“You taught Ailith the use of swords and bow,” Elon stated. “You taught her our language.”
Dorovan nodded, with some little pride amid the sorrow. “She speaks it well, does she not? I gave no thought to it. She was the beloved child of my friend-of-the-heart’s child. I was fond of her. I didn’t know she had my blood. I taught her the swords because she had such a talent for it. It was so glorious to teach her. For all her size she was a natural warrior. I thought it would stand her in good stead the day she took her father’s crown. Her friendship was a joy to me. I gave no thought to Ailith’s father’s blood or mine and she did no magic when I saw her. Until that day on battlefield I didn’t know she was Otherling.”
“Does it matter?” Elon asked. A sharp spurt of resentment, anger, shot through him.
Slowly, Dorovan shook his head. “She’s my blood, no matter what else is there. Even without the blood tie I was fond of her. She was an intelligent child, a diligent student, a born swordsman and a joy to my heart.”
“She wouldn’t speak of you.”
“I asked her not to. There had been some whispers about Selah after her birth. By then I’d come to know the ways of men and was dismayed to realize I might have brought dishonor to Delae in my ignorance. She, who didn’t know the ways of Elves, didn’t think to speak of it. Of her husband, who had so little honor, I had little thought. Selah seemed so obviously not Elven, though, that the whispers faded.”
Elon was silent for a moment.
There was a deep sorrow in the other Elf, deeper than a mere alliance or simple fondness. He had loved Delae in his way, though he didn’t speak of it, else he wouldn’t have returned so often. Talaena was an old Enclave, strong in tradition and history. Lilianne’s Enclave. No, such an alliance wouldn’t have been welcome there. To keep and carry that secret for so long.
To watch his lover age as the folk of men did and know how brief her life would be.
It was clear Dorovan had loved Selah as well. She had been his child, despite his doubts. At the moment of Selah’s death, he would have known it, as those among their people did. Elon couldn’t imagine the pain of it, losing a child. They were so rare. Add now this exile. The most grievous punishment any Elf could conceive and settled upon his child’s child. He couldn’t imagine how the other Elf stood beneath the weight of his sorrow.
“Is there nothing that can be done?” Dorovan asked. His voice held little hope. “If I had thought that by some act of mine I could save her, I would have done it. I’m swordmaster and artificer, crafter of swords and armor and of Talaena. It wouldn’t have aided her cause. There must be something, some way we can help.”
As one, the three of them looked at each other, and then at Elon, who straightened slowly. A light of hope, small perhaps but something. Action of some kind, no matter how little it might be.
“Not to end her exile,” Elon said, tightly, “but perhaps to ease it.”
He was grasping at straws and knew it but it was bitter to know he could do nothing. Even so small a chance as this was something. He had to try. Had to do something for her to ease her exile until he could free her from it.
It ached, chafed at him already.
“There is a risk,” Colath offered, knowing Elon’s mind, “if they discover him. It would take no leap of reason to ask why an Elf would defy law and custom.”
“They have no reason to suspect him, though,” Jareth added, “save perhaps for his visit here. As a past Hunter, though, he would be like enough to those others who visited us earlier. They have no reason to watch him. There will be many departing through the night, leaving the city to return to their homes and Enclaves. One more Elf among so many wouldn’t be remarked.”
Elon shook his head. “True enough but if he’s discovered the consequences could render all for naught and Ailith’s sacrifice an empty one. If we let Dorovan do this, we defy the Council, the one I sit on. Whether we admit it or not, we, we defy the Council whose law I’ve sworn to uphold. Make no mistake, that’s no light thing.”
“It would be mine to accept,” Dorovan said.
“So,” Elon said, sharply, “I should let another take the punishment for my dishonor? I won’t. That’s of little matter, however. There’s so little of honor in this I can’t be much disturbed. They’ve conspired to violate the very spirit of the law they swore to uphold. How is it I can do aught to right some of that wrong? No, but it’s not empty risk either. If you were to be discovered and either Elves or Dwarves made that leap of reason, all that Ailith has done would be for nothing. The Dwarves have been thwarted of their blood but not their thirst for it. Were they to realize who you are, they would take their revenge on you. No matter what our people feel about what you’ve done, they would be forced to seek justice. Neither Dwarf nor Man can be allowed to take the blood of an Elf without consequence. You know that, Dorovan.”
