Tae sighed. Convincing Griff was not enough. Tem’aree’ay controlled her own fertility through magic. To her, eighteen years between children probably seemed a pittance. “Just promise me you’ll think about it some more. To defeat the Kjempemagiska, we need magic as well as might. We need the elves. And, though they don’t yet realize it, the elves need us in just as many ways. A normal coupling between an elf and a human would go a long way toward convincing them to return.” It was a sore subject, and Tae knew it.
“Perhaps.” Tem’aree’ay gave Tae the benefit of the doubt. “But another abnormal child would render your goal impossible. Better to try to convince them with words, once again, then risk alienating them forever.”
Since the last Council meeting, Griff and others had held several discussions about ways to persuade the elves to join the forthcoming battle between humans and Kjempemagiska. Until this moment, Tem’aree’ay had not given any indication she would assist, damning the attempt as futile. Without her, it seemed unlikely anyone could find the elves, let alone talk them into cooperating. “My lady, are you suggesting you would be willing to lead another expedition to your people?”
All heads flicked toward Tem’aree’ay. All eyes locked on her.
Tem’aree’ay looked carefully back at each of them in turn. Her triangular tongue flicked out to wet her lips, and she sighed deeply. “Lead it? No. Join it . . .” Tem’aree’ay’s pause seemed to last a lifetime. “. . . maybe.”
Tae found himself holding his breath and realized the other humans in the room were doing the same. No one wanted to miss Tem’aree’ay’s explanation, no matter how softly spoken.
Tem’aree’ay continued to glance around the group. Apparently, she had considered herself finished, though her companions clearly wanted more. She added, “Don’t look so surprised. I think every man, woman, and child currently in Béarn has requested, wheedled, cajoled, bullied, or begged me to join the expedition.”
“Yes.” Tae could not help but agree. “But, until now, you seemed . . . unwilling.”
“Not so much unwilling as uncertain.” Tem’aree’ay ran her long fingers across her forehead in a cross between an elfin gesture of understanding and human anxiety. “I personally know the power of one Kjempemagiska. It took three magical beings and two extraordinarily competent warriors to defeat him.” She addressed the Easterner, “Tae, I believe you when you say these Kjempemagiska will return in force—”
Griff interrupted. “But will the rest of the elves believe us?”
Tem’aree’ay’s brows rose. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “Proof would help, but we can try our best without it.”
Tae had already received the Council’s blessing to spy on the Kjempemagiska. He was waiting for Matrinka to clear him medically and for the promised “best sailor in Midgard” to arrive to assist. “If proof exists, I’ll find it.”
Matrinka cringed but said nothing. Tae suspected she would never clear him, always finding a reason why he had to become stronger before leaving Béarn. In the end, they both knew he would depart with or without her blessing. Reminded of the reason he had not yet departed, Tae rounded on Griff. “So, when is this mystery sailor arriving?”
“Any day now,” Griff said, which only deepened Matrinka’s grimace.
She could not help blurting, “I still think it’s a bad idea. The last time Tae spied on the enemy, he came back . . .”
“Dead?” Tae inserted, deliberately antagonizing. She still would not admit she had tricked him into battling far longer than any human should have endured, had forced him to survive wounds that should have proved fatal.
“Nearly,” Matrinka corrected. “And that was just against the nonmagical servants. Next time, I might not get to you quickly enough to save you.”
“I let your husband choose my companions,” Tae reminded, not at all sure what Griff had in mind. At the meeting, Tae had eventually agreed to take along a sailor and a bodyguard of Griff’s choosing. Thus far, the king of Béarn refused to divulge their identities, revealing only that he had sent for the most competent sailor in Midgard and the bodyguard had to be Renshai.
Ivana loosed another loud snore that startled Tae. Once again, he had forgotten she was there.
Tem’aree’ay seized on the interruption. “We’re here to discuss the future of my daughter.”
Tae had not forgotten. He did have some positive news on that front. “As you told me, she’s deaf to khohlar. That made me wonder if she had difficulty hearing regular speech as well. I’ve heard of cases where deaf people presented like imbeciles but responded swiftly to visual languages, even learning to read and write. If the deafness is incomplete, they can be taught to speak essentially normally with an ear horn.”
