by Barb Hendee
Chapter Eight
W ynn walked beside Osha with Leanâlhâm nearby as they passed through an aspen grove filled with low grass and patches of dandelions. Magiere trudged ahead in her studded hauberk, the falchion strapped on her hip. Leesil was fitted with his weapons and hauberk covered in steel rings. Wynn was still uncertain how Magiere had managed all this, but part of her was relieved when she saw the two gearing up that morning, until Magiere forced Wynn to strap on the battle dagger over her short robe.
The last time Wynn tried to use a weapon she had been beaten to near unconsciousness by two of Darmouth's soldiers. The sheathed blade thumping against her side was an unpleasant reminder. She tilted back her head and saw a thousand green leaves haloed by the bright sun. Ahead, she heard the sound of running water.
"We have reached the river people," Leanâlhâm said. "Our journey will be easier."
"Why is that?" Wynn asked.
Leanâlhâm smiled. "You will see. Sgäile will arrange passage down the Hâjh."
"The… 'spine'?"
"Yes. The river passes by Crijheâiche, the settlement of the Anmaglâhk, on its way to the northeast bay."
Wynn admitted that traveling by boat was more convenient, but it offered less of an opportunity to see this world up close. Still, she might get a thorough overview from the river's open way.
"Chap!" she called, scanning the trees. "Come back here, unless you wish to swim the rest of the way."
Sgäile turned his head with a warning frown, and Wynn fell quiet.
It was not hard to fathom his worry. Soon Sgäile would face another encounter with his people. Anmaglâhk he might be, but his social skills were as stunted as Magiere's. Unlike Magiere, this shortcoming appeared to concern him.
"Gather," he called out in Elvish.
Osha and Urhkar took parallel positions at the procession's sides. As the aspen grove thinned, Wynn drew a long breath. Through the trees she saw three broad vessels slipping past upon the wide Hâjh River.
The barges looked like massive flat-bottomed canoes as opposed to their square and flat human counterparts. Laden with twine-bound bundles and smooth, slatless barrels, they rode lightly like leaves in a stream. Two headed downriver, while the other passed on its way up.
Each had a central mast of polished yellow wood. Their sails were furled, but the bound fabric was brilliant white in the bright sun. Where their raised sides turned inward at the pointed bow and stern, single tines sprouted to either side of their hulls like straight, bare branches on a tree's trunk. Wynn could not guess what these were for.
Elves front and rear in the barges held long poles but seldom dipped these. The downstream vessels moved on the current, and although the one headed upstream traveled as smoothly as the others, behind its stern, river water churned softly, like the slow thrashing of a giant fish just below the surface.
"Wynn! Get up here!"
Leesil's harsh shout broke Wynn's enchantment. She had unwittingly stopped while staring at the barges. Leanâlhâm pulled on Wynn's sleeve, while everyone else stood waiting. Their entire procession had halted and not one of them looked pleased with Wynn.
She hurried to catch up as Leanâlhâm outdistanced her. Magiere firmly pushed Wynn out ahead of herself, and Osha sighed some exclamation under his breath.
Chap charged through the aspens, the white female on his heels. Wynn saw no sign of the majay-hì pack, and Chap's companion stopped short, hanging back to shift uncertainly among the trees. Before Wynn tried coaxing her closer, Sgäile urged all of them onward. Just ahead lay a settlement more diverse than that of Sgäile's clan.
A few domiciles were made of stout aspens bent toward each other overhead, with vines of spadelike leaves woven into walls between them. In the upper branches of an elm, wood platforms supported partitions of anchored fabrics as well as shaped vines. One tall building was made of planked wood, grayed with age and weather. Thin smoke rose into the air from somewhere hidden at the settlement's far end.
The elves worked at varied tasks, mostly to do with goods near the docks. Their clothing had more hide and leather than the people of Sgäile's home wore. Many wore their hair cut midlength or even short to the scalp. Dock-workers picked among barrels and bundles, taking stock of goods arriving or awaiting departure.
Few noticed the newcomers at first, but by ones and twos they paused and called or gestured to companions. Wynn saw displeasure and even hatred, as in Sgäile's enclave, but none showed initial shock upon seeing humans. This made her more anxious.
