Elfhome

4: THREE ESVA SHY OF A FULL DECK

Tinker had spent the evening studying the recording that Blue Sky had made of the warg fight. She ran it through a video editor so she could isolate the domana and analyze every frame as they cast their spells. Blue Sky had caught Prince True Flame doing the fire strike, Jewel Tear doing the scrying spell, and both the Stone Clan putting up their shields. The fire strike scared her slightly. It looked so simple she barely could keep from trying it out; her curiosity, though, was often deadly to those around her. The problem was she wasn’t completely positive how the prince was directing and limiting the power of his attack. She’d gone to bed wondering how she could practice the spell without worrying about setting things on fire.

She dreamed that she was back at the archery range at Aum Renau. She’d bolted marshmallows on sticks to the mechanical targets that the sekasha used for archery practice. Once on fire, though, the warg-shaped targets had somehow run amok, like crazed flaming sheep. Afraid that the entire palace would go up in flames, she’d wandered around lost, trying to find the Spell Stones in order to call a rainstorm to put out the wargs.

She woke slowly in a warm nest of sheets that smelled of Windwolf with the images tumbling in her mind. She thought of elaborate traps to catch and contain the flaming wargs until she woke up a little more and realized how silly the whole dream had been.

It did remind her, though, that during the three weeks at Aum Renau, she had visited the Spell Stones only once. From the air they had looked like giant slabs of black granite, but up close, it turned out they were layers of stone, each layer inscribed with spells, connected by jumpers just like integrated circuit boards. Why hadn’t she taken the time to study them closer?

“Nothing for you,” Sparrow stated the first time Tinker saw the Spell Stones from the airship.

Oh, yes, that was right, Sparrow had kept detouring her away from the massive granite slabs. Strange how in retrospect it was easy to see that Sparrow wanted Tinker helpless when the oni kidnapped her. Things would have gone so much differently if Tinker could have called her domana shields. Even now, though, it was still hard for Tinker to wrap her mind around why Sparrow had betrayed her.

“I’m using the oni to fix what is wrong,” Sparrow said. “I’m going to take things back to the way they should be.”

Like that would have worked. How would flooding Elfhome with oni do anything other than just wipe out the elfin race? By the oni’s count, there were billions of them to the few million of the elves. The oni apparently bred like rabbits. The elves were killing all the oni they found in fear even two would eventually reproduce enough to outnumber them. How did Sparrow think she was going to get rid of the oni after the world suited her?

There was the murmur of male voices as Pony greeted Windwolf with “Brother Wolf.”

“Little Horse,” Windwolf said fondly. “She is still asleep.”

“Hmm,” Tinker said to indicate she was really awake.

Windwolf came to kiss her. “Go back to sleep. Your body is still healing.”

She moaned since him saying that would get Pony all protective. Almost on cue, the bed dipped and Pony slid in beside her to wrap his arms around her. He slept only in loose cotton pants, so she found herself snuggled into warm skin over hard muscle. Assured that she was pinned in bed by her First, Windwolf went back to getting dressed. She groaned in protest, one that they were ganging up on her, and two that Pony was there, being sexy and available, and Windwolf approved. It was a little facet of elf culture that still freaked her out. Elves operated on an equation that read:

IF Wolf Who Rules THEN (Tinker + Wolf Who Rules) ELSE (Tinker + Pony).

Everyone (except her) understood that when she took Pony as her bodyguard, it also made him the go-to guy for sex if her husband wasn’t handy. The elves reasoned that immortality and basic nature would eventually lead you to want more than one sexual partner, that you’d naturally want to screw with your sexy bodyguard, and besides, said bodyguard was safe, where someone outside the household wouldn’t be. Everyone (except her) would be fine if she made love to Pony. She felt guilty just being curled up in his arms and tempted to snuggle closer. Nor did it help that he nuzzled into her hair and brushed his lips against the tips of her ears. It felt sinfully good.

