Fields of Wrath

by Mickey Zucker Reichert

  At least, Tae seemed to have found Tem’aree’ay’s weakness. If he could tie his need for knowledge with her concern for Ivana, he would have better luck than simply asking. “Can Ivana use khohlar?”

  “What?” The question raised obvious discomfort.

  Tae doubted Tem’aree’ay had misheard; elves had keen listening skills, and he had spoken clearly. For reasons he could not yet explain, his query had startled her. Dutifully, he repeated, “Can Ivana use khohlar?”

  Tem’aree’ay hesitated, clearly torn between answering and dodging the question.

  Tae glanced at Matrinka. She had more experience with Tem’aree’ay. They shared an interest in the healing arts and a husband.

  Matrinka took the hint. “Tem’aree’ay, we’re trying to help you and Ivana. Tae’s a master of communication. If anyone can get through to your daughter, it’s him.”

  Tem’aree’ay nodded ever so slightly, more to herself than Matrinka. “I’m just . . . When I came to live among you, I promised . . .”

  Matrinka placed a gentle hand on the elf’s arm, a plea to continue. It did not look like a soothing gesture to Tae, but Matrinka clearly knew better than him.

  Tem’aree’ay’s smile returned, if a bit lopsided, and she looked at Matrinka. “Dear Queen Matrinka, I know you mean me and my people no harm. I apologize for any mistrust I might have implied.” She looked at Tae. “And King Tae Kahn. I know you’re a good man with a good heart.”

  Tae could not help smiling. He had believed only Matrinka would describe him in such a way.

  “It’s only that I’ve grown adept at keeping the secrets of my people to myself.” Tem’aree’ay gave Tae as pointed a look as she could manage with her delicate elfin features. “Is it true you intend to use this information only to help Ivana?”

  Tae saw the trap. It seemed so easy to simply answer in the affirmative, but it would not achieve the desired effect. He and Matrinka had obviously come to Tem’aree’ay to learn about khohlar before the issue of Ivana had arisen. He chose his words with care. “We do intend to help you with Ivana, but it is not the only reason we want to know more about the elves.”

  Matrinka pursed her lips and nodded helpfully.

  Tae realized that, had he chosen to lie, her expressions would have given him away. He had to remember the next time he entered into a negotiation: do not bring Matrinka. “I believe it’s necessary for the survival of humans and elves to spy on the Kjempemagiska. Unfortunately, I can’t do it by myself. I’m hoping elfin khohlar works enough like the enemy’s mind-communication that someone might be able to assist me.”

  Tem’aree’ay did not move. She seemed to be considering his words, and Tae took that as a positive step. “Someone . . . meaning me?”

  “No,” Tae said immediately. “Someone who’s not Béarnian royalty.” He did not quite understand the titular conventions in Béarn. Only Matrinka bore the title queen. He did not exactly know what to call Griff’s other two wives, except by their names. He appreciated that his own status as a king afforded him a lot of leeway with sloppiness and mistakes. “Someone careful and quiet who, perhaps, enjoys a bit of danger. My intention is to relay messages to a partner who stays out of harm’s way. I’m hoping an elf might volunteer. Then, once we have proof of the Kjempemagiska’s intentions, we will have an easier time convincing the other elves, the humans, and even Chymmerlee of the danger. Having an elf involved in the initial spying can only help us.”

  Tem’aree’ay still had not moved or changed position, though she was clearly listening. Matrinka and Tae latched their gazes on her. It seemed like an hour passed before she finally spoke. “Elves do not have the luxury of ‘enjoying a bit of danger. ’ Even should you find an elf willing to risk his life, I do not think the elders would allow it. As you already know, any life lost to violence means one less elf for all eternity.”

  Tae went to the heart of the matter. “But the Kjempemagiska and their alsona puppets have shown no mercy at all. It seems worth risking one elfin soul to save two hundred.”

  Tem’aree’ay could scarcely argue. “You would have to prove there’s danger to the two hundred first.”

  “I . . . think I can do that.” Tae did not have to feign desperation. “Tem’aree’ay, I don’t know if I can convince the other elves; but, before I try, I have to know if it’s even possible our plan could work. Why waste my breath, and your people’s time, talking them into a scheme without merit?”

