“I have an explanation for what happened to it,” said Elliot.
“What is it?”
“I’m coming up with an explanation,” Elliot amended. “I haven’t thought of one yet, but I’m going to come up with one and it’s going to be good.”
Luke looked slightly amused, but mostly as if he had added “destruction of my private property” to his long list of Elliot’s sins. Elliot rummaged in his bag of illicit goods to fish out one of his T-shirts, since Luke kept looking at all the paint and he’d been scandalized enough for one day. Elliot would plan how to get out of his trousers and into his uniform later, preferably in strict privacy.
“Anyway, why do you do things like this?”
Elliot emerged from his T-shirt to find Luke blinking. “Things like what?” Luke asked.
“Uh, coming and interrupting me at highly personal moments in order to make judgements and ruin my day?”
Luke eyed Elliot with the self-satisfied air that Elliot knew from bitter experience indicated Luke was imminently going to be proven right about everything.
“I told you why I was looking for you last night. Didn’t you wonder why I was looking for you this early in the morning? Serene’s back. I thought you’d want to know. Maybe I was wrong about—”
Elliot never heard the rest of Luke’s sentence. He was too busy running.
Behind him he heard one of his dorm mates shrieking something irrelevant about closing the door.
Elliot threw the door of the meeting room open, and scarcely saw the dignitaries around the crowded table, elves and human alike, all solemn and all staring. She was there, at her mother’s side: tall, straight-backed, clad in green dark as the woods at evening.
Then she was no longer at her mother’s side but in Elliot’s arms, his about her shoulders, hers about his waist, his head bowed into the crook of her neck. He held on hard, breathed in hard, and every sense told him that she was back, she was whole, and he did not ever have to let go of her again.
“Ah well, when virtuous young men are unkind, there is much comfort to be found in the arms of floozies,” said an elf Elliot didn’t recognize, and Serene broke away from Elliot and looked murderous.
“You know that’s right,” said a guy Elliot didn’t know but who was clearly a Sunborn. He was more of a silver lion than a silver fox, and he was speaking in elvish, which was something of a shock. “Gotta love floozies. So which virtuous maidens have been unkind to your young warrior, Sure-Aim-in-the-Chaos-of-Battle? I’d heard she was rather a devil with the gentlemen.”
Sure looked amused rather than stern: Elliot supposed it was beautiful that she found unholy joy in tormenting her only daughter. “Oh, a great many silly gentlemen go sighing after my bad girl. But she has her eye on a very sweet young boy—much too good for my girl—called Golden-Hair-Scented-Like-Summer. Now as battle practice, we have tourneys, and Serene asked leave to wear her chosen gentleman’s colours tied around her arm. She had asked many times before and always been refused. This time her wish was granted and Golden bestowed the requested mark of favor. What Serene did not know as Golden tied the scarf around her arm was that Golden had apparently rolled the scarf in . . .”
“I’m no good at botany,” Elliot said, translating for Louise. “I think the . . . well, from what Sure is saying about the effects, it seems to be a deadlier equivalent of poison ivy. So Serene broke out in a rash and came—last place in the tourney . . .”
“Elliot,” said Serene, “shut up!”
Elliot shut up, but Louise was already laughing, and Sure continued: “Golden said he didn’t believe she was trying to win the tourney for Golden or for anything but her own vainglory, and he thought Serene needs to stop taking men for granted and be—”
“Something like taken down a peg,” Luke whispered in his dad’s ear. “I think?”
“Luke!” Serene exclaimed. Luke looked guilty, but then glanced at his father for approval.
“The lad knows elvish,” said General Lakelost in the hushed tones of one commiserating with friends on a misfortune: “Does he read a lot?”
“No!” said Michael Sunborn.
“His swordsister is an elf,” Elliot pointed out coldly.
“She’s not his swordsister, because he cannot have one, because he is only a boy,” Sure-Aim-in-the-Chaos-of-Battle hissed.
