Earthstone

by P. M. Biswas

  But there was also a bizarre, wicked schadenfreude in her that relished seeing Loren so hapless, so overwhelmed. Tam hadn’t thought she was that vindictive. Apparently she was.

  Finally, into the deafening silence, Tam said, “You bonded to me?”

  “I didn’t mean to!” Loren’s cheeks were so red that they were practically ablaze. “I wasn’t even thinking about it! What was I supposed to do, leave you to perish as you lay in a puddle of your own blood?”

  “Thanks for that lovely image,” Tam muttered. “But I don’t see why you had to bond with me.”

  “I didn’t—” Loren was spluttering again. “I didn’t intend to—”

  “Tam, human of the humans,” Eras said, and by golly, wasn’t he ever going to stop saying that? Mayhap echoing people’s stupidities back at them was one of the scant amusements left to him after having grown so old. “What my son means is that there is always some degree of a bond between the healer and the healed. It is necessary, especially in drastic conditions where the very life of the patient is at risk. The healer’s life force flows into the patient, twining with and bolstering the patient’s own life force. However, the bond is then carefully disentangled to prevent accidents such as these. A professional healer would have disentangled their magic from you without leaving in place a bond that tied their life force to yours, as the life forces of married couples are bound.”

  “Holy muck-balls,” Tam said, horrified. Married to Loren? Astar preserve her from such an intolerable fate. “Is—is it permanent?”

  “Not if the healer and the healed are physically separated for an extended length of time,” Eras expounded. “The bond will gradually fade away. But as you have returned to the Wanderwood and within range of Loren’s magic, your bond will persist for a while longer.”

  “Until I leave again.”

  “Until you leave again.”

  “Phew,” Tam exhaled. So she wasn’t doomed, after all. The bond wasn’t irrevocable. To Loren, she said, “Great. Not only are you a berk, but you’re an incompetent berk.”

  As Loren glowered at her, Eras made another coughing sound. Was he laughing at his own son? “Loren has never been spoken to like that. He must find it refreshing.”

  Loren’s glower swung to his father and then away, as if he was too abashed by his bungled healing spell to meet his father’s eyes.

  If Tam hadn’t been breathtakingly consoled by the prospect of escaping marriage to Loren, she’d almost have pitied him. Almost.

  “I am not a healer, Tam,” Loren said evenly, “but I did my best to save your life. I reassure you that I did not intend to bond with you, nor would I ever intend to bond with a human. Particularly such a boorish one.”

  Tam toed the soil beneath her sullenly. Of course the princely ponce would want nothing to do with a knuckle-dragging, barbaric, filthy human. Just as evenly as Loren, Tam said, “And I thank you for saving my life, Loren. But if you want me far away from you, so that the bond may dissolve, then you ought to support my case for peace. The sooner I can negotiate safe passage for my queen, the sooner I’ll be gone.”

  Eras smiled thinly. “We cannot make such profound decisions based on the whims of the young. How do we know that this isn’t a ploy for your fellow humans to breach our outer defenses and slaughter us all?”

  “Um,” Tam waffled, “aren’t you the ones with magic? If anything, you have the advantage of us. And please forgive my coarse language, but I’m positive that my ‘fellow humans’ will be pissing themselves at the sight of just one of your spiders.”

  Eras coughed again. Loren turned his eyes heavenward, as if asking for patience. From whom, though? Didn’t the elves not worship gods?

  “To what purpose does your queen desire diplomatic relations with us after centuries of human disdain for elfkind?” Eras asked.

  “I’ll be blunt,” Tam said, for she could be nothing else. If she attempted a courtier’s frippery, it’d only come off as artificial and amateurish. “We’re under siege. King Danis of Norvald—a despot and a killer of innocents—has been on a rampage for the last two decades, and has conquered most of the nations on earth.”

  “Human nations,” Eras said.

  “Human nations,” Tam confirmed. “Now he’s heading for us. Our former alliance with Axenborg, the country between ours and Norvald, has fallen through, and—”

  “And you hope that if you find new allies in us, the war may yet turn in your favor.”