  Tem’aree’ay’s smile remained, though still not wholehearted or full. “What do you want me to do?”

  Tae looked at Matrinka. The Béarnide wound her fingers through one another, her partial grin eerily similar to Tem’aree’ay’s. “Help us figure out how well khohlar meshes with mind-communication.”

  “How?”

  “By experimenting with me to see whether you and I can speak without words. By giving us enough information about magic, elves, and khohlar to at least try to figure out some way to use it.”

  Tem’aree’ay turned away.

  Tae cringed. He thought he had convinced her, but her gesture suggested otherwise. He did not know how to proceed, so he waited for Tem’aree’ay to do something, anything, definitive.

  At length, she turned back to face them. “I’m willing to work with you. With conditions.”

  Tae hid all trepidations, showing only an open expression.

  “First, anything you learn about elves becomes our secret.”

  Tae did not like the phrasing of that condition, as it could hamper his ability to use the knowledge he gained. However, he assumed Tem’aree’ay would trust him to use his judgment and recognize her intention: to conceal any information someone could use to harm the elves. “Already assumed.”

  Matrinka nodded vigorously.

  Tae did not give her a chance to add anything. He did not want a long-winded debate about details. “What other conditions do you have?”

  “That you find a way to reach Ivana.”

  That request caught Tae off his guard, though he supposed he should have anticipated it. He recalled Matrinka’s claim: Tae’s a master of communication. If anyone can get through to your daughter, it’s him. “What exactly do you mean by ‘reach’ her?” He would never admit just how uncomfortable he felt around Béarn’s half-human princess. Her strangeness repulsed him. He did not want to become attached to her in any way, particularly one that allowed her to touch him. Admitting this, even to himself, hurt. It made him feel stupid and evil, wrong-headed in every way. Ivana could not help the way she looked or acted, an innocent human/elf combination who deserved compassion and understanding. Still, the revulsion rose, unbidden and unwanted but altogether real.

  “Find a way to communicate with her and to teach her to communicate with us.”

  Tae did not know what to say, so he only repeated stupidly, “Communicate.”

  Matrinka bumped him with her elbow. “When it comes to communication, Tae, you’re the expert.”

  Tae had claimed to have superior skill when it came to reading nonverbal emotion, expression, and movement as well as verbal languages. He supposed that did all comprise communication. “But I’ve never . . . I mean, Ivana . . . it would be like—”

  Imorelda interrupted, looking up sleepily from Tem’aree’ay’s makeshift bed. *—like communicating with an animal? A cat, perhaps?*

  Tae caught the irony but gave it little quarter. *Like communicating with a nonintelligent cat.*

  *Now who’s making assumptions about Ivana?*

  Imorelda had a point, and it irritated Tae. It appeared she intended to prove him wrong, even if it meant a full turnaround in her position on the matter.

  Tem’aree’ay deserved an answer, and Tae gave the only one he could. “I can only try to communicate with Ivana. I can’t guarantee it will work.” Remembering his mental note from the strategy session, Tae seize
d the opportunity. “It will go easier if you teach me some basic elfin, too.”

  “Elvish,” Tem’aree’ay corrected. “I’ll do that.” She went back to his original comment. “And it will work.” She sounded infinitely more certain than Tae felt.

  Matrinka looked from one to the other, then at Imorelda. “How do you know?”

  “Because,” Tem’aree’ay said, “I have faith in Ivana, in you, and in Tae. And I now think I know where we made our mistake.”

  “Mistake,” Tae said carefully. Most elves and men believed the mistake came of lovemaking between an elf and a human. They considered Princess Ivana herself a mistake. Tae would never voice such a concept aloud, however, certainly not in the presence of her mother.

  If Tem’aree’ay guessed at Tae’s thoughts, she gave no indication. “We expected her to act human or elfin, to learn the way we do, to act the way we act. But she’s neither human nor elfin. She’s unique, without precedent. It’s our duty, as parents and as a society, to figure out how to reach her.”

  It sounded like nonsense to Tae. He understood why Tem’aree’ay placed the burden on the community as well as herself and Griff. Because of the soul limitations and their long lives, elves seldom gave birth. At any given time, they might have no children or a single one among the entire race. So, they raised children communally, paying little heed to biology. But most human societies would have left a child like Ivana to die in the elements. “What makes you so sure that we and, in particular, I have the ability to reach Ivana at all?”

