by Jean Johnson
She smiled over her shoulder at him. “I think that’ll be a lovely gift for her. I know she’s always been interested in all the tales of religions and spiritualities you bring back from your travels.”
“At first for my sake, I think . . .” he muttered.
“Verbal introspection!” Fali teased. “You are getting more open. You’ve come a long way, Shae.”
“And you’re having too much fun at my expense, Fae,” he retorted. Sighing, he adjusted his pack a little better on his shoulders. “Enjoy it while it lasts. I bring serious news from the northwest.”
That sobered her expression, he noted. Peering over her shoulder at him, Fali quirked one of her pale ash blond brows at him. “Serious news?”
“Very serious. I took only twelve days crossing the desert from the mountains to the far northwest.”
Stopping, she swung around to stare at him. “Twelve . . . ? On foot? How did you manage that? I thought you said once that it’s a month and a half of walking to the northwest mountains.”
“I killed myself three to four times a day to refresh my energy, but otherwise did not stop.”
Fali gaped at him. After a moment, she regained the ability to shut her mouth, only to open it a moment later, blinking. “When . . . when was the last time you ate or slept?”
“Two hours ago, when I hit the hard desert and found a flock of birds,” he admitted. “I found a nest of eggs and ate some raw.”
“And before that?” she challenged him.
“Six days ago, when I stopped briefly at the Limestone Tribe’s oasis. Shall we get moving?” he prompted, gesturing up the trail she had been following. “I would run ahead of you, but I do not know the new shortcut path.”
“Well, I’m not running with an antelope that weighs a third of what I do,” she muttered even as she turned to start walking again. “But I will pick up the pace. What’s the serious news?”
“Have you heard of an outworlder race called the Efrijt?” Ban asked her.
Fali jerked, eyed him over her shoulder to gauge his seriousness—he was quite serious—and hurried forward into a jog, not just a walk, hefting her kill higher on her hip for balance. Pleased by her response, if grim from the seriousness of it, Ban followed in an easy, long-legged lope. Running on rugged but solid, rocky terrain was so much easier than running on soft sand dunes, at least.
***
“Efrijt?” Jintaya asked, sungold eyes wide enough, Ban could see their whites all the way around. She wasn’t the only one of the seven Fae around him to widen her eyes, but her reaction was the important one. “Here?” She touched two fingers to her brow at his nod, eyes wincing shut while she absorbed his confirmation.
“They’re in a valley two days’ walk into the mountains from the start of their foothills,” Ban told her. “I saw and spoke with their leader. She had hair like black ashes, burgundy red eyes, and skin only a little bit browner than her eyes. They’ve been here four years now, and have laid claim to mercury mines, which they bribe the locals to dig.”
“Tash keleth!” Rua cursed. The normally calm, pragmatic agriculturalist wrinkled both nose and lips in distaste. “I have heard they do this on every world that they can, conniving and deceiving the locals into digging up the ore without a care for the damage it does to the miners’ health.”
“There is nothing they love more than mercury,” Éfan agreed grimly. “Not even gold, which is commonly held in high value on many worlds, for its ductility when shaping it, and its lack of oxidation as a metal, if nothing else.”
“I heard they eat it,” Adan stated, grimacing in distaste. “Suns and stars alone know why, but they consume mercury for some reason.”
“It is poisonous to most sentient life-forms,” Jintaya agreed. “Even the Fae will fall ill from it if we are exposed for too long. Yet the Efrijt harvest and drink it like a rare wine.” She looked at Ban. “Did you see their numbers? How many are there?”
“I questioned the locals, members of the Red Rocks Tribe,” he told them. “They are aware the ‘crazy rock,’ their name for cinnabar, poisons them. But the Efrijt offer enough in clean water and food sources, some cloth and beads, even some advanced techniques in forging the iron of their Red Rocks name, that they have forty or so miners digging up cinnabar ore at any given time. Of the Efrijt, they number thirty-one.”
