Elven Star

4

Calandra Quindiniar had no misconceptions concerning the nature of the two humans with whom she was dealing. She guessed they were smugglers but that was no concern of hers. It was impossible for Calandra to consider any human capable of running a fair and honest business. As far as she was concerned, humans were all smugglers, crooks, and thieves.

It was with some amusement therefore—as much amusement as she ever allowed herself—that Calandra watched Aleatha leave her father’s house and walk across the moss yard toward the carriage. Her sister’s delicate dress was lifted by the winds rustling among the treetops and billowed around her in airy green waves. Elven fashion at the moment dictated long, cinched-in waists; stiff, high collars; straight skirts. The fashion did not suit Aleatha and, therefore, she ignored fashion. Her dress was cut low to show off her splendid shoulders, the bodice softly gathered to cup and highlight beautiful breasts. Falling in soft folds, the layers of filmy fabric enveloped her like a primrose-stitched cloud, accentuating her graceful movements. The fashion had been popular in her mother’s time. Any other woman—like myself, thought Calandra grimly—wearing that dress would have appeared dowdy and out of current style. Aleatha made current style appear dowdy. She had arrived at the carriage house. Her back was turned toward Calandra, but the older sister knew what was going on.

Aleatha would be smiling at the human slave who was handing her into the carriage.

Aleatha’s smile was perfectly ladylike—eyes cast down as was proper, her face almost hidden by her wide-brimmed, rose-trimmed hat-Her sister could never fault her. But Calandra, watching from the upstairs window, was familiar with Aleatha’s tricks. Her eyelids might be lowered, but the purple eyes weren’t and flashed beneath the long black lashes. The full lips would be parted slightly, the tongue moving slowly against the upper lip to keep it continually moist. The human slave was tall and well muscled from hard labor. His chest was bare in the midcycle heat. He was clad in the tight-fitting leather pants humans favored. Calandra saw his smile flash in return, saw him take an inordinate amount of time helping her sister into the carriage, saw her sister manage to brush against the man’s body as she stepped inside. Aleatha’s gloved hand even lingered for a moment on the slave’s! Then she had the brazen nerve to lean slightly out of the carriage, her hat brim uptilted, and wave at Calandra!

The slave, following Aleatha’s gaze, suddenly remembered his duty and hastened to take up his position. The carriage was made of the leaves of the benthan tree, woven to form a round basket open at the front end. The top of the basket was held in the grip of several drivehands attached to a strong rope running from Aleatha’s father’s house down into the jungle. Prodded from their drowsy, constant lethargy, the drivehands crawled up the rope, pulling the carriage to the house. Allowed to drift back into slumber, the drivehands would slide down the rope, bringing the carriage to a junction, where Aleatha would transfer to another carriage whose drivehands would cany her to her destination.

The slave, pushing the carriage, started it on its way and Calandra watched her sister—green skirts fluttering in the wind—swoop down into the lush jungle vegetation.

Calandra smiled disdainfully at the slave, who was lounging at his post, gazing admiringly after the carriage. What fools these humans are. They don’t even know when they’re being teased. Aleatha was wild, but at least her dalliances were with men of her own kind. She flirted with humans because it was enjoyable to watch their brutish reactions. Aleatha, like her older sister, would sooner let the family dog kiss her as she would a human. Paithan was another story. Settling down to her work, Calandra decided she would send the scullery maid to work in the boltarch shop. Leaning back in the carriage, enjoying the cool wind blowing against her face as she descended rapidly through the trees, Aleatha foresaw regaling a certain person at Lord Durndrun’s with her tale of arousing the human slave’s passion. Of course, her story would be told from a slightly different angle.

“I swear to you. My Lord, that his great hand closed over mine until I thought he would crush it, and then the beast had the nerve to press his sweat-covered body up against me!”

“Dreadful!” Lord Someone would say, his pale elven face flushed with indignation … or was it with the thought of bodies pressing together. He would lean nearer. “What did you do?”

“I ignored him, of course. That’s the best way to handle the brutes, besides the lash, that is. But, of course, I couldn’t beat him, could I?”

“No, but I could!” the lord would cry gallantly. “Oh, Thea, you know you tease the slaves to distraction.” Aleatha gave a slight start. Where had that disturbing voice come from? An imagined Paithan … invading her reverie. Catching hold of her hat that was about to be whisked off her head by the breeze, Aleatha made a mental note to make certain her brother was off playing the fool somewhere else before she began relating her enticing little story. Paithan was a good fellow and wouldn’t deliberately ruin his sister’s fun, but he was simply too guileless to live-The carriage reached the end of its rope, arriving at the junction. Another human slave—an ugly one, Aleatha didn’t bother with him—handed her out.

