Mercedes Lackey - Elvenblood

Shana flushed with chagrin. As she had seen for herself, the neck of the man's tunic was open to his breastbone, and he wore absolutely nothing else that could have served in place of the collar that could have bound him to an elven overlord. His belt was rope, the sheath of his knife was leather, the knife itself had a plain, wrapped handle with none of the dangerous spellcarrying beryls set into it. And in any case, if he'd been a bondling, she, Denelor, or Kalamadea would surely have sensed the blankness that meant there was a spell on him that blocked all the purely human powers of magic. They all knew the "shape" of that particular blankness.

"Oh, aye," Collen said agreeably. "No collars, no leashes. We be jest as dangerous a lot of savages as ye, I 'spect, an' the cat-eyes knew we was here."

Her eyes widened. This was the one thing she simply had not expected. "You mean—you're wild?" she exclaimed, her voice shadowed with disbelief. Oh, she'd heard that so-called "wild" humans existed, but after tasting the efficiency and ruthlessness of elven rule for herself, she hadn't believed they were capable of anything more than scrabbling out a bare and brutish existence. And that was only allowed so that the elven lords would have something to hunt, now and again, that ran on two legs rather than four.

Then again, she chided herself, as Collen's grin widened at her reaction, the wizards existed for hundreds of years without the elves knowing. There are wild humans beyond their lands; we already knew that. Why not wild human traders to serve them?

"Oh, aye," Collen repeated. "It's none so bad a life, lak. Call oursel's outlaws, though. Has a better soun' t' it." He shrugged. "Some on' us be 'scaped, some born free, lak. Got no land, no set home, an' we rigger we hev' t' move about a bit, but got no overlor' neither."

"Collen would like to talk trade with us. I think we should invite these people to come talk to us, Shana," Kalamadea said gently, breaking into her daze. "I think we might have something we can offer each other."

:And since he already knows we're here, there's no point in trying to hide the Citadel,: the dragon added, deep inside her mind. :The more we show them, the more impressed they are likely to be, and the less likely to betray us.:

"Ah, of course, Kalamadea," she said, to both statements. "How far away are the rest of you?"

"Not far. Be here 'fore sundown, lak," he replied with a nod. "Lemme put out flag, they'll pull in here."

Without waiting for their consent, he pulled a faded red rag out of the canoe and tied it to a branch where it would be seen by anyone passing on the river itself. "There she be," he said with satisfaction. "Now—we jes' wait, lak."

She itched to touch his thoughts, to see for herself if he was telling the truth. Did she dare? If she did, would he know, and how would he take it?

"Fine," Denelor said, easily. "I'll just go up and tell the others to fix a meal for our new—allies?" He raised an eyebrow on the last word.

Collen shrugged. "Canna speak fer the lot," he replied laconically. "Could be. For sure, an' ye got stuffs t' trade, we'll be 'greeable t' tradin' for 'em."

That, apparently, was enough for Denelor, who strode back up the path at a much brisker pace than he would have been able to set a year ago. Collen folded his arms and leaned back against the trunk of a willow, watching both Shana and Kalamadea.

"Bloods," he said finally. "Heard on ye, heard on the troubles ye set, last summer, but never saw none."

"I could say the same about outlaws," Shana retorted mildly. Can I test him out? Should I ask him if I can?

He grinned, as if he found the retort amusing.

Kalamadea simply examined him calmly, as calmly as he regarded nearly everything, from impetuous young dragons to elven mage-craft. "Why the river?" he asked, finally.

"Mun leave no tracks on water," came the easy reply.

"Ah," Kalamadea said. "But—there are no elves here, nor bondlings, either."

Collen nodded. "Aye. But we trade wit' th' collared. Mun leave no tracks, no way fer collared t' follow, lak. They can' follow, they got no hold on us. They got no hold, they gots t' trade fair."

Shana nodded, too, for Collen's reasoning made excellent sense—and it made her a bit more inclined to trust him, if he did not trust the collared bondlings he traded with. It showed a good, strong sense of self-preservation, and a disinclination to place any possible power in the hands of those controlled by elves.

"So why should you trust us?" she asked. "After all, you don't know us—we might be elves in disguise."

He laughed aloud at that, throwing his head back and closing his eyes. "Oh, aye, ye mot," he chortled. '"Cept there be a reason I be scout."

"And what's that?" Shana asked, since he was obviously waiting for her to do so.

I got the human-magery, little Blood,: he said, deep in her mind, grinning as she started. .-That's how I tell Niki. back wit' th' rest, t' come on, lak. An' I know ye be Blood, 'cause I keened ye when ye made talk wi' the old one, then. So ye got the human-magery, an' ye got no guise-spell 'bout ye.:

She blinked—and so did Kalamadea, taken quite aback by the voice that resonated in his mind as well. A remarkably strong and controlled "voice"—as indeed it must have been controlled, for him to have called to the absent "Niki" without either of them "overhearing" him.

"So—ye want t' be seein' inta my head?" he asked genially. "Go on. Got nothin" t' hide."

Given the invitation, she did not hesitate, but reached out with her own thoughts to touch his before he could withdraw the invitation.

Perhaps because it was so strongly on both their minds, she touched a memory rather than a thought—a recent memory by the power and "newness" of it So powerful was it, so charged with emotion, that she found herself actually caught up in it, as if she were living the moment with him, looking out of his eyes.

The tension was just short of unbearable, and Collen's heart pounded, his chest was tight, and he was a little short of breath as he crouched in his shelter. He waited and watched from behind the concealing bushes for his bondling contact with the traders. Their trade goods, mostly furs, spices, a few very odd precious gems, were all hidden beneath a brush pile nearby. The rest of the group was hidden down by the water's edge; he alone would take the risk of immediate capture.

That risk was always there, every time he met the traders.

Not even his powers of human-magery could warn him if this time they planned to betray him, for he could not "hear" their thoughts past the blankness imposed on their minds by their spellbound collars. Other traders had been captured in years past, by other groups of handlings. The particular furs he and his clan brought to trade were very valuable to the handlings, and he didn't think they would risk the loss of their source—but you never knew. Especially not since the Elvenbane and her wizards had sent everything so topsyturvy, and given the cat-eyes their comeuppance. There might be enough profit in "capturing" wild humans this time that the loss of the supply of furs would be no great problem.

Especially if one of those wild humans was also a wizard.

His stomach knotted as he heard the sound of cautious footsteps coming toward him. His contact had arrived, and with him, the moment of truth.

He stood up, slowly, and stepped forward, out of the concealing branches of his bushes—

With a wrench, she pulled her mind out of the memory and back to the real world. Collen looked into her eyes, and nodded knowingly, as she shook her head to try to rid it of the last clinging vestiges of that terrible tension.

"It's death fer ye Bloods wi' th' cat-eyes, lak wi' us wi' th' human-magery," he said. "Ye seen, what's lak fer us. So ye got here, or nowheres. An' no point in us gettin' up t' games wi' ye; I reckon since ye messed wit' yon cat-eyes, me an' Niki'd be no match fer ye," he continued, eyes twinkling. "Still, we be traders, lak. I reckon we mot do some business. Eh?"