Elephant Thief

by Lia Patterson

  He took me by the shoulders and shook me. “Arisha! What were you thinking of?” His lips were white with anger.

  Gazing up at him, I swallowed hard. “I…I just wanted to have a look at the Khotai camp.”

  “What a stupid thing to do!” His fingers dug into my shoulders. “Don’t you realise they’re not to be trusted?”

  “They’re your allies,” I pointed out.

  “Nothing of the sort!” he spat. “We trade with them, but that does not mean I trust them. You were incredibly luckily, and that only thanks to Owl.”

  What did Owl have to do with it? And he had no right to dress me down in such a manner! “Nothing would have happened,” I replied, trying for my most reasonable tone. “I meant to use the horses to get away.”

  “Don’t be so naive; being a mage doesn’t make you invincible! The Khotai know exactly how to control horses.” He let go of one shoulder to jab a finger at my chest. “From now on you will not leave the village without asking me first.”

  Matching anger rose within me. He treated me like a naughty child! “If the Khotai are so bad, why do you let them camp out there?” I hurled at him.

  “I posted a guard,” he answered through clenched teeth. “Though the incompetent fool let you by. But our women have enough sense to stay away from those dogs.” He took a deep breath. “Arisha…don’t you realise what could be happening to you this very moment?” His voice faltered, choked up with rage.

  I closed my eyes, remembering the extraordinary relief I’d felt when he had come riding down that hill. If he hadn’t arrived just then… Involuntarily I recalled the Khotai’s large hands flexing as if he wanted to use them on my body and the smell of smoke and rancid oil that had emanated from him. Rhys was right, I had been stupid to think that my magic gave me immunity from harm.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I wasn’t thinking much…I…thank you.”

  Rhys exhaled his breath sharply and his grip relaxed. “Arisha…” He lifted a hand as if to touch my face.

  That moment the door burst open with a bang. Rhys whirled round, pushing me behind him, but it was only Cerwen followed by Taren.

  “Arisha!” she exclaimed. “What happened? Are you all right?”

  Irritation welled up within me. Did everybody know about my stupidity? “I’m fine,” I snapped. “Through my ignorance I wandered into the Khotai camp, but Rhys came to get me.”

  “Owl spotted her going there and told me,” Rhys put in.

  “Is it true you hit one of the Khotai?” Taren asked.

  Rhys shrugged. “There was a small altercation with Chidukhul. I punched him in the face.”

  Cerwen looked at him with big eyes. “What did he do? It’s unlike you to lose your temper in such a manner.”

  “He deserved it.” Clearly he didn’t want to expand on his reasons.

  Taren rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. “Was that wise?”

  “What is done is done,” Rhys replied in a level voice. “We won’t need them any more after this. It’s their last trade run.”

  Something the Khotai had said came back to me. “The horses,” I interjected, “are they your culls?”

  “Of course,” Taren said. “You don’t think we’d sell them our war mares, do you?”

  Rhys nodded. “And we keep the best stallions for breeding. They only get geldings from us, so they can’t crossbreed them with their own horses.”

  Well, that was one thing to be thankful for, though their culls were still better than a lot of Sikhandi cavalry horses. “I thought you loved your horses,” I said. “How can you give them to the Khotai?” Those brutes!

  That earned me an ironic look from Rhys. “They actually treat their horses well, for their livelihood depends on them. Horses get much better treatment than slaves, which was the other thing they offered to exchange for their bows.”

  “Slaves!”

  “Yes. And if we didn’t fancy parting with any of our own women and children, they suggested we raid the Sikhandi and trade them the spoils. I declined.”

  His words left me speechless with rage. If that Khotai had been there, I would have slugged him myself!

  There was a knock on the door and Owl popped her head in. “Eagle, all is secure.”

  He gave a sharp nod. “Very good!”

  She would have withdrawn, but I stayed her. “Owl!”

  As she looked at me questioningly, I took a step towards her. “I understand it was you who fetched Rhys. Thank you.”

  Owl looked at me briefly. “They are filth.” She left again.

  I stared after her. “Why does she hate them? They’re her own people.”

