Project Elfhome

by Wen Spencer

  The viceroy’s airship fought its tethers, dragging the dozens of elves holding onto the mooring ropes.

  Law had three coolers full of fish in the back of her Dodge for Caraway’s majordomo, Chili Pepper. Alton Kryskill’s Ford pickup was backed into the motor court and they were off-loading two wild boars. Normally another forager at an enclave meant that Law had screwed up her delivery time and had lost a customer. Yes, she was running late. Caraway’s enclave, though, was bracing for an invasion from the Stone Clan; they’d buy from both foragers and beg for more.

  Law sat on her tailgate, listening to the conversations around her. Since June, she’d had a second unofficial job: freelance spy. She wanted to find the Skin Clan before they could engineer the downfall of Pittsburgh. Nearby gunfire as they arrived had lured Bare Snow off to investigate. Law remained to find out what the enclaves knew about the incoming Stone Clan domana.

  The Kryskills all had that wild and wooly Norse god look going on. Alton had slipped a few notches on the scruffy scale since she last seen him in May; his dark blond hair was down to his shoulders and he’d let his chronic five o’clock go to full beard. Alton was getting bad news via his cell phone. He didn’t want to be overheard; he’d drifted to the farthest corner of the motor courtyard. Law could barely make out his snarled questions. “Who? When? Why?” Judging by Alton’s free hand, coiling into a fist, someone was in for a serious beat down. The Kryskills were not people you wanted pissed off at you. His family had pulled an actual cannon out of thin air and kicked monster butt in July. Law wanted to know what had Alton looking so angry.

  Not that Alton was the only one upset in the motor courtyard. The elves weren’t happy about their incoming guests.

  “Harbingers!” Caraway’s cook worried at the skirt of his white apron. “Harbingers! I can’t believe they sent Harbingers. Here! To our territory! They mean war.”

  Chili Pepper focused on counting out American dollars to pay Alton. “You need to wet age the boar and then cook it slowly over a low temperature; you will not be able to serve it tonight.”

  “Don’t tell me how to cook,” the cook snapped.

  “Then focus on your duties and not on things you cannot change.” Chili Pepper tucked away his leather billfold. He re-counted the bills he’d taken from it. “We are hosting Darkness of Stone. We cannot bring dishonor to Wolf Who Rules by doing it poorly. The distant voices say Darkness will have his six Hands plus three Hands from Cold Mountain Temple and another hundred laedin-caste on top of that.”

  Law clenched her jaw to keep her dismay off her face. The warriors with Darkness alone could easily overwhelm the viceroy’s force. The combined might of the three incoming Stone Clan domana might even outnumber the royal troops.

  “We don’t have enough meat to feed that many warriors!” the cook cried.

  “Calm yourself. Law is here with water produce.” Chili Pepper waved to her. “You can serve the waewaeli tonight and roast the boar tomorrow.”

  Alton glanced her way and his eyes narrowed in what might be anger.

  What did I do to piss off the Kryskills? The monster fight stated the Kryskills’ alliance fairly clear. She thought they were on the same side. Then again, no one knew what side Law was on. She nodded at Alton, wishing that he’d lose interest in her.

  One of the saw-toothed airships drifted over the courtyard, filling the sky and throwing everyone into deep shadows.

  Speaking of not knowing which side a person was on…

  Alton glanced upward and then focused back on his cell phone.

  The cook whispered a curse as the gondola slid overhead, revealing rows of mysterious hatches. Judging by the way all the elves stepped back under the eaves, they were most likely some type of gun ports. The Wind Clan’s reaction to the weapons was unsettling; they didn’t trust the incoming forces.

  One thing she’d learned about being a spy was that occasionally you had to risk a few questions to understand everything going on. “Is that his? Darkness?” Law pointed upward.

  Chili Pepper nodded in reply to her. He snapped fingers to break his household out of their panic. “The Wyverns will guarantee that the Stone Clan does not harm us. This will be no different than Winter Court. We have done this before domou took Caraway as Beholden, we can do it again.”

  “He is a Harbinger?” Law had never heard the word before. “What does that mean?” How trustworthy could he be if all Caraway’s people were scared?

