Luke confessed three days in, after a particularly bad class and during dinner, which now they were in final year they could eat together rather than in their allotted groups. It was so strange how you got close to being an adult, and suddenly you were a person with a right to privacy and the ability to pick your friends.
Luke had been very quiet throughout dinner, his expression like that of the sun in shock after being subjected to his first cloud. Then his face screwed up in sudden resolution, and he announced: “I’m half harpy.”
“Yes, we know,” said Serene. “Your mother told us at the Trigon game. But she said not to tell you.”
Luke looked betrayed. This seemed unfair to Elliot, since demonstrably they were excellent friends who were prepared to receive Luke’s confidences.
“Yes, we know,” Elliot chimed in, supporting her statement. “I have not been compiling a comprehensive and yet comprehensible to even the slowest—that’s you—record on harpies for my health.”
Luke’s face was shocked. “What? Give me that!”
Elliot held it out of his reach, smiling. “What will you give me for it?”
“What do you want?” Luke asked, and the way he spoke made Elliot feel very uncomfortable. He sounded like Elliot had sounded when he was younger, negotiating through clenched teeth for the return of his schoolbag.
Except Luke couldn’t feel that way. Elliot had done all this research for him: it must be obvious how Elliot felt.
Elliot tried to play it off with a joke. “Let me hide my contraband in your place. I think the commander’s planning a raid on mine.”
It actually would be very handy to have somewhere else to stow his stuff. Elliot had tried to bring a lifetime’s supply of Sharpies. If the commander looked in, it was going to seem as though Elliot had a problem.
“All right,” Luke said after a pause. His eyes remained fixed on Elliot. Elliot wondered why, until Luke asked: “How much contraband do you have?”
“That isn’t important at this time,” said Elliot.
Then he hastily turned the conversation to the far more important matter of the treaty, but Luke kept regarding him suspiciously.
Later Elliot carried some of his bags into Luke’s cabin, and began to hide bags of Sharpies and calculators in corners, under the floorboards, and behind every book he could find. He was relieved that there were some books in Luke’s room.
“Elliot,” Luke said, sounding almost awed. “This is so much contraband.”
“I do like to think of myself as something of a dashing pen pirate,” Elliot told him. “The pen is mightier than the sword, you know.”
Luke frowned. “Do you, um, want to have a duel?”
“Violence proves nothing,” Elliot said.
“Might prove some things,” said Luke.
“The fact that we’re even arguing about this proverb only proves the enormous power and importance of words,” Elliot said triumphantly.
“So that’s a no on the duel, then,” said Luke. “I guess we disagree on the importance and also the meaning of words like ‘proof.’”
Elliot laughed. “I can’t believe nobody else knows you’re a jerk.”
He hid a pencil case filled with ballpoint pens behind a stuffed owl, and then glanced at Luke. That had been Luke’s cue to protest, with what seemed to be genuine indignaton, that he was not a jerk.
Instead, Luke was staring out the window of his cabin, arms folded, jaw tight.
“You should go canvass the Border camp,” he said. “I bet plenty of people share your low opinion of me now.”
“My what?” said Elliot. “Why are you being ridiculous? I told you, you being half harpy makes no difference to me at all.”
Saying the word might have been a mistake. There was a tic in Luke’s jaw suddenly, and he set his shoulders.
“Set” was not really the word for what Luke’s shoulders did at this point. There was a suggestion of something uncoiling, or unfurling. There was clearly something remarkable going on under the leather.
Elliot wanted to ask if he could see, but he had the feeling Luke would take that very, very badly.
“Well,” Luke said grimly. “I guess you’re the only person in the Border camp whose opinion of me hasn’t changed. That’s great.”
Luke wanted to make what he was go away. That was what Elliot had not counted on.
Luke could not make what he was go away, though. That was a lesson Elliot and Serene had both learned a long time ago, Elliot thought. None of them could make what they were go away: you had to accept it. Maybe it would be a good lesson for Luke to learn, in the end.
