Elven Star

2

Descending the stairs, Calandra passed through the kitchen, located on the first floor of the house. The heat increased noticeably as she moved from the airy upper regions into the more closed and steamy lower part. The scullery maid—eyes red rimmed and a mark on her face from the cook’s broad hand—was sullenly sweeping up broken crockery. The maid was an ugly human, as Calandra had said, and the red eyes and swollen tip did nothing to enhance her appearance.

But then Calandra considered all humans ugly and boorish, little more than brutes and savages. The human girl was a slave, who had been purchased along with a sack of flour and a stonewood cooking pot. She would work at the most menial tasks under a stern taskmaster—the cook—for about fifteen of the twenty-one-hour day. She would share a tiny room with the downstairs maid, have no possessions of her own, and earn a pittance by which she might, by the time she was an old woman, buy her way out of slavery. And yet Calandra firmly believed that she had done the human a tremendous favor by bringing her to live among civilized people.

Seeing the girl in her kitchen fanned the coals of Calandra’s ire. A human priest! What madness. Her father should have more sense. It was one thing to be insane, quite another to abandon all sense of proper decorum. Calandra marched through the pantry, yanked open the cellar door, and proceeded down the cobwebby steps into the cool darkness below.

The Quindiniar house was built on a moss plain that grew among the upper levels of vegetation of the world of Pryan. The name Pryan meant Realm of Fire in a language supposedly used by those first people who came to the world. The nomenclature was appropriate, because Pryan’s sun shone constantly. A more apt name for the planet might have been “Realm of Green,” for—due to the continual sunshine and frequent rains—Pryan’s ground was so thickly covered with vegetation that few people currently living on the planet had ever seen it. Huge moss plains spanned the branches of gigantic trees, whose trunks at the base were sometimes wide as continents. Level after level of leaves and various plant life extended upward, many levels existing on top of levels beneath them. The moss was incredibly thick and strong; the large city of Equilan was built on a moss bed. Lakes and even oceans floated on top of the thick, brownish green mass. The topmost branches of the trees poked out above it, forming tremendous, junglelike forests. It was here, in the treetops or on the moss plains, that most civilizations on Pryan built their cities. The moss plains didn’t completely cover the world. They came to end in frightful places known as dragonwalls. Few ventured near these chasms. Water from the moss seas leapt over the edge and cascaded down into the darkness with a roar that shook the mighty trees. Any person standing on the edge of the land, staring into that limitless mass of jungle beneath his feet, felt small and puny and fragile as the newest unfurled leaf.

Occasionally, if the observer managed to gather his courage and spend some time staring into the jungle below, he might see ominous movement—a sinuous body humping up among the branches and slithering away, moving among the deep green shadows so swiftly that the brain wondered if the eye was lying. It was these creatures that gave the dragonwalls their name—the dragons of Pryan. Few had ever seen them, for the dragons were as wary of the tiny strange beings inhabiting the tops of the trees as the humans, dwarves, and elves were wary of the dragons. It was believed, however, that the dragons were enormous, wingless beasts of great intelligence who carried on their lives far, far below, perhaps even living on the fabled ground.

Lenthan Quindiniar had never seen a dragon. His father had; he’d seen several. Quintain Quindiniar had been a legendary explorer and inventor. He had helped establish the elven city of Equilan. He had invented numerous weapons and other devices that were immediately coveted by the human settlers in the area. He had used the already considerable family fortune, founded in ornite,[8] to establish a trading company that grew more prosperous every year. Despite his success. Quintain had not been content to stay quietly at home and count his coins. When his only son, Lenthan, was old enough. Quintain turned over the business to his son and went back out into the world. He’d never been heard from again, and all assumed, after a hundred years had passed, that he was dead.