  Chili Pepper pursed his mouth like he didn’t like answering, but he did. “Harbingers are our greatest warlords from the Rebellion. For thousands of years, they battled the Skin Clan, taking us from slaves to freedom.”

  “Ruthless,” Cook muttered. “Harbingers would level cities. Streets would run with blood.”

  “Shush,” Chili Pepper whispered. “We don’t gossip to outsiders about guests.”

  There was a loud snap of ropes from the airfield.

  “Get her! Get her! There is no one on her!” a distant voice shouted in Elvish.

  Law spun around to see the Wind Clan gossamer flying away, trailing broken mooring ropes. As she watched, a dozen tengu rose up from the city, black wings laboring to gain altitude to chase after the airship.

  The elves of Caraway’s enclave cried out in wordless dismay.

  “The tengu are domi’s Beholden.” Chili Pepper snapped his fingers again. “They will fetch back the gossamer. Get these wild pigs to the slaughterhouse, and carefully. Don’t spill any blood on the cobblestones. Our guests will be here in minutes and it would be in poor taste to have bloody paving.”

  While the elves struggled with the big dead pigs, Alton walked over to Law’s Dodge. Normally Law didn’t hang out with men. Most guys didn’t deal well with a woman that could out “man” them at hunting, fishing, shooting, and fighting kind of things. They seemed to think that all those activities were pissing contests where women shouldn’t enter because they lacked a penis. To compensate, most guys turned into loud-mouthed jerks. Alton Kryskill was a rare exception, probably because he had an older sister that could kick the teeth out of any moron who said women should act like the weaker sex.

  Law and Alton had gone to high school together and been in the same clubs. Ecology. Rifle team. It made them friends of sorts.

  “Hey.” Alton put out his fist to bump hers. “Where do you stand in all this? You do know it’d be bad if the oni came out on top in this?”

  The oni were the least of their problems but Law kept her secrets to herself. “I’m with the elves in this.” By that she meant the elves that could be trusted. The secret traitors among the elves were their biggest problem. Who were these incoming Stone Clan domana really?

  Alton nodded as if it was what he expected her to say. “Look, we’re trying to get everyone that we can trust in on this. Tinker domi’s cousin, Oilcan, was taken, we think by his elf grandfather. Tinker domi is freaking out over this. We’re going to find Oilcan, even if we have to tear the city apart to find him.”

  “Who exactly is ‘we’?” Law asked since Alton was the last person she expected to call Tinker by her correct title. The Kryskills were a wild and woolly bunch, even for Pittsburgh. Someone had been drilling protocol into Alton. If Law weren’t living with an elf, she wouldn’t have picked up the difference. Most humans in Pittsburgh called the girl Princess Tinker even though it wasn’t her title.

  “Team Tinker. My cousin is the team’s business manager. We only want people we can trust looking for Oilcan; people we know are human and aren’t working with the oni.”

  That did narrow the field down to kids that they went to school with. Assuming that the Kryskills could actually be trusted. The question remained why Alton was being all so proper.

  “I’ll keep my eyes open.” Law waved toward the bed of her Dodge. “I’ve got to stop at Station Square. A bunch of friends called needing help with their booths at Oktoberfest. I promised them I’d gather stuff for them.”

  “They’re still hold
ing Oktoberfest?” Alton pointed toward the crowded airfield. “With all that going on?”

  “They moved the location because of the war, but yeah, the shrine gets installed today.”

  Alton nodded his understanding. He held out his phone. “Here’s my number. Call me if you find anything. Be careful. The oni might be behind Oilcan’s kidnapping but just the same, his grandfather and great uncle are serious heavy hitters.”

  Law was weaned on videos of what Windwolf could do if pissed off. “Just your family and Team Tinker against two domana and how many sekasha?”

  Alton dropped his voice to a whisper. “Jin is flying into the city to personally supervise the search. If you spot them, call me, and the tengu will have our back.”

  The Kryskills were allied with the tengu. That was an interesting piece of information. How did that happen?

  “Will do,” Law promised.

  The wild boar had been carried off.

  Chili Pepper made shooing motions at Alton. “Go! Go! Make room for Law! Bring more tomorrow. As much as possible.”

