Элейн Каннингем - Silver Shadows

“I will come, too,” the moon elf said quietly.

“Never said I was goin’, now did I?” Jill grumbled. “But since this ding-blasted elf here has gone and signed hisself up, I suppose I gotta go along and look out fer him. Gets into fights, he does, without never once stoppin’ to think on whether or not he can win ’em!”

“I’d be happy to have you both,” Arilyn said. “And you needn’t enter that palace. You two can wait for us outside and hold the horses.”

“Horses! I rode me a donkey this far, and I’ll be a one-headed ettin if’n I’ll trade him in fer one o’ them long-legged hay-eaters,” Jill said darkly.

“In that case, we’d better leave at once,” Ferret observed, not recognizing the bluster behind the dwarfs gruff arguments.

But at Foxfire’s insistence, Arilyn agreed to wait until morning before setting out. They settled down to rest for the journey ahead. Soon Jill was snoring lustily, and the practical elves Ferret and Kendel were deep in reverie. But to Arilyn’s eyes, the usually serene Foxfire seemed restless, preoccupied. When the first flickering lights of the firebugs announced the coming night, he asked Arilyn to walk with him.

“The People face many battles ahead,” he said somberly. “Within the forest, I am an able commander. The Elmanesse have not suffered raids by other tribes for many years, and even the orcs know to keep a wide berth from our hunting lands. But these new troubles are beyond me. You are needed here. Do not stay long from the forest.”

“A few days, no more,” she promised him. “But there are things I must do that can be accomplished only in the city. As I said before, we must know why Bunlap does what he does. In Zazesspur I have contacts; I’ll get to the bottom of this problem.”

“I believe you will. We work well together, you and I,” he agreed.

Suddenly Foxfire stopped and faced the half-elf, taking both her hands in his. “There is something I must say before you go. We do well as we are, but I would make our partnership deeper. How much more could we accomplish if we could speak mind to mind, sense the other’s thoughts and plans without words? Enter with me into rapport, Arilyn, and when you return from the city, stay with me in the forest for all time!”

Arilyn stared at the elf, too dumbfounded to speak. Rapport was the most intimate bond between elves, one that would last for the remainder of their mortal lives. It was uncommon even among the People, and almost unheard of for an elf to establish rapport with a human. She was not even certain that she, who was only half-elven, was capable of this mystic elven bond.

And to her astonishment, Arilyn realized she did not really want to try. Foxfire was a noble elf , admirable in all the ways that she valued. He was also a good and true friend, and she cared deeply for him. But though she loved the elf, the idea of entering into such a bond with him seemed wrong. It was not in her to do. Foxfire was everything Arilyn had ever thought she wanted, but for some reason it was not enough.

There were no soft words to explain these things to the elf. The only alternative method of responding was considerably less noble, but it was all that came into the half-elf’s mind. And so Arilyn prepared to do what many another decent woman had done under similar circumstances: lie through her teeth.

“You do me more honor than you know,” she began, starting with words she could speak in all sincerity. “I admire how deep your devotion to your tribe runs. And you are right. We would do much better as battle leaders if we could know each other’s minds without words.”

“Do not for a moment think I suggest rapport only for the benefit of the tribe,” Foxfire said with a little smile. “It would be no hardship for me to enter such a bond.”

“Nor to me,” she told him. “But I cannot. I … I have already joined with another.”

Foxfire stared at her for a long moment. “But how is this possible? Until midsummer’s eve, you were a maiden still!”

“Well then, what of the twin-born?” she countered. “They form rapport from birth. There are many means of establishing bonds. As precious as midsummer was to me, there are other things in life equally worth sharing.”

Understanding came in bleak waves into his eyes. “I see. Forgive me,” he murmured.

She placed one hand on his shoulder. “There is nothing to forgive, only thanks to be spoken for the honor you have shown me.”

He nodded and covered her hand with one of his, accepting her decision with grace. “It is late, and the morning will come all too soon. You must rest if you are to travel,” he said.

They made their way back to the place were Ferret and Kendel rested in reverie. But Arilyn did not sleep, nor, she suspected, did Foxfire find his way into the fey repose of the elves.

The two elf women and their odd escorts traveled east along the forest’s line—a longer path, but Arilyn wanted to put as much space as possible between them and Bunlap’s fortress before entering open terrain. They traveled on foot the first day. Then Arilyn, in her guise of human lad, slipped into a farming village and bartered some of her emergency coin for a trio of sturdy horses—and a donkey for Jill.

Arilyn set a fast pace through the foothills, heading for Tinkersdam’s hidden lair. The task ahead was tailor-made for the special skills of the eccentric alchemist. There were times that called for subtlety and finesse; this was not one of them.

They pressed their mounts as fast as Arilyn dared—and Ferret would allow—and they reached the entrance to Tinkersdam’s cavern in the middle of the night. Arilyn led the way through the curtain of pines into the cavern and then down the winding passages toward the lair.

Tinkersdam was awake and at work, as Arilyn had anticipated he would be. The alchemist had little regard for schedules of any sort. Here, in a cavern deep within the hills where there was no natural light to mark the passing of time, he was even saved from the minor annoyance of day and night.

When the four travelers entered the alchemist’s lair, they found him lying on his back under a large wooden contraption that had the size and appearance of a carriage. His plump, bowed legs stuck out from under it, and his feet were dangerously close to a simmering kettle.

Arilyn reflexively reached out to move the hazard away, but two things quickly occurred to her: Tinkersdam might appear preoccupied, but he was always incredibly aware of his surroundings. He would be less likely to kick over the kettle than a halfling would be to skip dinner. Secondly, there was no apparent reason why the kettle should be simmering. It hung on a tripod over the bare stone of the cave. There was no fire beneath it, not even a pile of glowing coals. Ergo, whatever was in that kettle was better left alone.

“So you’re back,” Tinkersdam announced, not bothering to come out from under his current invention. “Brought friends, I see.”

The half-elf stooped down and peered at the alchemist, who was busily connecting an odd network of tubes and vials. Arilyn did not want to think about what explosive force he might have in mind to power this strange conveyance. “I’ve got a job for you,” she said.

“As you can see, I’ve got one at the moment,” Tinkersdam pointed out.

Words danced ready on Arilyn’s tongue: the importance and urgency of the task ahead, the impact it would have on the elven folk, her own desperate need to free her Harper partner, if not herself, from the servitude demanded by the sword she carried. But none of this, she knew, would have the slightest impact on the alchemist.

“How would you like to blow up a palace?” Arilyn asked casually.