Crown of Horns

by Alex Sapegin

  “I’m sorry,” he said to the ranger guiltily and, without waiting for an answer, ran to the village.

  Mimiv was grieving most of all. The cat, anticipating the separation, was sitting at the threshold of the tiv and mewing plaintively with the thin voice of a small kitten. Lilly was not far from her tailed pet. The elf’s nose was red and swollen, and her eyes were full of tears. Andy pressed the girl to him and wiped the tears with a hanky.

  “Lilly, do not be so upset. I will come and visit you.”

  “You promise?”

  “I will do my best.”

  The girl turned away. She was well versed in the subtleties of the spoken word. “Make every effort” does not mean to come or to promise. Andy would not come, he just didn’t want to talk about it!

  “Lilly!”

  “You can just eat yourself!” Sobbing, she pushed Andy away and ran out of the living house. Mimiv rushed to her mistress, but, realizing that she was not up to dealing with her, returned to the threshold resumed her plaintive meowing.

  “Andy,” Atrael tossed the curtain back and stuck his head in the tiv. “Evael is calling you.”

  The village chief was waiting for him by the broad-leaved red fern bushes, and a hass, black as pitch, danced next to him.

  “Sit down.” The old elf pointed his hand at the thick root of a Mellorny protruding two feet from the ground.

  Andy obeyed.

  Evael took out a crystal from the folds of his clothes and activated an incomprehensible interweave. Andy thought his ears were crammed with cotton. After a few seconds, the unpleasant sensations passed.

  “A circle of muteness,” explained the chief. “It would be suspicious to drag you into a house, and nobody will be able to overhear us. The circle is very difficult to detect, a miur development.” The elf chuckled. “The princely magicians are far from the cat people.” And, squinting, the old elf got to the point:

  “So which is it—Andy? Or Kerrovitarr?”

  Andy shuddered. He did not expect such a sharp transition. A little later on, perhaps, but not at the very start of the conversation. The old elf wasn’t stupid. He made his conclusions long ago, but for some reason he did not dare to voice them, and now, apparently, the moment has come. It would be naive for him to lose sight of such an outstanding personality as the blue-eyed shkas.

  “Now it’s better to call me Andy,” he answered, and stared at Evael questioningly.

  “Alright. As you wish.” Evael said nothing, thinking about something feverishly for a moment. “Let us forget the first part of the conversation. I hope you know what you are doing. I am talking about something else….” The old elf sat down on another Mellorny root and began to broadcast how he personally, and the entire free settlement, were grateful to him for saving Atrael and Lilly, and asked Andy to accept a quiet but very frisky hass named Coal as a gift. The old elf began to count on his fingers: two saddlebags with a supply of provisions for the lizard and rider, two sets of travel clothes, a shield, two long paired swords, two wineskins with water, and two cloaks. Any bow from the workshop, Andy’s choice. Fifty arrows and so on.

  Andy respectfully declined the “so on.” In response to his silent question the chief explained that in the forest tinder and flint are much more necessary, and there is a pair of gold coins in the city. The blades, shield, bow, and spare sets of clothes were accepted with gratitude. The soft items could be carried on his back or packed on the hass. Andy gave Evael a separate bow in thanks for the provisions.

  Evael listened to Andy’s arguments and nodded in agreement.

  “I thought so.” A tiny purse clinked in the elf’s hand. “It’s thirty gold pieces. Take it, I will not accept no for an answer. And this,” just like an Earth magician, he took out a second purse, of a smaller size. The elf’s open palm was strewn with a scattering of stones, each of which cost half the value of purse that the were-dragon received earlier. Noticing the dam in the young man’s eyes, ready to break with a stream of objections, the chief removed most of the pebbles, leaving the five largest. “This is from me personally. I am sorry I can not offer anything else. Take it.”

  Andy reached out and took the precious stones. The old elf was right: they weighed only a little and would not be superfluous.

  “Why are you helping me?”

  “Do you not believe in spiritual kindness?”

  “Life has taught me not to.”

