Elfhome

47: COMMITMENT

Sacred Heart had unofficially become “the orphan house” as all the various shattered Stone Clan households drifted into Oilcan’s care. Jewel Tear took up residence on the third floor as Iron Mace’s newly orphaned warriors shifted down to the second floor along with the remains of Earth Son’s household. Again and again, the elves mentioned that the front door needed to be painted. By that, they meant “should be Stone Clan black.”

He’d been haunted all night by his conversation with Tommy. Just as the half-oni recognized himself in Oilcan, he could see his reflection in Tommy. They both had been lone wolves while surrounded by people. They had perfected being apart even while crowded by others. They clung to the status quo because it was safe and comfortable.

Oilcan could have taken Tinker’s sponsorship days ago — should have taken it the minute he realized that he needed to provide for five kids. He was afraid if he forced the issue, the kids would walk away from him. He had taken the easy way out by not choosing. He had even drifted along in whatever he had with Thorne Scratch — silently accepting whatever she gave him because if he asked her to clarify, he might not like the answer.

In fact, wasn’t that his whole life, drifting behind Tinker, letting her choose the path? He had one-night stands with women who couldn’t stay on Elfhome, did nothing to discourage the one night becoming one month, and then watched as the relationship ironically imploded under his fear that if he put demands on the other person, he would lose them. The pattern was there, clear to see, if he only made himself look.

Much as the possibility of losing the kids and Thorne Scratch scared the shit out of him, he couldn’t drift along anymore. He had to take a stand. He had to make his choice of clan clear as the color of his front door. A household of Stone Clan members and a city full of Wind Clan wouldn’t let him be apathetic any longer.

He knew that he couldn’t be Stone Clan. It would be like walking away from everything that was him. But if changing clans would slowly drive him insane, wouldn’t it be even more so for the kids? Avoiding the issue, though, wasn’t the answer.

Talking to all the kids at once seemed like a bad idea. They were very good at joining forces, and he doubted his resolution could withstand their combined will. He decided to start with Baby Duck. She only had scattered memories from before Pittsburgh. In theory, she had the least attachment to the Stone Clan.

“Quiee,” Baby Duck quacked after Oilcan finished. They were sitting in the grass out before the anchor rocks. The indi leapt from stone to stone with the bells on their collars tinkling with each jump.

He waited for her to say something else. After a few minutes, he realized that she wasn’t going to say anything else. He felt like he’d broken her.

“I’ll be your sama as long as you want me to.” It scared him a little to know that now it meant forever.

She climbed into his lap and buried her face against his chest. “Quiee.”

He’d take that as a yes.

Fields of Barley was practically chained to the kitchen now that he was cooking for an army. It delighted him to no end. “I’m going to bake these carrots with honey glaze and sprinkled with chopped walnuts. The peas I’m just going to blanch quickly — it would be a crime to do more to them than a dab of butter and pepper. Wish I could do a presentation piece with the rabbits — but we need to stretch the meat. I’m going to make a pie with shallots, mushrooms, and apples. I need to do something other than pie with the peaches that cousin sent over.”

Apparently “cousin” was now going the other way.

“That sounds good.” Oilcan hated to break Barley’s good mood with bad news, but there was no way around it. He explained what he planned to do.

Barley carefully wiped down his knife and slid it into the butcher-block holder. “Sama—my first sama—said never use a knife when you’re upset.”

“I’m sorry.”

Barley attacked the bread dough. “We have the advantage of being the only Stone Clan enclave. The incoming clan members would come to us first and only go to the others if we have no room. If we become Wind Clan, we’re the smallest and most crudely furnished enclave. We don’t even have beds — we have cots. Our bathing room is still unfinished and our courtyard is paved and being used as a laundry.”

“Yes, we have rough edges. We’ll smooth those out. I think, though, that much of our business will come from humans. They’ll come for the music.”

Barley laughed, punching the dough. “You cannot make money from music.”

“We’ll charge. .” There wasn’t an Elvish word for it, so he used the English. “A cover.”

“A cover? What is a cover?”

Oilcan explained the idea. He’d already talked to Tommy Chang about using the gym as a nightclub. It was going to be their first joint effort.

“They’ll pay for not sleeping the night?” Clearly the concept mystified Barley. He pondered it as he shaped loafs and covered them to rise again. “We would not have to wash so many sheets if they do not spend the night.”

Currently, their laundry was very makeshift, with one industrial washer that amazed the kids and a maze of clotheslines in the backyard. It was taking up lots of time from everyone’s life to help keep up with the sheets.

“It frightens me, Sama. I walked away from my enclave and got so lost. I’m afraid to walk away from my clan.”

“Even if something happens to me, Tinker and Wolf Who Rules will take care of you.”

“I know,” he whispered. His bottom lip started to tremble, and he went to scrub at his tear-filled eyes with flour-covered hands.

“Hey.” Oilcan caught Barley’s hands before he could rub flour into his eyes. “It will be okay.”

“I hate being so weak.”

“You’ll get stronger.” Oilcan pulled him into a hug and let him cry. It was only fair, since he was the one rocking the children’s world.

Cattail Reeds was attempting to achieve the maximum effect of the paint and fabric on the extremely sparsely furnished second-floor bedrooms. “This is so beautiful.” She held out a rich Waverly floral print of reds and greens and blues. “But we have so little of it, I’ll have to be careful with it. Can we not get more?”

“I bought all that they had.” He cleared whole sections of the little fabric store knowing that what didn’t become curtains would become clothes. “Perhaps we can arrange for fabric to be brought from Easternlands.”