Lenthan had the family’s wandering blood in his veins but was never allowed to indulge in it, having been forced to take over the affairs of the business. He also had the family gift for making money, but it didn’t seem to Lenthan as if the money he made was his money. He was, after all, simply carrying on the trade built up by his father. Lenthan had long sought a way to make his own mark in the world, but, unfortunately, there wasn’t much of the world left to explore. The humans held the lands to the norinth, the Terinthian Ocean prohibited expansion to the est and vars and the dragonwall blocked the sorinth. As far as Lenthan was concerned, he had nowhere to go but up. Calandra entered the cellar laboratory, holding her skirts out of the dirt; the look on her face would have curdled milk. It came near curdling her father. Lenthan, seeing his daughter here in this place he knew she abhorred, blanched and moved nervously nearer another elf who was present in the laboratory. This other elf smiled and bowed officiously. The expression on Calandra’s face darkened at the sight.

“How nice—nice to see you down here, m—my dear,” stammered poor Lenthan, dropping a crock of some foul-smelling liquid onto a filthy tabletop. An ancestor of Lenthan, Quindiniar was the first to discover and recognize its properties, which—for the first time—made overland travel possible. Before the discovery of ornite, people had no way of telling direction and would become hopelessly lost in the jungle. The location of the motherlode is a closely guarded family secret.

Calandra wrinkled her nose. The moss walls and floor gave off a pungent musky odor that blended ill with the various chemical smells—most notably sulfur—drifting about the laboratory.

“Mistress Quindiniar,” said the other elf in greeting. “I trust I find you in health?”

“You do, sir, thank you for asking. And I trust you are the same, Master Astrologer?”

“A slight touch of rheumatism, but that is to be expected at my age.”

“I wish your rheumatism would cany you off, you old charlatan!” muttered Calandra beneath her breath.

“Why is this witch down here meddling?” muttered the astrologer into the high, pointed collar that stood up from his shoulders and almost completely surrounded his face.

Lenthan stood between the two, looking forlorn and guilty, though he had no idea, as yet, what he had done.

“Father,” said Calandra in a severe voice, “I want to speak to you. Alone.” The astrologer bowed and started to sidle off. Lenthan, seeing his prop being knocked out from beneath him, grabbed hold of the wizard’s robes.

“Now, my dear, Elixnoir is part of the family—”

“He certainly eats enough to be part of the family,” Calandra snapped, her patience giving way under the crushing blow of the terrible news of the human priest. “He eats enough to be several parts.”

The astrologer drew himself up tall and stared down his long nose that was nearly as sharply pointed as the tips of the night Hue collar through which it was seen.

“Callie, remember, he is our guest!” said Lenthan, shocked enough to rebuke his eldest child. “And a master wizard!”

“Guest, yes, I’ll give him that. He never misses a meal Or a chance to drink our wine or sleep in our spare bedroom. But master wizard I much doubt. I’ve yet to see him do anything but mumble a few words over that stinking gunk of yours, Father, and then stand back and watch it fizzle and smoke. You two will likely burn the house down around our ears someday! Wizard! Hah! Egging you on, Papa, with blasphemous stories about ancient people traveling to the stars in ships with sails of fire—”

“That is scientific fact, young woman,” struck in the astrologer, the tips of his collar quivering in indignation. “And what your father and I are doing is scientific research and has nothing at all to do with religion—”

“Oh, it doesn’t, does it?” cried Calandra, hurling her verbal spear straight for her victim’s heart. “Then why is my father importing a human priest?” The astrologer’s eyes widened in shock. The high collar turned from Calandra to the wretched Lenthan, who found himself much disconcerted by it.

“Is this true, Lenthan Quindiniar?” demanded the incensed wizard. “You have sent for a human priest?”

“I—I—I—” was all Lenthan could manage.

“I have been deceived by you, sir,” stated the astrologer, his dignity increasing every moment and so, it seemed, the length of his collar. “You led me to believe that you shared our interest in the stars, in their cycles and their places in the heavens.”

“I was! I am!” Lenthan wrung his soot-blackened hands.

“You professed to be interested in the scientific study of how these stars rule our lives—”

“Blasphemy!” cried Calandra with a shudder of her bony frame.