  “Hmm, life is such a thing, sometimes it teaches, and sometimes it strips away skills and lessons already learned.” Evael slapped the hass’ neck a couple of times. “People no longer believe in good impulses. Everything needs a material explanation. Hm, in many respects they are right; our actions and aspirations are most often dictated by the material.” Noticing that Andy slightly tilted his head to the left and lifted the corners of his lips into a slight smile, the elf finished: “We will still cross paths, it seems to me. This is not our last meeting.”

  “Thank you for your openness and for everything you have done for me.”

  “You are welcome, but next time keep yourself in hand. Viriel cannot always erase the memory of the rangers, and no one is likely to let him anywhere near the dragons or the princess’ retinue anymore. Stay away from them; I do not like them. The princess does not belong here. Her dad should not have sent her to no man’s land!” The elf realized that he had blurted out too much and fell silent.

  “Thank you for the advice.” Andy bowed his head. He caught the elf’s remark. He had made a mess of things on the beach. Here the old elf outmaneuvered him.

  People began to gather in the central square of the village. Residents decided to see the Princess of Ora off. A virk is a necessary thing to do, especially when a crowned person takes it upon himself, but she wanted to get as far away as possible, as soon as possible….

  “It’s time. Atrael will bring the bags and weapons. Go on.”

  Half an hour later, the princess’ detachment, stretched out in a long chain, left the free settlement. Right before they left, Lilly darted over to Andy and handed him a small bag.

  “Andy, you forgot the shaving kit. Grandfather found it.”

  “Thank you, honey, what would I do without you?” Andy, playing along with the girl, ran a hand over his chin and looked for the chief. Evael caught the were-dragon’s eye and nodded briefly. In addition to a razor competing in sharpness with the famous “Gillette,” the set contained an even belt, some soap root, and a fragrant essence which smelled like lily of the valley. The strong scent carried for a mile around. The grandfather had provided for what he did not think of at all. It was time to start shaving. “Goodbye!”

  * * *

  “Viriel, come and see me in an hour.” Evael picked the mage out of the crowd.

  “Alright. Is it anything urgent?”

  “Yes. Saddle your trox.”

  Exactly an hour later, the lanky figure of the main village sorcerer appeared under the roots of the chief’s family Mellorny. Viriel habitually bowed to the sacred tree, giving life and shelter to the old elf’s family. He ran his hand over a thick rough root and stopped at the door. Going into the house without the old elf made for misery; he did not enjoy healing the wounds left by Mimiv’s claws.

  “Come in,” said a cracked voice.

  “What do you think?” Evael asked, pouring his guest some fragrant tea from a collection of forest grasses.

  “He’s a dragon, there can be no more doubt,” said the magician, picking up the bowl of baked clay and sipping his drink.

  “I know,” the foreman said with a grin. “I have long ceased to doubt this. Tell me about something else….”

  “He wasn’t playing, Evael. Andy truly did not know the language. There can be no feigning how he sometimes misused elementary words and phrases. It seems to me that he was really pushed into a dugaria. Did you see his tattoo on his shoulder?”

  “That’s just the point, Viriel. In all my long life, I�
��ve never heard of dragons being put in a dugaria.” Never! What did he do and why did the emperor decide to choose such a punishment? Why does Andy hide his second essence and hide under a cocoon of will shields? And that tattoo, too… Pack your things!”

  “Where am I going?”

  “You will go to the Great Mother.” Evael opened a small box and took out an information crystal. “You will give THIS to the ruler of the Miur. Tell her it’s from me. She knows how to activate the crystal and the access password.”

  “Serious business. Are you sure?”

  “I am sure, as well as I’m sure of the fact that the emperor will not attack us. He needs the prince’s northern mountainous provinces.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Do not snitch. More tea?”

  “Perhaps. What should I say?”

  “Don’t say anything. This is not because I don’t trust you. I worry about you. You will safer that way. If the ruler needs anything, she will clarify it herself.”

  “When do I leave?”

  “As soon as you finish your tea. But seriously, someone should have done it a month ago….”

  * * *

  Andy stroked the hass around its neck:

  “Don’t lag behind, Coal!