Tem’aree’ay said simply, “Ivana is not deaf.”
Tae had come to the same conclusion. “She isn’t. But before I figured that out for certain, I taught her to communicate with signals. She learned seven consistently and strongly before I realized I got the same responses whether I used signals or words.”
Tem’aree’ay and Griff leaned forward at precisely the same, interested angle. “Responses?” the elf said. “Ivana makes sounds: squeals, grunts, and screams. But she has never spoken.”
Tae had also figured that out. “I don’t know if she has mouth or throat issues, but she doesn’t appear capable of forming words. She can, however, understand words and communicate them back using signals.” Tae used information from his own life research. “All people understand many more words than they would ever think to use. It’s most obvious with second and third languages. Many people can understand other languages but can’t speak them, at least not fluently enough to carry on a conversation.”
They all nodded. Even the elf was familiar with the concept.
“Animals can learn to understand hundreds of words of human speech, though it’s rare for any of them to have a consistent sound to express something.”
Imorelda bristled in his lap. *So we’re stupid, are we?*
Tae realized his constant companion had remained unusually patient throughout the previous discussion. Usually, she felt compelled to add her opinion to everything. He chose an answer intended to fully appease her. *Present company excluded, of course, Imorelda. No cat, horse, or dog, and few humans, can match your brilliance.*
Imorelda’s hair returned to normal, but she lashed her tail. *Which humans are these?*
*Certainly not me, precious.*
Imorelda made a sound that could pass for a sneeze but which Tae recognized as a snort. Arguing which of them was smarter could lead to nothing good. *But a few human geniuses do exist, and they might give you a challenge.*
The cat’s tail continued to thrash. *Bring them on.*
Tae could do no such thing, and Imorelda knew it. He had no idea where Imorelda’s intelligence would fall on a human scale, but she certainly knew enough to give him pause on a regular basis. Suddenly, he realized Tem’aree’ay, Griff, and Matrinka were staring at him. He tried to remember his last spoken words.
Apparently recognizing his dilemma, Imorelda cued him, *You were comparing their beloved child to a dog.*
Tae’s cheeks turned warm. He hoped he had not offended them. “I knew Ivana had to be capable of much more than your standard animal, which means she probably has a receptive vocabulary of at least several hundred words. If we can get her to convey even a tenth of those, it should alleviate most of the frustration causing her to act out.” He dared to meet Matrinka’s gaze first. At least, she had no direct ties to Ivana. “The fact that I could do a full exam and teach her to communicate seven concepts in the same day suggests she has a lot of untapped potential.” Finally, he braved the parents’ eyes.
Griff wore a look of introspective glee. Tem’aree’ay showed less emotion, but the light did remain in her gemlike eyes. “What are the seven concepts?” asked the kin
g of Béarn.
Tae demonstrated the proper hand movement as he named each one: “Yes, no, hungry, thirsty, sleepy, love, and chamber pot. If we can make up logical hand or movement signals, I believe she could easily pick up twenty new ideas per week without forgetting the old ones. Then, it’s just a matter of teaching them to the staff to make Ivana mostly self-sufficient.”
“Chamber pot?” Tem’aree’ay said hopefully. “Can you get her to properly use it?”
Tae gestured toward a pot in the far corner. “None of that’s mine, and I didn’t clean the floors. Once she learned the signal, she enjoyed making it. Every time she made the sign, I hauled out the pot and she tried to use it.” Tae did not mention that the idea of changing a diaper or wiping up an accident for a grown woman revolted him. He doubted he had fully potty-trained Ivana in a single session, but she did seem interested in learning from him.
Griff practiced the gestures, mouthing them silently as he did so.
Tem’aree’ay went to the heart of the matter, the reason she had put daughter and friend together for the day. “Did you figure out why she’s khohlar-deaf?”