  Tam hesitated. “That… sounds quite self-serving of us, doesn’t it?”

  “It does.”

  “But it’s more than that. Danis is…. We humans can’t use magic, but he has some method of using it, and he uses it not only on himself but on others. That’s why he has remained undefeatable for so long. If he invades Astaris, then it is inevitable that he will invade the Wanderwood, which is located within Astaris. Danis is a threat to us, yes, but he is also a threat to you.”

  Eras stroked his chin thoughtfully. He glanced at his son. “Loren, what say you? Is this a ploy? Unforeseen as these events have been, it is convenient that you currently share a bond with this human. You should be able to sense whether she is a liar. Duplicity does not seem to be in her character, not insofar as I have observed her, but you have insight into her that I do not.”

  “She isn’t inclined to treachery,” Loren ruminated aloud, “and she believes what she says. But for a blockhead like her, it is possible that her understanding of the issue is incomplete or skewed, or that she has been manipulated into believing in what she says, though it may be untrue.”

  “That’s the most convoluted insult to my intelligence I’ve ever heard,” Tam said, “and I’ve heard a few.”

  “Have you?” Loren remarked disdainfully. “I’m shocked.”

  “Son,” Eras chided, “that is no way of talking to a herald.”

  “But she’s so—” Loren clamped his mouth shut. “Yes, Father. It is as you say.”

  “That’s more like you. Now, we must hold a vote.” Eras spread his arms in a sweeping gesture that encompassed everyone gathered in his court. “Citizens of the Wanderwood, I ask you to cast your vote on this most pressing dilemma. You have heard testimony from the human girl and from my son. Do you deem it acceptable to temporarily accept the envoy of human diplomats into our home, to negotiate an alliance against this new threat? Upon the arrival of the humans, we will consult with our Seer, Soma, to verify the verity of the humans’ story. If its verity is found lacking, they will be turned out.”

  “Your Majesty,” said Nala, “may I speak?”

  “You may,” Eras replied. “This is a public forum in which all voices are welcome. Speak.”

  “If our Seer discovers that the humans are misleading us, or that they have used the pretext of a negotiation to spy on us and learn the lay of the forest, then should we not kill them before they leave, so that they may not take any information they have gleaned with them?”

  “Killing them would be an act of war,” Eras said, “and I have no intention of starting a war with Astaris, the land within which the Wanderwood lies. It would be suicide. We would be astronomically outnumbered. Furthermore, this girl named Tam has already gleaned much from us, should she be inclined to misuse it. If we suspect her or her kind of deceit, we can always recast our wards and strengthen them to prevent the humans—including Tam—from ever reentering the woods. But your point stands, and your suggestion, too, will be put to the vote should the Seer detect any deception.” Eras looked out over the assembly. “Are there any more suggestions or amendments?”

  There were none. A hush fell upon the elves as they voted. They pressed their ink-dipped thumbs onto the fresh rolls of parchment distributed by the blue-caped vote counters. Tam saw that each thumbprint was magically absorbed into the paper, the ink disappearing and reappearing as a number. That number increased incrementally with every vote, and Tam, who was about as good at mathematics as fish were at flight, envied this shortcut to count
ing votes. If only she had magic to do all her counting for her.

  Tam distracted herself with that while she waited for the results, her heart pounding more and more loudly with each vote.

  This was it. This was her destiny—and the destiny of all Astarians—hanging in the balance. If the elves fell back on generations of antipathy to vote against accepting the human delegation, all Tam could do was go back to her people and tell them that she had failed… that she had failed them all.

  But if the elves were sufficiently frightened by potential eradication at the hands of Danis, they might overcome their preconceptions in this instance. Just once. Just once would be enough, because Tam was confident that Queen Emeraude would make an undeniable case for an alliance, with words more eloquent and convincing than the blathering Tam could manage.

  All Tam needed was an affirmative vote. One more vote on the side of accord than on the side of animosity. One more vote on the side of cooperation than on the side of indifference.

  Tam’s breaths came short as the blue-caped counters brought their scrolls up to the king and knelt before him, unrolling them and holding them up for inspection.