"Is this a center of commerce?" Wynn asked.
"Commerce?" Leanâlhâm said. "I do not understand this word."
"The way you purchase… acquire with money."
Leanâlhâm blinked twice. "Money?"
"The people trade," Osha explained in Elvish, "all knowing the value of a thing, by its make and the time and effort involved. We barter, but we do not have…" He stumbled and switched to Belaskian: "Money. And An-maglâhk do not trade."
"Why not the Anmaglâhk?" Wynn asked, still baffled.
"Quiet," Sgäile said.
A darker-skinned elf in matching leather breeches and tunic-style shirt rose at the head of one dock from inspecting bales of cattail heads. He appeared neither hostile nor surprised, and Wynn suspected all here somehow knew they were coming.
Leesil and Magiere hung back as Sgäile approached, but Wynn crept a little closer to listen.
The leather-clad man scanned them all, with an especially close study of Leesil and then Magiere. His blond hair was cropped semishort and stuck out in bristles. Soft lines creased his brow as if he frowned too often, and his tan skin glistened with sweat.
"Sgäilsheilleache," he said. "You are always welcome."
"My thanks, Ghuvésheane," Sgäile answered.
It took Wynn some thought to discern the man's name—Black Cockerel. It matched his demeanor if not his appearance.
"I need passage to Crijheâiche," Sgäile said, "for seven and one majay-hì."
Ghuvésheane shifted his weight to settle on the other foot. "I cannot ask this of any bargemaster. Not even for you."
Sgäile's expression hardened. "Has one of my caste passed this way?"
Ghuvésheane nodded sharply. "Three days ago. A woman, traveling fast. She took passage on Hionnahk's barge, headed downriver."
"You must try for us," Sgäile insisted. "By request of Most Aged Father."
Ghuvésheane's eyes narrowed, and he closed them.
"Ask them," Sgäile said flatly. "Ask in the name of Most Aged Father. Who among you would refuse the Anmaglâhk?"
"Assisting your caste is not at issue," Ghuvésheane returned, eyes still closed. "As you well know."
Several elves down the docks stopped in their labors. Two came up behind Ghuvésheane, dressed akin to him. But they looked far more offended, as if Sgäile had asked something shameful—something he should not have asked at all.
"Is it not enough that you bring humans among us"—Ghuvésheane finally opened his eyes, his steady gaze shifting toward Leesil—"let alone a murderer and traitor?"
Wynn bit her lip against a blurted denial. Osha remained passive, but an echo of the dockworkers' embarrassment filled his expression.
Urhkar licked his lips as if they had gone dry. "That charge has not been validated."
Ghuvésheane remained unconvinced. "Perhaps not, but you still ask too much, and my answer is the same."
Neither Leesil nor Magiere understood what was said, but Wynn wondered what would happen if Sgäile was unable to procure passage.
A young and thin-muscled elf came up the shoreline. "I will take you," he said, ignoring Ghuvésheane. "No one need ask me." He glanced at
Leanâlhâm, as if he knew her. "We are still loading, but there is space near the front."
Dressed in leather breeches, he wore a goatskin vest with the leather side out and no shirt beneath it. He was barefoot and gestured to a small half-loaded barge down at the end of the next doc
k.
Ghuvésheane turned away with an exhale tainted with disdain.
Sgäile's jaw twitched as he nodded to the young bargemaster.
The exchange was peaceful enough, yet Wynn felt that it cost Sgäile more than all the rest of the journey combined. Much of their passage seemed to have taxed the Anmaglâhks pride.
They were shown to a space near the barge s front where cushions and fur hides were laid out. Wynn made more seats out of their blankets. By the time the barge pulled into the river, everyone was situated, and the settlement slipped away behind them.
Their host's name was Kânte—Spoken Word. Though the young barge-master seldom issued commands to his crew, two of four elves always stood post, one rear and one forward, while the other pair rested at the barge's stern, away from the passengers.
* * * *
They floated down the Hâjh both day and night, and Wynn passed the time watching a strange world drift by on the shores.
