“It’s your name,” the smaller one said.
“Morgan,” I said. “Morgan Locke of Evertrue. Did I introduce myself? Come to that, did you?”
“Is that what they call you here?” the smaller one asked, looking up at me.
I laughed. “What else? The name I was born with, little mote of gold. Do I have some other elf name that you will now divulge? With much fanfare? A resplendent name, no doubt, longer than my arm.”
The gray one says, “Maybe you weren’t paying attention when we said you were a bastard born to a mother who fled out here to the middle of human lands? No one knows your name. No one even knew you existed until ten years back when this pendant showed up in the sorcerer’s hands.”
“If no one knows my name,” I said, grinning, “then how—” holding up the pendant, “—was this written?”
She shrugged. “What do I know about writing?” she asked, baring her fangs at me. “They don’t teach slaves to read.”
“We’re not slaves,” the smaller one said sadly.
“Yes we are,” the larger one said. “I wish you’d stop being so... so... so accepting.” She lifted her chin and said, “I’m Kelu. My name means ‘slave’ in the Gift, which is at least honest. Her name is Almond Fourteen, because she’s the fourteenth genet bred out of the line of the Almond dam, and all the numbered Almonds before her are dead. So you can just call her Almond, because no one is going to confuse her with her sisters, who’ll have been born after we left.”
“I see,” I said, blinking at her. I wondered what seed all these sordid stories had sprung from, what cruel subtext I’d read into my historical studies had prompted me to imagine animal slaves. But then, how was it any worse than the demons eating me alive? I shrugged. “So they don’t teach you to read. Who taught you to speak?”
“We all know languages, or else what good is it?” Kelu said, ears flattening. “If we can’t understand the commands given to us by our masters,” spit out with such venom that Almond flinched in my arms, “then we’re not very useful, are we?”
“Ah,” I said, “but you aren’t speaking... ah... Elven. You’re speaking Lit.”
She shrugged. “So do the humans who took us from the Archipelago.”
More and more curious. “So there are humans where you live? Humans who know elves?”
“They serve the elves,” Almond said softly. “As we do.”
How could prodigies of my over-taxed mind give me raised hairs on the back of my neck? My stomach tightened in unease. I looked at Kelu, waiting to see if she would have some acerbic comment, but she merely looked grim.
“I see,” I said. “So it’s better to be an elf than to be human, eh?”
“Of course,” Almond said.
That sense of unease grew more distinct. I opened my mouth to pursue it when the front door shook beneath Chester’s knock.
“Back into the closet,” Kelu said, grabbing Almond’s tail and tugging.
“But—”
“Her command, and for once it makes sense,” Kelu said. “Humans shouldn’t see us. Come on!”
Almond leaned up and licked the base of my jaw with a warm tongue. “Sorry, Master, sorry—” and then she let herself be pulled back among my clothes.
Kelu leaned toward me, hand on the knob, and said, “Don’t give us away. We don’t want to become curiosities in some human’s menagerie. At least the elves let us drink.”
“Of course,” I said, though I wondered what cruelty she’d undergone to imagine we would allow her to die of thirst. Alas for Chester driving away these oh-so-fascinating visions.
Kelu huffed and closed the door behind them.
Again the knock. I pulled myself to my feet and headed back to the front room...
...I could walk. Oh, there was still pain, but I no longer felt constrained by my own muscle tension. I was so astonished that I stood before the door without answering it, wrapped in my own reverie.
That third rap had a touch of desperation. I shook myself and opened the door before Chester could knock it down. He was standing with his hand raised, wearing a startled look.
“I thought something had happened,” he said.
“Just slow getting to the door,” I said, smiling, and stepped out of the way so he could enter. “I didn’t realize how late into the day it had gotten.”
“Almost supper,” Chester agreed, pulling off his coat. “Have you eaten?”
“Not since breakfast,” I said. “But I’m not hungry.”
Chester eyed me. “How can you eat so little?”
