Fire-heart (Tales of Alterra, the World that Is)

by C S Marks

  If you would have me share your bed, you had better bring many of your minions to subdue me, for I shall die fighting you. If it truly is my destiny to remain here, then I shall remain a wild bird trapped in a cage. I shall neither sing for you nor bring you joy. Do you take my meaning?

  To her surprise, Al-Muniqui smiled. “You think not speaking to me will cool my desires? You are all the same—at first proud and defiant, but your spirits are always broken in the end. I will allow you some time to adjust to your new home, but if you continue to defy me I shall have no choice but to allow fear and pain to sway your thinking. You’ll speak to me then, when I will allow it. Count on that.” He reached out to touch her golden hair. “Until our next meeting.”

  Nelwyn was left alone in her chamber, bound hand and foot to a post set in the center. She could recline on a soft bed, and there was food and water as well as some wine, but she would neither eat nor rest. She sat with her face buried in her arms, weeping quietly, her wounded spirit calling to her beloved. She had never desired to see his face so much as she did in those moments.

  Bint Raed crept quietly in, for she had been assigned the task of watching over Nelwyn after sundown, having let it be known that she knew much of the Avinashi, including some of their tongue. She heard Nelwyn weeping and approached her cautiously, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Hush, fair one,” she said in the Elven-tongue. It will be all right. You will not long remain here, and neither will I. We will both be free, one way or another.”

  Nelwyn lifted her head and looked at Bint Raed with renewed hope. She speaks Elvish, and she wants to escape captivity even as I do. “Can I trust you, woman of the southlands?” Bint Raed nodded, her eyes and face guileless. Nelwyn read no deceit in her. “Then you are not wrong, for my beloved is nearby, and he will work to free us. I have very capable friends, and they will not rest until this wrong is undone. I promise you—I will make certain we are both set free.”

  Bint Raed took one of Nelwyn’s hands. “We shall make a pact that neither will leave without the other, agreed?” Nelwyn nodded. Everything would be all right. She and her new friend would soon be leaving this place, and, if her cousin Gaelen performed up to her usual standards, Al-Muniqui would be left to wonder what offense he had committed against heaven to bring such a disaster upon his house.

  Galador and Gaelen had despaired at the sorrow they felt in Nelwyn as she called out to them, yet they took heart, for she was alive and aware. The Company laid their plans to free her, the first of which would involve getting inside the compound and determining the lay of things. Their previous successful foray into the Neela had encouraged them.

  “We will need to go in as traders of something they need or want,” said Hallagond. “Yet I fear we have nothing to trade. We cannot give any hint of Elvish ties, so none of our personal belongings will do. What thoughts do you have?” He looked hopefully at Gaelen and reluctantly at Rogond. He had learned that his brother was thoughtful, and rather surprisingly clever.

  Rogond considered for a moment. “We do have El-morah’s wonderful kaffa…we purchased a healthy supply of it,” he said.

  “What if we were to go as representatives of El-morah, offering to provide a sampling of his wares so that Al-Muniqui might purchase a quantity to be delivered later?” asked Gaelen.

  “Indeed, that might be believed,” said Hallagond. “El-morah has never been generous about selling his kaffa in any quantity, and he is very secretive about where he obtains it, though many have sought to learn. He must be your friend, to have sold you a supply. I’ll warrant Al-Muniqui and his brothers would love to lay their hands on a large amount of it.”

  “Perhaps we would be more believable as competitors of El-morah rather than as representatives,” said Rogond. He looked over at Gaelen. “There will be trouble before this is ended,” he said. “We should not bring El-morah into it as an unwitting participant. He and his family must be safeguarded from the wrath of those we are about to deceive.”

  “If I have my way, I plan on doing a great deal more than deceive them,” growled Galador.

  “Which is precisely why you are not going with us,” said Hallagond. “Al-Muniqui’s folk are many, and they have done nothing to violate the customs of these lands. Though you may find it contemptible, slavery is widely accepted here. Only by deception will we prevail.”

  “It would seem that only some of us find it contemptible,” muttered Rogond under his breath, remembering the disquieting sight of his brother holding up a bidding card in the auction-tent at Bezaltor.