  Tem’aree’ay’s grin widened to its familiar proportions. “You learned to speak with the alsona, even though none of us had ever heard their language and they have a mental form of communication which humans do not share. You survived wounds pronounced fatal by every healer who saw you.”

  Tae gave Matrinka a pointed look. She had downplayed his injuries, making him feel like a histrionic coward for the bare thought that he might not survive them.

  “I’m a healer,” Matrinka reminded them. “And I knew from the moment I examined him that he would live.” She had looked him over before any of the others, right on the shore; and Tae always suspected she had exploited his stubborn streak to shame him into recovering from the impossible. “Your point, however, remains valid. If anyone can reach Ivana, it’s Tae.”

  Tae appreciated her support, though not necessarily her point. “As I said, I can only try.” He would have promised the elf nearly anything to get the knowledge he wanted. “Now, tell me about khohlar.”

  Tem’aree’ay looked askance at Matrinka, who nodded. If Tae did not carry through on his promise to aid Ivana on his own, Matrinka would see to it he did. He, in turn, attended to Imorelda. *Are you ready?*

  The cat yawned, stretching out her long body and striped legs. *Forever. I thought you’d never get around to tying yourself to that strange whelp so we could get on with this.*

  Tae did not belabor her role. Imorelda knew what to do.

  Tem’aree’ay’s voice entered Tae’s head. *What do you want to know?*

  Before replying, Tae addressed Imorelda. *Did you hear that?*

  Sarcasm tinged Imorelda’s mental voice. *Do you think I’m deaf? Of course I heard her.*

  Tae ignored the radiating emotion to focus on the plan. *Where do you hear it? Is it near Matrinka’s level? Mine? The alsonas’?

  Imorelda hesitated long enough that Tae raised a hand to stay Tem’aree’ay and Matrinka, who awaited his own answer. Finally, Imorelda spoke, *It’s completely different. It doesn’t seem to come from anywhere. It’s just . . . there.*

  Tae waited a moment in silence before realizing Imorelda had finished all she intended to say. “Can you khohlar again?”

  Tem’aree’ay obliged. *What would you like to know, King Tae Kahn?*

  Tae glanced at the cat, who shook her furry head, as if to dislodge something from her mouth. *Very different.* She expounded without really adding anything.

  To Tae, the voices in his head, whether from Imorelda, elves, or alsona seemed the same. Imorelda had a far superior ability to discern, just as she could hear sounds he could not and pick out distinct variations in smells. *Can you elaborate?*

  From the emotion leaching through their contact, Imorelda seemed more perplexed than annoyed. *If this elf-speak has a level, it’s either so high or so low I can’t sense it. Or else, it’s just so different from our connection, I have nothing to compare it to. It’s just . . .* She finished lamely, * . . . very different.*

  Tae did not tease the cat. She was clearly struggling to explain a concept beyond her understanding. *Do you think you can carry me to her for a connection? Like you do with the alsona?*

  Imorelda walked toward Tae in that unhurried manner that felines perfected. *I can carry your voice, but I don’t know where to take it so she can hear you.*

  Tae could see the dilemma. *I’m going to try to send an unspoken message to her. If that doesn’t work, I’d like you to try. If you connect, let her think you’re me.* Saying nothing more, Tae thrust out his mental voice as he did when communicating with Imorelda. *Can you hear me?*

  The reply came swiftly, *Of course, I can.*

  Startled and thrilled, Tae grinned. *You can actually hear me?*

  *Why wouldn’t I? We’ve been talking since I was a kitten.*

  Imorelda. Tae rolled his eyes. *Imorelda, I’m looking for a response from Tem’aree’ay, not you. I know you can hear me.*

  Imorelda sat down in the middle of the floor. *Excuse me for answering your question.* Her tail twitched wildly. *I thought you were testing me.*

  Tae tried again. *Tem’aree’ay, can you hear me?*

  Matrinka elbowed Tae. “It’s impolite not to answer.”