“Lord Dumdrun’s,” she informed him coolly, and the slave helped her into one of several carriages waiting at the junction, each attached to a rope that headed off into a different part of the jungle. The slave gave the drivehands a prod, they flapped to life, and the carriage sailed off into the gradually darkening shadows, carrying its passenger down deeper into the city of Equilan. The carriages were for the convenience of the wealthy, who paid a subscription to the city fathers for their use. Those who couldn’t afford to subscribe to the carriage system made do with the swinging bridges spanning the jungle. These bridges led from house to house, shop to shop, house to shop, and back again. They had been constructed at the time the early elven settlers founded Equilan, connecting those few houses and businesses that had been built in the trees for defense purposes. As the city grew, so did the bridge system, without any particular order or thought, keeping the houses connected with their neighbors and the heart of the city.

Equilan had flourished and so had its people. Thousands of elves lived in the city and there were nearly as many bridges. Making one’s way on foot was extraordinarily confusing, even for those who had lived there all their lives. No one who was any one in elven society walked the bridges, except for possibly a daring foray during darktime. The bridges were, however, an excellent defense against the elves’ human neighbors, who had looked—in days long gone by—on the elven treeholdings with covetous eyes. As time passed, and Equilan grew wealthier and more secure, her human neighbors to the norinth decided it would be wiser to leave the elves alone and fight each other. Thillia was divided into five kingdoms, each one an enemy of the other four, and the elves lived well by supplying weapons to all sides of the conflict. The elven royal families and those of the middle class who had risen to wealth and power moved higher into the trees. Lenthan Quindiniar’s home was located on the highest “hill”[14] in Equilan—a mark of status among his fellow middle class but not among the royalty, who built their homes on the shores of Lake Enthial. No matter that Lenthan could buy and sell most of the homes on the lakeshore, he would never be allowed to live there.

To be honest, Lenthan didn’t want to. He was quite content living where he was, with a fine view of the stars and a clear place amid the jungle’s vegetation for the launching of his rockets.

Aleatha, however, had made up her mind to dwell by the lake. Nobility would be purchased with her charm and her body and her share of her father’s money when he died. But just which duke or earl or baron or prince Aleatha was going to buy hadn’t been decided yet. They were all such bores. The task before Aleatha was to shop around, find one less boring than the rest.

The carriage gently set down Aleatha in Lord Durndrun’s ornate receiving house. A human slave started to hand her out, but a young lord, arriving at the same time, beat him to the honor. The young lord was married; Aleatha favored him with a sweet, charming smile anyway. The young lord was fascinated and walked off with Aleatha, leaving his wife to be handed down by the slave. Running through the annotated list of elven royalty she kept in her head, Aleatha recognized the young lord as a near cousin to the queen, with the fourth finest house on the lake. She permitted him to present her to her host and hostess, asked him to give her a tour of the house (she’d been there many times previous), and was blushingly enthusiastic about a more intimate tour of the lush and shadowy garden.

Lord Durndrun’s house, as were all others on Lake Enthial, was constructed on the top edge of a large moss bowl. The houses of the nobility of elven society stood scattered around the “rim” of the bowl. The dwelling of Her Majesty, the queen, was located at the very farthest end, away from the crowded city of her subjects. The other homes were all built facing the palace, as if they were continually paying homage.

In the center of the bowl was the lake, supported on a thick bed of moss, cradled in the arms of gigantic trees. Most lakes in the area were, because of their moss beds, a clear, crystalline green color. Due to a rare species of fish that swam in the lake (a gift to Her Majesty from the father of Lenthan Quindiniar) the water of Lake Enthial was a vibrant, stunning blue and was considered one of the wonders of Equilan.

The view was wasted on Aleatha, who had seen it all before and whose primary goal was to make it her own. She had been introduced to Lord Daidlus before, but had not noticed until now that he was witty and intelligent and moderately handsome. Seated next to the admiring young man on a teakwood bench, Aleatha was just about to tell him her story of the slave when, as in her reverie, a cheerful voice interrupted her.

“Oh, there you are, Thea. I heard you’d come. Is that you, Daidlus? Did you know your wife’s searching for you? She doesn’t look pleased, either.” Lord Daidlus did not look pleased himself. He glowered at Paithan, who returned the glare with the innocent and slightly anxious expression of one whose only desire is to help a friend.

