Margaret Weis - Elven Star

Lord Dumdrun’s coming to talk to Papa and then there’ll be the engagement parties and you simply have to be here—”

“Can’t be helped, Thea.” Paithan leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Business’s business, you know.” He started off down the hall, heading for his room. “Oh,” he added, turning back.

“A word to the wise. Don’t go in there now.” He nodded his head in the direction of Calandra’s study.

Aleatha withdrew her hand slowly from the door handle. Hidden beneath the silky folds of her gown, the fingers clenched.

“Sweet sombertime, Thea,” said Paithan. He entered his room and shut the door. An explosion, coming from the back of the house, set the windows rattling. Aleatha looked out, saw her father and the old man in the garden, gleefully setting off rockets. She could Hear, from behind the closed door of her sister’s study, the rustle of Cal’s skirts, the tap, tap of her high-heeled, tight-laced shoes. Her sister was pacing. A bad sign. No, as Paithan said, it would not do to interrupt Calandra’s thoughts.

Moving over to the window, Aleatha saw the human slave, lounging at his post near the carriage house, enjoying the rocket bursts. As she watched, she saw him stretch his arms above his head, yawning. Muscles rippled across his bare back. He began to whistle, a barbaric habit among humans. No one would use the carriage this late into shadow hour. He was due to go off-duty soon, when the storm began.

Aleatha hurried down the hali to her own room. Stepping inside, she glanced into her mirror, smoothing and arranging the luxuriant hair. Catching up a shawl, she draped it over her shoulders and, smiling once again, lightly glided down the stairs.

Paithan started on his journey early the following mistymorne. He was setting off alone, planning to join up with the baggage train on the outskirts of Equilan. Calandra was up to see him away. Arms folded tightly across her chest, she regarded him with a stern, cold, and forbidding air. Her humor had not improved during the night. The two were alone. If Aleatha was ever up at this time of day, it was only because she hadn’t yet been to bed.

“Now, mind, Paithan. Keep on eye on the slaves when you cross the border. You know those beasts will run the moment they get a whiff of their own kind. I expect we’ll lose a few; can’t be helped. But keep our losses to the minimum. Follow the back routes and stay away from civilized lands if possible. They’ll be Jess likely to run if there’s no city within easy reach.”

“Sure, Callie.” Paithan, having made numerous trips to Thillia, knew more about the matter than his sister. She gave him this same speech every time he departed, until it had become a ritual between them. The easygoing elf listened and smiled and nodded, knowing that giving these instructions eased his sister’s mind and made her feel that she retained some control over this end of the business.

“Keep sharp watch on this Roland character. I don’t trust him.”

“You don’t trust any humans, Cal.”

“At least I knew our other dealers were dishonest. I knew how they’d try to cheat us. I don’t know this Roland and his wife. I’d have preferred doing business with our regular customers but these two came in with the highest bid. Make certain you get the cash before you turn over one single blade, Fait, and check to see that the money’s real and not counterfeit.”

“Yes, Cal.” Paithan relaxed, and leaned on a fence post. This would go on for some time. He could have told his sister that most humans were honest to the point of imbecility, but he knew she’d never believe him.

“Convert the cash into raw materials as soon as you can. You’ve got the list of what we need, don’t lose it. And make certain the bladewood is good quality, not like that stuff Quintin brought in. We had to throw three-fifths of it out.”

“Have I ever brought you a bad shipment, Cal?” Paithan smiled at his sister.

“No. Just don’t start,” Calandra felt imaginary strands of hair coming loose from their tight coil. She smoothed them back into place, giving the hair pins a vicious jab. “Everything’s going wrong these days. It’s bad enough that I have Father on my hands, now I’ve got some insane old human, too! To say nothing of Aleatha and this travesty of a wedding—”

Paithan reached out, put his hands on his older sister’s bony shoulders. “Let Thea do what she wants, Cal. Durndrun’s a nice enough chap. At least he’s not after her for her money—”

“Humpf!” Calandra sniffed, twitching away from her brother’s touch.

“Let her marry the fellow, Cal—”

“Let her!” Calandra exploded. “I’ll have little enough to say about it, you can be sure of that! Oh, it’s all very well for you to stand there and grin, Paithan Quindiniar, but you won’t be here to face the scandal. This marriage will be the talk of the season. I hear the dowager’s taken to her bed over the news. I’ve no doubt she’ll drag in the queen. And I’ll be the one to deal with it. Father, of course, is less than useless.”

“What’s that, my dear?” came a mild voice behind them. Lenthan Quindiniar stood in the doorway, the old man beside him.

“I said you’ll be less than useless in dealing with Aleatha and this insane notion of hers—marrying Lord Durndrun,” Calandra snapped, in no mood to humor her parent.

“But why shouldn’t they get married? If they love each other—”

“Love! Thea?” Paithan burst out laughing. Noting the confused look on his father’s face and the scow! on his sister’s, the young elf decided it was high time to hit the bridges. “I’ve got to run. Quintin’ll think I’ve fallen through the moss or been eaten by a dragon.” Leaning over, the elf kissed his sister on her cold and withered cheek. “You will let Thea have her way in this, won’t you?”

“I don’t see that I’ve much choice. She’s been having her way in everything since Mother died. Remember what I’ve told you and have a safe trip.” Calandra pursed her lips, pecked Paithan’s chin. The kiss was nearly as sharp as a bird’s beak, and he had to restrain himself from rubbing his skin.

“Father, good-bye.” The elf shook hands. “Good luck with the rockets.” Lenthan brightened visibly. “Did you see the ones we set off last night?

Brilliant bursts of fire above the treetops. I attained real altitude. I’ll bet people could see the blasts all the way to “niillia.”

“I’m sure they could, sir,” agreed Paithan. He turned to the old man.

“Zifnab—”

“Where?” The old man whipped about.

Paithan cleared his throat, kept a straight face. “No, no, sir. I mean you. Your name.” The elf held out his hand. “Remember? Zifnab?”

“Ah, pleased to meet you, Zifnab,” said the old man, shaking hands. “You know, though, that name sure sounds familiar. Are we related?”

Calandra gave him a shove with her hand. “You better get going, Pait.”

“Tell Thea good-bye for me!” Paithan said.

His sister snorted, shook her head, her face grim.

“Have a good trip, Son,” said Lenthan in a wistful tone. “You know, sometimes I think maybe I should go out on the road. I think I might enjoy it… .” Seeing Calandra’s eyes narrow, Paithan struck in hastily, “You let me handle the travel for you. Father. You’ve got to stay here and work on your rockets. Leading the people forth, and all that.”

“Yes, you’re right,” said Lenthan with an air of self-importance. “I had better get started working on that, right now. Are you coming, Zifnab?”

“What? Oh, you talking to me? Yes, yes, my dear fellow. Be along in a jiffy. You might want to increase the amount of sinktree ash. I think we’ll achieve greater lift.”