She took a swallow and stepped into the practice room.
“… So, as you see, with one step, I’ve moved behind my opponent, opening up his neck here, his ribs here, his thigh here, and his groin here. In addition, were I to take another step, I could pivot so as to be directly behind him, thereby opening his throat for a—ah, Your Highness!” Master Mal smiled at her, raising his long sword in a jovial salute. “I am so glad you finally freed up your schedule so that you could grace us with your presence.”
Muffled laughter from the other students, their padded wire-frame helmets making them sound like honking geese. Waeh-Loh felt her face grow warm.
“I’m sorry, Master Mal. I lost track of the time.”
“Yes,” Master Mal said, his voice sardonic. “Must be rather rough, being the busy socialite.” Again, his jibe was rewarded with laughter from his toadying students.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, and began to cross the mat towards the practice uniforms.
Master Mal clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “No, no, no. You don’t need a practice uniform.”
Waeh-Loh’s heart thudded one solid thump in her chest. “I don’t?”
The other students laughed: honk honk honk.
“Clearly not,” Master Mal said. He took the wooden practice sword from the student on whom he was demonstrating and tossed it to Waeh-Loh. She fumbled at it, but it slipped through her fingers and clattered to the floor.
More honking from the geese. Waeh-Loh’s face burned.
“That’ll be all, Sil-Then,” Master Mal said to the student in the demonstration, a frail boy with expressive eyes. Sil-Then returned to the sidelines to watch with the other students.
“No, Waeh-Loh, by your constant late arrivals, you’ve announced to the class that you’ve mastered the art of fencing and no longer require my instruction. So here’s your big chance to prove it.” He swung his weapon in a fluid arc, his wrist loose.
“Guard up,” he said.
“Wait,” she protested. Had Mal gone insane? It was one thing to dislike her. It was quite another thing to beat her to death with a practice sword. “This isn’t fair!”
“Guard up, Waeh-Loh,” Master Mal said. He advanced a step, his sword still lowered.
Waeh-Loh shook her head. “It’s not fair to make me spar without a practice uniform.”
“Are you telling me what’s fair?” Master Mal took another step forward. Waeh-Loh took a step backwards, but there wasn’t much more room for her to retreat. “Guard up.”
“But I—”
Before Waeh-Loh could finish the sentence, Master Mal’s sword whistled in a wide arc, spiraled in mid-swing, and then crashed down on her collar-bone. The blow numbed her shoulder and drove her to the mat, where she lay splayed out, her sword still clutched in her pathetic grip.
“Get up, Waeh-Loh.”
She didn’t answer, just shook her head, hoping the others couldn’t see that she was crying. Her cheeks burned with shame.
“Get up.”
“Master,” the boy Sil-Then had stood up again. “Perhaps, we could—”
“Sit down, Sil-Then.” Sil-Then hesitated for a few moments, and then returned to his seat. “Now, get up, Waeh-Loh. Or shall I strike you while you’re prone?”
Sniffling, her eyes and her nose running, Waeh-Loh clambered to her feet. She brought her practice sword into ready position. Her hands were shaking and this caused her guard to waver uncontrollably.
“Much better,” Master Mal said. He swung his sword down and around then came straight towards the top of her head. But even as she moved to deflect the strike, it swerved, and slapped her along the side of her cheek, sending her staggering. She still retained her grip on the sword, though.
Bravo, Waeh-Loh. It’s a miracle you haven’t swallowed it.
“Tsk tsk,” Master Mal said, waving a finger at her. “Your defense isn’t as good as I expected, considering your arrogance.”
She was crying too hard to say anything, so she just shook her head.
“No? You’re saying I’ve made a mistake? Guard up!”
She shook her head again, but already he was coming at her, his blade flashing. She swung her sword, too, and he countered, and things got confusing, and she found her arms locked in his. Recognizing sanctuary, she quickly furthered the entanglement, binding his limbs in her own until they were face to face.
“Not bad,” he said, his lips inches from hers, his breath foul. “Class, see how she’s tangled me up like that. Looks effective, doesn’t it?”