  Cerwen sighed. “She’s actually half Aneiry. Her mother was taken on one of their raids into our territory.”

  “Mixed-bloods are looked down on amongst them,” Rhys explained. “My father tried to get our people back, but Owl’s mother was killed while escaping with her, shot in the back.”

  “Owl has hated the Khotai ever since,” Cerwen added.

  “How old was she?” I asked, horrified.

  “Twelve.”

  The poor girl! Yet what an appalling diet of revenge these people lived on.

  FOURTEEN

  As soon as I could, I escaped into the courtyard to seek Hami’s reassuring presence. Yet for once it failed to soothe me. The tale of how Rhys had hit Chidukhul had spread like wildfire, and to my surprise his men were indignant at the way the Khotai had treated me. Several of them stopped by on their way to the training grounds, advising me to take one of them along as a guard, next time I wanted to leave the village. My friend of the missing tooth was especially insistent.

  I thanked them all, but thought I would be unlikely to get another chance of an outing soon. And though I kept a serene air, inside I was troubled. My mind kept returning to Rhys. I owed him for coming to my rescue and I didn’t like it. Before, I had been able to look on him as my captor and feel free to find a way to escape, but now an invisible web of obligation tied me to him.

  Did saving him from the river cancel that out somehow? Yet I had done that for Wynn, not for him. I tried telling myself that I might have escaped from the Khotai on my own anyway, yet I could not deny the enormous sense of relief I’d felt at his sight. In my confused state of mind, I was glad not to have to face Rhys, for he had closeted himself with the other lords again. They were probably discussing ways of defeating the Sikhandi, I reminded myself. Nothing but grief could come from caring for these people too much.

  In the evening, when I got dressed with Cerwen, I still felt unsettled and did not look forward to another meal in Lady Enit’s company. Apparently she had been put out by Rhys’s precipitous departure upon hearing Owl’s news and felt herself and her daughter slighted. She would be sure to have a few snide remarks about my brush with the Khotai – in fact she probably wished they had succeeded in kidnapping me. But just as we got ready to go, there came a knock on the door and the housekeeper entered.

  “Lady Luned has invited you to dine with her,” Bethan told me in the voice of somebody conferring a great honour.

  “Grandmother wants to see Arisha?” Cerwen exclaimed in surprise.

  My curiosity stirred as I remembered what she had told me about her grandmother having been one of the elusive Guardians of the Springs. “Why does she want to see me?” I asked.

  Bethan shrugged. “I don’t know.” Clearly she expected me to be flattered by the invitation.

  “Well, it can’t be worse than an evening in Lady Lammergeyer’s company,” I said, causing Cerwen to choke on a laugh.

  The housekeeper led me along some unfamiliar passageways to a quiet corner of the house, where she ushered me into a room lit only by a fire. By the hearth in a deep chair sat a woman arrayed in rich blue silks. She regarded me with huge eyes, sunken now and surrounded by parchment skin, that once must have been breathtaking.

  “Come in.” The voice had an edge of steel under the frailty of old age.

  Her ga
ze raked me up and down, making me supremely conscious of my short hair with its tendency to escape its bonds and that I had failed to straighten my clothes before entering.

  A single, elegantly arched eyebrow rose. “So you’re Rhys’s Sikhandi captive?”

  “He calls me a guest,” I replied, stung by the curt tone.

  Lady Luned snorted. “I’m too old to mince my words. Tell me, can you walk out our gate?”

  “Not with my elephant, I can’t,” I admitted.

  “There you are. A captive.”

  I bit my lip, but held her gaze. Perhaps Lady Enit would have been the better choice after all.

  She gave a nod, as if confirming something to herself. “And I hear that when you walk out our gate without your elephant, you get into trouble.”

  Gritting my teeth, I held my peace. The woman just wanted to get a rise out of me.

  She sniffed dismissively. “Well, girl, what have you got to say for yourself?”

  It was too much. “Nothing,” I snapped. “I don’t owe you an explanation. And if that displeases you, I can always eat somewhere else.”

  “In the hall?” she mocked me. “Do you think you’re welcome there?”