She groaned again and pulled herself out of Pony’s arms to sit up. “No fair ganging up on me.”

Windwolf grinned at her as he sat on the edge of their bed and pulled on boots. “I could call Discord in, too.”

Discord was his nickname for Stormsong. Gods, she’d never get out of bed if both Pony and Stormsong decided that it would be better if she stayed in it. She smacked Windwolf — unfortunately with her right hand. Pain lanced up her arm. She curled around it, hissing in pain as both males moved to comfort her.

“I’m sorry, beloved.” Windwolf let Pony scoop her into his arms, a sure sign that he needed to be somewhere else soon.

“I’m fine,” Tinker growled. “Where are you going?”

Windwolf sighed. “We’re still trying to figure out where the main oni forces are hiding. That there are nearly twenty thousand tengu in Pittsburgh is proof that there are more oni than we first thought. Pittsburgh is so large and has so many abandoned buildings, they could be anywhere. It has been like fighting shadows.”

“Be careful.” She had planned on working on casting spells, so there was no need for him to leave two Hands with her. “Take all three Hands. If I leave the enclave, I’ll stay where there’s cops and EIA.”

He kissed her forehead. “I will be careful, my little savage.” He nodded to Pony. “Keep her safe, Little Horse.”

Poppymeadow’s was the oldest and largest of the enclaves in Pittsburgh. Its outer wall was fifteen feet high and had a defense shield that could be triggered to make the enclave nearly impenetrable. On staff were a score of laedin-caste guards that patrolled the grounds. The various wings and outbuildings formed a second line of defense around the inner courtyard filled with peach trees. All the buildings presented blind walls to the outer world; their only windows faced inward. The small orchard was the safest place in Pittsburgh.

For her Hand’s sake, Tinker settled in a spot where she was in full view of the practice hall when its great double doors stood open to the courtyard. Spared the need to be endlessly vigilant, her Hand took the opportunity to spar with each other.

If she was going to safely cast the fire strike and find other spells she could learn on her own, she needed to widen her search. She went crawling into Pittsburgh’s Internet. It was a stunted stepchild of the one on Earth, but it had its uses. First contact with the elves had been nearly thirty years ago. She had expected a lot more footage of Windwolf using magic, but apparently there hadn’t been a whole lot of need for him to break out the big guns.

There was only one recording of him fighting; it was taken during the first Startup. She had seen the video dozens of times but never realized it was about Windwolf, mostly because he never actually appeared on camera. The clip was most commonly known as “WTF” because the human military officer kept repeating “What the fuck?” as tanks pinwheeled down the street and Hummers were reduced to molten lava. Because of the refrain, it was actually pretty funny, especially with the right music added.

There was a lot of footage of Windwolf being handsome and princely without throwing around tanks. She loved watching him move effortlessly through the political dance, endlessly patient and yet unbending. He knew what he wanted, knew how to get it, and would not stop until he had it. He was the only person she had ever met that could match her in imagining huge and making it real. He felt like her other half. That he was handsome, rich, powerful, sexy as hell, gentle and patient, and loved her without reserve didn’t hurt, either.

Realizing she’d been sidetracked for nearly an hour, she dropped Windwolf from her search words and added Prince True Flame. She found a mother lode of recordings from the black willow fight on the North Side. Apparently her failed attempt to stop the black willow had given people time to get into position with cameras. From the various recordings, she was able to assemble a composite of the fight. Annoyingly, the black willow (which had tried to eat her) instantly seemed to recognize it was outpowered and retreated as the prince blasted it into cinders. The increasing distance between the tree and the domana gave Tinker the vectors she needed to determine how the prince controlled the fire-strike spell. None of the cameras, however, had caught the prince putting up his very cool fire shield.

She flopped back onto the blanket and held her hands up to the sky, studying her splayed fingers. So much potential locked away from her. So far she had only figured out the Stone Clan shield spell and one Fire Clan attack spell — in theory — and she wasn’t even sure she could tap the Fire Clan Spell Stones.