Uh oh. That didn’t sound good. Waeh-Loh started to move but it was already too late. Master Mal tapped her nose with his forehead, and the world exploded into light.
He’s going to kill me!
True or not, she was really scared that he might kill her, whether he meant to or not. He was exercising a fair amount of restraint in the severity of his blows, but Waeh-Loh thought it a distinct possibility he might get carried away and forget to pull an attack. He’d be imprisoned, of course, but that would be of little consolation to her: she’d be dead.
“Please, stop,” she said. But already the sword was swinging at her.
She tried to entangle him again, but his sword caught her on the side of her arm and she cried out.
“Come on, Waeh-Loh. Stop acting like a princess and start acting like a warrior.”
“Somebody help me!” she shouted to the other students. Sil-Then fidgeted but did not rise to her defense. He was looking at his feet. Even the students who had been snickering at her misfortune earlier were beginning to realize that things weren’t right. None would meet her imploring gaze.
“You’ll have to help yourself,” Master Mal said, and the point of his wooden sword poked her in the stomach, knocking the wind from her. Her knees buckled, and Master Mal lunged in to attack her again: probably with another head strike, but who could tell? He was so unpredictable!
Fine, some voice in her said. So you be unpredictable, too.
Well, she had nothing to lose, that was certain. Even if he didn’t kill her, she certainly would receive a brutal beating.
As Mal’s sword came whizzing down, she dove head-first between his legs. His sword cut air where she had been. He was standing over her so she took advantage of the situation and drove her elbow up into his groin.
Mal shouted something that sounded like, “Blue!”
There was a sudden hush in the room.
But Waeh-Loh wasn’t finished. She grabbed his ankle with both hands and plunged her teeth into his thigh. Mal shrieked, and dropped his sword, grabbing her by the hair. She drove her elbow into his groin again, and sure enough, he shouted “Blue!” But he didn’t let go of her hair, so she elbowed him a third time, and at last, he let go.
She scurried out from between his legs, clambered to her feet, and fled the hall in tears. She glanced back only once and saw Mal wobbling on his feet. She didn’t see him hit the mat, but she did hear it.
Chapter 65
Free! The wind in her hair and the feel of the grass and the damp earth squishing between her toes!
Waeh-Loh spun in the field, her arms spread wide as if somehow she could collect all this sunlit joy in her arms and enfold it into herself. Oh, to never have to take lessons again! To not have to learn calligraphy, or the etiquette of humans (none of which she had ever met or would ever likely meet), or the lineage of every stupid inhabitant of the kingdom. (Wasn’t it enough that every elf knew his or her own?)
No, this is where she belonged. At one with nature. Learning the magic ways of the grass and sun. Communing with the trees. Whispering to snakes and singing to birds. How could her kind leave these ways behind? It was as essential as breathing.
Waeh-Loh spun until she was too dizzy to stand any further. She collapsed giggling to the green earth. A family of scurrying rodents stopped its foraging, and they stood on their hind legs to watch the elven girl at play. One of them approached her, looking for food.
Sh
e petted the little animal’s fur absently, sad that she had nothing to give it, but it seemed content with the affection. Soon, two others arrived to compete for the petting, and Waeh-Loh giggled as they nudged and tickled her in a bid for attention.
The warm sun was making her sleepy, so she lay in the grass and let the rodents run over her, playing. She fell into a wonderful, dreamless slumber; the type that eases all tensions and replenishes the cup of energy.
She awoke to a snuffling sound. When she opened her eyes, the sun had lowered most of the way to the ground.
She rolled over, and to her delight, saw her shovel-nosed cordon Pyto-Etha contentedly trampling a perimeter around her.
Waeh-Loh pushed off from her belly and leapt onto the cordon. Pyto-Etha squealed in panicked delight and tried to wrest free from her grip. She held on as tightly as she could, but at last, the cordon was free.