  “I don’t need a welcome, I just want to eat.”

  We stared at each other, neither one willing to be the first to look away. But suddenly she laughed and her whole demeanour changed. “Oh, come here, child,” she said. When I hesitated, she pointed to a low stool by the fire. “Don’t tell me you prefer that bird brain Enit’s company to mine.” She cackled. “Lammergeyer! I haven’t laughed so hard for ages.”

  Dazzled by her smile, I sat down as commanded. Had I just passed some bizarre kind of test?

  She seemed to read my mind. “That’s the nice thing when you reach my age,” she said, “you may do and say whatever you please.”

  I decided to be forthright. “You’ve probably always done that.”

  “You’d be surprised.” She chuckled. “When I came here as a young bride I had to watch my tongue, for being a peaceweaver isn’t always easy. Not that dear Cadarn minded me speaking my mind. He was a good husband.”

  And probably besotted with his beautiful wife, I thought, as she gave me another smile that lit up her face and made you forget her age. The question what a peaceweaver was hovered on the tip of my tongue, but that moment a knock sounded on the door and a couple of servants entered bearing trays of food. The housekeeper directed them to place their burdens on a table in an adjacent room and helped the old lady rise from her chair.

  Lady Luned patted her hair, arranged a frothy lace scarf around her shoulders and accepted a thin cane Bethan proffered. “So what delicacies, carefully mashed so no real texture survives, have you got for me tonight?” she asked.

  “My lady!” the housekeeper expostulated, flustered. “You know what the healer said. Your digestion–”

  “Is perfectly fine.” With dignified steps and leaning only lightly on her cane, Lady Luned crossed into the other room and sat down at the head of the table. “Come here,” she commanded, rapping a knuckle on the polished wood. “I don’t want to shout down the table, so guests always sit on my left, where I hear better.”

  “Do you have many guests?” I had formed the impression she was a reclusive.

  “Cerwen sometimes eats with me and that grandson of mine, when he’s not too busy chasing Sikhandi.”

  The servants laid the table, lit candles and removed the lids of the dishes. But when they would have served us, Lady Luned waved them away. “Leave us, we can help ourselves.”

  Bethan looked anxious, but complied. I gave her a reassuring smile, but got the impression that the housekeeper did not consider anybody but herself as an adequate guardian for the old lady.

  When the door had closed behind Bethan, Lady Luned leant over. “She fusses,” she said, as if confiding a great secret. Then she began to heap her plate with food. There was an excellent selection of vegetables prepared in different ways and even a Sikhandi lentil curry, one of my favourite dishes, so I followed her example.

  “So,” she said after a while, “Rhys tells me you’re a mage?”

  I suddenly realised something: she had a light presence. Only very faint, but Wood mages were especially sensitive to that kind of thing. “Yes,” I answered. “And Cerwen told me you were a Guardian of the Springs?”

  Her gaze sharpened. “As a girl, but that was a long time ago.” I opened my mouth to ask a question, but she shook her head. “We do not talk about these things, child. I know you Sikhandi even write books about magic, but we prefer to accept the Lady’s gift in silence.” Her tone told me that I would learn nothing more.

  She regarded me curiously. “Tell me, is it true what my grandson tells me, that the Sikhandi breed their nobles for magic, the way we breed our horses for speed and endurance?”

  “Certainly not!” I exclaimed. The next moment I remembered generation upon generation of mages amongst my ancestors. “I suppose it’s just natural for a mage to marry another,” I tried to explain.

  “Why is that?”

  I had never considered the question before. “I…I don’t know. It just is,” I finished lamely.

  “So you will marry a mage?”

  I choked on my lentil curry. “Me? I don’t even know if I want to marry at all.” When she raised an eyebrow in disbelief, I spread my hands. “You see, I have Hami.”

  Lady Luned frowned. “Hami?”

  “My elephant.”

  A corner of her mouth quirked, and I perceived where Rhys had got his mocking smile from. “I suppose an elephant is less trouble than a man,” she said. “However, husbands do have their uses.”

