautiful in her sensible black pajamas. “Oh good, you’re here,” she said to Elliot. “You can administer manly sympathies and sweet comfort.”
“I could,” said Elliot haughtily, “but I have no intention of doing so.”
“I was worried that you would be fretting, Luke,” Serene continued. “I know how boys do.”
“Get out of my room, both of you,” said Luke, and put a pillow over his own face.
Serene climbed up on the bed as well, and entered into an argument with Elliot about which was the finer dog. Serene thought Cavall was the best at hunting: Elliot was firm in his conviction that he did not care.
When the riders came home from battle it was so late the darkness was turning to light again, as if the moon had dissolved in the sky and flooded it with pale radiance. They rode home victorious, and Serene and Luke ran downstairs with the rest of the household.
Elliot stood at Luke’s window and saw the torchlight falling on triumphant, desperate, and grieving faces alike, saw Luke, Neal and Adam in a cluster of children relieved their parents were safe. He saw Rachel Sunborn with her gold-ringed fist raised in triumph, and Louise with her hair shining like gold on the horse beside her mother. He saw the empty saddles of those who had not come home.
He said, aloud into the night wind and with no one to hear: “I find war very annoying.”
Everyone else seemed to think that the whole situation was perfectly all right, because the Sunborns had prevailed. It put Elliot into a terrible mood.
Not too long after, it was time to go back home. Rachel talked cheerfully about how much she was sure they would enjoy the second year of camp at the Border: more swordplay, larger bows. There would be piles of weapons, which was about as enticing a prospect to Elliot as piles of cat poop.
In Other Lands Page 7