“Habit?” I said. I had never really wondered. Better not to overeat than to do so and end up wracked and losing the meal a few hours later. “I don’t know. Would you like tea?”
“Always,” he said, seating himself at the table. I went to the cupboard to take down the tin and found my fingers knotted up in the steel cord. A very persistent hallucination, that one. I glanced at it once more and moved to set it on the counter.
“What have you got there?” Chester asked.
“Tea?” I said, holding the tin.
“No, no,” he said. “The necklace. I didn’t know you were taken with jewelry.”
I set the tin down. The bottom took a long time to reach the counter. “You mean this?” I asked, letting it drop from my hand to the length of its chain. It swung, pendulum-heavy, glimmering.
“Yes,” he says. “Looks curious... is that a design on it?”
He could see it. By God, he could see it. I couldn’t believe. I walked toward him and offered it to him and he took it; I was so busy staring at his fingers touching its surface that I didn’t notice him sitting up until he exclaimed, “Morgan! Where did you get this? This is amazing!”
“What?” I asked. “What do you mean?”
“This pendant,” he said. “It’s a pedigree! A pedigree in the ancient glyphs!”
“You can read it?” I asked, staring at him.
“It’s not a thing to be read,” he said. “Not the way you mean. It’s not language. It’s... a system of marking a person’s place. Far easier than deciphering the language, I tell you. All the old stelai are signed with them. Here, look.” He lay the pendant down. “Three circles. This first tells you the birth order and the sex of the person... in this case, he’s a second son. The second circle tells you the two families that combined to produce the person... whether they did so in wedlock and the current status of the person—if he’s dead or alive. These marks above the two bloodline signs... they tell you the status of that bloodline when the person was born: was it prominent? Rich? Or falling down the ladder?”
I was trying very hard not to shake. My voice, I hoped, was nonchalant as I said, “And this particular person?”
“Mmm,” he said. “One family very well off, probably... I think this sign is nobility. This other is also, but without any markers for how well off they are... strange, that. Perhaps the jeweler didn’t know? The union that produced this second son wasn’t... ah... legitimate. The person’s still alive.” He tapped one of the signs. “This one—the father’s bloodline it is, you can tell by the sign next to it—I’ve seen before. Very important family. Here, wait.” He set the pendant aside and reached for the folio, flipping through it at speed but somehow still with care for its fragile pages. “Ah! Look!”
I looked over his shoulder to find myself confronted with the image of the honey-eyed king.
“See,” he said. “He wears it on his scarf.”
“Blood of kings,” I murmured.
“So the evidence suggests,” Chester said, enthused. “This final circle tells you the family of the person now and his status in it. Important, as sometimes people seem to mysteriously show up in third or fourth families... men and women both. Perhaps you can marry or be adopted into whatever bloodline is most advantageous? It’s hard to tell. But in this case, we have the royal bloodline again and... no sign above it. Curious. There should at least be something there. What a mystery this per
son is!”
My fingers had gone numb. He could really see it. Not only that, but he told a story similar to theirs. I turned and went to the closet, leaving a bewildered Chester behind me.
“Locke? Where’d you get this?”
I opened the door. They stared up at me.
“Close the door!” Kelu hissed.
“You’re real,” I said. “I’m not imagining you.”
“What in the name of angels are you talking about?” Chester asked, his voice closer. “You’re not having another fit, are you?”
Kelu reached for the door. I held it out of reach.
“What have you got th—God!” Chester stopped beside me. “You didn’t tell me you’d gotten pets.”
“We’re not pets!” Kelu hissed.
“Yes, we are,” Almond said.
“We’re slaves,” Kelu said to her, and then to me, “And you are an idiot.”
“Kelu!”
“They talk,” Chester said, eyes wide.
“They are the source of your pedigree pendant,” I said.
“Come on,” Kelu said, pulling at Almond. “We have to leave.”
“And go where?” Almond asked, ears drooping. “We found him, Kelu! We have to bring him home!”