“The Fire Clan esva is combined with the Wind’s at Aum Renau?” she asked the sky.

“Yes, they are.” Pony’s voice was level and calm despite the fact that he was fending off Little Egret, Rainlily, and Cloudwalker. “Cover!”

Tinker glanced over and watched as Pony whirled back as Stormsong slid into his place, graceful and strong, blocking attacks with her practice sword. They were as beautiful to watch as dancers. They were all smiling widely; they loved to fight, even just each other.

Stormsong took up the discussion. “The first thing we did when we arrived in the Westernlands was set up the stones for both esva at Aum Renau. We slept that winter among the stones, warmed by their heat and protected by their shields.”

The stones generated a constant shield that could shrug off a nuclear bomb. From what she understood, the shield not only protected the stones but also acted as a safety valve on the massive pool of magic under the stones, bleeding off excess power when the stones weren’t being tapped.

“And the Fire esva is keyed to Fire Clan, not Wind?”

“Windwolf can use both esva,” Stormsong said. “Since he used himself as a blueprint when he transformed you from human to elf, you will most likely be able to use the Fire esva once you’ve been trained.”

Tinker considered her hands again.

Windwolf’s mother was Fire Clan and his father was Wind Clan. Of their ten children, Windwolf was the only one that could use both esva. Tinker knew enough about genetics to know that nature flipped a coin when a child was conceived. Heads, the child had the Fire Clan blond hair. Tails, the child had the Wind Clan black. How did Windwolf get both esva? Was this like blood type, where you could have AB blood from an A blood-type mother and a B blood-type father? That didn’t seem right, though, since if that were the case, statistically half of Windwolf’s siblings would have had both esva.

It wasn’t simply that the gene was recessive. There was no way that it could be and Tinker still have access to the Stone Clan esva. It had been half a dozen generations since her elfin ancestor was trapped on Earth and married a human. If the key was recessive, it would have been bred out along with the immortal lifespan, pointed ears, and almond-shaped eyes.

She was aware of movement, and suddenly she was bracketed by Pony and Stormsong in full Shield mode. “What’s wrong?”

Lemonseed was Windwolf’s majordomo and thus head of the housekeeping staff (embarrassingly enough, Tinker had thought she was just a very bossy cook for the longest time.) Nine thousand years had made her infinitely patient. She waited a few feet away, hands folded over her stomach in a manner that Tinker had learned meant that someone was here on official business. “Ginger Wine would like to speak with you.”

“Sure.” Tinker sat up.

Only recently had Tinker started to learn how to identify castes on sight. What she always considered as “high caste” was actually nivasa-caste. They had been bred by the Skin Clan to be elegant, beautiful, and empathic in nature; they used their gifts to run the enclaves as long-stay hotels. Unlike most of the other Wind Clan members, they weren’t uniformly black-haired and blue-eyed. Ginger Wine had glorious auburn hair and eyes like emeralds, though she compensated by drenching herself in Wind Clan blue silk.

The enclave owner bowed in greeting and said tentatively, “I–I’m worried about cousin.”

Judging by the way Pony went tense, this was bad news. Tinker couldn’t remember, though, who Ginger Wine’s cousin was. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“He brought a Stone Clan female to my enclave yesterday. None of the domana were available, so he spoke with Earth Son’s First. Not only did Thorne Scratch refuse responsibility for the female, she forced cousin to accept it, and then she threatened cousin.”

“Did Thorne Scratch hurt Oilcan?” Pony asked.

“Oilcan?” It felt like Tinker had grabbed hold of a live 220 line. “What did Thorne Scratch do to Oilcan?”

“She did not hurt him,” Ginger Wine said. “But this Stone Clan bitch — she clearly has no sense. Who knows what trouble she will cause, and the holy one will blame cousin for it.”

What the hell had Oilcan gotten himself into? Tinker had to see him, make sure for herself that he was fine. She headed for the coach house where the Rolls were stored, trusting that her Hand would follow.