Luke did not seem happy, but he was dealing with it. Commander Woodsinger informed Luke that his presence would be required on the mission to the harpies, and Luke agreed.
“That’s great,” Elliot said when Luke told them.
“Is it great?” Luke asked. “What exactly do you think is so great about it?”
“I mean . . .,” Elliot said. “Aren’t you a little curious about the harpies? I know you’re doing your soldierly duty and all, but don’t you think it might be an adventure?”
Like sailing the seas to find mermaids, or wandering the woods to find dryads, only better: this made finding a part of your self in the sky possible, for Luke.
“No,” said Luke flatly. “Stop treating my life as if it was a game.”
They were so entirely out of sympathy on this. Elliot supposed it did not matter: they hardly ever agreed on anything. It was only that Luke was more irritable, this time around, because he was off balance, because he was unhappy.
Getting together with Dale would make things better for Luke. And gaining an alliance with the harpies would make things better for everybody. Elliot had the situation well in hand.
The day of the mission to the harpies was one of those dawns that appeared to have been dropped on the floor and retrieved covered in dust. It was a gray dispirited thing, the day looming ahead dark as the forest.
“I never said you could come with us,” said Commander Woodsinger. “I said I would consider it, and you simply assumed that you could. Why is that, Cadet?”
“Well, be fair,” said Elliot. “You never said that I couldn’t.”
“The Border camp is full of people who I did not expressly forbid to come on this mission. Those people are sleeping in their beds, because it was not necessary for me to specifically inform them they were not welcome on a mission I did not invite them to.”
“But Commander,” said Elliot. “We’re special to each other.”
Commander Woodsinger gave him a look that was even more forbidding than usual. It was not that she was ever soft or gentle with him, but Elliot thought she might prefer him to speak to her differently when there was a troop of warrior-training cadets who could hear her. He glanced toward their politely listening faces, beyond Serene and Dale. He was grateful Luke was not here yet.
He thought about the fact Luke was not here yet for a moment, and then started to smile.
“The truth is, Commander Woodsinger,” Elliot said. “Luke needs me.”
The commander raised her eyebrows.
“This is a time of extreme emotional turmoil for him, when it is necessary that he be calm, accepting, and understanding of another culture,” Elliot went on. “As one of the people who has been, over the years”—geographically—“closest to him, I feel I would be an asset.”
“You with your intensely soothing personality, Cadet,” remarked Commander Woodsinger, and a cadet standing behind Serene yelped with laughter.
Elliot thought this was going well. The commander looked less forbidding: if this was the way she saved face and Elliot was allowed to come along, Elliot would take it.
He decided to risk a little actual truth.
“And I want to be with him,” said Elliot. “In this time of emotional turmoil, that is.”
“It does make sense that Cadet Sunborn might require a certain amount of extra support during th
is mission,” said Commander Woodsinger. “I will permit you to accompany us. You must make sure to be accompanied by a cadet from warrior training at all times, to scrupulously obey every order you are given, and to pull your weight when we are setting up camp.”
Elliot saluted. He was very glad the matter was settled, because at that point Luke, who might be gloomy enough not to be early but who was too much of a soldier to ever actually be late, turned up. He looked bowed down, as if he were carrying the whole gray heavy morning on his shoulders.
He gave Elliot a suspicious look. “Why are you here?”
“I’m coming with you!” Elliot informed him.
“You are not coming with us,” said Luke. “You were not on the list of cadets assigned to this mission. Because you are not in the warrior training course!”
Luke was so cranky. Elliot beamed. “Ah, but you see, I explained to Commander Woodsinger that this was a time of emotional turmoil and you needed me.”
Luke’s face was indescribable. Elliot deeply regretted not bringing another camera to the otherlands.
“You what?” said Luke. “I what?”
Elliot made a heroic effort not to laugh, and gave Luke a soulful look. “Don’t worry about my schoolwork, buddy. I’m just glad to be here for you.”
