Ghost and Guardian: Part One: Lord

by Sanan Kolva

  “About a hundred and fifty, give or take,” Cylin said. “The number fluctuates depending on how often new people come, and if they stay.”

  “Well, it’s not the easiest place to find, but if it’s safe, sheltered, and has clean land and water—and I know the Guardian wouldn’t settle for less—it seems like an ideal place to stay,” Quicksilver said. “Why do they leave?”

  She raised an eyebrow. “You’re related to Lucian, and you’re asking that?”

  “Oh.” Quicksilver considered that. “So, I’m guessing he’s pretty open about being an elf?”

  “He told me on my first day here. I thought he was insane.”

  “But you stayed,” he said.

  “I decided three meals a day was worth hanging around for a little while. Then a little while became longer and longer. Some other stuff happened, and I finally settled on staying,” Cylin said.

  “Other stuff?” Quicksilver asked.

  “Yes, ‘other stuff.’ That’s personal.”

  “Ah, sorry.”

  She eyed him. “Sorry that you asked, or sorry that I won’t tell you?”

  Quicksilver smiled. “I don’t really see it as an either/or sort of answer.”

  “So, sorry that I won’t tell you,” Cylin said.

  “Sorry that we have clearly gotten off on the wrong foot,” Quicksilver said. “Really. I am sorry about that. If there’s anything I can do…”

  Cylin made a sound of irritation, and Quicksilver cut himself short. She gave him a long, hard look. “Forest Town has been here for decades, with Lucian in charge. He is the lord of Forest Town, and people have gotten pretty damned used to knowing that they’re safe, and that if something bad happens, or bandits show up, Lucian will take care of it. You have no idea how absolutely terrifying and devastating it will be to them here to find out that he plans to leave, and won’t be back for months, even a year or more. Given that your arrival is the trigger for that decision, are you prepared to be a target when they want someone to blame?”

  “Oh.” Quicksilver considered the question. “Well, I can’t really fault them if they do.” He eyed her. “Is that why you don’t like me?”

  “No, I don’t like you because you remind me of every pompous twit I’ve ever met. The ones who strut around like they own the place because their father is someone important, so they act all fake-friendly with everyone and collect fawning followers who tell them how wonderful they are.”

  Quicksilver blinked at her. “I remind you of that? Well... shit.” He paused. “Um, if you don’t mind my asking, Cylin, how many genuinely friendly people have you met?”

  “People your age? Not many before I came here,” she answered.

  Quicksilver quickly stifled a laugh. “Sorry. Just I, uh, hope you haven’t actually met that many people my age. But I’ll assume you mean the age I look, instead. Please, ask Lucian to confirm this, but I’m not one to fake friendliness. I much prefer to be genuinely nice. I’m not trying to get anything out of it, although it does help me not get shot at, most of the time.” He looked around. “So, your infirmary is back there, the town well is here, houses are in the trees, and Lucian lives somewhere up that way... what else should I know about Forest Town?”

  She remembered that she was supposed to be showing him around. “Bath house is over there, where you see the steam.”

  “Bath house? Oh, that sounds nice,” Quicksilver said, perking up. “Though I really shouldn’t be surprised to find one in a place where Lucian lives.”

  “Oh, are you also one of the ‘swims wherever possible’ elves?” Cylin asked.

  “It seems to be in the blood,” he said. “Yeah, I am, though not as devoted to it as Lucian or his father. And I’ve been traveling for months straight. A bath sounds really, really nice. And a hot bath, even better. I know Lucian will swim in glacial melt, but I prefer water that won’t turn my toes blue.”

  “Weavers and tailors work over there,” Cylin told him, pointing. “We also have fields and animals further up the trail, past Lucian’s cave.”

  “What about shops? Stores? A trading post?” Quicksilver asked.

  “Not really.” Which, when she thought about it, was a little strange. “People trade and barter with each other, mostly.”

  “Huh. I suppose when you don’t have any outside sources of supplies, that makes the most sense.”

  “Anything with metal, and most things with wood, Lucian makes,” Cylin added.