All seven Fae hissed in distaste, either in an exhale or an indrawn breath. They sat around a free-form, polished wood table in the heart of the pantean stronghold, where no local-born could go, not even the most trusted of the Dai-Fae children, because they were still at least partly local human. Ban was the only exception, as an outworlder who had come to this world with the Fae. The Veilway they had used sat to Ban’s left, cloaked behind an illusion of solid-seeming granite, the same stone that had replaced all the sandstone of the original complex of caves in this place. Of course, yet more illusions gave this cavern the look of a garden grotto, with a false night sky sprinkled with stars, softly glowing magic-powered lamps, trees, and a gently trickling fountain that helped cool the air.
Éfan tapped a finger on the armrest of his chair. “We cannot make a decision on what to do about them on our own. We certainly cannot fight them. Even if we have had our powers augmented beyond belief in this realm, there is nothing to say that the Efrijt have not also been augmented. They outnumber us. Even with you on our side, Ban,” their magic expert acknowledged, “they could have enough magic to cage you long enough to decimate the rest of us, and perhaps banish you to some other realm.”
“Been there, done that,” Ban muttered grimly. “I would rather kill them all in their sleep. I am never being banished again.”
“We do not have to risk that,” Jintaya snapped, as he knew she would. “Éfan is right. We will contact the Fae Gh’vin—the Efrijt can be negotiated with. They may outnumber us here on this world, but we have had plenty of centuries to learn how to deal with their strange, strict ways. I will request a team of negotiators. Perhaps even some other settlers.”
Parren frowned at that. “Is that wise? We should not know what the council would decide about this world for another four years. Fifty years is what we agreed to wait.”
“Those fifty years, my love,” Kaife stated, reaching out to cover his mate’s hand, “did not include the arrival of the Efrijt.”
“He is right,” Jintaya agreed. “Circumstances change, and we must bend with them, or break. We will need at the very least a negotiator, a specialist in Efrijt law . . . and a warlord. Plus more who can fight with spell and sword.”
“I want an educator,” Kaife stated. At the bemused looks of the others, he shrugged. “We have been teaching these humans piecemeal. I know there are things we shouldn’t teach them, things that should be too advanced for them to know right now, but it sounds like the Efrijt are teaching their local humans advanced techniques. That could include new magics. If Ban goes out again and loses another set of slip-discs, we wouldn’t be able to rely on him to come fight and end any war in a timely way.
“We cannot rely just on ourselves, either,” he continued, sitting forward in his elegant burlwood chair, sculpted by his own hands. “We now have several hundred living in these valleys. We can teach them to fight, but we also need to teach them how to make their own weapons, their own improvements—if we get wiped out by the Efrijt, they need to be able to hold their own.”
Jintaya wrinkled her nose in distaste, but nodded. “That is a possibility, one that should be addressed. If nothing else, we need an educator who can assess the Dai-Fae to see if they are safe to allow to leave this world. They may be dependent upon its energies to survive, even if they all clearly still need to eat and drink. And the eldest of the children still gets tired at the end of the day and needs to sleep. We are the only one affected, but that does not say they would not be affected by the loss of this world’s magics.”
&
nbsp; She glanced at Ban as she said that. He gave her a wry, sardonic look, silently reminding their leader that she needed to eat and drink and rest from time to time.
“I think there is one good thing about bringing more Fae here,” Adan mused, rubbing his chin and the tiny tuft of pale strawberry gold beard he had managed to grow in the last five or so years.
“What would that be?” Éfan asked, giving the younger male a skeptical look.
“The more Fae come here, the less magic I’ll personally need to cast. It’s been eight weeks since I was last hungry, and I haven’t done much magic in those eight weeks,” their current forgemaster stated. “Also, they can bring in a replacement for Ban’s slip-discs.”
“You couldn’t repair it?” Rua asked, curious.
Adan shook his head. “It’s beyond anything but being recycled for scraps. I’d have been tempted to leave it rather than unbury it, even with the pantean rule of leaving behind no traces of Fae advancements or magics.”