“I suppose the three of you are inseparable,” said Commander Woodsinger. “But you could have asked earlier, Sunborn.”
Elliot had not realized that the commander also wished to be hilarious. He shot her a delighted smile. She stared impassively through him.
“He was shy, ma’am,” Elliot said. “He’s so bashful and modest.”
Luke seemed to be struggling to find words: Elliot was familiar with the small hoarse sound he made when too outraged to speak. He had never thought of it as birdlike before.
Then the commander stopped being hilarious and started being unreasonably cruel. She said that Elliot and Luke had to share a tent, just because Serene and Elliot had done a few—well, more than a few—scandalous things in a tent in the past.
“But ma’am!” Luke protested. “I was going to go in with Serene.”
“If I wanted to be taking shameless advantage of Cadet Schafer,” Serene observed. “No slur intended to his virtue, but . . . I would be.”
Elliot would have preferred Serene not announce that in front of the troop, but he could not say she was lying. He also felt it was clear he should have a tent of his own, and he had an excellent scheme to make that happen.
He looked again at the faces of the troop. Oh well. Luke probably suspected already, and Elliot had always said he would make the announcement in front of a class. Close enough.
“It’s true,” Elliot said, nodding vigorously. “But I need a tent of my own, please. I require extra blankets because it is very easy for me to take a chill, and there are space issues! Besides, I go both ways and I have wandering hands. Nobody is safe with me!”
Nobody looked even faintly surprised, including Luke, who just looked cross.
“You’re not going in with Serene, because I am!” Luke snapped.
“This is why we don’t take cadets from the council course on missions!” said Commander Woodsinger. “No experience roughing it. No more arguments, Schafer, for once in your life. You go in with Sunborn. Chaos-of-Battle can go in with Wavechaser, since he doesn’t fancy women. Schafer, you’ll just have to restrain your wandering hands.”
Elliot rolled his eyes in her direction. He was clearly going to be an invaluable asset to the mission, and a key part of drafting the treaty between harpies and humans. It was only reasonable to give him his own tent. In a world where diplomats were truly respected, he would have a tent, and people to fan him and hand him ballpoint pens.
Instead, he was forced to trudge through the woods with a heavy bag on his shoulders. Treacherous tree roots kept trying to trip him up, and the uneven ground kept getting away from him.
“I am trying my best,” said Elliot, making sure to project an air of noble suffering. “But I am not a sporty type.”
Commander Woodsinger gave him a wry look. “You’re doing fine. And you can run a four-minute mile.”
“So what?” said Elliot. “Wait, is that good?”
Serene and Luke both looked unimpressed, but he became aware that Dale and several other people were nodding with some conviction.
“Wait, have I been tricked into being athletic?” Elliot demanded. “Have I been bamboozled by people who turned out to both be inhumanly sporty?”
He realized what a tactless thing that was to say when Luke’s half smile tore off his face like a bandage ripped off too early. Luke put his head down and charged ahead, regardless of tree roots and slopes. Serene kept pace with him easily, and Elliot used some of his apparent-athleticism (he had been tricked!) to do the same.
“I can’t believe you,” Luke said after a moment. “I cannot believe what you told Commander Woodsinger. I cannot believe the things you think it’s all right to say and do, just so you can get your way!”
Elliot had no idea what Luke was talking about. Elliot had not been getting his own way when he was forced to run all those miles. Elliot might have got his own way about this mission, but it wasn’t like Elliot had never done anything like this before.
He had not expected, he realized, that Luke would truly not want him there.
The realization kept him silent for a while. There was nothing Elliot could do to make Luke want him. And Elliot still had to be there, for the treaty, despite what Luke wanted.
He hadn’t intended to make anything worse for Luke, though. He had no idea how he managed to mess things up, every time. Surely it was some sort of reverse special talent.
