by Baen Books
Law suspected that the loudest rumormongers were the humans that failed to pick up the cultural subtly. They made the mistake of trying to peddle one type of goods to all the enclaves and found the door slammed in their face. Which was fine with Law; it meant more business for her. It also meant she was more aware that she had to walk a tightrope to stay "one of us" with everyone.
Normally, Caraway's side gate stood open all day and she could back right into the motor court. Today the big doors were shut. She backed her Dodge up so its tailgate nearly touched the inward swinging gate to make unloading easier. Snow sunk down in the seat to peer nervously over the back of the bench seat at the enclave. She had only shown curiosity to the rest of the city, so it was a little worrisome that she seemed scared of other elves.
"Stay." Law said to Snow and Brisbane. The elves thought porcupine was a delicacy and had tried to buy him for dinner more than once.
She went and knocked on the door by the spyhole. The slot slide aside immediately. Brown eyes so dark they might as well be black inspected her and then the slot shut again.
What the hell? Since when did elves come with dark brown eyes?
She stood a moment frowning at the gate. She could sell her fish elsewhere but she'd promised to deliver trout to Caraway's today. If she failed to deliver, she might lose Caraway as a customer forever. She knocked again and called out in Elvish. "Nicadae! Fish! Fresh fish! Very fresh! Very good! You buy!"
The slot opened again and a more familiar set of vivid blue eyes gazed out.
"Law!" The owner of this set of eyes cried. "Forgiveness! Wait!"
And the slot closed again.
Law glanced at her pickup. Snow's stormy gray eyes watched her with surprise and dismay. Snow's blue-black hair and gray eyes should have been a giant clue by four whacking Law upside the head. She knew that elves were very much "us" and "them" even household to household. A handful of elves in Pittsburgh didn't have straight black hair; Ginger Wine was a beautiful auburn. The elves that didn't, though, tended to wear Wind Clan Blue as if to compensate. Snow was dressed in pure white.
Maybe it was a mistake not leaving the female with Ellen.
There was a clang of bolts being thrown behind the gate, so Law focused back on the enclave.
Dark eyes belonged to a sekasha-caste warrior.
Law yelped in surprise and backed up. Sekasha were impossible to miss. They had spells tattooed on their arms, wore a special breastplate made of scales from wyvern, and carried a magically sharp, katana-style sword. They were said to be holy and were rare as hen's teeth, usually only showing up in wake of the Viceroy Windwolf. All the elves she'd ever met were scared shitless of the sekasha because the caste was legally allowed to kill anyone who pissed them off.
Caraway's majordomo for the restaurantside of things was a male by the name of Chili. He was nearly vibrating in place, trying not to get too close to the warrior and still keep her from fleeing. "Law! Law! Forgiveness. Don't leave!" He did a "come" motion with both hands even as he turned to the sekasha and launched into rapid fire High Elvish.
Law glanced back at her pickup. Snow had vanished and now only Brisbane peered out the window. The holy warrior stared at the porcupine, head tilted slightly in puzzlement. Law caught the word "trout" and the warrior's eyes went to the fish coolers and he nodded once.
Chili turned back to Law and spoke slowly in Low Elvish. "This is his holiness Galloping Storm Horse on Wind. The Viceroy is in residence along with two of his Hands." His eyes flicked sideways to indicate the warrior beside him. Chili slipped to English. "Plus one. His English name is Pony, but he speaks very, very little English. The Viceroy is here so rarely; there is no need for his people to learn it. Still, we have eleven warriors to feed for the next few days. I need all the water produce that you have."
"What?" Was this confuse-Law-with-cryptic-remarks day?
"Tomorrow is Shutdown and we will be here on Elfhome and you will be on Earth. The Holy Ones, they need meat." Chili glanced toward the truck. "Are you sure that we can not have the porcupine?"
"No!" Law sang and forced a laugh because the sekasha was right there, listening, maybe understanding. "I have trout! Lots of meat!"
She opened up the nearest cooler, which turned out to be the one with crayfish. The crustaceans raised up their large spiny claws in the sudden daylight.