Rua rolled her eyes. “Yes, that magical-sword-from-a-lake nonsense.”
“Lakes have nasty leeches and slimy weeds,” Parren retorted mock-primly.
“They’re not always slimy, and leeches have good uses, in the right circumstances.”
“Ladies,” Jintaya chided gently. Both settled down. “Despite the fact it will increase the burden of anima upon us, I want everyone to take turns scrying our borders for signs of Efrijt magics at work in this territory. Ban, would you be willing to head straight back to spy upon them, with the use of my own slip-discs?”
“Oh, at least let the poor man rest overnight!” Rua protested. “Can you really just send him away again as soon as he’s arrived? Driving him from the warmth of your presence before he’s even begun to bask?”
Jintaya blushed. So did Ban. Casual lovemaking was one thing among the Fae. Courtship was another, sometimes taking decades to unfold. Sometimes it had to take decades, in order to forget centuries of abuse suffered elsewhere. He cleared his throat.
“I would like to stay . . . overnight,” Ban stated, giving the word a delicate emphasis.
Jintaya’s golden face turned from faint pink to a distinct peach. Innuendos weren’t that different between his and her people. “I will permit that.”
Parren made a gesture at her mate, Kaife, under the edge of the table. Ban caught it only because he sat at one of the short ends, with Jintaya at the other. Her flicking fingers threw him for a moment, before he realized she merely demanded twenty of something from Kaife. A bet, then, on the relationship between Ban and Jintaya.
Shifting his arm casually, he flashed the hand-signs for twenty-five under the table, and watched Kaife gape at him. Sometimes, it was good to be the “straight man” in a group accustomed to gentle pranks and modest amusements enacted amongst themselves. It meant he could get away with occasional acts of audacity no one would normally expect or believe.
***
“This is very grave news, Jintaya,” the Fae Gh’vin stated. Unseen and with a voice distorted by the rippling energies of the Veilway between universes, it could have been a male, a female, or anyone in between. “If there are Efrijt on your world, you need a negotiating team immediately. Normally, we would take the time to select the most compatible members for your pantean, but you need negotiators and law-sayers now. Will it be acceptable for us to select an initial team based on availability?”
“Yes, yes, that will be fine,” Jintaya agreed. “Our agent brought back the news on foot because his slip-discs were accidentally destroyed. The Efrijt have had several days to know of our existence and prepare their arguments. I would rather have someone who excels at dealing with them than someone who merely excels at dealing with us.”
“Agreed. We have two agents who have in the last six years proven quite adept at managing the Efrijt. One of them is only forty-seven, but she has already earned a reputation among them for her verbal trickery. High praise for their race.”
“I’m certain you will pick whomever you feel is up to the task,” Jintaya reassured the Guardian on the other side of the connection.
“I have just one restriction in mind,” Éfan stated,”and that is to avoid sending anyone who might become addicted to excessive magic.”
“That consideration is forefront in all our minds, when it comes to your ‘Flame Sea’ world, Lady Jintaya.”
“This is Éfan speaking,” he corrected gently.
“Apologies. The distortions between your world and this one are stronger than usual. Almost as strong as the world of the Daemashevar.”
“Ah, yes, you were telling us just a few weeks ago of the anticipated visit by their head of state. A rare honor accorded to a Shae world,” Jintaya said. “It has been, what, over a hundred years since the last one, hasn’t it?”
“One hundred thirty-four years, yes. The Daemashevar may be odd in shape and custom, but they have proven themselves staunch allies for over a century. All of Faelan is looking forward to their visit.”
“Wait . . . isn’t it policy to close all the other Veilways whenever a state visit takes place? As a security precaution?” Éfan asked. “When will that happen? Will we get our negotiating team before then?”
“That is another reason why we will be so hurried in sending you an initial team, to ensure they arrive before the Veilways are closed, which will be in just over a week. Is there anyone or anything else you urgently need?”