Tae had initially spent a large amount of time exploring, relying mostly on Imorelda. He doubted he could say much now without the cat butting in. “I think there’s some sort of barrier.” He had difficulty translating the cat’s ideas into logical human language, especially to those whose understanding of mental communication differed at best and had no basis at worst. “Usually, when I try to use my mind to talk to someone, I just concentrate on a thought and hope it goes where it needs to go. That’s probably a lot less technical than khohlar, but it’s all I have.”
Tem’aree’ay only nodded.
Tae did not wish to reveal his connection to Imorelda, which limited his description even further. “It works for the alsona, but not for you or for any human I’ve ever tried. When we first came to you, I wanted to know if I could mentally communicate with elves and discovered I could not. At least, not with you.”
Imorelda did not correct the fallacy, which Tae appreciated. Matrinka flinched. Had Griff and Tem’aree’ay not focused fully on Tae, she might have given his lie away. The truth was, he could only link with Imorelda and, through the cat, to alsona and Matrinka.
“With Ivana, it’s not just sending a thought randomly into space. It’s as if she has a . . . a . . .”
Imorelda supplied the same description she had the first time they tried to reach Ivana, *... pile of feces.*
Tae ignored her. “. . . barrier between her mind and the outside. Like a wall of . . . mud.”
“Mud?” Tem’aree’ay’s brows furrowed beneath her red-gold curls. “You mean, it’s soft?”
“Sort of.” Tae had as much trouble conveying the concept as Imorelda had had supplying it. “Softish. Brittle in spots, like drying . . .”
*... feces,* Imorelda contributed again.
“. . . mud.”
“Brittle,” Tem’aree’ay repeated. “Like it could be broken?”
“Maybe.” Tae hedged. Imorelda did not know, and he had nothing to go on but what she supplied him. “I don’t think Ivana has any control over it. I can’t help wondering if magic might . . . have . . . some way of dealing with it. Perhaps, if someone had the ability to physically enter her mind, the way you’ve described demons doing . . .” He looked askance at Tem’aree’ay. He had limited information about what magic could or could not do, but he suspected it had a better chance than anything mundane. He had no way of knowing whether breaking the barrier would heal Ivana, harm her, or kill her.
Tem’aree’ay’s gaze flickered to the girl on the bed, still sound asleep. “It’s not something I can explore by myself. It’s not my area; and, even if it were, it would probably require more than one participant.” She pursed her lips into a perfect heart. “But I don’t know if the other elves would help her, if they’d even dare to examine her. To them, she’s . . . anathema.”
Tae raised his shoulders wearily to his ears, then dropped them. He had nothing more to add.
Clearly sensing Tae’s exhaustion, Griff clambered to his feet. “Thank you, Tae. You’ve made an enormous difference.”
Tae did not feel as if he had. “You know you’re always welcome.”
Tem’aree’ay rose in one graceful movement, went to the bed, and hefted Ivana. The girl flopped against her mother without awakening. Griff made motions to take the burden, but Tem’aree’ay shook him off. She had become accustomed to dealing with the girl who appeared to already outweigh her.
As the three moved toward the door, Griff promised. “Get some sleep. I’ll let you know when the sailor arrives.”
Wearily, Tae nodded his agreement.
Bloodline and love are unrelated. To love someone only because he shares your blood is as hollow and meaningless as loving someone only because he’s young and beautiful. To a Northman, an unrelated blood brother becomes more important than kin, since the bond is based on honor and merit, not inescapable coincidence.
—Colbey Calistinsson
SIR RA-KHIR KEDRIN’S SON sat attentively in his seat in Béarn’s sparsely furnished Strategy Room, relieved and comfortable despite the forced rigidity of his posture. Anything seemed more attractive than his previous duty, attempting to keep peace between the Renshai and Paradisians, investigating their accusations against one another, and hauling in outraged combatants from both sides. Screamed at by self-righteous bigots, pounded by belligerent drunkards, besmirched by men deafened to reason by their own one-sided certainties, Ra-khir had experienced more than enough of the battle. Not for the first time, he found himself questioning his fitness for his title, his dedication to the Knights of Erythane.