  Alton waved as he pulled out, making room for her Dodge. Law backed into the motor court thinking about Oilcan’s kidnapping. Bare Snow had told her about Forge and his missing son and beloved dead wife. Rumor had it that Forge planned to stay in Pittsburgh for Oilcan’s entire life, however long that may be. It didn’t make sense that Forge would take Oilcan to harm him. The kidnapping had all the fingerprints of the Skin Clan; they most likely wanted a war between the Wind Clan and Stone Clan. Oilcan was merely a pawn in a hidden game.

  It was her experience that grandfathers couldn’t be reasoned with; that part of their brains had atrophied from disuse. Someone could use their prejudice to manipulate them into stupidity; Law’s Aunt Rosie excelled at that. Admit that they were wrong? No, grandfathers didn’t do that. At least, neither one of hers would.

  Having Team Tinker tracking down Forge might be a bad thing. If Tinker refused to take the bait, the Skin Clan might settle for a war between the elves and the humans.

  “Forgiveness.” Chili Pepper interrupted Law’s thought. “I need to ask you about the mutt.”

  “Who?”

  “The half-breed with the ill-omened name. The female child you found at midsummer’s eve.” He meant Bare Snow. “I don’t remember her name exactly. Something about death.”

  “What about her?” Law struggled to keep her voice level.

  “Tinker-domi exiled one of Steam Vent’s household. He was in charge of the Union Station since the disguised oni were discovered working on the trains. Domi was quite angry with him for allowing harm to come to the Stone Clan children. She has made it clear that anyone that allows a child to be hurt will be exiled from Pittsburgh.”

  Technically, Bare Snow was still a child, since she was a few years shy of her majority. It made her approximately seventeen. She had begged all the enclaves to take her in and they’d turned her away. Nor had anyone bothered to find out if she found a safe place to stay. Heads would roll if Tinker found out.

  “I found her someplace to live,” Law said vaguely.

  “Alone?” Chili Pepper’s tone indicated that wasn’t acceptable.

  “No, it’s a human household.”

  Chili Pepper’s eyes narrowed as he considered the ramifications. “Can they be trusted? They are not abusing her?”

  As if anyone could abuse Bare Snow without getting a knife to the throat.

  “They can be trusted,” Law said.

  “They are not using her for sex?”

  Law blushed, thinking of last night. “What—what do you mean?”

  “How do you say—pimping her?”

  Obviously Chili Pepper had not a clue that Bare Snow had been trained to be an assassin. “No! Nothing like that! She seems very happy. She picks apples and such.”

  “Ah! Good. Good. Domi would be pleased.” Apparently that was all that mattered in his mind as he focused on more pressing matters, like the incoming Harbingers.

  * * *

  “Ok-to-ber-fest,” Bare Snow chanted in English, as she pulled on her panties. She’d slipped into the Dodge’s passenger window just as Law had pulled away from Caraway’s. The spell tattooed on her torso required her to be naked in order to be invisible. “Oktoberfest. At Oktoberfest, we will drink bear.”

  “Beer,” Law corrected her. It earned her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. For a trained assassin, Bare Snow loved to cuddle. It was distracting when she did it mostly naked.

  “At Oktoberfest, we will drink beer and eat pierogies,” Bare Snow stated firmly despite the fact that she couldn’t stand the taste of beer. There would be plenty for elves to drink; all sold under their Elvish names.

  “Yes.”

  The female pulled on her blue sundress that covered all her tattoos but not much else. Law rarely could get her to wear much more; the elf liked the ease of undressing. Law wasn’t sure what they were going to do come winter.

  Bare Snow dropped back to Elvish. “What are pierogies again?”

  “Potato and cheese dumplings.” The elves didn’t have potatoes, as keva beans were firmly established as their main starch crop before potatoes were introduced in Europe on Earth. Nor did they have peanuts, which probably explained their fixation with peanut butter.

  “Ah, yes, pierogies are good.” Bare Snow unbraided her long blue-black hair, taking out long sharp ironwood needles as she did. They were going to see Usagi’s kids, who loved to play with Bare Snow’s hair.

  Law explained what she’d learned from Alton.

  Bare Snow added what she’d found out. “The gunfire was Tinker domi’s troops clearing the oni invaders out of her cousin’s enclave. I arrived too late to help, beyond saving a puppy. It was so sad; she loves her cousin so much. She was very upset but Prince True Flame kept her from taking her grievances to the Stone Clan. That would not have gone well for the Wind Clan.”

