Margaret Weis - Elven Star

Consequently, he had traveled over all the lands of Thillia and had once ventured as far as the realm of the SeaKings to the norinth. Noble elves, on the other hand, rarely left their estates high in the treetops. Many had never been to the lower parts of Equilan, their own queendom. Paithan was, therefore, looked upon as a marvelous oddity and was courted as such. Paithan knew the lords and ladies kept him around much as they kept their pet monkeys—to amuse them. He was not truly accepted into higher elven society. He and his family were invited to the royal palace once a year—the queen’s concession to those who kept her coffers full—but that was all. None of which bothered Paithan in the least.

The knowledge that elves who weren’t half as smart or one-fourth as rich looked down on the Quindiniars because they couldn’t trace their family back to the Plague rankled like an arrow wound in Calandra’s breast. She had no use for the “peerage” and made her disdain plain, at least to her younger brother. And she was extremely put out that Paithan didn’t share her feelings. Paithan, however,, found the noble elves nearly as amusing as they found him. He knew that if he proposed marriage to any one of ten dukes’ daughters there would be gasps and wailings and tears at the thought of the “dear child” marrying a commoner—and the wedding would be held as fast as decently possible. Noble houses, after all, are expensive to maintain. The young elf had no intention of marrying, at least not yet. He came of an exploring, wandering family—the very elven explorers who had discovered ornite. He had been home for nearly a full season now and it was time he was on his way again, which was one reason he was sitting here with his sister when he should be out rowing around some charming young woman in a scull. But Calandra, absorbed in her calculations, appeared to have forgotten his very existence. Paithan decided suddenly that if he heard one more bead click he would go “potty”—a slang expression of “his crowd” that would have set Calandra’s teeth on edge,

Paithan had some news for his sister that he’d been saving for just such an occasion. It would cause an explosion akin to the one that had rocked the house previously, but it might shake Calandra loose and then he could escape.

“What do you think of Father’s sending for that human priest?” he asked. For the first time since he entered the room, his sister actually stopped her calculations, lifted her head, and looked at him. “What?”

“Father’s sending for the human priest. I thought you knew.” Paithan blinked rapidly, to appear innocent.

Calandra’s dark eyes glinted. The thin lips pursed. Wiping the pen with careful deliberation on an ink-stained cloth used expressly for this purpose, she laid it down carefully in its proper place on the top of the ledger and turned to give her hill attention to her brother.

Calandra had never been pretty. All the beauty in the family, it was said, had been saved up and given to her younger sister. Cal was thin to the point of boniness. (Paithan, when a child, had once been spanked for asking if his sister’s nose had been caught in a winepress.) Now, in her fading youth, it appeared as if her entire face had been caught and pinched. She wore her hair pulled back in a tight knot at the top of her head, held in place by three lethal-looking, sharp-pointed combs. Her skin was dead white, because she rarely went out of doors and then carried a parasol to protect her from the sun. Her severe dresses were made after the same pattern—buttoned to her chin, her skirts trailing the floor. Calandra had never minded that she wasn’t pretty. Beauty was given a woman so that she could trap a man, and Cal had never wanted a man.

“What are men, after all,” Calandra was fond of saying, “but creatures who spend your money and interfere in your life?”

All except me, thought Paithan. And that’s because Calandra’s brought me up properly.

“I don’t believe you,” said his sister.

“Yes, you do.” Paithan was enjoying himself. “You know the guv—sorry, slip of the tongue—Father’s crazy enough to do just about anything.”

“How did you find out?”

“I popped—stopped in at old Rory’s last suppertime for a quick one before going to Lord—”

“I’m not interested in where you were going.” A line had appeared in Calandra’s forehead. “You didn’t hear this rumor •from old Rory, did you?”

“ ’Fraid so, Sister dear. Our batty papa had been in the pub, talkin’ about his rockets and comes out with the news that he’s sent for a human priest.”

“In the pub!” Calandra’s eyes widened in horror. “Were there … many who heard him?”

“Oh, yes,” said Paithan cheerfully. “It was his usual time, you know, right during winetime and the place was packed.”

Calandra emitted a low groan, her fingers curled around the frame of the abacus, which protested loudly.

“Maybe he … imagined it.” Her tone sounded hopeless, however. Their father was sometimes all too sane in his madness.

Paithan shook his head. “Nope. 1 talked to the birdman. His faultless [6] A winged fowl of the segrouse family used for long-distance communication. A faultless, once properly trained, will fly unerringly between two points. carried the message to Lord Gregory of Thillia. The note said that Lenthan Quindiniar of Equilan wanted to consult with a human priest about travel to the stars. Food and lodging provided and five hundred stones.” [7] The medium of exchange of Equilan. It is a paper equivalent of stones, which themselves are extremely rare, being found generally only at the very bottom of the world.

Calandra groaned again. “We’ll be besieged!” She gnawed her lip.

“No, no, I don’t think so.” Paithan felt somewhat remorseful at being the cause of such agony. He reached out and patted his sister’s clenched hand. “We may be lucky this time, Callie. Human priests live in monasteries and take strict vows of poverty and such like. They couldn’t accept the money. And they have life pretty good in Thillia, not to mention the fact that they have a strongly organized hierarchy. They’re all answerable to some soft of father superior, and one couldn’t just pack up and head out for the wilds.”

“But the chance to convert an elf—”

“Pooh! They’re not like our priests. They haven’t time to convert anybody. They’re mainly concerned with playing politics and trying to bring back the Lost Lords.”

“You’re certain?” Calandra had regained some color in the pale cheeks.

“Well, not certain,” Paithan admitted. “But I’ve been around humans a lot and I know them. They don’t like coming into our lands, for one thing. They don’t like us, for another. I don’t think we have to worry about this priest turning up.”

“But why?” Calandra demanded. “Why would Papa do such a thing?”

“Because of the human belief that life came from the stars, which are really and truly cities, and that someday, when our world here below is in chaos, the Lost Lords will return and lead us back.”

“That’s nonsense!” Calandra said crisply. “All know life came from Peytin Sartan, Matriarch of Heaven, who created this world for her mortal children. The stars are her immortal children, watching over us.” She looked shocked, the full implication dawning on her. “You don’t mean to say that Father actually believes this? Why that … that’s heresy!”

“I think he’s beginning to,” said Paithan, more somberly. “It makes sense for him, Callie, when you think about it. He was experimenting with using rockets to transport goods before Mother died. Then, she leaves and our priests tell him that Mother’s gone to heaven to be one of the immortal children. His mind slips one little cog and he lights on the idea of using rockets to go find Mother. Now he misses the next cog and decides that maybe she’s not immortal but is living up there, safe and well, in some sort of city.”