  Gaelen looked Hallagond in the eye. “Indeed,” she said quietly. “I don’t suppose you would care to explain why you were seen trading with the flesh-peddlers. You do not seem to me to be a man who would own slaves. There must be some other explanation…pray, enlighten us?”

  Hallagond shook his head. “I have learned at least one thing in my short association with you, Elf, and that is that a question, once asked, will not be forgotten until you receive an answer. Therefore, to save myself the pain of your persistence, I will tell you. I loathe the very idea of keeping slaves, and I could never sanction the thought of taking a man’s freedom for personal gain. Yet I find myself in a land where this is not only acceptable, but commonplace. I’m forced to remedy it as I can, in my small way. I sometimes purchase inexpensive, broken men that they may be made free, for once I own them this is my right. It has cost me quite a lot over the years and my friends think I’m mad for doing it, but there you are. If you really thought I was an evil slave-trader, I’m surprised you waited so long to ask me about it.”

  Gaelen smiled back at him, and then turned to Rogond, who was staring at Hallagond with an expression of relief. “You see? I knew it. He has not declined anywhere near so far as anyone would believe.” No one could say “I told you so” like Gaelen.

  “Indeed,” replied Rogond, who still could not get his brother to look him in the eye. “Only an honorable man would follow such a course.” He turned and walked away, knowing that his comment would not be acknowledged.

  Hallagond and Gaelen rode forth at dawn. They took the kaffa with them, as well as any weapons that could be concealed, as traders did not usually approach with weapons in plain view. Hallagond had admonished Gaelen that no blood was to be spilled, and no foolish rescue attempted.

  Gaelen had bristled at this. “You insult me, Tuathan,” she said. “It is as if you think me an incapable and undisciplined fool. How came you to hold such a view?” Then, she muttered under her breath: “As if I didn’t know.”

  “Galador warned me of your impulsive nature, and I have seen the fire in your eyes,” he replied. “So don’t try to deny it.”

  “I can’t deny it, but I would remind you that it was Galador who nearly got us all killed at Bezaltor. At least allow me to prove him wrong ‘ere you judge me. I am bent on rescuing my cousin, I am not a fool, and I know what I must do.” She looked into his eyes, and he read something in her expression that he did not like.

  For the first time since they had met, he opened up to her. “You have asked me not to judge you, yet you are judging me now. You say you know what you must do, and you will not turn from it. Then you look upon me in the knowledge that I turned from my heritage, and you disparage me. You do not know what has befallen, and you are in no position to judge me!”

  He regretted the statement at once, for Gaelen’s eyes widened in surprise. “You read far too much in my declaration. I held no such thoughts. Yet you went there because you know it’s true…you did turn from your heritage. And you know you were wrong to have done so, otherwise you would not be so defensive about it. Am I wrong?”

  He did not reply to her, riding beside her in silence for several minutes. Finally, he seemed to put it behind him, for denial was a thing in which he was very experienced. “You will need a name, something that I may call you. You are to act as my assistant and apprentice, and your name will be, ahhh…Brunor. That means golden-brown, after your
hair. Will that do?”

  “It will,” she replied. “Brunor of the Ravani, apprentice kaffa-peddler. If only my esteemed ancestors could see me now!” This brought a smile to Hallagond’s face, and they were both in reasonably good spirits as they approached the gates of Al-Muniqui’s stronghold. When they explained their errand, they were admitted at once.

  Hallagond was taken before Al-Muniqui’s chief tradesman, the one who actually bought and sold goods. Fabric-merchants often made stops here on their way to the great markets of Castalan and Dûn Bennas. Al-Muniqui’s brocades had been offered in the Sandstone marketplace during the festival. Gaelen had seen them there, and they were very dear to purchase, but they were undeniably beautiful. Hallagond had explained that it took many weeks to produce a single yard, and one mistake would ruin the perfect, ornate pattern. It took weavers of unsurpassed skill to create such fabric.

  The tradesman was polite to Hallagond and to Brunor, his apprentice. Gaelen kept her eyes downcast, handing the parcel of kaffa to Hallagond before bowing and taking her leave. She had a task to perform.

