Margaret Weis - Elven Star

“Oh, there you are, Thea. I heard you’d come. Is that you, Daidlus? Did you know your wife’s searching for you? She doesn’t look pleased, either.” Lord Daidlus did not look pleased himself. He glowered at Paithan, who returned the glare with the innocent and slightly anxious expression of one whose only desire is to help a friend.

Aleatha was tempted to hang on to the lord and get rid of Paithan, but she reflected that there was a certain merit in allowing the pot to simmer before bringing it to a boil. Besides, she needed to talk to her brother.

“I’m ashamed of myself, My Lord,” Aleatha said, flushing prettily. “I’m keeping you from your family. It was thoughtless and selfish of me, but I was so enjoying your company…”

Paithan, crossing his arms, leaned back against the garden wall and watched with interest. Lord Daidlus protested that he could stay with her forever.

“No, no, My Lord,” Aleatha said with an air of noble self-sacrifice. “Go to your wife. I insist.”

Aleatha extended her hand to be politely kissed. The young lord did so with rather more ardor than society would have considered proper.

“But I do so want to hear the end of your story,” said the besotted Daidlus.

“You shall. My Lord,” answered Aleatha, with downcast eyelashes through which glinted sparkles of blue-purple. “You shall.”

The young lord tore himself away. Paithan sat down on the bench beside his sister, and Aleatha took off her hat and fanned herself with the brim.

“Sorry, Thea. Did I interrupt something?”

“Yes, but it was all for the best. Things were moving too fast.”

“He’s quite happily married, you know. Got three little ones.”

Aleatha shrugged. The matter didn’t interest her.

“Divorce would be a tremendous scandal,” Paithan continued, sniffing at a flower he’d stuck in the buttonhole of his long, white linen lawn suit. Loosely made, the coat flowed over white linen pants, gathered at the ankles.

“Father’s money would hush it up.”

“The queen would have to grant it.”

“Father’s money would buy it.”

“Callie’d be furious.”

“No, she wouldn’t. She’d be too happy I was finally respectably married. Don’t worry about me, Brother, dear. You have worries of your own. Callie was looking for you this afternoon.”

“Was she?” Paithan asked, trying to appear unconcerned.

“Yes, and the expression on her face could have launched one of Father’s infernal devices.”

“Worse luck. Been talking to the guvnor, had she?”

“Yes, I think so. I didn’t say much. I didn’t want to get her started. I’d be there still. Something about a human priest? I—What in Orn’s name was that?”

“Thunder.” Paithan glanced up into the thick vegetation through which it was impossible to see the sky. “Storm must be coming. Drat. That means they’ll cancel the boating.”

“Nonsense. It’s far too early. Besides, I felt the ground tremble. Didn’t you?”

“Maybe it’s Callie, stalking me.” Paithan removed the flower from his buttonhole and began playfully tearing it up, tossing the petals in his sister’s lap.

“I’m so glad you find this amusing, Pait. Wait until she cuts your allowance. What is this about a human priest, anyway?”

Paithan settled himself on the bench, his eyes on the flower he was decapitating, his youthful face unusually serious. “When I came back from that last trip, Thea, I was shocked to see the change in Father. You and Callie don’t notice. You’re around him al! the time. But … he looked so … I don’t know … gray, I guess. And woebegone.”

Aleatha sighed. “You caught him in one of his more lucid moments.”

“Yes, and those damn rockets of his aren’t clearing the treetops, let alone coming close to the stars. He was going on and on about Mother … and you know how that is!”

“Yes. I know how that is.” Aleatha gathered the flower petals in her lap, unconsciously forming them into a miniature grave.

“I wanted to cheer him up, so I said the first jolly thing that popped into my mind. ‘Why not send for a human priest?’ I said. They know an awfully lot about the stars, ’cause that’s where they think they come from. Claim that the stars are really cities and all that rot. Well”—Paithan appeared modestly pleased with himself—“it perked the old boy right up. I hadn’t seen him so excited since the day his rocket flew into the city and blew up the garbage dump.”

“It’s all very well for you, Pait!” Aleatha irritably scattered her flowers to the wind. “You get to go off on another one of your trips. But Callie and I will have to live with the brute! That lecherous old astrologer of Father’s is bad enough without this.”

“I’m sorry, Thea. I really didn’t think.” Paithan sounded and felt truly ashamed. The one bright spark that burned in all of Quindiniars was their love and affection for each other—an affection that, unfortunately, did not extend to the rest of the world.

Reaching out, Paithan took his sister’s hand in his and squeezed it. “Besides, no human priest will ever come. I know them, you see and—” The moss bed rose up suddenly beneath their feet and then settled back down. The bench on which they were sitting shook and shivered, a pronounced rippling effect marred the smooth and placid surface of the lake. A rumbling sound like thunder, which came from below rather than above, accompanied the ground’s shudder.

, “That wasn’t a storm,” said Aleatha, looking about in alarm. Shouts and screams could be heard in the distance.

Paithan rose to his feet, his expression suddenly grave. “I think, Thea, that we had better move back to the house.” He gave his hand to his sister. Aleatha moved with calm alacrity, gathering her flowing skirts around her in unruffled haste.

“What do you think it is?”

“I haven’t the vaguest idea,” Paithan answered, hurrying through the garden.

“Ah, Durndrun! What’s this? Some new form of party game?”

“I only wish it were!” The lord appeared considerably harried. “It’s sent a big crack through the dining room wall and frightened Mother into hysterics.” The rumbling began again, this time stronger. The ground bucked and quivered. Paithan staggered back against a tree. Aleatha, pale but composed, clung to a hanging vine. Lord Durndrun toppled over, and was almost struck by a falling piece of statuary. The quake lasted for as long as a man might draw three deep breaths, then ceased. A strange smell wafted up from the moss—the smell of chill, dank dampness. The smell of darkness. The smell of something that lives in the darkness.

Paithan moved to help the lord to his feet.

“I think,” said Durndrun in an undertone meant for Paithan’s ears alone, “that we should arm ourselves.”

“Yes,” agreed Paithan, glancing askance at his sister and keeping his voice low. “I was about to suggest that myself.”

Aleatha heard and understood. Fear tingled through her, a rather pleasant sensation. It was certainly adding interest to what she had expected to be an otherwise boring evening.

“If you gentlemen will excuse me,” she said, adjusting the brim of her hat to best advantage, “I will go to the house and see if I may be of assistance to the dowager.”

“Thank you, Mistress Quindiniar. I would appreciate it. How brave she is,” Lord Dumdrun added, watching Aleatha walking fearlessly alone toward the house. “Half the other women are shrieking and flinging themselves about and the other half have dropped over in a dead faint. Your sister is a remarkable woman!”

“Yes, isn’t she,” said Paithan, who saw that his sister was enjoying herself immensely. “What weapons have you got?”