“Well, I was going to ask for an educator to begin assessing our Dai-Fae,” Jintaya allowed. “And it would be nice to have more skilled craftsmen than just the initial team. The destruction of the slip-discs included the ruin of Ban’s communication earring as well, or we’d have heard about the Efrijt much earlier. We have very few backup artifacts.”
“Let me check the list . . . You get along with your nephew, Zedren, yes?”
“Of course. How is he doing?” Jintaya asked.
“Quite well. He’s passed the tenth rank in artificing. We were going to discuss placing him on the Hubold pantean, but I can rearrange to send him to you. And . . . wait, you said there are over thirty Efrijt?”
“Yes,” she confirmed. “We will need a fighting contingent, since we do not yet know how strong the anima of this world makes the Efrijt. Ban said he did not see great works of magic currently in use, but there were signs of rock sculpting in the Efrijt-controlled parts of the valley. From what he heard, there were indications they could extract mercury from a living host without killing them, as well as providing purified water, so they clearly have some access to the magics of this world.”
A long pause on the other end of the Veilway, then the Fae Gh’vin came back. “. . . We can send you a Gh’vin named Krue; his mate is Shava, an education specialist who deals with Dai-Fae and outworlders quite well. Unfortunately, we cannot spare many Guardians to help fight for you; we will need all we can during the state visit. Your niece, Muan, Zedren’s sister . . . she is normally employed in the sciences, but she has given assistance to negotiators who have dealt with the Efrijt in the past. She is also a skilled fighter, so we shall include her, too.
“That should be enough, as you shouldn’t need too many fighters at the start. The Efrijt are far more inclined to attempt a negotiation first than any attack. They are annoyingly slippery when it comes to legal contracts, but at least they are consistently slippery. As soon as the Daemashevar have left Faelan in a few months, we will recontact you, reevaluate the situation, and, if needed, send you several ranks of troops to help enforce our claim to that world.”
“Thank you,” Jintaya said. “How soon can the initial team be assembled, and how many are coming across?”
“We can have them to you within two to five days . . . I count six on the list. Jinji the negotiator, Kefer the law-sayer, Krue the Fae Gh’vin, Shava the educator, and your kin, Zedren and Muan, to assist in other areas, crafting and his
tory, so on and so forth. They will arrive before the Daemashevar do. We would not leave you isolated for months at a stretch with no negotiators capable of stalling the Efrijt advance on that world, at the very least.”
“Thank you,” Éfan agreed.
“We appreciate the aid,” Jintaya said.
“We will send across some spare supplies, too. How did the earring and slip-discs get destroyed, if I may ask?”
“A rock fell on Ban. I am struggling not to tease him about it,” Éfan told the Fae on the other end of the Veilway.
“Éfan,” Jintaya muttered, rolling her eyes. “Behave.”
“It must have been a very large and heavy rock.”
“Huge,” Éfan agreed dryly. “It brought several friends to the party, too, from what I understand. A very big and heavy party . . . and Jintaya is threatening me with a cushion from her chair,” he finished with a chuckle. “I shall behave, now.”
“. . . I think I shall not pass along this part of this conversation, out of respect and tact toward the Undying One. Anything else?”
“No, that should be it for now,” Jintaya told the Guardian on the other side, tucking the cushion back down against her side.
“Then expect their arrival within the next few days, along with spare supplies.”
“May the light of a thousand stars shine gently upon you in your duties,” Jintaya told the unseen official.
“May they shine upon you and yours, too.”
The thin, shimmering line of the Veilway ceased rippling, and the illusion of solid cave wall came back up around it, cloaking it from view.
“You really shouldn’t make fun of Ban’s suffering,” Jintaya reminded her chief mage.
“Even he has a sense of humor,” Éfan countered mildly. “Sometimes, all one can do is either laugh or cry. He still does not do either nearly enough for good emotional health, but I think he can finally laugh about such things, these days.”
“True,” she allowed. She drew in a breath to say something else, but the archway opposite the Veilway shimmered, turning from stone to open air for a brief moment.