“If we stay here,” Kelu said as Chester and I watched, transfixed by fascination, “they’re going to let it go that we’re here, and then the humans will trap us and we’ll never be able to go back.”
“If you’re slaves,” I said. “Why would you want to return to your masters?”
“Because we love them!” Almond exclaimed and threw herself at me. I stepped back once, not because of her slight weight, but because her enthusiasm gave her an unexpected momentum.
“Because if we don’t, we’ll never taste them again and then I’ll go mad,” Kelu said. “They broke me and now I need them.” She bared her needle fangs at me. “You taste right, but there’s something wrong with you. I prefer my blood healthy.”
“You drink blood?” Chester asked, horrified.
“We drink elven blood,” Kelu said with a predatory grin. “So you’re safe from us, human.”
I looked down at Almond. “You drink elven blood as well?”
“Only when I’ve been very good,” she says. “As a reward. Or when I’m injured, so that the blood ladders can help me heal.” She wiggled a little, long tail swaying. “But oh, Master, it’s so good. We all want it all the time, especially if it’s special.”
“All right,” Chester said. “Enough! Locke! An explanation, please?”
“I thought these two were hallucinations,” I said. “But I see now that they’re not, unless my condition is catching.” I grinned at him with little humor. “So you know almost as much as I do. They appear to be... elven pets? Sent here to drag me back to—”
“—claim his birthright,” Almond said. “He is a prince.”
“This prince?” Chester asked, holding up the pendant.
Almond nodded.
Chester glanced at me and grinned. “You, a bastard prince of the elves? What’s next, Ivy as fairy queen?”
“With a harem of men to do her bidding,” I said.
“We’d all sign up,” Chester said and laughed. “Here, you, creatures... what are you?”
“Genets,” Almond said. “We’re genets. I’m Almond and that’s Kelu.”
“Amazing,” Chester said. “Just amazing. They look like... furry children. How old are you two?”
“I’m two,” Almond said. “And Kelu is nine.”
“Positively senescent,” Chester said.
“It’s not a joke,” Kelu said. “I’m the oldest genet, and that’s only because they messed up and made the first generation too long-lived. New genets like Almond will only live to be six or seven.”
“Six or seven... elf years?” Chester guessed.
The look Kelu gave him was positively scathing. “We mark the same moon and sun you do. When I say seven years, I mean seven years.”
“You mean... seven years as I am only twenty-six,” Chester said. “So just about a sixth of my lifespan, and one of you would be dead.”
“Yes,” Kelu said.
“That makes no sense,” he muttered. “Why would anyone create a companion that you have to replace every six years?”
“You are idiots,” Kelu said. “We’re not companions. We’re slaves. We’re supposed to be replaced. To make more money for the blood-flag that breeds us, and so that when our masters grow tired of us they don’t have to kill us themselves, they can just wait for us to die and buy a shiny new genet in a different color.”
I looked down at Almond’s head. She was trembling, still clutching my waist. I set my hand on her hair. “You’re really going to expire in four years?” I asked her.
“Yes, Master,” she said. “While my body is strong and I am able to please you, I will live to serve you. The elves made it so I would never be a burden to you in my old age.”
Chester glanced at her, then met my eyes. “Are we talking about the same elves?” he asked me, hushed.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I honestly don’t know.”
They were tired, the genets, particularly after days of stalking me. Not long after our conversation, Kelu curled herself into a ball in front of the fire and fell asleep and Almond insisted on doing the same at my feet. Chester poured our tea, handed me my cup and said, “What... the... hell.”
“Don’t ask me,” I said. “I didn’t know they were coming. I didn’t even know they existed.”
“What are you going to do with them?” he asked.
“I haven’t the first idea,” I said. I arched a brow at him. “Do you have any suggestions?”
“None,” he said. “Not even a hint of one.” He shook his head. “My God, Morgan.”