  The four-legged transport, black as pitch, slightly turned its head and squinted at the speaker. The rider put his hand into the saddlebag and took out a narrow strip of dried meat. A sharp movement of the head, a loud crack of the jaws, and the lizard swallowed the treat.

  “Enough, be patient until we stop.”

  Andy reached his hand out to the animal’s eyebrows, one of the most vulnerable spots of an armored scaly creature, and scratched the hass. Coal grunted and stuck its tongue out happily, just like a dog with a kind owner. The riding lizard was an amazingly good-natured creature and in no way resembled Snowball, whom he’d left in Orten. He was like a black puppy.

  “Onward!” Andy lightly spurred Coal.

  The hass let out its claws and set out after the main group.

  After two turns of the forest trail, Ania’s trox came into view, gradually moving ahead of Thygar’s bird. Hearing the lizard’s light steps approaching, she grabbed her crossbow more comfortably, which was glowing with a soft even light (you never know what to expect) and turned around. Upon seeing the shkas, she set her weapon across the saddle and turned away. The sida was burdened by the imposition of having to play nurse to the freak and, like the whole detachment, she hated his constant absences and falling behind. As if the virk weren’t enough—now they had to worry about half-wits, too!...

  Ania was a member of the branch of the elven tribe that settled in the low hills of the south of Otorn and was named after the central region of the highest elevation, “Sid.” Andy had learned from Evael’s explanations of the differences between elves that Sidas, or hillocks, differed from the rest of the long-eared people in their short stature and refined figures. Their skin was a delicate chocolate shade, and another difference was their eyes—they were huge and mesmerizing. Life in the twilight of caves had left its imprint.

  “Do not lag,” the girl said without turning around.

  “Very well,” Andy snorted for the hundredth time in a day. He squeezed his lips narrowly. The bump on his forehead has long since disappeared, but the dragon Thygar had not forgotten his shame. While Andy was under Ilirra’s virk, he had nothing to fear, but later on, it would be better not to turn his back….

  The wind, dispersing the day’s heat, brought with it the coolness of a nearby river. Sensing the moisture, the troxes went faster. Coal was in solidarity with the birds and put on speed, moving up to right behind Ania. Her trox, like a dove, was swaying its body from side to side with each step. The sida’s round rear end, in tight leather pants, repeated the trajectory along with the three hundred-pound bird. Andy’s eyes fixed on the sight and repeated the swaying route.

  Ania sensed the shkas’ interested look. The tips of her sharp ears constantly flared maroon, but every time she turned back, the insolent guy looked anywhere but at her. As soon as she turned away, everything came back to square one. The elf turned sharply.

  “What are you looking at?” she attacked Andy, who didn’t look away this time, but kept looking calmly at her.

  “You’re pretty,” he said unexpectedly, bringing his hass to a halt.

  Ania blushed red as a tomato. The angry words she’d prepared for him went out the window. Everything she wanted to tell the bold freak just stuck in her throat. She looked at him one more time and then turned back around.

  The freak wasn’t lying or kidding. After two hundred years in the prince’s palace, where it was impossible to see people’s real faces and feelings for magical masks and all the falsity there, she had had plenty of opportunity to hone her skills and uncovering the truths behind people’s actions. Life had taught her to read every gesture, glance, tone of voice, and many other small details. In a situation where the person’s aura was hidden by will shields or replaced by someone else’s, she caught every gesture, listened to the beating of their heart, paid attention to their sweat and the twitching of their skin. The prince himself valued her skill. At great receptions, she followed the ruler in a quiet shadow and evaluated, evaluated, evaluated. She evaluated everyone, whispering her observations into the communicator amulet. Sometimes she could do what empaths or psionics could not do, because magic could be reliably blocked from encroachments on the will or interference in feelings, but Ania could still see through them. They didn’t like her, but they accepted her, as one accepts a necessary evil.

  Ania became a member of Ilirra’s entourage by the order of the prince. Before that, he had had two conversations—a difficult one with his daughter, who did not like the spy, and an easy one with Ania, who accepted the will of the sovereign.