  Considering what she learned at Caraway’s, no, it would not have gone well. “Can these Harbingers be trusted?”

  “They are old and clever, with ancient grudges. They are like a blind swordsman filled with rage; they will attack anything that moves. It could make them easy to manipulate. The Harbingers might have sided with Tinker domi. They abhor spell-working. Cana Lily, though, abhors the Wind Clan. He is a warlord from the Clan War. He would have gladly given Tinker the fight she sought and the Harbingers would have backed Cana Lily.”

  “Oh joy.”

  “What’s more, since the Skin Clan attempted to prolong the Clan War, it is possible that Cana Lily has always been one of their pawns.”

  * * *

  Law admired her fellow Pittsburghers. Hell or high water, they were determined to live their normal life. Oktoberfest was an ancient Earth festival imported from Europe ages before the first Startup by immigrant steelworkers. Law believed that the original festival had been held in October (hence the name) but it had been combined with the elf harvest celebration that started a week or so before the fall equinox. (Elves did not have holidays but holy weeks.) Since it featured drinking large quantities of beer, the humans aimed for Friday and Saturday instead of a set day, thus the date was fluid.

  The festival was normally held at the fairground that doubled as the gossamer airfield. The war made that impossible, so the powers that be had moved it to the converted railroad station of Station Square. It was a trade-off between access to the light-rail and the constant danger that the riverfront presented. All week a brave and cautious work crew had erected fences along the shoreline.

  Law had three deliveries to make, all last-minute calls. Ellen inquired about the possibility of chestnuts, Tiffani begged for pesantiki, and Trixie demanded apples. (Knowing Trixie, her demand was to cover her embarrassment for having to ask for help.) Without Bare Snow, Law would have never been able to gather everything on top of her enclave orders. She arrived too late to drive into Station Square proper; the long driveway was closed. She parked across the street in the old Hooters park
ing lot.

  Law unloaded her Dodge into her two Radio Flyer cargo wagons. Brisbane tried to climb in with the McIntosh apples.

  “No way. You won’t eat just one. You get in the fish.” Law used a slightly wormy-looking apple to lure him into the other wagon. He climbed in, complaining loudly. The porcupine was the size of a kindergartener and at times just as loud.

  She started off with the apples and nuts, confident that Bare Snow would follow with Brisbane and the fish. They crossed the street that led to Smithfield Bridge.

  The elf part of the festival had started several days earlier with setting up a temporary home for the religious shrines that guarded over the grounds. A wooden platform and roof had been handcrafted without any nails. Pennants flew overhead, mostly Wind Clan blue and Fire Clan red but with a sprinkling of Pittsburgh black and gold as a dodge around displaying Stone Clan color. The stiff plastic rustled in the wind like dozens of little people clapping.

  An odd low roaring sound came from across the river. Law paused at the corner to look across the Smithfield Bridge. An elf with a bullroarer was leading a parade across the bridge. The instrument roared as he spun it in a wide circle.

  “We’re just in time,” Law said. “Here comes the shrine.”

  “Gouni is coming!” Bare Snow clapped her hands and gave a little bounce of excitement. The autumn equinox was dedicated to the Goddess of Life and Harvest. Over the last week, it had become apparent that Gouni was the elf version of Santa Claus—if Santa Claus was a cheap bastard that only gave out blessings and roasted keva beans. Seriously, Law could not see the appeal but she knew that Bare Snow desperately wanted to be blessed by the priestess.

  “They take forever to get the shrine into place,” Law said. “If we hurry, we can be done to receive the blessing.”

  The old station building had been converted into a pub favored by the human train personnel. Law had spent many afternoons at the pub with her grandfather and other local retired railroad employees. It was a grand place with tall marble columns, an arched ceiling, rich detailed woodwork and beautiful stained-glass windows. It served killer bruschetta and Shirley Temple cocktails. It almost made her like being force-fed information on trains. Across the street from the station was the old Freight House that now housed several Earth chain stores, all closed due to Tinker destroying the orbital gate. It was no wonder that the pub leapt at the chance to host Oktoberfest.