  I coloured. “I’m sure they do.” Eager to change the subject, I cast about for something to ask. “Lady Luned, what is a peaceweaver?”

  That earned me a sharp look. “Why do you ask?”

  “You mentioned that you were one as a young bride?”

  “Yes, that’s true.” A faraway look came into her eyes. “You see, my family and that of Rhys’s grandfather had been enemies for generations. Some old conflict about grazing grounds that had turned bitter over the years. But I had no interest in all that, I lived a simple life in the forest.” She fixed me with those huge eyes. “Rhys’s great-grandfather was a far-sighted man, a lot like Rhys himself. He wanted to heal the difference and proposed a marriage between his eldest son and me.” She sighed. “It was a good match. My father couldn’t refuse such an offer.”

  I nodded, but thought I heard a hint of regret. “Were you sorry?”

  She shrugged. “The Lady holds it a good thing to bring peace. Mind you, I didn’t like the idea at first.” She gave me a mischievous grin. “And neither did Cadarn. He did not fancy being told whom to marry by his father!”

  “I should think not!”

  Lady Luned took my hand in a fragile grip. “But we made it work, even though not everybody was pleased with the idea. Cadarn was a good man and he stood by me whenever anybody made me feel like an outsider.” She chuckled. “Things got easier after he turned the first man to pulp who dared to insult me. And of course having two boys helped.” Her smile faded. “I’m glad Cadarn didn’t live to see Aeddan killed, he doted on his firstborn.”

  Of course, she’d lost her son at Glynhir Castle! Prince Maziar had much to answer for. “I’m so very sorry, please believe me,” I said, saddened by her loss.

  “Well, you didn’t kill him, did you?” she answered. “And the man who did is rotting in his grave.” Her voice faltered momentarily. “Not that this does Aeddan and Talaith any good, they’re still dead. And my sweet little Seren…” She sighed and gave my hand a quick squeeze. “But I dwell on the past too much. So tell me about your elephant, child. I hear he can crack nuts?”

  Once again she amazed me by how much she knew about me. But I told her about Hami, how clever and good natured he was, and even a little about growing up surrounded by elephants. She didn’t ask about my mother and fa
ther, as if she knew it for a painful subject, but I found myself telling her more than I had intended about my time at Roshni court. The story of how an obnoxious official, who considered himself an expert on the proper nutrition of elephants, had his hat eaten by Hami when he got too close had her in stitches.

  “Rhys told me what an extraordinary animal your elephant is,” she said, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes. “Did he really dangle Rhys upside down when you first met him?”

  Some of my former indignation came back. “Oh yes! Your grandson should learn not to jump people like that.”

  “Well, I’m glad he did and that he convinced you to come here,” she answered smoothly, “or I wouldn’t be enjoying your company.”

  “Convince me?” I exclaimed. “He did nothing of the sort. I had no choice.” And this from the woman who had called me his captive!

  “So you’re still angry with him?” she asked.

  That threw me for a moment. “I…yes, of course I am.”

  She smiled with satisfaction. “I hear you have a lute. Will you play for me?”

  “Play for you?” I asked, surprised by the sudden change of subject.

  “Why not? You played for my grandson, didn’t you, so why not for me? I want to hear Almond Eyes.” Her eyes twinkled. “And you needn’t leave out any verses either.”

  The woman knew everything! “Did Rhys tell you?”

  She lifted a snow-white linen napkin to her lips and dabbed them delicately. “No, I figured that out myself. I know soldiers.”

  * * *

  I would have gone to get the lute, but Lady Luned forestalled me. “Allow me.” She picked up a bell standing by her elbow and rang it sharply.

  At once a maid entered, dropped a curtsy and was sent off to collect my lute from Cerwen’s room.

  “See,” Lady Luned said, “you have to learn: a lady does not fetch and run. It’s not dignified.”

  I had no particular aspirations to becoming a great lady, so wasn’t really worried about my dignity, but I nodded dutifully.

  “Good girl. Now help me up.”

  With my assistance she settled herself in the comfortable chair in front of the fire and leant back with a sigh of relief. A moment later the servant returned carrying my lute in its case.