“And yet now I find you consorting with—with—”

Words failed the wizard. His pointed collar appeared to close around him so that all that could be seen above it were his glittering, infuriated eyes.

“No! Please let me explain!” gabbled Lenthan. “You see, my son, Paithan, told me about the belief the humans have that there are people living in those stars and I thought—”

“Paithan told you!” gasped Calandra, pouncing on a new culprit.

“People living there!” gasped the astrologer, his voice muffled by the collar.

“But it does seem likely … and certainly explains why the ancients traveled to the stars and it fits with what our priests teach us that when we die we become one with the stars and I truly do miss Elithenia… .”

The last was said in a wretched, pleading tone that moved Lenthan’s daughter to pity. In her own way, Calandra loved her father, just as she loved her brother and younger sister. It was a stern and unbending and impatient kind of love, but love it was and she moved over to put thin, cold fingers on her father’s arm.

“There, Papa, don’t upset yourself. I didn’t mean to make you unhappy. It’s just that I’d think you would have discussed this with me instead of … instead of the crowd at the Golden Mead!” Calandra could not forebear a sob. Pulling out a prim—and-proper lace-edged handkerchief, she clamped it over her nose and mouth.

His daughter’s tears had the effect (not unintended) of completely crushing Lenthan Quindiniar into the mossy floor and burying him twelve hands[9] down. Her weeping and the wizard’s trembling collar points were too much for the middle-aged elf.

“You’re both right,” said Lenthan, glancing from one to the other sorrowfully.

“I can see that now. I’ve made a terrible mistake and when the priest comes, I’ll tell him to go away immediately.”

“When he comes!” Calandra raised dry eyes and stared at her father. “What do you mean ‘when he comes’? Paithan said he wouldn’t come!”

“How does Paithan know?” Lenthan asked, considerably perplexed. “Did he talk to him after I did?” The elf thrust a waxen hand into a pocket of his silk vest and dragged out a crumpled sheet of foolscap. “Look, my dear.” He exhibited the letter.

Calandra snatched it and read it, her eyes might have burned holes in the paper.

“ ‘When you see me, I’ll be there. Signed, Human Priest.’ Bah!” Calandra thrust the letter back at her father. “That’s the most ridiculous—Paithan’s playing a joke. No person in his right mind would send a letter like that, not even a human. ‘Human Priest’ indeed!”

“Perhaps he’s not in his right mind,” said the Master Astrologer in ominous tones.

A mad human priest was coming to her house.

“Orn have mercy!” Calandra murmured, gripping the edge of the laboratory table for support.

“There, there, my dear,” said Lenthan, putting his arm around his daughter’s shoulders. “I’ll take care of it. Just leave everything to me. You shan’t be bothered in the slightest.”

“And if I can be of any help”—the Master Astrologer sniffed the air; the smell of roast targ was wafting down from the kitchen—“I shall be happy to lend my aid. I shall even overlook certain things that were said in the heat of emotional distress.”

Calandra paid no attention to the wizard. She had recovered her self-possession and her one thought now was to find her worthless brother and wring a confession out of him. She had no doubt—well, she had little doubt—that this was Paithan’s doing, his idea of a practical joke. He was probably laughing heartily at her right now. How long would he laugh when she cut his allowance in half?

Leaving the astrologer and her father to blow themselves to smithereens in the cellar if they liked, Calandra stormed up the stairs. She marched through the kitchen where the scullery maid hid behind a dish towel until the awful specter was gone. Ascending to the third level of the house—the sleeping level—Calandra halted outside her brother’s door and banged on it loudly.

“Paithan! Open your door this instant!”

“He’s not there,” called a sleepy voice from down the hallway. Calandra glowered at the door, knocked again, and rattled the wooden handle. No sound. Turning, Cal stalked down the hall and entered the room of her younger sister.