Chili shook his head. "Those are tasty but they don't have lots of meat."
She lifted the lid on the next cooler. This one had trout on ice. "I have several coolers of the fish. The crayfish –" she didn't want to tell him that she had promised them to Poppymeadow. "You are right. Very little meat."
Storm Horse apparently had never seen crayfish before. He leaned forward to poke a finger at the mini-lobsters.
"They pinch." Law warned and then realized that the elf might not speak English. "He knows that they pinch, doesn't he?"
Chili had his hand pressed to his lips. He was obviously struggling with what to say himself. "I don't know." He finally murmured into his fingers. "He just made his majority in March."
It wasn't like the crayfish could actually hurt the warrior.
Snow in hiding. Holy warrior tempting fate. Time to hurry things up and leave.
Law charged the elves more than humans. She reasoned it was a slight surcharge for dealing with the cultural hurdles. Her life would be easier if she didn't have catch several different species of fish just because the elves had issues. The elves never haggled. Perhaps because haggling required you to lie about how much you wanted something and the quality of the item. At the same time, she never tried to gouge the elves so much that they would balk at her asking price.
Her heavily insulated plastic marine coolers were special ordered from Earth and top of the line. The elves used wicker baskets. She used an antique scale when working with the elves, made in the 1800s. (She was never sure if they didn't understand her digital scale or thought it was inaccurate.) The first step, though, was to establish that the ancient device was calibrated correctly and that yes, five pounds was actually five pounds. Chili used an abacus with cinnabar beads that he flicked up and down. With a hundred fifty quarts of fish, it was tedious. She felt bad that she'd trapped Snow in the front seat of her pickup the entire time. At least with the constant flow of elves carrying off baskets of fish, the sekasha was politely shooed away so everyone could work.
If anyone in Pittsburgh knew all the elf politics and skullduggery, though, it was going to be Chili.
"I found a elf out in the middle of nowhere." Law waved toward the front of her pickup. "She doesn't speak English."
"Yes, I saw." Chili didn't even look up from his abacus. "I heard about her. Thank you for taking the child in."
Law had saved enough kittens to know what Chili was actually saying was "No, I don't want it." Not that Snow was a kitten, but obviously the act of finding her someplace safe was going to be the same process. "Who is she?"
Chili clicked his tongue, which was how elves shrugged. "A mutt. Her name is something like –" He paused to think. "Ground Bare in Winter as Snow Falls in Wind. Or something ill omened like that. You humans would call her—umm—Dead Winter or Barren Ground or Bare Snow. Her father was Water Clan and she was raised in his household. Her twice-cursed mother supposedly was Wind Clan; not that you can tell."
The attitude at least explained why Bare Snow was hiding in pickup.
"Twice-cursed?" Law knew that the elves could do real magic but she was a little hazy on what all they could do with it.
"Maybe thrice cursed. To be stupid enough to leave your clan for a male. To have the idiocy to agree to give birth to a mutt that no one would want." Chili glanced nervously at the sekasha. "At least, not with a name like that. And then managing to get killed, leaving said child at the mercy of another clan. They tossed her out, of course. A child belongs with its mother's people."
Chili had called Bare Snow "child" three times now. Law knew she was a bad judge of elf ages, b
ut she thought that the female was an adult. She was nearly as tall as Law and better endowed.
"How old is she?" Law asked.
Another click of the tongue to indicate that Chili didn't know exactly. "She's still in her doubles from what I heard." He glanced to the cab just as Bare Snow peeked over the back of the seat. The female ducked down again. "You humans would say she's a teenager or a fresh man." He meant the first year university students. The freshmen arrived in Pittsburgh eager to see real elves and made themselves pests at the enclaves. The older students knew better. "She's a little younger than Galloping Storm Horse. Maybe ninety-five. I doubt younger than ninety."
Law had grown up knowing that elves were immortal but it was kind of mind boggling to suddenly realize that someone nearly four times older than she was could still be considered a child.
