by A. R. Cook
Desert Rain blinked in astonishment, and wiped her ink-stained hand on her pants. “That’s a very impressive deduction,” she said. “Although, I am ashamed to say, I have never felt this…web of magic that you mentioned.”
Anthron was writing again, eyes glued to the paper. “It’s not that you don’t, Hijn Desert Rain. It’s that you have chosen to ignore it.” He quickly observed her feet. “Prehensile toes. I really should take a print of those as well.”
Desert Rain flared her nostrils and pinched her lips tight before speaking. “I don’t mean to be rude, Sir Anthron, but you don’t look like you care about anything I’m saying.”
Anhtron wrinkled a corner of his nose in puzzlement. “Is it necessary for me to ‘look’ like I’m paying attention?”
“It would make me feel better if you did, yes. And maybe you could look at me like a person instead of some animal on display.”
Anthron became thoughtful, tapping his chin with the tip of his pen. “Interesting.” He jotted something down.
“Nevertheless,” Clova cut in as Desert Rain was about to protest, “you must see what a drastic situation we’re in. We think it’s necessary that the Elfë Tiagas help us to stop this demon. Surely, they must have some secret knowledge of the elven power that could protect us from the dark power of that Wretched. Maybe they’ve imparted such secrets to you?”
Anthron made a brief laugh. “No, even I am not worthy of such information in their eyes. We Ahshi are too ‘open-armed,’ as they say. They think we are too willing to share what we know with other races. Most Ahshi don’t even know how to find an Elfë Tiagas city anymore, let alone know how to connect with their psychic abilities. We have severed our ties with them. Let them live in their ice castles if they wish…it suits them and their cold hearts well.”
“But if you told them about the danger Luuva Gros is in—they must see that eventually this terror could find them!”
Anthron knit his eyebrows at Clova. “To give away their most precious secrets because of one Wretched? They will never agree unless they saw the destruction themselves, and by then it would be too late. I take this plight very seriously, but I doubt they would even grace your request with a response.”
Desert Rain’s fingers curled, although her face remained calm. “So that’s it? It’s not even worth trying to talk to them?”
“You do not understand, Hijn Desert Rain, because you are not elven. Clova Flor should explain it to you sometime. Now, seeing as how I have postponed my night class for much longer than I intended, I will have to end this discussion. I bid you both a pleasant night.” He abruptly turned around and went back to his place in the knothole room.
Clova Flor paused but then took a deep breath. “Athro-kos, I know how you detest speaking with your brethren, but—”
Anthron sharply held up a hand for silence. He opened one of his books and began writing again.
Clova sighed. She leaned in close to Desert Rain and whispered. “We should go, Dezzy. He doesn’t like upsetting his schedule. Perhaps tomorrow we can try again, when he has more time to give us.”
Desert Rain didn’t move, even when Clova took her arm. She walked up to the knothole, planting both feet firmly on the welcome mat. “Great Philosopher Anthron, I don’t accept that.”
“Dez!” Clova whispered warningly.
Anthron continued writing without glancing up. “You are dedicated to your request, Hijn Desert Rain, and I respect that. But you must understand, for me to waste so much of my limited energy for a plea that will go unheard—”
“I understand, Sir Anthron, that because you don’t like talking to your cousins that you’re willing to let more people suffer.”
Anthron lifted his eyes to give her a penetrating glare, but then shifted his gaze back down to his paper.
“I’m a hypocrite,” Desert Rain admitted. “There are people I don’t like talking to either. I haven’t attended a Hijn meeting since Dragons know when, because I wanted to be left alone. And now I need to take some reponsibilty for what’s going on, because I have a hand in all this. It would be very easy for me to crawl back into my burrow and shut everything and everyone out again. I could let every Noble City go to the Eternal Deep, and not feel guilty about it at all. But I’ve traveled half-way across Luuva Gros for this, and for you to say that you’re not even going to try to help because you and the Elfë Tiagas have some bad blood between you is the most selfish and stupid thing I’ve ever heard.”