“I know,” I said. He was disturbed, Chester, to be calling me by my first name. “I don’t suppose you came across any mention of miniature animal slaves in any of your reading.”
“Nothing. Not a thing. The closest I’ve seen has been the occasional image of a drake here and there.”
I laughed. “God! Don’t tell me I should expect dragons next.”
“I should hope not,” Chester said. “Where would we put them?” He drummed tan fingers on the table. “Locke—how do you feel?”
“At a loss, as I’m not exactly the pet-keeping sort,” I said.
“No.” He shook his head. “I mean, how do you feel? You look... you look right.”
I glanced at him. With Almond warming my toes and the cup warming my hands, I felt caught between two perfect poles... and my body between them was languid and strong and tranquil. Not a pain in it, not an aching joint, not a twinge.
I set my cup aside, unnerved. It was the feeling I’d had while holding Almond, but persisting somehow. Persisting and faded out of the forefront... as, I supposed, everyone’s health did.
When they were healthy.
“Do you see a difference?” I asked him.
He nodded. “You look alive.” A lopsided grin. “No offense.”
He could see it. I could feel it. I looked down at the coil of caramel and white at my feet, at the way the fur separated and bristled as her ribs lifted with every torpid breath. “Now that makes absolutely no sense,” I said. “Perhaps I am having a good day.”
“Have you ever had a day this good?” Chester asked.
“No,” I admitted. “Not that I can recall.”
“So... best day you’ve ever had, arrival of elven constructs,” Chester said, putting out first one hand, than the other, palm up. “Hmm. Could it be... a correlation?”
“Which does not imply causation. One incident might be coincidence.”
“And if it’s not?” Chester asked.
I laughed. “Then I suppose I’ll keep them.”
He said, “So, no intention of going back with them, eh?”
“Back with them... where, to elf-land? Where someone has mixed up my identity with some bastar
d prince’s?” I shook my head. “Be reasonable, Chester. It’s a fantasy. And even if it’s not, monarchies are not particularly known for their honest self-portrayals. It’s probably some horrendously despotic country, and to travel there is to ask for deportment, enslavement, or something worse. You heard the genets. Humans aren’t well-regarded there.”
“But... elves!” Chester said. “Think of the research!”
I laughed. “Keep dreaming, friend.”
He sighed and opened his ink bottle, drew out a fresh page of notes. “Can’t blame a man for wishing. Mind if I copy out your pendant there?”
“Not at all.”
The pendant changed hands. Chester turned it in his fingers. “Would be an amazing thing if you actually were this second son.”
“I can’t argue that,” I said, and with Almond sleeping on my toes returned to my own studies.
The genets did not wake when I saw Chester away, still marveling at the ease with which I was able to escort him out. On returning, I paused, leaning on the door to the sitting room, and regarded them; even having spent the entire day with them, I could not quite believe them. The fur, the delicate little limbs, the extravagant tails, the ridiculous and ominous collars. I went to sleep, not entirely sure they would be there in the morning.
But they most certainly were. And in fact, they were both in my bed. Their bodies, so much hotter than human ones, had trapped me between them, tails draped over my legs and hips, tiny hands resting on my chest. That perfume, musk and lilacs... and the heat, and the softness... I let my head drop back onto the pillow and sighed.
The tip of a little tongue scraped against one of my ribs, and so deep was my relaxation that I didn’t flinch. Almond cuddled more tightly against my side, slipping one furred leg around mine. It was like being enrobed in summer sunlight.
I drifted off again. I thought I could sleep forever thus, outside of pain, warm to the core.
It was in this state of complacency that I became aware of being licked again along the inside of my arm. It began as a tickle, but the longer the sensation persisted the clearer it became: the rasp of the center of that tiny tongue, the slight prick and drag of the sharp lower teeth, the moist heat of the mouth, the cool damp leather of the nose. Whiskers brushing against my skin. The flush of warmth and cold as she panted on the slick spots she left behind.
An Heir to Thorns and Steel Page 8