  Ilirra, taking advantage of the opportunity and her power, got her petty revenge. The princess assigned her father’s servant to the strange non-human, ordering her to be a chaperone until his memory was completely restored. And when would it come back? The rest of the entourage, savvy about palace intrigues, quietly giggled and wondered how the disgraced servant would manage.

  But things were turning out not at all as expected. On the first day, the sida drew a few conclusions, characterizing her ward on the positive side. The shkas, like many inhabitants of princely courts, wore several layers of masks, behind which the real person was hidden. Nothing unusual about that. He was constantly closed by a cocoon of will and mind shields, but a large cat with the funny nickname Mimiv, who escorted him more than two leagues and lagged behind only at Andy’s exhortations on the bank of the Ledyanka River, told Ania more than words could say. Animals can not be deceived. And the granddaughter of the elven chief and the other children waving to the departing non-human? The princess assumed they were seeing her and her retinue off. Ania said nothing; she didn’t want to upset Ilirra, but the princess was cruelly mistaken. The children were not running after the entourage.

  True, Andy did not cause any special trouble, and if it were not for his constant lagging behind, he would be absolutely golden. Three days ago, the lady could no longer stand it and told him what she thought about such behavior. He calmly listened to the princess, bowed, smiled guiltily, and asked about the reasons for her concern. Hadn’t the princess herself told him to follow her detachment? Until now, he believed that he correctly interpreted the lady’s words and never crossed the permitted boundaries, following the retinue. Neither in front, nor beside, but in the back, behind the last trox. With regards to the absences, that was his business; he had taken on the duties of rear guard and was watching out for safety, making sure no one was secretly following the accepted virk. If the princess wished, he would abandon this venture. Ilirra hesitated. There was no reason to blame the shkas; he was right on all sides. The conversation, to the great displeasure of Thygar and a couple of his friends, was hushed up.

  When they got to Ruigar’s duga
ria, Andy said the most pleasant memories in his life didn’t come from dugarias and spent the whole day in the camp, quiet as a mouse. He kept to himself and was cooking for one. In the past while, the shkas had not yet had even a short chat with any member of the detachment. The princess took a hands-off approach, watching how the others would react to the unpleasant neighbor and how the blue-eyed man would behave. He did not seem to be worried at all by the situation. As soon as they stopped to camp for the night, Andy immediately disappeared for twenty or thirty minutes, reappearing near the camp with some prey. Then he set up a fire and took care of his hass, rubbing the lizard’s scales with oil and peeling small rocks and dirt out from the beast’s claws and paws. After finishing his chores and setting up his tent, Andy would begin to perform his ritual; Ania couldn’t put it any other way. The smells coming from his small fire made her mouth water, and she wasn’t the only one. Maybe he’d lost his memory, but he knew how to cook. The blue-eyed guy was a mystery to the sida, and not only to her. Ilirra was not a fool. She inherited sharp intellect and observation from her father. With each subsequent day, looking at the ward of her father’s servants, she frowned more and more.

  Andy was clearly not from a peasant family. When the virk led the detachment to a second human settlement, Ania, followed by the lady, drew attention to his behavior and manners at the bar of a roadside inn. Not every highborn could use a knife and fork. Andy ate carefully, slicing pieces of juicy meat, holding his knife and fork with a light grace.

  The ease of the movements showed that he was accustomed to eating just like that. After eating, he mechanically dabbed his lips with a napkin handed over by the waiter, exactly like Prince Ora in human form. He did not seem like a simpleton. Into the treasury of observations fell yet another fact. The blue-eyed man emptied his purse, buying several expensive volumes of magic from the second-hand bookseller, even though he had a puny amount of magic. Why did he need these self-instruction manuals? Once when they were riding past a musical instruments store, he sharply reined in his hass and stared at the tair. An hour later, his hass caught up to the main detachment. As per the sida’s expectations, there was a cover with a musical instrument resembling a guitar attached to Coal’s saddle. Where were the peasants taught to play music? The third evening of their journey, in addition to the mouth-watering smells coming from Andy’s fire, they also heard the sound of the tair. And what about his combat skills? Thygar still looked at his offender like a rix.