He snuffled away from her, glancing back to see if she were chasing him. When it became obvious she wasn’t, Pyto-Etha returned a few paces at a time. Waeh-Loh waited until he was in range again, then she once more pounced on him. Once more the delighted squeal, and once more the escape.
After ten or so rounds of the game, the sun lowered to the point where Waeh-Loh simply could not procrastinate any further.
“I’m sorry, Pyto-Etha. I have to go home.”
The cordon snuffled and barked at her. She rubbed its neck for a few moments, then got to her feet and left.
* * *
In the chamber that opened from the main hall the carpenter was building something. The scent of wood, oil, and healthy perspiration filled the air. Waeh-Loh smiled. She loved tormenting this man.
“You there!” she barked. “What are you doing in this chamber?”
The carpenter looked up. “As you see, I am crafting.”
His craftsmanship was exquisite. Like many elves, he had a powerful rapport with wood, earth, and stone. Though occasionally forced to drill or sand, most of his technique involved selecting the correct pieces of wood and then gently coaxing them into the right configurations. His joins were seamless; the results looked to be of a single piece of wood.
“When you speak to me,” Waeh-Loh said, “you are to address me as Your Highness.”
“As you say.”
“As you say, Your Highness.”
The carpenter’s eyes met hers. But there was no deference in his gaze. “As you say, Your Highness.”
“Much better.” Waeh-Loh nodded. “Now, have you seen my father?”
“I haven’t seen your father lately,” he confessed.
Waeh-Loh growled. “ ‘I haven’t seen His Majesty lately, Your Highness.’ Get that through your thick skull.”
“Oh right. I haven’t seen His Majesty lately, Your Highness.”
“You’re incredibly insolent for a carpenter, did you know that?”
“It has been pointed out to me, yes, Your Highness.”
“And yet they permit you to remain in the castle?”
“I’m told I have my uses.” He was polishing a dowel about the length of his forearm with a cloth scented with some kind of oil. The surface was becoming so smooth that it reflected the room like a distorted mirror.
“Hmph,” Waeh-Loh said, and shook her head. “What is that you’re making, carpenter?”
“A birthday present for my daughter. She’s having her fifteenth birthday next week.”
“Ah,” said Waeh-Loh sagely. “The Second Stage of Childhood. An important milestone.”
“Yes, I’m quite proud of her.”
Waeh-Loh scowled. “‘I’m quite proud of her, Your Highness.’ ”
“Yes. My apologies, Your Highness.”
“So I ask you again, what are you making?”
“As I said, it is a present for my daughter, Your Highness.”
“Yes, but what?”
The carpenter smiled. “It’s a secret.”
Waeh-Loh brought herself up to her full height, planted her arms on her hips and declared, “I am the Princess Waeh-Loh. I order you to tell me what it is.”
The carpenter scratched his chin a moment.
“No,” he said.
Waeh-Loh glared at the carpenter, and he met her gaze with a calm that was unnerving. She fought to keep glaring, but failed. A manic grin burst through her mask and onto her face, and she ran to the carpenter, giggling.
“Oh, you’re so mean to me, father!” she said as she wrapped her arms around him. “Won’t you tell me what it is?”
“Nope,” said King Kral-Sus, returning her embrace. He kissed her cheek. “Not until your birthday.”
Chapter 66
King Kral-Sus set Waeh-Loh to work without telling her what it was she was working on.
“I want this edge rounded,” he said, handing her a bit of sandpaper and a coaxing wand. “If you run it along the ground, that section should roll like a wheel.”
The task seemed dull to her at first, but she quickly became immersed in the activity. So much so, in fact, that when a throat cleared, she almost didn’t notice it.
“Yes, Master Mal?” her father said, and fingers of dread wrapped themselves around her heart. She had almost forgotten about the incident in Fencing. Now she wished she could run and hide.
“Your Majesty,” Master Mal said, his voice appropriately reverent. “Might I have a word with you?”
Her father looked up from the wooden block he was still working, and his eyebrows furrowed. “Of course.”