"I don't know why she came to Pittsburgh," Chili stated. "We wouldn't have been able to take her in, not with the Viceroy staying with us. I heard about her making the rounds and thought I might bring it to Wolf Who Rules' attention. It isn't right to have a child wandering around in this wilderness alone. Before I could, though, she'd been turned down by everyone else and had disappeared."
"The other enclaves wouldn't let her a room?"
Chili stared at Law in confusion. "Let?"
"Rent. Stay. Sleep."
"Oh! No. She wanted to join their household. It’s a totally different thing than staying for a short period. No one wants someone from Water Clan. I have no idea why she came all this way without some guarantee that someone would take her."
They'd unloaded both the trout and the seasi. It totaled up to two hundred and eighty-one pounds of fish. Hopefully the sekasha loved fish because they were going to be eating a lot of it. Chili lifted the lid to crayfish and considered them. "Will you bring more, early Startup?"
"Yes! Certainly!" Law cried, wanting to keep her promised to Poppymeadow. As it was, she was going to disappoint Ginger Wine.
Chili closed the lid. He considered the front of the pickup. "My lord had business out at the aeroport." He meant the airport that was nearly an hour away. "I do not know when he will return. Will you keep her safe?" In other words: I still don't want the kitten, don't you dare leave her here.
"Of course."
"And I can't have the porcupine?"
"No!"
Law sold the crayfish to Poppymeadow. Much to her relief, she remembered that she had four giant snapping turtles tucked way in the back, confined to makeshift cages out of milk crates and chicken wire. Those she sold to Ginger Wine to keep her promise of "water produce" as the elves called seafood.
Bare Snow stayed hidden in the pickup, watching, learning God knows what since most of Law's dealing was a mishmash of English and Elvish.
Traffic was starting to grow heavy as the people returning to Earth started to rush through the last minute errands. She fought her way into Hershel's Exxon on Forbes Avenue, Oakland's only gas station. During a normal, non-Shutdown day, only two of the pumps were in use at the same time. Today there was a waiting line for all twelve pumps. A frat boy in a Smart car tried to dart in and take the pump she'd been waiting for. She laid on her horn and edged her pre-historic Dodge forward until her grill protector filled his back window.
"Hoi!" She leaned out the window to shout at him. "If you want to use that car to get out of Pittsburgh in, you better move it! Your little thing won't even scratch my grill!"
His frat brother beat on his shoulder going, "Dude, what are you doing? The locals are insane! Let him use the pump first!"
They retreated to the other side of the station. Law made sure everything on her truck was locked down and then went inside to pay. It was the other drawback of Oakland. Everywhere else in town, you could pump first. Oakland had too many transients for Hershel's to risk not getting cash up front.
Bare Snow had followed her into the store and was now picking up things randomly and eyeing them closely. All the male eyes were on her. The baby doll dress showed off as much as it covered up—especially when the female bent at the hip to take things off the bottom shelf. Much as Law appreciated the view, she was going to have to get something longer for the female. (Law had shirts longer than Bare Snow's dress.)
Pat Hershel was working the register. "You've got another stray, Law? An elf this time?"
"Yup."
"Don't go forgetting you're just a girl yourself."
"What does that mean?"
"One of these times you're going to bite off more than you can chew. You should be more careful."
Law clenched her jaw against the first dozen things that came to mind. Pat meant well but she was like most people—they only helped people when it was easy and convenient. As soon as things got messy—usually when the girl was on the verge of drowning in her trouble—they'd back off and let nature take its course. Which was fine and good for them, but why they always felt like they have to warn her off too? Why were people more concerned about status quo than actually helping?
"I'm filling up both my tanks." Law peeled off twenties from the ones she'd earned from the enclaves. Elves traded gold among themselves, but they took in US currency from their human customers and cycled them back to Law. "And obviously I need some clothes. Shoes. A dress. You've got any in the back?"
"Maybe." The gas station also served as sort of a general store for the transients. Hershel's had a tiny assortment of basic necessities to tide newcomers over until they figured out where the real stores were. "The kids tend to take anything that says 'Pittsburgh' or 'Elfhome' back with them as souvenirs. We're normally picked clean by end of Shutdown."