In the chair to Ra-khir’s right, his squire Darby perfectly copied his pose. His brown hair combed to a sheen, his clothing immaculate, the sword at the perfect angle on his left hip, he looked the epitome of budding young knighthood. Yet, his eyes told a different story. The blue orbs had lost their fiery gleam, now more quizzical and tired. Ra-khir could never remember apologizing for the Knights of Erythane before; hard work and difficult moral dilemmas defined the order. Yet he seemed to do so every night since the Paradisians had claimed a stake in the Fields of Wrath.
To Ra-khir’s left, Calistin sprawled in his chair, looking bored. The knight had gotten his youngest son to accompany him by proclaiming the possible dangers inherent in a journey to find the reclusive elves. Calistin could keep all of them safe, including King Griff’s second wife, as well as serve as a representative for the Renshai. Ra-khir hated to admit he would have much preferred Saviar’s company, Subikahn’s, or, for that matter, almost any other Renshai.
Until after the war, Calistin had shown little interest in anything other than Renshai sword maneuvers. He displayed almost no affection for anyone; but, at least, he had clearly respected his mother for her competence and skill on the battlefield. Despite decades of effort, Ra-khir had never seemed to connect with his youngest. Their conversation the previous day, spurred by Valira’s flirting, gave Ra-khir new hope. It would not prove easy, but he and Calistin might finally find common ground and experiences on a quest that took them far from the disputed Erythanian territory.
The door opened. Ra-khir rose from polite habit, Darby scrambling to do the same. Calistin merely rolled his eyes in the direction of the opening. He had scant experience with royalty, castle etiquette, and station.
Accompanied by his ever-present bard, King Griff ushered Tem’aree’ay into the room, empty except for the strategy table and its multiple, matching chairs. She wore a broad smile on her otherwise dainty face, and her gaze flitted over the room’s occupants. Aside from the agelessness that accompanied every elf, and the canted eyes, she looked little different from a fine-boned, graceful human woman.
Griff looked ponderous in comparison, a stomping hairy beast with oversized features and massive hands
. Ra-khir swiftly banished the image, replacing it with the grandeur befitting the West’s high ruler. The knight bowed with a flourish that defined admiration and respect. Darby, as always, attempted to copy Ra-khir’s movements, adding a gesture all his own.
The three newcomers took seats at the strategy table, and Ra-khir and Darby sat only after assuring king and consort had done so comfortably. Calistin sighed, his boredom at the whole display evident. The Renshai glanced over the group. “Is this everyone?”
Ra-khir flinched, wishing he had managed to cram a few manners into his youngest.
Griff, however, took the rudeness in stride. He had become accustomed to Renshai abruptness, held little interest in formality, and rarely took offense at anything. “We have two more coming, representatives from the West and the North. The king of the Eastlands declined to add a delegate.”
That did not surprise Ra-khir. Even after eighteen years, he had not grown accustomed to thinking of their sneaky, lowbrow friend as a king. Tae shunned decorum and ritual even more than Griff and Matrinka.
Griff added, “Darris and I are not going, of course. You’ll have a party of six.”
“Seven.” The word seemed to float out of nowhere, remarkably soft and yet still strong and certain.
Griff stopped talking immediately and looked at Tem’aree’ay.
Cued by the king’s gaze, Ra-khir also glanced toward the elf.
Tem’aree’ay explained, “I’m bringing Ivana.” Her tone left no room for debate, but the shocked look snaking over Griff’s face said otherwise.
“My darling,” he started, an obvious attempt at diplomacy. “Don’t you think we should have discussed this?”
“We’re discussing it now.” Tem’aree’ay’s words left no opening for privacy. “Though I’m willing to wait until the last two representatives arrive.”
As if on cue, Princess Marisole raced into the room, a long knife sheathed at her hip, a gittern across one shoulder, and a tooled leather quiver on the other. Ra-khir could see the top of a strung short bow sticking out of the center, with arrow-filled pockets on the side, their fletchings royal Béarnian blue with proper golden cock feathers. Every piece of equipment looked brand new, even the instrument, which she had surely played on more than one occasion.
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