  Quicksilver pursed his lips. “Right. I can see why that will make his departure a challenge for everyone.”

  Lucian emerged from Devin’s house. He looked worn and tired, serious. Descending the steps to the ground, he nodded to Cylin and Quicksilver. “Cylin, would you mind checking on Devin later? Not right now—he needs some time.”

  “Sure, Lucian. I can do that.”

  “Come up to the cave with me, Quick. Tell me everything that’s happened.”

  Quicksilver nodded quickly. “Of course.” He turned to Cylin with a smile of apology. “If you have any questions for me, just ask.”

  Lucian raised an eyebrow at him. “Flirting already?”

  “Nope! I think Cylin would shoot me if I tried. Just trying to negotiate a truce,” Quicksilver answered. He followed Lucian up the path toward the cave.

  Cylin watched them go, then finally climbed back to her own home to warm up and mull the implications of this new arrival. And of Lucian’s coming departure.

  By afternoon, everyone knew about Quicksilver, and rumors ran rampant through the branches. Every sentry who’d been on duty in the early morning hours reported to Cylin to apologize for their failure to notice his approach, promising to be more attentive. The thought that someone malicious could have easily slipped by them finally reinforced the ideas she’d been trying to instill since taking charge of the village defenses.

  She found Devin still at home. He opened the door when she knocked, and didn’t look surprised to see her. He also looked exhausted, and let her in without a word.

  “He’s going to come back,” Cylin said, closing the door behind her.

  Devin’s shoulders slumped. “He says he will, but why would he?”

  “Because it’s his home, Devin. And seriously, if he won’t tell a crying child ‘it’s going to be okay’ to comfort her, do you really think he would lie about something this important? Have you ever caught Lucian lying?”

  “No,” Devin admitted. “But he might not think it’s a lie right now. What if Chance convinces him not to return?” He sat in a chair and waved Cylin toward the other.

  She sat. “Then I expect Lucian will pick him up by the collar and carry him back here in an attempt to convince him of how good it is.”

  Despite himself, Devin laughed. “I… yeah, I could see Lord Lucian doing that.”

  “He won’t abandon his friends. Even if we are human.”

  Devin bit his lip, then burst, “But what does Lord Lucian really know about living outside the forest? He’s never been gone longer than a week in forty years! We know his quirks, but out there? What happens when he runs into a warlord and objects to the local rules? Or comes to a place where the bone men work openly? When he casually uses magic in front of someone?” He swallowed hard. “What happens when he has an episode out there?”

  That was a horrifying thought, but watching Devin’s eyes, she realized there was more. For the first time, Devin faced the realization that Lucian was not invincible or infallible. What could she say to that? “Did you tell him that?”

  Devin shook his head. “Of course not.”

  “Of course not,” Cylin sighed. “Devin, would you really rather he think you believe he would abandon his home and his friends? Is that actually better than telling him that you’re worried about him?”

  “I... no. But how can I tell him that after I... well... said some things I shouldn’t have said?”

  “Well, first, you give yourself some time to rest and think about it,” Cylin said. “W
hich means you don’t try to talk to him until tomorrow, after you’ve slept. And then you walk up to the cave and say something like ‘Hey, Lucian, can I talk to you?’”

  “I don’t want to talk about this around Quicksilver,” Devin said.

  “Then tell Quicksilver to leave. Tell him I have questions for him.” She didn’t know that she wanted to subject herself to more of Quicksilver, but Devin needed to have this talk with Lucian.

  Devin cast her a sidelong look. “Do you have questions for him?”

  “Plenty of them. Though he might call it more of an interrogation than a friendly chat. What do you know about him?”

  “Not a whole lot. He’s Lord Lucian’s nephew, and he never comes up when Lord Lucian is having an episode, so he doesn’t seem to have any connection to... that. He and Chance’s daughter are good friends. I don’t remember Lord Lucian saying anything particularly bad about him.”

  Cylin nodded. “I guess that’s good. At least, better than someone who’s going to create trouble with Lucian. I don’t trust him, but I’ll try to give him a fair chance.”