  She did not attract attention as she strolled about the compound. The dwellings were clean and well kept, painted white; some were ornately decorated and gilded as well. It was obvious that whoever lived here was prosperous.

  Gaelen wondered how in the world she would find Nelwyn, though she could sense her cousin’s presence. The settlement was larger than she had imagined; almost like a very small city. Al-Muniqui employed many men, and those men had families. He kept many slaves as well. One thing was certain—the large, elaborate dwelling in the heart of the settlement looked like a palace. That must be where Al-Muniqui lives, thought Gaelen. That’s where I’ll find Nelwyn.

  As she approached it, she heard the click-click of busy looms working under the practiced hands of the weavers in a nearby dwelling, and she was drawn there for the moment. Gaelen had seen weavers at work, for many of the Elves of the Greatwood were skilled in this art, but few could rival the industry or the artistry displayed before her now.

  She watched in fascination as the weavers wove gorgeous patterns of iridescent silk before her eyes. She was drawn especially to the woman who worked the largest loom, as the pattern she was creating was impossibly ornate. This, clearly, was the Master Weaver. Gaelen bowed before her, and as Bint Raed looked up from her work into the bright eyes of an inquisitive She-elf, her heart leapt. She knew the truth at once; this was another of the Immortal Ones. Though the face and hands were browned, the eyes were unmistakable.

  To Gaelen’s astonishment, the weaver whispered to her in the Elven-tongue. “You are akin to the golden-haired one, to Nelwyn of the Greatwood?”

  Gaelen was unsure of what to think. This woman, whose grey eyes were unlike those of the Ravani, had called Nelwyn by name, and had spoken Elvish. In Gaelen’s experience very few of the sutherlings knew any Elven-speech at all, yet this woman seemed practiced. Gaelen did not know how to reply.

  Bint Raed saved her the trouble. “I know where your friend is. She is well, but is being held prisoner. My name is Bint Raed, I am also enslaved to Al-Muniqui, and I hold no love for him. Does that aid you in replying to my question?”

  Gaelen nodded; it did, indeed. “Where is Nelwyn? Is she where I might slip in and speak with her?”

  Bint Raed shook her head. “No, she is always under watch when I am not present. But I can carry a message to her, if you like.”

  Gaelen looked furtively around before replying. “Carry this message, then, and may the aid of Aontar go with you. Tell Nelwyn that her friends are here, and that we are working to free her. I will remain in the settlement for a day or two while my associate does his bargaining. I will need to know where Nelwyn is being held and what I must do to set her free. Then my companions and I will come for her as we may. Tell her that Gaelen will aid her, and that Galador is at her side. Can you remember all that?”

  Bint Raed nodded before returning to her work. Gaelen was still in awe of her skill, as she gazed for one more moment at the gorgeous multicolored brocade. “That is amazing. I have never beheld the like of it,” she said.

  Bint Raed’s voice was quietly resolute. “Someday soon I hope to never look upon it again.” Gaelen took her meaning, knowing that it was not only Nelwyn who would be seeking freedom when the Company put their plan into motion.

  Hallagond and Brunor enjoyed the hospitality of Al-Muniqui’s people that night, housed in a small, clean dwelling with plenty of food and wine. They would be leaving at first light to rejoin their friends. Gaelen told Hallagond what she had learned, but it was not enough. She needed to find Nelwyn and see for herself what they would be facing when they came for her. She donned her black garb so she would not be easily seen in the dark streets, and stole quietly out into the night. The palace was guarded, but the guards were not expecting intruders, and their attention was somewhat lax at this late hour. Gaelen easily stole past them, for she made no sound at all and was concealed by her dark clothing. Once inside she had little to fear, for most of the household had gone to their beds.

  Gaelen picked up a vessel from beside one of the doors; if anyone noticed her she could pretend to be a serving-woman. There was a foul smell coming from the vessel, which turned out to be a chamber-pot in need of emptying. Gaelen was disgusted, but the chamber-pot would prove to be an excellent addition to her disguise. She set her sharp hearing to work as she crept quietly through the shadowed halls.

  She was rewarded as she passed one of the doors, for she could hear voices inside, and there were guards standing by. She heard Bint Raed’s voice, as well as the deep voice of a man speaking the common-tongue. His frustration was evident.