Trees of various make, flowers of wild color, a small waterfall, a bright flock of birds never ceased to pull her attention this way and that. Two fra'-cise drank at the river's edge, until they saw the barge and began jumping and splashing in foolish antics. Parts of the forest grew dense and dim. Then the barge would pass a large meadow spilling its vivid green to the river's shore, where a herd of speckled antelope grazed. Once, Wynn caught a glimpse of a large silver deer with tineless antlers, the same as had bellowed at them the first evening in the forest.
But eventually she grew frustrated and then weary.
All the wondrous sights passed beyond her reach. Landfall was rare. They ate cold meals, with no fire but for the large lantern hung at the bow each night. The simple fare was plentiful—fresh or dried fruit and smoked fish. The river provided clean water for drinking and basic washing. But as Wynn continued to watch the shore slip past, she began to feel slightly dizzy.
Osha remained good-natured, though he sat day after day in the same position.
He explained that this barge was loaded with raw materials. Kante would unload some in Crijheâiche, trading with skilled craftsmen in the community. He would then fill his barge with other materials or goods—-pottery, spices, tools, fabric, clothing, and more—for the journey to the bay. Some would be traded with the people of the city there called Ghoivne Ajhajhe—Front of the Deep—while the rest would be bartered with ships bringing goods and materials to and from other coastal communities.
While they spoke, a high-pitched yip carried along the riverside, and Chap looked over, whining softly.
The entire majay-hì pack bolted out of the forest to run along the reedy shore, paws splashing through the shallow water. Shades of silver-blue, steel, and inky gray moved in circles along the bank.
"Magiere, look!" Wynn said. "They are following us."
The white female barked once at Chap. He whined again, and Magiere reached down to scratch his head.
And still they floated onward four more days and nights.
Then as they passed an enormous sycamore with large roots reaching from the bank into the river, Wynn saw an archway in the base of its trunk. She almost missed it, mistaking its gray curtain for part of its bark.
"We are close to Crijheâiche," Leanâlhâm said.
Wynn went numb. She did not know what to feel—relief or anxiety?
"How close?" Leesil asked, craning his head around.
Leanâlhâm pointed to two broad elms.
Wynn saw more doorways as the barge drifted by. Soon, every other oak, cedar, and fir was larger than the last, and the spaces between them broadened.
Sgäile stood up when five long docks appeared on the shore ahead, with barges and smaller boats moored along them. Wynn caught a hint of joy on his face.
From what she understood, they would enter one of the largest communities in all the elven Territories. But Sgäile did not appear nervous. Was he not worried about their reception?
He put two fingers in this mouth and let out a long whistle.
Kânte stood in the barge's prow and dipped his pole into the water. All four of his crew around the vessel did likewise, and the barge turned smoothly toward the docks. Where the docks met land, no trees blocked the view, and Wynn took her first glimpse of Crijheâiche.
The doorways in these trees were larger than those she'd seen elsewhere, and some trunks bulged to impossible size at their bases. She saw stalls of planked wood and shaped flora and colored fabrics. Inside these, occupants were busy at many kinds of work. One place appeared dedicated to the purification of beeswax. She heard rhythmic metallic clanks but could not spot anything like a smithy. There were fishmongers nearer the river, or the elven equivalent of such.
As the barge slowed in order to make harbor, a wild tangle of aromas filled Wynn's head. Beneath the scent of baked and roasted foods were rich spices and the powerful scent of herbs she had only known in the gardens of her guild on another continent.
For all the industry here, everything was still interwoven with the natural world.
Kânte set his pole to stop the barge as four Anmaglâhk trotted through the open bazaar and down the dock. Their long hair of sandy to white blond blew free in the breeze. None wore his or her cloak tied the way the few Wynn had seen beyond this land.
At first, only a few other elves turned and stared at the new arrivals, for barges landing here would be a common sight. From a distance, Leesil and even Magiere appeared to escape scrutiny. Perhaps their elven clothing obscured their true nature until an onlooker peered more closely. But a few eyes widened at Chap. Apparently, a majay-hl riding a barge was not a common sight.
The first of the four Anmaglâhk to reach the barge's side was young, with blunt but prominent cheekbones.