  “All right. Then... tomorrow morning, I’ll go talk to Lucian.” Devin didn’t look happy with the idea, but he agreed to it, and that was sufficient for Cylin.

  The sun was barely risen and Cylin was still nursing a mug of tea when someone knocked on her door. When she opened it, she found Quicksilver standing on the landing, smiling pleasantly.

  “Good morning! Devin wants to talk to Lucian without any spying ears around, so I got tossed out of a nice warm bed and into the cold with instructions that you want to talk to me.”

  He was fully dressed, with thick coat and hat, so clearly he’d had some time between getting up and leaving the cave. Cylin stepped aside. “Come in, then. You’re letting the heat out.”

  He entered and shed his winter gear. Underneath, he wore a long-sleeved woven shirt and denim pants. His shoes were utterly impractical for slogging through snow, but appeared perfectly dry.

  “Do you want tea?” Cylin asked. “The water’s hot.”

  “If it’s no trouble,” Quicksilver said. “Even just plain hot water would be fine.”

  “I can offer mint, ginger, or juniper tea,” Cylin said. “What’s your preference?”

  “Mint, please.” He sat at the table while she fixed a mug for him.

  After a moment, something occurred to Cylin. She set the mug of tea in front of Quicksilver, frowning. “Did Lucian tell you where my house was?”

  “Kind of. He told me to look for one of the most recent ones, only one in its tree, with a view of the entrances. I narrowed it down pretty quickly from that description.”

  “How would you know what houses are more recent than others?” Cylin sat again.

  “The magic feels fresher,” Quicksilver said. Seeing her expression, he shrugged. “I don’t have good words to explain it. Magic is like... an extra sense, and trying to describe it is kind of like trying to describe light to a blind person. It’s just there, and it’s always been there, but you don’t have the reference points I can use. But this house definitely feels fresher and newer to my sense of magic. More so than the rest of the village, or even the forest in general.”

  “The forest in general has a feel?” Cylin asked.

  “Oh, sure! It’s nice; really familiar. I like being back surrounded by the... essential Lucian-ness of it.”

  “The essential ‘Lucian-ness’ of this forest?” Cylin repeated.

  “Sorry, I’m not very good at describing metaphysical concepts,” Quicksilver said.

  “And what are you good at describing?” she asked.

  “Breasts.”

  “Excuse me?!”

  “I tend to think I’m very good at describing them, and I’ve never gotten any complaints from any woman who’s let me study hers, and... and that’s definitely not the answer you were looking for.”

  “No, it isn’t,” she agreed dryly.

  “Sorry.” Quicksilver looked abashed. “Right, anyway, where were we? Metaphysical conversation about the essence of Lucian and how it permeates this forest, right? Right.”

  “And it’s familiar.”

  Quicksilver nodded. “Lucian’s magic is stronger than a lot of elves, and he certainly has more abilities than most. Like, sure, I can fly, and manipulate plants, but shaping rock or metal? That’s nothing I can do. Lucian gets it from his father. And... well, and from his mother, too.” He paused. “Um... do you know much of Lucian’s family history?”

  “Some,” she replied cautiously. “I know he and Chance are very close. He was married to a woman named Cilvi, who died after the war.”

  Quicksilver shook his head. “Yeah, no, that’s not really the part I mean. Um, how about this: would it mean anything to you if I said that my mom is Lucian’s sister?”

  “What?” Cylin slammed her mug down hard enough to spill Quicksilver’s tea.

  “Right, that’s the part I wondered if you knew,” he said.

  Her voice dropped to a hiss. “Your mother is Ayliad?”

  “It wasn’t my idea! I definitely did not ask for an incestuous nymphomaniac for a mother.” He pushed back from the table as if worried she might lunge at him.

  “Then who’s your father?” Cylin demanded.

  “Someone unrelated, thank the Tree. One of her harem of pretty boys.” He gave her a tight, wry smile. “Obviously, you know some of the messy side of the family story.”

  “I know about Ayliad, and a little about Willow.”