“And so you consider me unworthy,” said Luke in elvish, with a creditable attempt to be formal. “But what if there was a way to prove my worth?”
“Neither he nor my other comrade have the least need to prove their worth,” announced Serene. “And how dare you cast aspersions on Elliot’s virtue while showing yourself to be overly familiar with a famous trollop, Mother! It would break my gentle father’s heart if he knew.”
“Oh, you’re Gregory Sunborn,” Elliot said, gazing at the silver lion in enlightenment.
“The one, the only, the most expensive,” said Gregory Sunborn, former courtesan to the elves, and winked. “It was years before your mother ever met your father, who I am sure is a sweet virtuous creature.”
“He is,” said Serene, boring holes into her mother’s skull with her glare.
Sure looked mildly discomfited.
The elderly elf—and elderly for an elf meant a few lightened tresses among the red hair, and a certain stone-like pallor and fixity of expression—coughed pointedly. “I am uncertain why we have been called to this meeting comprised of harlots and children—”
“This is actually partially a theatrical costume,” said Elliot.
“Oi, don’t call Gregory names just because he spotted a job opening that seemed suited to him due to the long-standing alliance between elves and Sunborns, plus the, well.” Luke’s mother, Rachel, buffed her nails against her jerkin and looked proud. “The general Sunborn joie de vivre. Lust for life, if you will. Passion for . . . passion.”
Elliot, who had known Luke literally for years, raised a skeptical eyebrow.
Luke was blushing. None of the other Sunborns were doing anything of the sort. Louise pulled Elliot into the chair next to her and whispered: “Nice shirt. What’s a sex pistol?”
“Er,” said Elliot.
“Elliot,” Serene said in an awful voice. “Do not tell me that you wore that outfit on a public stage!”
“Oh, he wore a lot less than that,” said Louise. “Up top, Little Red.”
Elliot exchanged a quick high five with her.
“I am uncertain,” the older elf said, in a carrying voice, “why we have been forced to attend this absurd meeting, under the threat of your . . . men entering our territory without permission.”
“Now, we didn’t threaten anyone,” said General Lakelost.
Elliot saw how Sure, Serene, and the other elves’ eyes all travelled to Commander Woodsinger, as if to see if she agreed. The commander’s face was impassive. Then the elves looked toward Rachel Sunborn.
He understood why the Sunborns had been called in, now. Not only did public opinion always tend to go their way, the Sunborns being a law unto themselves meant their women were a law unto themselves, and they could talk to the elves with both sides assuming they were equals.
General Lakelost kept talking. “We simply stated that we, who have a paramount duty to protect the Borderlands, plan to go into a certain territory and bring peace.”
“Our territory!” snarled Sure-Aim-in-the-Chaos-of-Battle.
“Currently not your territory,” General Lakelost pointed out. “Since it has been overrun by bandits. You should be pleased to have allies who are eager to stamp out the lawlessness in your land.”
“And are we meant to believe,” Sure said icily, “that you will simply give the land back? It’s rich ground. You humans have been wanting to settle there for years.”
“We’re men of honor,” said Lakelost. “We may of course need to establish a garrison there of some selected military men and citizens to grow them food. Obviously the place is too wild and abandoned.”
&nbs
p; “Did anyone else notice that was not an answer?” Elliot asked.
Humans and elves alike glared at him.
“I agree with General Lakelost,” Commander Woodsinger said calmly. “Our mandate is peace in the Borderlands, and our judgement as to what will bring about that peace overrules the wishes of motley groups of citizens.”
You can’t agree with him, Elliot wanted to yell at her. We supported you, Serene and me. You should agree with us.
“We have already stated that we will treat the Border guard’s incursion into our territory as trespass and an act of war,” said the older elf. “We have stated that we will fight the guard if they come.”
“You have said that,” General Lakelost agreed, even though the elf had clearly been addressing the commander. “But will you really commit yourself to fighting a war on two fronts, with the bandits and the Border guard? You elves can say whatever you like. Somehow I doubt you will do it.”