Waeh-Loh looked up, and her eyes met Mal’s. The hatred therein frightened her, and she lowered her gaze.
“Father, I meant to tell you—”
“Might we speak in private, Your Majesty?”
Kral-Sus glanced at Waeh-Loh, his look concerned, and then rose to his feet. “Of course, Master Mal. Where would you like to speak?”
Mal gestured to the great hall to which this chamber was annexed. He glanced at Waeh-Loh before saying, “The hall is sufficient, Your Majesty. No one should intrude there.”
Kral-Sus gave Waeh-Loh a reassuring smile and then joined the fencing instructor. They spoke at length while Waeh-Loh watched, her anxiety growing in a knot in her belly. Surely, her father wouldn’t side with Mal against her. Would he? But then, he was king, and kings had to be impartial. Would she be punished for beating up her fencing instructor? Surely not! After all, he was trying to hurt her. It was self-defense, right? Surely he’d understand that, wouldn’t he?
Her tension continued to build until she was nearly ready to cry out: “Just get it over with already!”
At last, the conversation ended. Her father smiled, and dismissed Mal with a pat on the upper arm. Then he turned his attention on her. His eyes were serious. Waeh-Loh felt her own eyes grow moist. A rebuke from him would kill her.
“Waeh-Loh,” her father said. “Master Mal has made some very serious accusations. Would it be all right if we discussed it?”
What could she possibly say to that? No?
“Of course, Father.”
“Do you know what he said?”
“I was going to tell you. Really!”
“You mean you admit to attacking him?” The surprise and disappointment in her father’s tone wounded her deeply. “I have a hard time accepting that.”
“But it wasn’t like that,” she protested. “I didn’t just attack him.”
“Waeh-Loh, I want to believe you. But he said that there were over a dozen witnesses.”
Witnesses?
“Well, yes, there were people there, but I didn’t just attack him!”
Her father didn’t reply. He squatted down beside her, looking sad. For a moment, Waeh-Loh was sure he was going to punish her.
Then he said, “Tell me what happened, Waeh-Loh.”
His voice was so tender and concerned that she couldn’t help herself: she reached her arms around his head and hugged him, her tears dampening his face.
“What was that for?” he said.
“You believe
me. Or at least you believe in me enough to want to hear my side of the story.”
“Of course. Even if I didn’t love you, wasn’t your father, wasn’t absolutely certain about your character; even if I weren’t all these things, I would still be your king, and obliged to listen to all sides of a dispute.”
Waeh-Loh wiped away her tears, smiling.
“You’re a good king, Father,” she said. “I love—”
“Your Majesty!” Master Mal came running back into the hall.
“Yes, Master Mal,” her father said. “I’m discussing the matter with Waeh-Loh right n—”
“No, it’s nothing to do with that!” Mal’s face was chalk-white, and perspiration dotted his forehead. “Your Majesty, we’re under attack!”
King Kral-Sus stared at Mal for a moment, and then tousled Waeh-Loh’s hair. “I promise to discuss this with you later,” he said. Before she could say anything, he was up and assimilating information from Mal.
King Kral-Sus snapped his finger for a page and sent him running to assemble the Royal Advisors. Meanwhile, her father and Mal walked off at a brisk pace, talking in hushed and hurried tones.
Waeh-Loh sat alone on the floor with the unfinished pieces of her birthday present.
Chapter 67
It was as though someone had struck a hornet’s nest, the way the advisors swarmed around Waeh-Loh’s father, buzzing and poking at him.
“How did they find us?”
“Are our defenses capable of repelling them?”
“Who are they? Where did they come from?”
“I mean it. How did they find us? Our barrier should be proof against detection.”
“Pra-Nod’s right. It’s impossible for them to have penetrated our veil.”
“Unless they have a mage …”
“Oh, do let us hope that is not the case.”
“Do you think they have a mage?”
“I don’t know. Mal’s the one who reported the incident.”
“I only relayed what the messenger told me.”
“Where is the messenger?”
“Yes, someone fetch him!”
“Do you really think they might have a mage?”
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