“Aye. Then what? So, there is nothing we can do?”
The small hope Dorovan nourished had faded, you could see it.
“There is something,” Elon said, “but we won’t go blindly into it, either. If we’re to do this, let’s do it in the full knowledge of what may be the results of our actions.”
A chance, a small chance, to do something for Ailith. Something other than to follow her. The need, the burning desire, to do that nearly overwhelmed him. If he did, all chance of finding some way to bring her back, to win her free of it, was gone. There was Colath, too, there was that bond which he wouldn’t abandon either, nor would he ask Colath to join him. There was Aerilann, too, and his responsibilities there, his duties to the Council and the Alliance for which Ailith had sacrificed herself. Though Colath was no burden, the rest…
He sighed.
Hope blossomed again for Dorovan, it was clear in his eyes, in the empathy all Elves felt.
“Come,” Elon said. “We haven’t much time and we have lost even more.”
Surprisingly, he led them to the stables.
Jareth was puzzled but he followed without question.
Then he saw what was stabled in the end stall.
Startled, he said, “That’s without doubt the ugliest horse I’ve ever seen.”
It was.
For an Elven-bred it was surprisingly homely.
Its coat was a mottled brindle color, neither gray, nor brown, nor red, nor black but all of those. Even the mane and tail were mixed in color. Handspans shorter than most Elven horses, it was almost the size of those bred by men. Like all Elven horses its head was large, its eyes well set and clear but its head seemed too large for its body. One eye was dark, the other was light. Most Elven horses were all one color, with no markings. They were bred for it. Usually they were gray, white, or black, sometimes brown, not this all-color or no color.
For a moment Elon paused before he smiled slightly and sadly.
“As men would judge, perhaps. His name is Katar.”
A small smile tugged at Colath’s mouth, puzzling Jareth.
“I don’t understand,” Jareth said.
“It means sport,” Colath explained, amused. “Not sport as in contest but sport as an accident of birth. It’s not a word you would have had much chance to hear.”
The irony was subtle, as most Elven humor was but even Dorovan seemed to appreciate it.
“It suits her,” he said and his expression lightened a little more.
Taking a breath, Elon let it out and nodded.
He’d planned it that way from the moment he’d learned that Ailith’s beloved and faithful Smoke had died. The horse was to have been his gift to Ailith before their trip north. Where she would have been safe, had he not delayed too long.
“Yes, I think she’ll like the name.”
He’d wanted to see her smile, to see the way her eyes would sparkle when he gave it to her.
Would the pain ever ease? He thought not, hoped not, even as he took a breath against it. There should be payment made.
“They have much in common. It happens
sometimes that one like this will be bred. This one, though, caught my eye. Smallish, usually with dull minds. He wasn’t. Normally, an animal like this would be traded to your people, Jareth. I was loath to do so. Your people put much value in appearance, where ours do not. He wouldn’t have been prized by your people as he should be. It wasn’t his appearance that would have put him aside among us but his size. Of his intelligence, there’s no question. After Smoke died, I thought immediately of Katar. I had him schooled and sent here. I’d meant to give him to Ailith when she joined the Hunters, he would have been an appropriate gift for such an occasion. They would have been a good match.”
Once, so short a time ago, he ‘d looked with anticipation on the moment he could make this gift. He had wanted to see the pleasure in her expression. Now the thought brought him up short, with a sharp pang of sorrow and bitter regret that he wouldn’t see it.
At the least, though, the gift would be made.
With gentle hands, Colath felt Katar’s legs, stroked his neck. He looked Katar in the eye and saw the look returned with cleverness.