"Sgäilsheilleache, well met," he said in Elvish. "Fréthfâre hoped you would arrive by today."
He did not look at Wynn or Magiere. In fact, he seemed determined to cast his eyes anywhere but in their direction.
"Where is she?" Sgäile asked without greeting.
"With Most Aged Father," the young one answered. "I will tell her you have arrived."
"Has anyone seen Én'nish?" Urhkar added.
The young Anmaglâhk became rigidly formal at the sight of him and bowed his head in a reverent fashion.
"Yes, Greimasg'âh. She arrived two nights ago."
That one strange word eluded Wynn. A "holder" of something? Perhaps a title, as it certainly was not part of Urhkar s full name.
Sgäile nodded. "Have the quarters been prepared?"
"Yes, of course," the young elf answered.
Sgäile turned to Leesil, switching to Belaskian. "My caste has prepared a comfortable place for all of you. Please follow, but first… you must relinquish your weapons once more."
Leesil snorted. "You want to get us out of sight? Then where is my mother?"
"In truth, I cannot say," Sgäile answered and looked away. "You will soon speak to Most Aged Father, and he will answer in good faith. Now please, your weapons."
Wynn unbuckled the dagger, uncertain whether or not she was relieved to be rid of it. She was about to hand it to Sgäile, but turned instead to Osha. He took it with surprise and bowed his head as he tucked it in his belt.
"All right," Leesil said, unstrapping his punching blades. "But I want to see this leader of yours, and soon. Today."
He held out his blades and his stilettos. Sgäile took them with a hint of relief in his eyes. Once again, Magiere was last to relinquish her falchion, but she handed it over without a word. Leesil placed his hand on the back of her neck, combing his fingers through her dangling black hair.
Throughout the community up the slope, and across the other docks, numerous elves in bright clothing went about their business. Wynn noticed the Anmaglâhk among them. They stood out like dark pebbles in a clear stream's bed.
Kânte picked up Leanâlhâm's bundle before she could do so and held it out to her. The gesture made the girl fidget nervously, and she would not look him in the e
yes.
"You have my thanks…" Sgäile said to the bargemaster, but trailed off, unable to say more.
Kânte raised a hand in polite dismissal. "No need. You always have my service."
He offered his hand to Leanâlhâm. This made the girl even more uneasy, but she took it as he helped her onto the dock. Leesil lifted the chest of skulls and slipped his arms into its rope harness. Osha and Urhkar handed baggage off to their newly arrived comrades.
As Wynn stepped from the barge behind the others, the first young an-maglâhk glared at Leesil and pointed insistently to the chest. When Leesil returned only a silent stare, the young one's expression hardened. Two of his companions dropped their baggage and closed in as he reached out.
Before Leesil could strike, Magiere stepped in front of him, shielding him from any assault. Sgäile shifted instantly between her and the others.
"No!" he snapped. "Move on!"
The young anmaglâhk looked at Sgäile as if he had committed some violation. Osha, who had always kept silent behind his elders, startled Wynn with his harsh tone.
"He is bearer of the dead," Osha said in Elvish to the others. "Léshil, descendant of Eillean."
The young anmaglâhk before Sgäile blinked twice. He glanced once at Leesil and Magiere, both still poised for a fight.
"I beg forgiveness," he said.
"Attend your duty," Urhkar added flatly.
The four anmaglâhk quickly took up the baggage. Not one of them said anything more.
Solid wood of the dock and then sound earth beneath Wynns feet were quite welcome, but Sgäile rushed them all onward. Perhaps he was not so confident of their reception; or he neared the end of his mission and longed for it to be over.
Wynn wanted to study this new place, to poke about the stalls and observe how exchanges were made, but she found herself jogging half the time just to keep up. All around them, elves paused at the sight of Magiere's dark hair and pale skin—and Wynn's own short stature and round olive-toned face. The four anmaglâhk with the baggage split into twos, a pair walking at each side of their passage. No one questioned or challenged them for bringing humans into this place.
A way past the shoreside bazaar, Sgäile halted before an enormous elm. He pulled aside the door hanging and motioned them inside. Only Wynn, Magiere, Leesil, and Chap entered, and Sgäile remained in the doorway.