Clad in a frilly nightdress that left both white shoulders exposed and just enough of her breasts to make things interesting, Aleatha lounged in a chair before her dressing lable, lazily brushing her hair and admiring herself in the mirror. Magically enhanced, the mirror whispered compliments and offered the occasional suggestion as to the correct amount of rouge. Calandra paused in the doorway, shocked almost beyond words. “What do you mean! Sitting there half-naked in broad daylight with the door wide open! What if one of the servants came by?”

Aleatha raised her eyes. She performed this motion slowly and languorously, knowing and enjoying full well the effect it had. The young elfmaid’s eyes were a clear, vibrant blue, but—shadowed over by heavy lids and long, thick lashes—they darkened to purple. Opening them wide, therefore, had the effect of seeming to completely change their color. Numerous elven men had written sonnets to those eyes, and one was rumored to have died for them.

“Oh, one servant has already been past,” said Aleatha without the slightest perturbation. “The footman. He’s been up and down the hall three times at least in the last half-hour.” She turned from her sister and began arranging the ruffles of her nightdress to show off her long, slender neck. Aleatha’s voice was rich, throaty, and sounded perpetually as if she were just about to sink into a deep slumber. This, combined with the heavy-lidded eyes, gave an impression of sweet languor no matter where the young woman went or what she was doing. During the fevered gaiety of a royal ball, Aleatha—ignoring the rhythm of the music—would dance slowly, in an almost dreamlike state, her body completely surrendered to her partner, giving him the delightful impression that without his strong support she would sink to the floor. The languid eyes stared into his, with just a tiny sparkle of fire deep in the purple depths, leading a man to think of what he might do that would cause those sleepy eyes to open wide.

“You are the talk of Equilan, Thea!” snapped Calandra, holding the handkerchief to her nose. Aleatha was spraying perfume over her neck and breast. “Where were you last darktime?”[10]

The purple eyes opened wide, or at least wider. Aleatha would never waste their full effect on a mere sister.

“Since when do you care where I was? What wasp’s gotten into your corset this gentle-time, Callie?”

“Gentle-time! It’s nearly winetime! You’ve slept away half the day!”

“If you must know, I was with Lord Kevanish and we went down to the Dark—”

“Kevanish!” Calandra drew a seething breath. “That blackguard! He’s being refused admittance to every proper house over that affair of the duel. It was because of him that poor Lucillia hung herself, and he as much as murdered her brother! And you, Aleatha … to be seen publicly with him—” Calandra choked.

“Nonsense. Lucillia was a fool for thinking that a man like Kevanish could really be in iove with her. Her brother was a bigger fool in demanding satisfaction. Kevanish is the best boltarcher in Equilan.”

“There is such a thing as honor, Aleatha!” Calandra stood behind her sister’s chair, her hands gripping the back of it, the knuckles white with the strain. It seemed that with very little prompting, she might grip her sister’s fragile neck in the same manner. “Or has this family forgotten that?”

“Forgotten?” murmured Thea in her sleepy voice. “No, dear Callie, not forgotten. Simply bought and paid for it long ago.”

With a complete lack of modesty, Aleatha rose from her chair and began to untie the silken ribbons that almost held the front of her nightdress closed. Calandra, looking at her sister’s reflection in the mirror, could see reddish bruise marks on the white flesh of shoulders and breast—the marks of the lips of an ardent lover. Sickened, Calandra turned her back and walked swiftly across the room to stand staring out the window.

Aleatha smiled lazily at the mirror and allowed the nightdress to slip to the floor. The mirror was rapturous in its comments.

“You were looking for Paithan?” she reminded her sister. “He flew into his room like a bat from the deep, dressed in his lawn suit, and flew out. I think he’s gone to Lord Durndrun’s. I was invited, but I don’t know if I shall go or not. Paithan’s friends are such bores.”

“This family is falling apart!” Calandra pressed her hands together. “Father sending for a human priest! Paithan a common tramp, caring for nothing except roaming! You! You’ll end up pregnant and unwed and likely hang yourself like poor Lucillia.”