Anthron ceased writing. He slowly put his pen down, and slowly closed his book. He raised his head, his face set like marble. “Did you say stupid?”
Desert Rain didn’t reply. She stared back into his azure eyes, her green eye radiating a fierce glow. It made Anthron soften his glare, even lean away ever so slightly. He opened his mouth, and found himself, for the first time since he could remember, unable to counter the argument.
“Dez, that’s enough,” Clova said, coming forth and taking her by the shoulder. “I think we’re all tired from the long day. We can talk about this more tomorrow, when we’ve all gotten some rest.” She firmly started to guide Desert Rain away. Desert Rain’s intent gaze lingered on the speechless elf a moment longer, and then she turned to leave.
“Hijn Desert Rain—”
The two Hijn turned back to the elf, who looked at the desert hermit questioningly.
“You say you need to take responsibility for this, even though it may not be your battle to fight?” he asked.
“But it is my battle.”
“Why?”
Desert Rain saw in Anthron’s eyes that he was not looking so much for her answer, but for his own. “Because whether I like it or not, I’m a Hijn. Somewhere in me, I have the power to fight back. It’s not easy. It’s completely frightening. But it’s what I have to do.”
“No one would punish you if you let others fight, those who were more willing and stronger,” Anthron said.
“But then I may as well join the snow elves in their frozen mountains, right?” Desert Rain gave him a small smile.
“Tomorrow,” Anthron said after a pause. “I will send the Flightspeak to the northern elves tomorrow.”
Clova was astounded, but then a relieved smile brightened her face. “You will?”
Desert Rain was familiar with the term Flightspeak. Grandma Luna had once explained to her that it was the psychic link all elves had, how they could talk to one another over vast distances. Elves dabbled in certain magics, mostly guard illusions to place around their cities, but they were naturally born with mental powers unlike any other race in Luuva Gros. They were taught not to abuse their psychic abilities, to the point where many elves only used them in dire circumstances.
“It will take some time,” Anthron admitted, his voice unable to hide the tiny hint of nervousness. “I will need to concentrate on it for the whole day, without disruption. I cannot guarantee an immediate reply. The Flightspeak will tire me greatly, you see. It may take days until I receive any word from them, but I will…try.” He took in a deep breath. “I will try,” he repeated, brushing back that one strand of loose hair.
“We are very grateful to you, Athro-kos,” Clova said, bowing to him. She was restraining her joy as much as she could, but she couldn’t help but smile with a sunbeam’s warmth. “We should let you get back to your class now. May Nature always look kindly on you.”
“Thank you, Anthron,” Desert Rain said evenly as she bowed. “I am glad to have met such a wise elf.” She thought she could see, with the help of the vision in her green eye, Anthron blush a little.
“This is wonderful!” Clova clapped her hands as she sat cross-legged on her mat. The others staying with Paki and Tyla had already gone to sleep, but she and Desert Rain still talked in hushed tones. “I thought it would take more coaxing than that, and even then I couldn’t say if he would really do it. But he’s going to do it! Finally, a sprout of hope that can grow for us.”
Desert Rain lied back on her mat,
wondering if she was going to get any sleep that night—or if Clova would allow her to. “Is Anthron truly that adverse to the snow elves?”
“You have no idea,” Clova said. “The Elfë Tiagas have never forgiven those elves who chose to live among the other Noble Races, and the Ahshi think the northern elves are too stuck in the past with wishing to remain isolated. The Ahshi are so opposed to the old way of life that most have sacrificed their mental powers in order to begin anew. Even I can’t remember how it’s done…” She paused, as if trying to remember how to do Flightspeak, but then she shook her head and shrugged. “It’s difficult to get Anthron to talk to the northern elves, as you saw back there. But you, you knew how to play him pretty well.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s the Philosopher, Dezzy. You tested him, you called him ‘stupid’! No one does that! I was a bit worried for you for a second.”
“But you said he was a nice man—”
“He is, but he also has the authority to send away an outsider who doesn’t pay him proper respect. I told you I couldn’t do this without you, Dezzy.”