  Quicksilver winced. “Yeah, dear old Grandmother. She was...” He shuddered. “It’s a good thing she’s dead. She hurt a lot of people, especially in our family.”

  “I got that impression, yeah,” Cylin said.

  “Did you know I have two half-brothers?” Quicksilver asked.

  “No. From which side?”

  “Oh, I have no idea if my father spawned any other offspring. My mother had twins, years before I was born.” He paused and swallowed hard. “Their father is Chance.”

  She remembered Lucian’s ravings during his episode. “I’m going to take a wild guess here that Chance’s wishes weren’t considered in the matter.”

  “That’s got to be one of the politest ways of saying it I’ve ever heard. And from everything I know, Chance’s wishes were about the last thing she cared about. Being told ‘no’ just made her more determined.” Quicksilver shivered. “Yeah, our family is so messed up. I should just be glad I’m not my own uncle or something.”

  “Your own... how would that even...”

  “Don’t ask. Just don’t even ask,” Quicksilver said. “Because if I think too hard about it, I could figure out who my mother could have fucked to make that happen, and that’s not something I want to ponder.”

  “Lucian knows this, right?”

  “That I’m Ayliad’s child? Yes, absolutely. He’s known for a long time. Things were pretty unpleasant when he first found out, but he worked it out. Probably helped that I was younger than you are at the time. And I mean, actual age, which is really young for an elf. We don’t consider someone an adult until they’re at least a hundred years old.” He shifted uncomfortably. “So is this something Lucian actually talks about? Family and all that entails?”

  Does he know about Lucian’s episodes? If he doesn’t, how much would Lucian want me to say? “No, not usually. Only when he’s having… a bad day.”

  She saw no look of understanding, no acknowledgment that he knew just how bad a “bad day” could be. “That sounds ominous. Is that something I’ll need to worry about while we’re traveling?”

  “I don’t know,” Cylin told him. “Maybe. You should ask him about it. It’s his business to tell, not mine.”

  Quicksilver looked like he wanted to argue, but held his tongue. “All right. I’ll ask him.”

  Cylin finished her tea. “So, did you get that bath you were lusting over yesterday?”

  “Not yet. Is it all right if I go down there? Do you have mor
e questions for me first?”

  “You can go,” Cylin told him. “Try not to make trouble.”

  “I rarely try to make trouble,” he protested. “It finds me all on its own.” He sipped the last of his tea. “Thank you for the tea, and for not shooting me yesterday. Lucian told me you’re in charge of the village defenses, so I do realize you could have done so when you saw me wandering into the village without alerting any of your sentries.”

  Cylin frowned. “Did you see them?”

  He hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah, I noticed them, and avoided them. I thought they might belong to a bandit camp or something.”

  “Did you encounter many on your way here?” She knew she was delaying him from going to the bath house, but her interest was piqued now.

  Quicksilver grimaced. “Bandits, plenty of petty warlords, a few near misses with bone men. The world’s a lot uglier than it used to be. But you know that already.”

  “I do, but Lucian hasn’t been far from the forest since he arrived,” Cylin said. “He doesn’t know what it’s like out there—not as much as he probably thinks he does.”

  “Oh.” Quicksilver pursed his lips. “That’s... good to know. I’ll have to rethink our return route. As you might have noticed, subtlety isn’t one of Lucian’s strongest skills.”

  “I have noticed that, yes,” Cylin agreed. “Obviously you know about the Guardian—do you know about the Ghost?”

  Quicksilver had started to stand, but froze partway up. “The Ghost? You mean when Lucian hits an emotional flatline so he can take care of whatever needs done, and damn the consequences?”

  “I would have described it more as muting most emotions except those needed in the immediate moment,” Cylin said. “But you do know about it.”

  “Yeah.” Quicksilver shivered. “The times I’ve seen him go Ghost were, by and large, terrifying. He doesn’t make a habit of that, does he?”

  Cylin shook her head. “I haven’t seen it often.”

  “Well, that’s a relief.” Quicksilver smiled. He stood and pushed in the chair. “I’m going to run off to the bath now, before something else comes up. But if you need anything from me, I’ll do my best to oblige.”