  “The results of the vote will now be announced,” Eras said after surveying the documents.

  Tam squeezed her clammy hands together, closing her eyes and praying. Astar, shine Your light upon the elves so that they see the truth. Astar, move their hearts with compassion and not aversion. Astar, do not let me fail my country. Astar, let the vote be yes. Yes. Yes.

  “On the motion to invite the human delegation into the Wanderwood for peace talks….” Eras paused for effect, a pause so protracted that Tam had to open her eyes again. The elves were so melodramatic. “The yeas have it.”

  “Yes!” Tam shouted. She dropped to her knees, her legs going weak as she sobbed. Jubilant tears blurred her vision. She doubled over and slammed her fists onto her thighs, gasping, unable to breathe, happier than she had ever been.

  When she wiped her tears and looked up, Loren was staring at her, his eyes wide, his lips parted. Do you feel that? Tam thought with a sort of savage joy. Do you feel that through our supposed bond? Good. Know how important this is to me. Know that what I say is true and that I have never lied to you.

  Eras disbanded the vote counters with a flourish. He looked proudly upon his subjects. “War has never come to our doorstep. It would have been easy for you to pretend that it never would, and to keep shunning contact with the humans as we have done since time immemorial. I commend you all for your courage and your foresight, and for your open-mindedness in making a change to our age-old policy of separatism. Now we must leave behind our cocoons and secure our place in the wider world—for if a threat is enough to drive even the isolationist humans to forge an alliance with us, then it must be a grave threat indeed. I ask that, from this day onward and in the interests of peace, we not refer to humans as beings lesser than us, but as beings equal to us. No longer is this girl an ‘it.’ Kindly refer to her and all the humans in her delegation with the utmost respect.”

  Tam got up shakily. Her guards eyeballed her in warning, but Tam wasn’t about to break out of their corral and launch herself at Eras for a congratulatory hug, or whatever it was they were imagining after seeing her earlier emotional display. “King Eras.” She wobbled on her feet. “I thank you for your decision.”

  “It was the decision of my people.” Eras studied Tam speculatively. “I hereby permit you to lead your delegation into the Wanderwood, but only the queen and her advisors. Any armed guards must be left behind, as must any weaponry.”

  “I—I can’t let my queen in here without an armed escort! Even if the elves do not accost her, the beasts might!”

  “The beasts will do naught to endanger the woods they live in. I will convey to them that they are not to approach the humans who will be passing through.”

  “Er,” said Tam, “how will you… convey… that to them?”

  “By telling them.” Eras frowned at Tam quizzically. “They are sentient beings. How else do sentient beings communicate but by speech?”

  “I dunno.” Tam winked mockingly at Loren. “By unintentionally bonding with them next to a magical pool?”

  Loren flushed angrily. “You’ll never let me live that down, will you?”

  “Why should I?”

  Eras’s quirked lips revealed that he was enjoying seeing his son being taken down a peg or two. He indicated that Tam’s guards step forward. “As you are our finest Sentinels, you will accompany this human girl to the edge of the Wanderwood. You will supervise her interchange with her delegation, and if in it you intuit any subterfuge, you have my permission to expel her from the forest—by force, if need be. If she does not cooperate, you may slit her throat then and there.”

  Tam didn’t so much as flinch. Loren, however, did. It was exceedingly odd.

  Eras spared his son a long, penetrating look.

  Loren said nothing.

  “You are not to kill any other humans, as that would be a declaration of war. Killing a lone herald is permissible if that herald is exposed as a spy, but no more killings should occur. Nala,” Eras said to the Sentinel, and Nala saluted him. “You will lead our guards. You will bar the human delegation from entry into the Wanderwood if the hostilities worsen to the point where Tam has to be expelled or killed. Else, should hostilities not occur, you will lead the human delegation through our illusory border and into the forest proper, where I will have a delegation of our own awaiting them.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.” Nala drew her bow and installed herself behind Tam once more.