“Oh, hardly, Callie, dear,” said Aleatha, kicking aside the nightdress with her foot. “Hanging oneself takes such a lot of energy.” Admiring her slender body in the mirror, which admired it right back, she frowned, reached out and rang a bell made out of the shell of the egg of the carol bird. “Where is that maid of mine? Worry less about your family, Callie, and more about the servants. I never saw a lazier lot.”

“It’s my fault!” Calandra sighed and clasped her hands together tightly, pressing them against her lips. “I should have made Paithan go to school. I should have supervised you and not let you run wild. I should have stopped Father in this nonsense of his. But who would have run the business? It was sliding when I took it over! We would have been ruined! Ruined! If it had been left up to Father—”

The maid hurried into the room.

“Where have you been?” asked Aleatha sleepily.

“I’m sorry, mistress! I didn’t hear you ring.”

“Well, I did. But you should know when I want you. Lay out the blue. I’m staying home this darktime. No, don’t. Not the blue. The green with the moss roses. I think I’ll attend Lord Durndrun’s outing, after all. Something amusing might occur. If nothing else, I can at least torment the baron, who’s simply dying of love for me. Now, Callie, what’s this about a human priest? Is he good looking?”

Calandra gave a strangled sob and clenched her teeth over the handkerchief. Aleatha glanced at her. Accepting the flimsy robe the maid draped over her shoulders, Thea crossed the room to stand behind her sister. Aleatha was as tall as Calandra, but her figure was soft and curved where her sister’s was bony and angular. Masses of ashen hair framed Aleatha’s face and tumbled down her back and around her shoulders. The elfmaid never “dressed” her hair as was the style. Like the rest of Aleatha, her hair was always disheveled, always looked as if she had just risen from her bed. She laid soft hands on her sister’s quivering shoulders.

“The hour flower has closed its petals on those times, Callie. Keep longing uselessly for it to open again and you’ll soon be insane as Father, if Mother had lived, things might have been different”—Aleatha’s voice broke, she drew nearer her sister—“but she didn’t. And that’s that,” she added, with a shrug of her perfumed shoulders. “You did what you had to do, Callie. You couldn’t let us starve.”

“I suppose you’re right,” said Calandra briskly, recalling that the maid was in the room and not wanting their affairs discussed in the servant’s hall. She straightened her shoulders and smoothed out imaginary wrinkles from her stiff, starched skirts. “So you won’t be in to dinner?”

“No, I’ll tell the cook, if you like. Why don’t you come to Lord Durndrun’s, Sister?” Aleatha walked to the bed, where her maid was laving out silken undergarments. “Randolphus will be there. He’s never married, you know, Callie. You broke his heart.”

“Broke his purse is more like it,” said Calandra severely, looking at herself in the mirror, patting her hair where a few wisps had come undone, and stabbing the three lethal combs back into place. “He didn’t want me, he wanted the business,”

“Perhaps.” Aleatha paused in her dressing, the purple eyes going to the mirror and meeting the reflected eyes of her sister. “But he would have been company for you, Callie. You’re alone too much.”

“And so I’m to let a man step in and take over and ruin what it’s cost me years to build just for the sake of seeing his face every morning whether I like it or not? No, thank you. There are worse things than being alone. Pet.” Aleatha’s purple eyes darkened almost to wine. “Death, maybe.” Her sister didn’t hear her.

The elfmaid shook back her hair, shaking off the gloomy shadow at the same time. “Shall I tell Paithan you’re wanting to see him?”

“Don’t bother. He must be near to running out of money by now. He’ll be around to see me in the toiltime.” Calandra marched toward the door. “I have the books to balance. Try to come home at a reasonable hour. Before tomorrow, at least.”

Aleatha smiled at her sister’s sarcasm and lowered the sleep-heavy eyelids modestly. “If you like, Callie, I won’t see Lord Kevanish anymore.” Her sister paused, turned. Calandra’s stern face brightened, but she only said, “I should hope not!” Stalking out of the room, she slammed the door shut behind her.

“He’s getting to be a bore anyway,” remarked Aleatha to herself. She lounged back down at her dressing table and studied her flawless features in the effusive mirror.