  Reluctantly, Tae abandoned his experiment. “I am replying. Mentally.” He looked into Tem’aree’ay’s gemlike eyes. “Could you hear me?”

  “No.” The elf shook her head. “Could you hear my khohlar?”

  “Clearly.” Tae sucked in a large breath, held it, then let it out slowly. “Let’s try again.” *Imorelda, please try to reach Tem’aree’ay.*

  *I’ve tried. No answer.* The cat rose again and galloped to Tae’s feet. She climbed his legs with her forepaws, leaving the hind ones on the floor and using no claws. *It’s like talking to most humans.*

  Tae reached down and lifted the cat absently, his hopes sinking. If the elves could not hear him, even through Imorelda, he could not enlist their aid in his spying mission. Once again, he would have to do this thing alone, though he knew his chances for survival were bleak.

  Imorelda snuggled into Tae’s arms, purring.

  *Imorelda, try again. Keep trying.*

  *It’s useless. Like eating a mouse hoping you’ll find a fine cheese in its belly. Even if it’s there, and that’s extremely unlikely, it’s not likely to taste much like cheese anymore.*

  The analogy did not work for Tae. *Just keep trying.*

  Imorelda continued to purr in his arms, but she did go conversationally quiet. Apparently, she was doing as he asked.

  Hoping to assist Imorelda, Tae asked questions he thought might elaborate what made khohlar so unique. “How did you learn khohlar?”

  “Learn it?” Tem’aree’ay placed her chin in her hands. She showed no discomfort standing so long in conversation. As Tae understood it, elves rarely remained still long enough to bother sitting. When they did, they perched on branches or stumps, rolled in the grass, or talked to one another in movement. “It’s not taught. The knowledge for it exists in the soul. It simply is.”

  “Except,” Tae said thoughtfully, trying to arrange his arms so he could hold and stroke Imorelda simultaneously. Ordinarily, standing so long would not have bothered him, either; but, so soon after near-fatal injuries, he felt tiredness pressing him. “. . . if you’re an elfling without an elfin soul.”

  Te
m’aree’ay nodded. She had clearly considered the situation much longer and harder than most elves would bother. “Even before Ivana’s birth, I wondered about the effects of not receiving a soul filled with many millennia of the ghosts of elfin memory.”

  “What did the first elves do?” Matrinka sank to the carpet, folding her legs beneath her, then patted it, indicating Tae should also sit. “They didn’t have a previously used soul to rely upon.”

  Tae appreciated the invitation. By sitting first, Matrinka had allowed him to do the same without looking weak. He carefully lowered himself to a crouch, the cat still clutched against him.

  “And they thrived.” Tem’aree’ay also lowered her bottom to the floor, leaving the single chair unoccupied. “The clean-wiping of elfin souls is not exact. Some elves have snippets of detailed, prior memory. Most have only a rare flicker of familiarity from time to time. Some seem to have none at all.”

  As Imorelda cozied into his lap, Tae used both hands to stroke her, sending loose hairs flying through the sunbeams. “The ones who have none. Do they need to learn khohlar differently?”

  Tem’aree’ay closed her eyes, as if to draw mental images on the inner sides of her lids. “Not that I ever noticed.” She opened her eyes and looked at Tae. “Elves don’t analyze things the way humans do. We just do what seems right at the moment and deal with what goes wrong.”

  Tae found his head shaking and deliberately stilled it. They would get nowhere unless Tem’aree’ay made use of her two decades living among humans. “You’re going to have to think like a human if you want to learn to communicate with Ivana.” It was bluff. Tae doubted the princess had the thinking capacity for communication or learning much of anything. However, Tae knew of nothing else Tem’aree’ay wanted so much it might allow her to focus her thoughts.

  Tae’s words had the desired effect. Tem’aree’ay straightened, leaning slightly forward. “I’m young for an elf, about two hundred twenty-five years by your reckoning.”

  Tae forced himself not to smile. “What’s the natural lifespan for elves?”

  Tem’aree’ay hesitated, still hindered by her desire to keep her people safe. Then, apparently remembering whom she addressed and the promises they had made, she continued. “It varies widely. I saw one die of old age barely past her third century. The elder known as Captain claims to have lived for six millennia. He knew all of the Cardinal Wizards personally.”