“The Border guard could help us, Mother,” Serene broke in, to Elliot’s astonishment. Elliot made a gesture for her to be quiet that she didn’t see, as she was reaching past her mother for Luke’s hand. “The bandit threat does have to be extinguished. And my swordsister and I fight much better as a pair.”
She and Luke clasped hands and looked defiant.
“Everyone can see what’s most important is defeating the bandits,” said Commander Woodsinger.
“What’s important isn’t what everyone sees,” Elliot argued.
Rachel Sunborn chipped in with: “We have proven to you that humans can be useful, haven’t we? We’re the ones who captured Bat Masterson, one of the bandit leaders, out on a raiding party.”
“You did?” Elliot demanded. “Well, then someone has to talk to him! If you can make an agreement with the bandits, nobody has to fight anymore!”
Now the elves and the humans were not yelling at each other: everybody was yelling at him.
“A dishonorable bandit—”
“No talks with terror—”
“This is pointless,” said Luke.
“I would rather die in my blood—”
“We have nothing to say to him,” stated the commander. “He can stay in the pit below my tower where he was thrown, and rot there.”
“There’s a pit where we keep captives at this center of learning for children?” Elliot threw up his hands. “Oh yes, that’s great. That’s normal!”
He took a deep breath, and the elves looked scandalized while Luke made a small horrified gesture: Elliot glanced down at the collar of his T-shirt and adjusted it so the scarlet handprint on his collarbone was hidden again, and tried to speak with unimpaired dignity.
“I’ll go down to see him. I’ll talk to him.”
“I will go with you, if you care to have my company,” said Serene.
“I’m coming too,” said Luke.
“Is it going to be a children’s tea party down there?” General Lakelost barked. “This meeting is a mockery—”
Elliot looked around at all of them, at the furious elves and raging humans, at strangers and people he loved all bent on war which could destroy them.
“I’m not mocking anyone,” said Elliot. “I want to talk to him. I’ll go in on my own.”
Commander Woodsinger was the one who showed him the way to the pit, which was under her tower but accessible through a door outside.
“I should tell you that you do not have to do this,” she said as they walked through the corridors away from the meeting room. “I fail to see how it could be of any use.”
“It might be,” said Elliot. “Bat Masterson’s not a real name. So this bandit is from the otherlands, and—”
He was about to say: maybe I could talk to him, maybe we might have something in common, but the commander interrupted him.
“So are many people in this camp. Natalie Lowlands, your classmate. Elka Pathwind, the medic. We take Border names and obey Border customs. We do not become bandits.”
“Elka?” Elliot repeated, frowning. “Wait—we?”
Elliot studied Commander Woodsinger, who he knew could cross to the other side of the Border, and remembered the graffiti he had noticed on the wall long ago. “Did you leave a name from another land at the Border?”
“If I did, I turned my back on it,” said Commander Woodsinger.
“You could choose a Border name yourself, you know. Are you very attached to your father’s name?”
“I’m attached to my name,” said Elliot. “Because it’s mine. And I don’t know—I don’t even know if I want to stay.”
“It is rare that anyone with council training is allowed to attend meetings like these,” said Commander Woodsinger thoughtfully. “Usually they are summoned to draw up documents afterward. But you have allied yourself with the Sunborns and the House of Chaos, two very influential families, and you see the result. You could have an effect here, if you stayed and were clever about it.”
Elliot stared at her, revolted. “I haven’t allied myself with anyone. I never wanted—I only wanted to be with Serene.”
“Or you could go back to your own world,” the commander continued. “It’s no concern of mine what you do. Though I admit I am curious to see what you do next.”
She gestured him around the back of the tower.
The pit under the commander’s tower was dark and deep, a hollow scooped out in the shadows. Elliot came down a narrow flight of steps carved in mud and stone, through a large wooden door opened with a set of jangling keys. When Elliot stepped into the pit he could see the faces of the others high above him, and he felt like a gladiator in the Roman games, being watched by the faraway, indifferent eyes of citizens.