In like sorrow, he nodded. “Yes, they would suited each other well. He has a good chest, good wind. Yet his size wouldn’t have been a strain on long hunts.”
Ailith had always looked so small on Smoke. The memory pained him.
With his eyes on the horse, it was too easy for Elon to picture Ailith astride, as he had many times before.
He put it aside. He couldn’t see it without the hurt.
Dorovan entered the stall, offered his hand and stroked the animal’s muzzle with his free hand when Katar lipped at his other palm. He nodded.
“Wait,” Colath said and ran lightly from the stable to return moments later with a bundle in his hands. An Elven Hunter’s cloak, spelled and oiled to repel rain and snow, and to give warmth in winter. “They sent her away with nothing but her swords. She’ll need this. It will be long but she can mend it.”
Jareth stepped into the tack room and came out with his travel roll, a stretch of waxed-cloth for shelter and a bed roll. He smiled grimly. “And this. I can buy another. It’s not much.”
“No,” Elon said, quietly. “It’s not. But it’s more than she has. That’s something.”
It was little consolation but consolation nonetheless.
They’d sent her with nothing.
He took another breath against the pain.
“Will you take them to her?” Elon asked and looked at Dorovan.
“Aye. Little though it is, as you say it’s more than she has.”
“You’ll have to be careful, Dorovan. One hint and all will be lost. She’ll have none of this and any chance of redemption will be gone. Her sacrifice will be for nothing. The Alliance will crumble and each of us will pay the price. You most of all. It’s your life the Dwarves will demand.”
Sourly, Jareth said, “And Daran will most likely accept. He’s not a temperate man. The Council won’t defy him on it.”
“Our people won’t stand for it. The war will then be among ourselves.”
Dorovan looked at them. “Think you I don’t know this? Why else did I stay silent? Why else did I leave her to face this alone?”
For a moment, Elon bowed his head. As he had, allowing her to go. For the thousandth time he wished he could go with her. She knew and understood, she’d said. Did he? Yet, if he went he couldn’t bring her back and there would be no hope at all.
“Watch also for Avila,” Jareth said, grimly. “She has her fingers in this. I can’t imagine she’ll sit idly by and accept that we’ll do nothing. She has no love for either myself or Elon, she would be pleased to see us both brought down. She has spelled hawks to be her eyes and ears, so she’ll be watching as well.”
“I’ll take care,” Dorovan replied. “It will do Ailith no good if I fail. I’ve served with the Woodsmen and Hunters, I know the ways. Elsewise, I’ll be only another Elf returning to my Enclave. No one will question Katar, since his appearance will render him little more than a pack horse in most eyes. An Elf might know the difference but they won’t question it. I’ll do well enough. What of the watchers, though?”
Jareth didn’t bother to keep the bitterness from his tone. “As a wizard, I should have the power to do something. It’s late, there’s been a lot of excitement today and those who watch will be tired. If they nod for a few moments, they won’t be surprised but they won’t comment on it either for fear of punishment. By the time they note that you’ve left, they’ll only see an Elf passing by with a pack horse, leaving as so many others are.”
From the bin by Katar’s stall, Elon pulled out a set of Elven tack, a halter and light saddle with another pang of regret. Or grief. He ran his hands over the fine tooling on the leather, set to match that of Ailith’s swords, then set it on Katar’s back. These, too, would have been his gift to her. He had so wanted to put them in her hands himself.
No one spoke much as they worked. Katar watched them alternately, his ears flicking but otherwise patient.
Finally Dorovan stood at the door with Katar’s reins in his hands.
“One more thing,” Elon said, suddenly, just as Jareth began his spell.
He held the piece of jewelry out in his hand. Men wouldn’t know what it was. Elves would. If Dorovan was caught with it, it was damning.
He held it out despite that.
“Give this to her.”
Colath looked at him sharply and Jareth’s breath caught.
A charm. A Veil charm.
Jareth recognized it. He had one himself that matched it. It allowed those of the race of men to see and pass through the Veil that guarded the lands of the Elves. Into Aerilann. He was stunned.