They were all quiet, for a long time, Elliot because he did not want to make things worse and Serene in a strong, womanly, supportive way. Elliot did not know why Luke was being so entirely silent, with that absorbed, desolate look on his face. It couldn’t be only because of Elliot. He had to be nervous about meeting the harpies. He must want to talk about it.
“Why are you being so quiet, loser?” Elliot asked at last.
“I’m not being quiet,” Luke said. “I’m not talking to you. Because you used my actual feelings to get yourself on this trip, and you made it so I’m not sharing with Serene, and you lied to our commander. I didn’t ask you, I don’t need you, and we’re not friends.”
That made everything very clear.
Elliot had, in fact, made what was already a difficult time much worse for Luke. He absorbed that, took a deep breath, and apologized extensively and at length. He explained that any sort of a treaty with the trolls was proving impossible, and the harpies were the only alternative. He wanted to make sure Luke knew that tormenting Luke had not actually been Elliot’s plan. He promised to make it up to Luke.
After Elliot was done talking, Luke looked a little less angry.
Elliot told himself things were all right, or would be all right. Elliot would make Dale and Luke happen. Luke would be in a much better mood then.
“I read some of your notes,” Luke offered, after a moment. Elliot wondered how far Luke had read. “About Caroline the Fair.”
Not very far, then. Elliot nobly refrained from pointing this out.
“Who was Caroline the Fair?” asked Serene.
“She was a half harpy famous for her beauty,” said Elliot. “She had wings the color of pearl and gold. She couldn’t fly, so they ended up being decorative, but obviously they really worked for some people. Forty rich men battled for her hand, and each promised Caroline a milk-white steed if they could have a walk with her down by the seashore and a chance to win her heart. Several of the men were drowned by mermaids, with whom Caroline may have had an agreement. She died single with forty milk-white horses. What I’m saying is, she was a fox. A fox with wings. What I’m saying is, as half harpies go, we could do way better.”
He was worried a minute later that this would only upset a newly touchy Luke further, but Luke just roll
ed his eyes and almost grinned, so that was all right.
“I’m not making any agreement with mermaids,” Luke said. “I’m tired of mermaids.”
“He who is tired of mermaids,” Elliot said, “is tired of life.”
“He who is tired of mermaids has been hearing about them every day for almost four years,” said Luke. “No arrangement with mermaids. Forget it, mermaids.”
Elliot and Serene laughed. Luke looked pleased. Sometimes Elliot thought that Luke believed he wasn’t funny.
Of course, sometimes Elliot told Luke he wasn’t funny.
Elliot remembered sitting in the shadowy privacy of his cabin, writing notes about harpies as exhaustion made the candlelight blur in his vision. He’d liked the stories about Caroline the Fair: he’d chosen someone who had been happy, and whom he thought Luke would find interesting.
There were other stories of half harpies who had lived sad short lives, or wicked lives. Elliot had not written about them.
The books had agreed on one subject. Half harpies tended to be very good-looking. There was much discussion of fine bones, high cheekbones, and aquiline noses. Elliot remembered meeting horrible Neal and Adam, and thinking of how they looked like Luke, but lacking something.
Elliot felt this was a real bright side to harpy heritage.
Though it was not always the case. Some half harpies, like some harpies, had beaks. Not everyone was into beaks.
He thought Luke might be comforted by the idea that his wings might not work: that he might carve out a normal life among humans who would not avoid him as the Border camp’s cadets had been.
Of course he could, Elliot wanted to tell him. All of the cadets would get used to it. It was only now that things were new, and strange.
The forest they were walking through was new and strange, too. Elliot had never walked this deep into the woods before. He was used to trees which were not very much bigger than people, but now there were trees so tall that Elliot thought their tops were wreathed in cloud, like the tops of mountains. Elliot could not imagine how the dryad of one of these trees would be, how tower-tall and removed from any semblance of humanity. These were the kinds of woods stories warned you not to get lost in, not to venture off the path into.
In Other Lands Page 41