Or maybe he felt like a Christian about to be eaten by a lion. He knew why the general had let him come: Elliot was expendable. If he was killed he would be no further trouble, and they could say they’d tried everything.
He could see the dull glint of a crossbow in Serene’s hands. He wasn’t expendable to everybody.
They let the bandit Masterson in through a different door, more of a gate that led to the pit from a small dark tunnel. He was tall and thickset, dark stubble on his face and his hands shoved in his pockets.
Elliot knew Serene and Luke. He knew how people stood when they had concealed weapons. He took a step toward Masterson, hands up, showing he was no threat.
“Bat Masterson,” said Elliot. “The name of Wyatt Earp’s deputy? What was your real name, back in the otherlands?”
Bat Masterson shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I carved it on the wall and left it behind. Can’t live there. Don’t want to serve the Border guard. So this was my choice, and this is my name.”
“Fine, go through life using the name of a winged mouse, I don’t care,” said Elliot. “But have you considered that the combined might of the Border guard and the elves may crush you? Which leads me to my next question—have you ever thought about a treaty in which the elves concede some territory in return for the surrender of certain seized lands and valuable items such as jewels?”
There had been some attempts at kidnapping people, but the cultural barrier had led to the bandits trying to take the women and being killed in the face, while occasionally a puzzled bandit had been forced to deal with an elvish gentleman screaming he wished for death before dishonor.
“Once you’re captured, you’re no longer the leader. I’m not in a position to make treaties. And I’m not interested in listening to the chatter of a stupid brat,” said Masterson, and hit Elliot.
Elliot had never been hit by a grown-up before, the meaty fist crashing down with all the weight of muscle and bone and discipline behind it. He staggered and felt the inside of his mouth crash and break against his teeth, the warm gush of blood from his lip to his chin. Elliot choked slightly on the blood in his mouth, coughed and grabbed Masterson’s arm, moving in between him and the steely glint of Serene’s crossbow.
“That may have been the arrangement in your camp, but I bet they would s
till listen, if you came with terms,” Elliot said, speaking rapidly, trying not to let his cut lip blur the words.
He only had an instant: he saw Masterson going for the slight bulge in the shoulder of his jacket. He only had an instant, and he wasted it. Elliot felt a flicker of fear for his life. Elliot looked toward the torch burning in the wall. Elliot thought about a weapon, rather than using his words.
It was only an instant, and then it was too late. There was a knife in Masterson’s hand. And there was a bright blur over Masterson’s shoulder. Luke had somersaulted from the watchers’ balcony above. Luke struck a blow with his sword before his feet ever hit the ground.
Luke’s face over Masterson’s shoulder was blazingly furious and intent. The blade went clear through Masterson’s chest. Elliot caught the man’s heavy weight in his arms by reflex, sagged and sank under it so he was kneeling in the dirt with him, trying to staunch the flow of blood with his hands.
“You’ll be all right,” he murmured as blood leaked out of Masterson’s mouth and the light bled out of his eyes. “It’s not too late, we can still talk—”
Lies did not stop the man from dying. Elliot looked away from his dead face because he could not keep looking any longer. He looked at Luke, instead.
“You can’t just do things like this!” Elliot raged.
Luke’s face was not blazing anymore, but shut down as if someone had slammed an iron door on a furnace.
“I can,” said Luke. “I did. He hit you. I killed him. That simple.”
Elliot bit his lip and was furious with himself for glancing toward that torch, for not having enough faith in himself to keep talking. He felt guilty because he knew Luke had seen him look to the torch, and was sure Luke had known what that look meant. And he felt unexpectedly and wrenchingly sad: for the sunny boy he’d met his first day in a magic land, the boy who’d been sick the first time he’d killed someone. Now Luke wasn’t even looking at the dead man. Luke had not even flinched. Elliot wondered what this magic land would make them all into, in the end.
In Other Lands Page 34