  “I am pleased that you have found a companion in my Master Weaver,” he said. “Soon you will relax and be happy here. It’s not the worst place in the world to spend the rest of your life, is it? You cannot deny that you have been well treated. I will return tomorrow, for tonight I am weary, and I trust you will choose to speak to me then. Good night, my golden bird.”

  Gaelen lingered just a moment too long. A large, bearded man wearing very ornate purple robes bustled from the chamber, startling her. She gasped and took a quick step back, but alas, she stepped on her black robe and nearly fell, dropping the chamber-pot. Unfortunately, it was made of clay, and it shattered in spectacular fashion.

  Gaelen cried out in alarm as the man exploded with rage. “You stupid, worthless creature…see what you have done! You will clean this immediately, so that no trace remains, or I will have you flogged. Hurry up, you stupid cow!” Gaelen knew to bow before him at once, and she prostrated herself so that he would not look her in the eye. He responded by kicking her viciously in the ribs, eliciting a surprised cry of pain.

  It took her a moment to regain her breath as she remained prostrate before him. He gave her another half-hearted kick before returning to his own chambers, for he was too weary to concern himself with punishing her properly. This was well for both of them, for Al-Muniqui did not realize that Gaelen carried four blades concealed upon her person, and had he kicked her again she might not have been at all shy about using them, guards or no guards.

  As the heavy, ornate doors to the chamber were pulled closed, Gaelen stole a glance inside. She beheld Bint Raed and Nelwyn, who seemed whole, if a bit pale and dispirited. Gaelen winced, holding her bruised ribs. Galador will be very glad of this news, and should he elect to place a shaft in one of that cruel man’s evil, black eyes, I won’t stay his hand. She had accomplished her purpose. There was a window in Nelwyn’s chamber, and Gaelen thought she could now tell how to find it from the outside.

  Her ribs throbbed as she made her way back into the night air. She needed to return to Hallagond, but first she made her way to stand beneath the window that she supposed was Nelwyn’s. Ornate iron bars would block escape or entry, but she knew Nelwyn would be able to hear her. She sang a well-known Sylvan prayer-chant in a quiet, haunting voice, and Nelwyn heard, knowing at once t
hat it was Gaelen. She sent Bint Raed to the window, for her tether would not allow her to reach it, instructing her to throw down a token—a hair-ornament that she wore always. Galador had given it to her, and he would take comfort in it. Gaelen took the golden ornament, bowing quickly in acknowledgment before disappearing into the dark.

  “Why did you not kill him? You had every chance to free Nelwyn in that moment. Surely you could have dealt with him and two guards!” Galador stood before Gaelen, his hands clenched, his eyes alight with passion. “He kicked you hard enough to bruise your ribs...if you were a mortal woman he would have broken them. You did not deserve such treatment. He deserves to die for his cruelty! How could you stay your hand? Why now, of all times, did you display restraint?”

  Rogond stepped between them. “You don’t know what you’re saying. Would you have her lose her composure and risk everything, including your beloved? If she had acted upon her indignation, it would have meant disaster for all. We would have lost any chance of ever rescuing Nelwyn, and while she might not have been killed, Gaelen surely would have.”

  Gaelen reached out to Rogond, gently guiding him from between herself and Galador. “Peace, Thaylon,” she said. “Allow me to explain it to him.” She turned to Galador. “I know you are distraught, and so I will overlook your lack of concern for my welfare. Know now that I have never before endured such flagrant abuse and humiliation, but I did not act because I would not risk Nelwyn’s freedom, not even to restore my own pride.” She smiled wryly at him. “I shall have to content myself with the fact that I did not clean up the mess I made. With luck, the stench will linger in the hallway for a while in remembrance.”

  Then her tone grew serious. “You had better master yourself if you want to be of any help at all. This compound is well protected, and these people know how to safeguard what they believe is theirs. If you would aid Nelwyn, you must allow Hallagond to guide us. I stand ready to act on his bidding. You must do the same.” She turned to Hallagond and smiled. “After all, we must admit, so far he has proven to be extremely useful!” As usual, her observation was correct, and could not be denied.