“Not like this.” She laid it aside to pick up the white broadcloth he’d found cheap and plentiful. “This, though, this is boring. I will have to see if I can dye it. If I can match the green, then the print can be an accent to it. If I can’t, maybe the walls will have to be green instead.”

Cautiously, Oilcan explained his decision.

“Cousin will take us if something happens to you?” Cattail asked.

That was one thing he was sure of even though he hadn’t talked to Tinker yet. “Yes.”

“Fine.” She took hold of a hunk of fabric and ripped it.

That didn’t sound like fine.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I was dismayed when I learned that Earth Son was dead. I had been at court with a chance — slim as it may be — of catching the eye of the queen with my designs.” She grabbed another section of fabric and ripped it. “It had been my choice, though, to leave court and come to Pittsburgh, because I was chasing a dream that had nothing to do with the queen’s favor.

“I had been alarmed when no one could honor his offer.” She ripped another section. “But — but — but—” She clenched the fabric tight. “These new domana: Darkness, Sunder, and Cana Lily. They come straight from Diamond, the bitch who not only gave birth to that sniveling rat Earth Son but also sent him to Pittsburgh.”

Clearly in Cattail’s mind, Diamond was still in full command of the Stone Clan. After all that Oilcan and Tinker had learned in the last few days, it was possible, though, that Diamond was just an unknowing puppet for the Skin Clan.

“Not a single fucking one of these newly arrived Stone Clan domana carries an explanation — an offer of compensation — or even so much as an apology from Diamond. We — the children that her son lured out into the wilderness and gave to the oni to torture, rape, kill, and eat — are beneath her notice. Another clan has to rescue the living, give the dead up to the sky, and see to all our needs? Well, fuck the Stone Clan. I’m more than fine to be Wind Clan. I’m happy.”

She was right. No matter who had been behind the children’s betrayal — the Stone Clan had continued to fail them.

He reached out to hug her, but she flinched away angrily and tore another length of the broadcloth. “You’ll have your dream,” he promised. “With the extra money of sponsorship, we’ll turn the library into a boutique where you can sell clothes.”

He started to turn toward the door, and she lunged and caught hold of him in a fierce hug.

“I am happy,” she whispered. “I’m just too mad at them to show it.”

Letting him go, she stalked away, the strips of fabric still tight in her hand, fluttering in her storm wind.

Rustle of Leaves and Merry were in one of the little back rooms patiently crafting a hunk of ironwood into an olianuni for Rustle. Apparently a fifty-year apprenticeship included how to build instruments from scratch. Considering that an olianuni would wear out in a dozen years from constant use and that elves lived forever, it probably was a good thing. Luckily Merry still had all her tools that she had brought with her to Pittsburgh.

Halfway through his explanation, Merry reached out for Rustle, and he took her hand. Oilcan pushed on even though his stomach was doing sickening flip-flops.

The doubles glanced at each other.

“If Moser had taken me in, I would have been Wind Clan,” Rustle said to Merry.

“My home is Pittsburgh,” Merry said. “Where you are.”

Rustle grinned and wrapped his arms around her. “We are Pittsburgh.”

That left only one person, the one he was most afraid of losing. He was worried he might have already lost her by not speaking his heart.

Thorne Scratch hadn’t come to his room the night before. He had been painfully aware of her absence. And like an idiot, he’d done what he’d always done and not gone after the female he had come to love. Jewel Tear was just down the hall, battered and needy, and without a Hand. Had Thorne Scratch assumed he didn’t want her and offered to Jewel Tear instead?

He found her among the sheets in the backyard, practicing alone like the first time he’d seen her. Unlike that time, she was barefoot, wearing only glove-tight pants and a camisole, hair unbraided. Her ponytail formed a wonderful exclamation point over perfection in snug cotton.

He watched her move, serenely fierce, and ached with the possibility that she might never be his again.

She turned, sword in attack position, and saw Oilcan. Her lips turned upward into a Mona Lisa smile as she gazed over the blade at him. Behind her the brilliant white sheets rose to snap in the wind. He would paint that moment so he would always have her.

She blushed slightly and sheathed her ejae. In her wonderfully husky voice, she said, “You always look at me as if I’m the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.”

“You are.”

Her blush deepened. “No, no, I’m not.”

Oilcan reached out and caught her callused hand.

She stared down at their joined hands in horror. “How awful I am,” Thorne whispered. “I looked at your face and was secretly glad that I would not lose you so soon, but this is not your hand.”

He brought her hand up to rest on his chest. “This is my heart; it has not changed.” She curled her fingers until she gripped his shirt tight. He forced himself to finish. “I am Wind Clan.”

She laughed in surprise and then leaned her forehead against his to look deep into his eyes. “Oh, yes, there you are. I see you now.”

“Be my First.”

Her eyes went wide, but then she looked away, shaking her head. “You should ask a Wind Clan sekasha to be your First. You will need a full Hand, and the Wind Clan sekasha will not accept a Stone Clan First.”

He took joy in that she had not said “No.” He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her tight against him. “If they will not accept you, I do not want them.”

Her emotions warred on her. He was afraid to press her, because she would take it wrongly, but also afraid that he wasn’t pushing because he was falling into the same old habit. So he put it out, cold and frank, all that he felt.

“I’m scared that I’m going to lose you. I love you. I want you to be with me. Always.”

She dropped her head to his shoulder, and they stood twined together, pressed close. “I love you, too, you idiot,” she finally whispered. “It makes me weak. I shouldn’t let you be so stupid as to bind yourself to one like me.”

“I won’t let you talk me out of it.”

She lifted her hand to smack him lightly on the chest but then kissed him as if he was the thing she needed most to live.