For a moment, no one spoke, then Dorovan opened his hand and Elon placed the pin in it.
“Tell her she may come to Aerilann if she has need,” he said. “She may not ask for aid, succor or comfort but it can be offered. She’ll find it there.”
Colath nodded assent.
What went on within the borders of an Enclave was the business of the Enclave. There might be a few within Aerilann who might question but they wouldn’t speak of it outside their borders. It was madness but it was a madness he shared. It would be Aerilann’s madness and Elon was First among equals there. If Ailith had need, she had one place she could turn.
He nodded and kept silent.
“If I’m caught with this…” Dorovan said.
Elon gave him a level look. “Then don’t get caught, Dorovan.”
A nod as a swift look passed between them.
Jareth cast the spell.
“Go now.”
They shut the door behind Dorovan.
Elon took a breath. It was done, the die cast. Whatever happened now was beyond his reach. Would it matter? He didn’t know. There was an emptiness within him, beside him. On the side where Colath was not.
Ailith. Her laughing steel-blue eyes. Looking down at him from the wall by the sea. A thousand pictures of her were in his mind. He had let her go. His heart twisted.
Colath looked at him. “Elon.”
A wealth of compassion was there in his true-friend’s eyes.
He shook his head and at Jareth’s questioning glance.
No, he couldn’t bear either sympathy or empathy, not yet. Not for a long time.
“It’s done,” he said instead. “You must be weary, Jareth.”
Weary, yes. Restless and unsettled, as well. Unsatisfied. The long ride and the burning hope. All for naught.
Jareth shrugged.
As if echoing his thoughts, Elon said, “I never saw this coming. I underestimated them. I won’t make that mistake again. I trusted to reason and justice alone. It wasn’t enough.”
Not in dealing with Men.
It hadn’t been enough to save her. Or him.
He stopped and shook his head.
“It’s done and all we can do is hope it can be undone. We’ve done all we can for her now.”
Colath watched him walk
away.
With a weary glance, Jareth followed Elon.
Irresolute, troubled himself, Colath stood, unable to move. He glanced at the door to the street, wishing Dorovan well and safe, before he followed the others.
As he walked past the doorway onto the veranda, he saw Elon standing in the moonlight, arms folded, his eyes on the stars. For a moment he thought to speak but for this time he didn’t think Elon wished it.
He left his true-friend alone with his thoughts.
Jalila waited, looking beyond him to Elon as well. Her dark brown eyes met his, the sorrow in them deep. Their fingers meshed, comfort to comfort, for each other and for what they couldn’t offer Elon or Ailith.
Standing looking over the garden, a thousand memories went through Elon’s mind.
The soft feel of Ailith’s skin beneath his mouth, the flutter of her eyelashes against his cheek. Her small frame tucked into his lap or held close with his mouth to her hair.
He’d let her go.
His honor wouldn’t let him leave and hers wouldn’t let her stay.
Chapter Twenty Six
Dorovan was fastening Katar’s lead rein to Aranath’s saddle when he felt eyes on him. A man. There was no man born yet who could pass unnoticed by an Elf. They hadn’t the stillness for it.
He gave the man no notice. Let him see what he believed he saw, another Elf preparing for a long journey homeward. It wasn’t unlikely for an Elf to leave at this hour. Many did to avoid the noise and press of Men at the gates during the day. With the light of the half-full moon there was plenty of light for his people to see by. Men wouldn’t fare so well.
And Ailith? He’d never asked. As he’d never asked a thousand other questions he now wished he had.
Without acknowledging the watcher, he swung up into the saddle. Aranath was a good horse, picking her way quietly down the street, Katar following.
He departed through the gate he should have if he were returning home. If there were any who marked such things, no one would have any cause to comment. It wasn’t a time when hawks were about but there were guards in the towers who watched. Still, he could make some speed without notice and he did. He needed to turn west once he was beyond the sight of those in the towers. There were no Elves there, Elves didn’t keep watch over the lands of men and men’s sight was short.
The Coming Storm Page 79