Desert Rain grinned, even though she didn’t believe that last thing Clova had said was true. “It’s too bad Anthron didn’t get what he was hoping for.”
“What was that?”
“Well, you told him that we were going to tell him something he didn’t know, but he already knew everthing we had to tell him. He was cheated out of the deal.”
Clova was silent, which made Desert Rain curious. She saw the Forest Hijn look away, as if watching some invisible thing floating about. “Clova?”
Clova looked back at her innocently. “Hmm?”
“Is there something you’re not telling me?”
“No, no,” Clova replied, curling a lock of hair around her finger. “Well…maybe a little something.”
Desert Rain turned over onto her side. “What?”
“Anthron didn’t really get cheated.”
Desert Rain knitted her eyebrows, grinning in curiosity. “I’m not following.”
“It wasn’t so much I said that I was going to tell him something he didn’t know. I said I was going to show him something he’d never seen.”
Desert Rain didn’t react, not immediately. She felt a hot pinch in her temples. She dropped the grin. She sat up on her mat. “Some…thing?”
“Well obviously I didn’t mean thing. I knew that he would have never seen a Hijn like you before, and I thought you and he would get along so well—”
“A Hijn like me?” She didn’t really know why, but Desert Rain suddenly felt a burn that was welling-up inside her.
Clova saw the twinge of anger in her friend’s eyes. “Dezzy, I didn’t mean it like that.”
“No, I do know what you mean. I know I was never like the rest of you. You got dragon markings, but you still look elven. Even I don’t know what I’m supposed to look like.” She gritted her teeth, and her skin flushed crimson. “I can imagine what you said. ‘Tell Anthron I have this freak I could show him. Maybe he’d like to gawk at it for a little while.’”
“You know I would never—”
“When did I become a bargaining chip, Clova? When did I stop being a person and become a means to an end?” Desert Rain stood up. “He treated me like I’m some foreign animal to be studied! And you knew he would, didn’t you? But you didn’t care. You didn’t care at all how I’d feel.” She tugged down on her ears so hard, Clova winced at the notion she might rip them off.
“How can you say that? Sweetie, I’m your friend. I had no idea this would upset you so much.”
“I’m tired of being used, Clova. I’m tired of being told one thing when it’s really another. I’m sick of being lied to.” Desert Rain turned to walk away from her, but Clova got up and tried to catch hold of her hand.
“Dezzy, I’m sorry. Please don’t act like—”
“I don’t want to talk to you.” Desert Rain said this so sharply that Clova instantly released her. Desert Rain left her, walking quickly along the winding tree limbs, not really caring where she was going. She stepped swiftly around the sleeping families of Ahshi, until she stopped and leaned against a tree trunk. She stood there in silence, dwelling on the angry thoughts in her head, staring up through the upper canopy into a dark, mirthless night sky. She was in thought when a voice snuck up on her.
“Gila Gul?” Mac let out a lazy yawn and scratched his sides. “What’s-ssck the matter? I woke up and you were raisin’ your voice to Miss-ssck Clova. Poor lady’s upset-tkk now. What happened?”
Desert Rain sighed. “I don’t want to talk about it, Mac. You should go back to sleep.”
“Can’t-tkk, not if I know you’re troubled. Now you can tell ol’ Mac anything. Why’s Miss-ssck Clova crying? You two have a squabble?”
Desert Rain looked down at her feet. “Something like that.”
“That’s-ssck a shame. But it’s nothing that can’t-tkk be patched up, I’m sure.”
“I don’t know, Mac. I don’t know.”
Mac scratched his head. “You two are friends-ssck, ain’t you?”
Desert Rain sighed. “I thought we were.”
“Did Miss Clova do something to hurt-tkk you on purpose?”
Desert Rain lifted her head. “No, not on purpose.”
Mac grinned his yellowish teeth. “Then it must-tkk have been an accident, and you can forgive her for an accident, can’t-ttk you?”
Desert Rain looked at Mac, and smiled back. “Yes,” she replied.