Aleatha was tempted to hang on to the lord and get rid of Paithan, but she reflected that there was a certain merit in allowing the pot to simmer before bringing it to a boil. Besides, she needed to talk to her brother.

“I’m ashamed of myself, My Lord,” Aleatha said, flushing prettily. “I’m keeping you from your family. It was thoughtless and selfish of me, but I was so enjoying your company…”

Paithan, crossing his arms, leaned back against the garden wall and watched with interest. Lord Daidlus protested that he could stay with her forever.

“No, no, My Lord,” Aleatha said with an air of noble self-sacrifice. “Go to your wife. I insist.”

Aleatha extended her hand to be politely kissed. The young lord did so with rather more ardor than society would have considered proper.

“But I do so want to hear the end of your story,” said the besotted Daidlus.

“You shall. My Lord,” answered Aleatha, with downcast eyelashes through which glinted sparkles of blue-purple. “You shall.”

The young lord tore himself away. Paithan sat down on the bench beside his sister, and Aleatha took off her hat and fanned herself with the brim.

“Sorry, Thea. Did I interrupt something?”

“Yes, but it was all for the best. Things were moving too fast.”

“He’s quite happily married, you know. Got three little ones.”

Aleatha shrugged. The matter didn’t interest her.

“Divorce would be a tremendous scandal,” Paithan continued, sniffing at a flower he’d stuck in the buttonhole of his long, white linen lawn suit. Loosely made, the coat flowed over white linen pants, gathered at the ankles.

“Father’s money would hush it up.”

“The queen would have to grant it.”

“Father’s money would buy it.”

“Callie’d be furious.”

“No, she wouldn’t. She’d be too happy I was finally respectably married. Don’t worry about me, Brother, dear. You have worries of your own. Callie was looking for you this afternoon.”

“Was she?” Paithan asked, trying to appear unconcerned.

“Yes, and the expression on her face could have launched one of Father’s infernal devices.”

“Worse luck. Been talking to the guvnor, had she?”

“Yes, I think so. I didn’t say much. I didn’t want to get her started. I’d be there still. Something about a human priest? I—What in Orn’s name was that?”

“Thunder.” Paithan glanced up into the thick vegetation through which it was impossible to see the sky. “Storm must be coming. Drat. That means they’ll cancel the boating.”

“Nonsense. It’s far too early. Besides, I felt the ground tremble. Didn’t you?”

“Maybe it’s Callie, stalking me.” Paithan removed the flower from his buttonhole and began playfully tearing it up, tossing the petals in his sister’s lap.

“I’m so glad you find this amusing, Pait. Wait until she cuts your allowance. What is this about a human priest, anyway?”

Paithan settled himself on the bench, his eyes on the flower he was decapitating, his youthful face unusually serious. “When I came back from that last trip, Thea, I was shocked to see the change in Father. You and Callie don’t notice. You’re around him al! the time. But … he looked so … I don’t know … gray, I guess. And woebegone.”

Aleatha sighed. “You caught him in one of his more lucid moments.”

“Yes, and those damn rockets of his aren’t clearing the treetops, let alone coming close to the stars. He was going on and on about Mother … and you know how that is!”

“Yes. I know how that is.” Aleatha gathered the flower petals in her lap, unconsciously forming them into a miniature grave.

“I wanted to cheer him up, so I said the first jolly thing that popped into my mind. ‘Why not send for a human priest?’ I said. They know an awfully lot about the stars, ’cause that’s where they think they come from. Claim that the stars are really cities and all that rot. Well”—Paithan appeared modestly pleased with himself—“it perked the old boy right up. I hadn’t seen him so excited since the day his rocket flew into the city and blew up the garbage dump.”

“It’s all very well for you, Pait!” Aleatha irritably scattered her flowers to the wind. “You get to go off on another one of your trips. But Callie and I will have to live with the brute! That lecherous old astrologer of Father’s is bad enough without this.”

“I’m sorry, Thea. I really didn’t think.” Paithan sounded and felt truly ashamed. The one bright spark that burned in all of Quindiniars was their love and affection for each other—an affection that, unfortunately, did not extend to the rest of the world.