  “Oh, c’mon,” Tam said when Nala’s arrow pricked her again. “Are you going to keep poking me in the back with that? You’ll gouge a hole between my shoulder blades. Where would I run off to? Into the arms of that giant, ghostly monster I saw lurking in the bushes? No thank you. I’d rather throw myself on my own sword. Not that I have a sword. But if I did, I’d throw myself on it.”

  Nala scoffed. “What you saw was the Deerwent. He is a benign forest spirit that only protects and does no harm.”

  “So you have benevolent monsters? Monsters are benevolent, now? Just tip me upside down and tar me with feathers.”

  Nala was baffled. “Why would I do that?”

  Tam sighed gustily. “It’s a figure of speech.” Gosh, these elves. “Oi, husband mine!” Tam called back to Loren before she was marched off, and was rewarded with the spectacle of Loren almost hacking up his own lungs. “Wait for me with a flower on your pillow and a song in your heart!”

  Eras coughed out another laugh. It was the last thing Tam heard before her guards shepherded her out of the elven court and back into the wild.

  THE UNINHABITED outskirts of the Wanderwood weren’t that terrifying when Tam knew why they were uninhabited. They were just illusions, that was all. Very convincing illusions. Tam was tempted to crouch down and inspect every clump of grass and every mossy stone for its verisimilitude. And she would have, were it not for the grim-faced, saturnine Sentinels propelling her onward with a reticence as off-putting as the noiselessness of the fake forest around them.

  “Are all Sentinels this unhappy?” Tam asked, because she couldn’t resist. “Or are you lot especially gloomy?”

  “No,” denied Nala. “We’re just concentrating. On what we can see, hear, smell, and taste.”

  “Taste? What can you taste but the spit in your mouth and what you had for breakfast?”

  “I can taste changes in the breeze. The advent of rain. Whether soil has been tread upon by an elf or a human.”

  “Ew,” said Tam. “You taste the soil?”

  “I can also taste fear.” Nala dug her arrow even deeper into Tam’s skin.

  “Ow, all right, sorry. By Astar, you’re scary.”

  “I intend to be.”

  “Yeah, I got that.”

  When they arrived at the boundary of the Wanderwood, Tam peered out in the direction of where Emeraude had been, but the mist s
hrouding the terrain concealed any sign of Tam’s people waiting for her on the other side. For an unreasoning, childlike instant, Tam feared she’d been abandoned, that Emeraude had given up and gone home without her.

  But that wasn’t the case. Nala, who was squinting into the distance, said, “Your delegation is lunching on breads and meats.”

  Tam’s stomach growled in response. Bad stomach, Tam castigated it. Mid-diplomacy is not the time to complain about not having ingested anything in hours. “Let me guess,” Tam said. “The mist is magical too, and only you can see through it?”

  “No human can, but the elves can. We Sentinels, in particular.”

  “Can you signal my queen, then? Or allow me to go and get her?”

  “No. You remain here. Tomak,” Nala barked at a thickset elf with eyes as golden as a falcon’s. “Shoot.”

  Tomak immediately withdrew an arrow from his quiver.

  “Wait.” Tam panicked. “Shoot? Shoot what? Why are you shooting at them? Don’t shoot at them!”

  “Hush,” Nala admonished her. “It’s a message, you tiny ignoramus.”

  “I resent the tiny part,” Tam said. “And what sort of message is an arrow being shot at you meant to be? ‘Your murder is imminent’?”

  “No.” Tomak extracted a miniature scroll from his belt to tie it to his arrow. “This is the message.” He squinted just like Nala had, aimed, and shot.

  “Where’d you get that scroll?” Tam pried apprehensively. “What does it say?”

  Tomak reholstered his bow. “An assistant of King Eras handed it to me before we left. You were too busy having vapors on the ground to see it happen. It is an invitation to parley.”

  “I wasn’t having vapors. I was happy. And why would my queen assume that your invitation to parley isn’t an invitation to a mass beheading? If she doesn’t see that I’m intact, and if she doesn’t speak to me, she can’t know that this isn’t a trap. She may not even come forward.”

  “Her loss,” said Tomak, expressionless as a brick.