“Good. Then we should be getting back-kk so you can patch things-ssck up and get some shut-eye. Like-kk the ol’ Bayou saying goes, ‘It’s easier going when the swamp is cool than when it’s boiling.’ At least, I think that’s-ssck how the sayin’ goes.”
CHAPTER FOUR
The Return of Silverheart
When morning came, Desert Rain still hadn’t quite gotten over her anger at Clova, although she had apologized for her rash reaction. She figured perhaps a good walk might help clear her head and dissipate her remaining ire, and since the Great Philosopher had said he needed the whole day to concentrate on his Flightspeak, there wasn’t much for her to do in Kapokis anyway. Therefore, she decided to accompany Chiriku and Paki on their trek to the next town, even though the Quetzalin made some comment under her breath involving the word “clingy.”
Mac, too, followed them down the spiral stairway of mushrooms that Paki summoned from one of the old trees. He was not planning on joining them on their short journey, for he had another plan for the day.
“Thought-tkk I’d take a look-clk around here, enjoy the scenery,” he cryptically said. Desert Rain couldn’t help but notice that he had brought with him an empty bug lantern, a line of string, and a piece of silver that had, supposedly, “fallen off” one of Tyla’s tree offerings. The Hijn smirked and shook her head, knowing Mac’s real intention for sneaking around this part of the forest with a small trap and a silver piece as bait. She noted Paki’s expression, and it was clear that the Ahshi knew the intention as well. She hoped the Twiights would not be too hard on Mac.
The next town would be Palms’ Dance, according to Paki, and would be an hour walk to get there. The elf, Quetzalin and Hijn traveled in silence for most of it, although Desert Rain asked Paki occasional questions about certain plants or sounds in the woods. Chiriku was less than impressed with anything Paki had to say. Her face was set in its typical grimace, and she cast suspicious glances towards any rustle that came frme the surrounding brush.
Desert Rain felt that if she was going to understand her feathered companion any better, now would be a good time to attempt a conversation. Not that she planned on being very successful in getting Chiriku to talk much, but Desert Rain knew who the Quetzalin was looking for, and imagined what inner turmoil the bird girl was going through.
“You’re searching for your grandfather, aren’t you?” Desert Rain asked eventually, after the silence had gotten too overwhelming.
Chiriku rolled her eyes. “You Hijn really do know everything.”
“I ask because, he could be in any of the Ahshi towns on the western rim, if he even made it this far. He could have stopped in any of the villages between Syphurius and Juka Basin.”
“What’s your point?”
“That this search is not going to be as easy as you think, Chiriku. I know you get very determined when you set your mind on something, but he may not have come all the way to Juka Basin.”
“Look, the old man never trusted any squatters from those woodland villages, and no way would he bunk with those dirty Lejenous. He’s not a big fan of elves, but he’d stay with the crowd, and I know most of Syphurius feel the same way he does. They would hold out until they made it here.”
“But like I said, he could be staying anywhere along the western rim.”
“Then I’ll look through every town if I have to.”
Desert Rain nodded. She remembered when she had been Chiriku’s age—at least, she thought she remembered—full of determination, or stubbornness, depending on how one viewed it. She imagined she loved Grandma Luna as much as Chiriku loved her grandfather, and she too would’ve traveled hundreds of miles for the sake of a beloved elder.
“I wish I could make the search easier for you,” she commented.
“Cut out the bleeding heart crap, will you, Donkey Ears? You didn’t even have to come.”
Desert Rain narrowed her eyes, but then grinned. “Forgive me, Lady Legs.”
Suddenly, Chiriku’s beak was in Desert Rain’s face. The bird girl’s eyes blazed, and the feathers on her head were standing on end in fury. Her voice was soft but malicious. “Never call me that.”
“If you’re going to keep calling me Donkey Ears—”
“I can call you whatever I feel like. But you never say anything about my legs, my arms, my beak, my anything. You call me that again, and I will rearrange your face, I swear it.” She whipped back around and stormed down the path, passing up her elven guide. Paki looked at Desert Rain, shaking his head with a knowing glance.