Reaching out, Paithan took his sister’s hand in his and squeezed it. “Besides, no human priest will ever come. I know them, you see and—” The moss bed rose up suddenly beneath their feet and then settled back down. The bench on which they were sitting shook and shivered, a pronounced rippling effect marred the smooth and placid surface of the lake. A rumbling sound like thunder, which came from below rather than above, accompanied the ground’s shudder.

, “That wasn’t a storm,” said Aleatha, looking about in alarm. Shouts and screams could be heard in the distance.

Paithan rose to his feet, his expression suddenly grave. “I think, Thea, that we had better move back to the house.” He gave his hand to his sister. Aleatha moved with calm alacrity, gathering her flowing skirts around her in unruffled haste.

“What do you think it is?”

“I haven’t the vaguest idea,” Paithan answered, hurrying through the garden.

“Ah, Durndrun! What’s this? Some new form of party game?”

“I only wish it were!” The lord appeared considerably harried. “It’s sent a big crack through the dining room wall and frightened Mother into hysterics.” The rumbling began again, this time stronger. The ground bucked and quivered. Paithan staggered back against a tree. Aleatha, pale but composed, clung to a hanging vine. Lord Durndrun toppled over, and was almost struck by a falling piece of statuary. The quake lasted for as long as a man might draw three deep breaths, then ceased. A strange smell wafted up from the moss—the smell of chill, dank dampness. The smell of darkness. The smell of something that lives in the darkness.

Paithan moved to help the lord to his feet.

“I think,” said Durndrun in an undertone meant for Paithan’s ears alone, “that we should arm ourselves.”

“Yes,” agreed Paithan, glancing askance at his sister and keeping his voice low. “I was about to suggest that myself.”

Aleatha heard and understood. Fear tingled through her, a rather pleasant sensation. It was certainly adding interest to what she had expected to be an otherwise boring evening.

“If you gentlemen will excuse me,” she said, adjusting the brim of her hat to best advantage, “I will go to the house and see if I may be of assistance to the dowager.”

“Thank you, Mistress Quindiniar. I would appreciate it. How brave she is,” Lord Dumdrun added, watching Aleatha walking fearlessly alone toward the house. “Half the other women are shrieking and flinging themselves about and the other half have dropped over in a dead faint. Your sister is a remarkable woman!”

“Yes, isn’t she,” said Paithan, who saw that his sister was enjoying herself immensely. “What weapons have you got?”

Hastening toward the house, the lord glanced at the young elf running along beside him. “Quindiniar”—Durndrun edged nearer, took him by the arm—“you don’t think this has anything to do with those rumors you told us of the other night. You know, the ones about … er … giants?”

Paithan appeared slightly shamefaced. “Did I mention giants? By Orn, that was strong wine you were serving that night, Durndrun!”

“Perhaps those rumors aren’t rumors, after all,” said Durndrun grimly. Paithan considered the nature of the rumbling sounds, the smell of darkness. He shook his head. “I think we’re going to wish we were facing giants, my lord. I’d enjoy a human bedtime story right about now.” The two arrived at the house, where they began going over the catalog of his lordship’s armaments. Other male members of the party joined them, shouting and proclaiming and carrying on in an hysterical manner not much better than that of their women, to Paithan’s mind. He was regarding them with a mixture of amusement and impatience when he became aware that they were all regarding him and they were extraordinarily serious.

“What do you think we should do?” asked Lord Durndrun.

“I—I—really—” Paithan stammered, looking around at the group of thirty members of the elven nobility in confusion. “I mean, I’m certain you—”

“Come, come, Quindiniar!” snapped Lord Durndrun. “You’re the only one of us who’s been in the outside world. You’re the only one with experience in this sort of thing. We need a leader and you’re it.”

And if something happens, you’ll have me to blame for it, Paithan thought but didn’t say, though a wry smile flitted across his lips.

The rumbling began again, strong enough this time to knock many of the elves to their knees. Screams and wails came from the women and children who had been herded into the house for safety. Paithan could hear crashing and breaking tree limbs in the jungle, the raucous cawing of startled birds.

“Look! Look at that! In the lake!” came a hoarse cry from one of the lords standing on the fringes of the crowd.

All turned and stared. The lake’s waters were heaving and boiling and, out of the middle, snaking upward, could be seen the shining scales of an enormous green body. A portion of the body surfaced, then slithered under.

“Ah, I thought so,” murmured Paithan.

“A dragon!” cried Lord Durndrun. He clutched at the young elf. “My god, Quindiniar! What do we do?”

“I think,” said Paithan with a smile, “that we should all go inside and have what will probably be our last drink.”