That explained their stock. It had mystified Law why all their clothes had writing like "Elfhome: Nailed it" and "Saw a Saurus, Ate it!" Unlike other stores, they also only carried local snacks and drinks. Iron City Beer. Saurus jerky. Steel City Cola. Honey roasted keva beans. Because everything was locally produced, they were usually well stocked.
Pat called it correctly, though. Today the shelves looked like locusts had descended. But they were in luck. Among the leavings was a pair of cowboy boots that fit Bare Snow. Not among Law's first dozen choices for footwear but Bare Snow seemed to like them. There was also a Wind Clan blue sundress with Elvish runes spelling out something Law couldn't read. Bare Snow snickered at whatever it said. The sundress was only a few inches longer than the white baby doll, but they were important inches.
Pat added two slim packs of Juicy Fruit gum to Law's tab. "I was holding those for Stormsong but they tell me she's on Earth with the husepavua."
Bare Snow caught the one Elvish word in the mix. "What about the husepavua?"
Pat switched to Elvish as she rung up their purchases. "The Viceroy is in town because his husepavua is on Earth with one Hand of sekasha. Normally I keep this aside for the Holy One, Singing Storm Wind, but she's with the husepavua. You can have the gum."
"Who else is with her?" Bare Snow asked.
Pat clicked her tongue having lived next to elves long enough to pick up their habits. "I only know the young ones that drive the automobiles. The older elves can't wrap their brains around how to work machines. The 'babies' bring the Viceroy's automobiles here for fuel. Stormsong. Cloudwalker. Hawk Scream. Pony. Sun Lance. Oh! I know! Sparrow took Wraith Arrow too."
Bare Snow directed conversation away by picking up the gum. "What is this?"
Law showed her how to unwrap a stick and chew on it.
Bare Snow's eyes widen and she gave out a moan that sounded orgasmic. All the males in the store drifted closer.
Pat laughed. "Good luck with that, Law."
"Yeah, thanks, Pat. Can we have the restroom key?"
Law pumped gas while Bare Snow changed clothes in the restroom alone. The elf returned with a wide brim hat that she'd gotten from someplace. Law could only hope she didn't steal it. With the skimpy blue sundress, the long bare legs and the cowboy boots, she looked utterly adorable. The color of the sundress highlighted the blue of her ha
ir. A white Ford Explorer at the far pumps caught Bare Snow's attention. One would think that there was no way anyone could miss a gorgeous leggy elf, but the four co-eds who arrived in the vehicle never seemed to notice Bare Snow drift about the SUV, peering in the windows.
The female elf scanned the lot while returning to Law's Dodge. "Your vehicle is very different from all the others."
"It’s—it's very old." In theory the 1947 Power Wagon was nearly a hundred years old, but in truth, every nut and bolt been had been restored or upgraded by her grandfather as he converted the antique truck. It had been his pride and joy and he was probably spinning in his grave that she ended up with it. The simple truth was no one else wanted a manual-transmission gas-hog. Both of parents wanted her to sell it for something more practical; it was the one thing that they agreed on. That, and she should get a dog. (Weirdly, her father was fine with her dating girls.)
"Some of them look identical to me." Bare Snow pointed at the co-eds' Explorer at the gas pump, one parked half a block down Forbes Avenue, and a third driving past. The older SUVs were popular in Pittsburgh. Most cars on Earth were electric, self-driving, and needed extensive high tech support systems that Elfhome didn't have. The Explorers were designed to be driven "off-road." They were easy to adapt to the lower technology level of Elfhome.
"The only differences are these things." Bare Snow pointed at the Dodge's license plate. "What do they mean?"
"Every automobile has a unique code that is written on these." Law simplified best she could. "They're called license plates. None of them repeat. The city uses them to track who owns the automobile, if they've paid taxes, kept the vehicle safe to drive on the roads, and things like that. Why? Did someone take you to that house in an automobile like that one?"