Mercedes Lackey - Elvenblood

"You remind me yet again why I sought your hand," he told her, capturing her plump hand in his and squeezing it, "though I still cannot comprehend why it was my suit that you favored."

"That is why I keep to your tent, silly boy," she teased, returning the caress. "You value wisdom, which lasts, over a slim-hipped and lissome figure, which does not! Ah—I hear them coming!"

Regretfully he released her hand, and put on his "Priest face." As he had expected, Shana arrived with a full contingent of Jamal's guards. Well, that would be changed. Henceforth, he would have his own men fetch her.

Trusted men. I believe I know who Jamal's eyes and ears are among the Priests, but I shall keep risks to a minimum.

"So." He regarded Shana with a stem gaze. "I understand that you wish to impart knowledge to me."

She nodded, and cast scornful glances to either side of her, as if to make it plain that she was not going to speak even in the presence of Jamal's underlings. "You know the ways of courtesy to a war-captive and a leader, Priest Diric. I will give you my word not to cause trouble nor escape; to you, and no other," she replied shortly, and shut her mouth firmly.

He wondered if her phrasing was accidental or deliberate, for she had implied that Jamal was ignorant of proper behavior. He caught grimaces from one or two of her guards, and hidden grins from others. Hmm. And perhaps those last agree with her? Interesting. I wonder how many of his own people Jamal has offended with his high-handed ways. He glanced aside at Kala, remembering their conversation. All of the Man-Hearted Women, I would think. Perhaps I should begin offering them the counsel of the First Smith, and remind them that the First Daughter had a Manly Heart and fought beside her brother to great honor…

"I do," he told the girl gravely. "And I shall offer that courtesy to you now, as I have in the past." He looked to the guards. "You may go. The war-captive has given her word and her parole to me."

They were not slow to leave, making him wonder the more. Were they that eager to return to Jamal with word that they had completed their mission—or was the embarrassment of the mission so distasteful that they could not have it done with quickly enough?

As soon as they were out of the tent and gone, Kala clapped both hands over her mouth, stifling a giggle, and Shana relaxed, grinning at them both.

"Did you see how they scurried away?" Kala gasped around her laughter. "Oh, the shame! They will not make themselves prominent to Jamal's eyes any time soon! I think they will see to it that they volunteer for night watch and far scouting, and nothing near to Jamal's tent or his regard!"

"You think so?" Diric felt immensely cheered; Kala was better at reading the subtle signals of body and expression than he. "All to the good. Shana, this is Kala, my wife. Kala, this Is our demon.'"

"I am very pleased to meet you," Shana replied gravely, and half-bowed. Kala waved an impatient hand at her.

"None of that!" she exclaimed, though Diric could tell that she was pleased. "I am no demon lady to be bowed to!"

"Nevertheless," Shana replied, "respect where it is due—and speaking of respect, what did you think of my play? We all matched wits after I got back, and this was the one notion we thought would give us unlimited access to you."

Diric nodded with approval. "It was a risk, but no more than we already have undertaken, and since you made your declaration public, Jamal could not do anything other than he did without incurring more shame or declaring open warfare between the two of us. That would tear the clan apart, and even Jamal is not prepared to do that."

Yet.

Shana shifted her weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other, precisely as the messenger had done earlier. "I knew it was a greater risk than you're saying," she admitted. "I hoped that your people didn't have a tradition of torturing captives… but I knew that was a possibility if Jamal was so angry with me that his anger overcame his sense."

She was wiser than he thought, and much older than her years. Then again, she had been, according to her own words, a captive of the real green-eyed demons, and perhaps she had seen cruelties among them that gave her that hard-won wisdom.

"Come, sit," he said instead, neither confirming nor denying her statement. "Kala is something of an expert in locks; let her look at your collar." As Shana obeyed, taking a seat on one of the fat pillows with no sign of reluctance, he added, "We first unearthed them from the coffers of the First Smith when we captured the two males. They are very old, and I had not seen the like before, but it was in the orders of the Priests that a store of them was to be kept intact to hold demons, and that they were not to be melted down nor reused in any other ways."

Shana tilted her chin to the side as Kala examined the lock of the collar. His wife made some soft sounds, as she always did when she was looking closely at anything, and in a moment she made a tching noise that signified her satisfaction.

"Simplicity," she said in quiet triumph. "Let me get my tools."

She rose and whisked off into the private quarters, returning in no time with a leather pouch of the fine tools that all women-smiths used in making their jewels. "This lock is very fine, very old," she said, settling herself beside Shana, and opening up the pouch to remove a set of probes. "It has the look of something made by a woman, in fact. It is a trifle more complicated than some I have seen, but not as complicated as many I have made myself."

"How old do you think it is?" Shana asked with interest.

"Very; more than that I cannot say." Kala probed at the lock with her probes held firmly in her plump, clever fingers. "I suspect that it is old enough that when it was made, it was the most complicated lock anyone of the Clans had ever seen. Something like this would not wear out readily, so it is hard to judge age by wear, or lack of it." The tip of her tongue protruded from the corner of her mouth as she concentrated, and Diric had to restrain a chuckle. She always did that, it always amused him, and that amusement always annoyed her. "It does bear out a tradition among the women, that it was the women who found the means to stop the green-eyed demons from exercising their power when captive."

"Oh?" Shana said, her tone very neutral. Kala looked up into her eyes and smiled slyly.

"So you have tried some of your lesser magics and they worked, hmm? It is well you did not try the greater, such as lightning. It would have been a painful lesson." Kala grinned broadly as Shana started. "It is the Iron, young maiden. Magic heats it when the wearer attempts to exercise it. Lesser magics only so much that you might think it no more than the doing of the sun. But greater, like calling lightnings down from the heavens—aiee!—you would be most unhappy, if it did not kill you altogether." She raised both eyebrows at the younger woman. "As my husband can tell you, that, as well as the Mind-Wall, came to all the First Priests in a dream one night, straight from the heart of the First Smith and His Wife. But it was the women, so the tale says, that first thought of using collars on their captives."

"Oh." This time Shana looked chagrined, and a little alarmed. "But what about the way that your warriors were immune to the magic we used against them?"

"Ah," Diric spoke up. "That, I know the answer to. Magic coming from outside is reflected from it, so that the wearer takes no harm. So you see, between the collars and the armor and jewelry, we are well protected. Unless—"

"Unless magic is not directed against you, but against what is around you," Shana supplied grimly. "Believe me, it would not take long at all for the greater elven lords to figure that out! They have the advantage of having waged war successfully against your ancestors, the ones who fled into the South with their cattle. Personally, I mean. It is not tradition that guides them, but memory."