The Elves of Cintra

CHAPTER TEN

KIRISIN SLIPPED BACK through the underground tunnel steps behind Erisha and Culph, each of them lost in thought. They kept silent for two reasons–to avoid risking discovery, and to give space to ponder what they had just heard. They would talk of it later, when they could do so safely. Kirisin kept think–ing that what hadn't been said was almost as important as what had. Erisha's father had been very careful not to disclose that he had both discouraged and delayed Kirisin's efforts to act on what the Ellcrys had asked. He had also been very careful not to reveal anything about his daughter's involvement. None of it felt right to him now, reflecting back. Everything he had heard made him uneasy.

When they reached the Belloruus home, he said good night to the other two, slipped back out the door, and headed home. It was too dan–gerous for him to remain longer when it was likely the King would be returning. They couldn't afford to do anything that would risk giving away what they were up to. He would see Erisha at sunrise when they rose to fulfill their daily duties as Chosen, and they would talk then.

Even so, Kirisin thought about nothing else as he walked back through the trees toward his house. The coming of the Knight of the Word and the tatterdemalion was all the proof he needed to confirm that the Ellcrys was not mistaken in believing that she and the Elves were in danger. If there was one thing of which Kirisin was now con–vinced, it was that he needed to act swiftly on her plea for help. Espe–cially pressing was the need to find the missing Elfstones. They had seemed so close to doing so only hours earlier–he and Erisha and old Culph, searching Ashenell–that he could not bring himself to believe it had been wasted effort. A fresh start was needed, a new approach perhaps, but giving up at this point was out of the question.

He pondered again the King's reticence, trying to divine its source. There was something happening with Arissen Belloruus that none of them understood, something that was making him act in a way that was foreign to his character. That he was suspicious of Angel Perez was not surprising; most Elves were suspicious of humans. But his reaction in this instance seemed wildly against reason. That the tatterdemalion had confronted him with the truth about what he knew–about Kirisin, in particular–was the only reason he had revealed anything. All this time, the King had kept everything Kirisin had told him to him–self; he had not discussed it with a single member of the High Council. Nor, it appeared, had he acted on it in any way.

The wind gusted sharply across his heated face, causing him to flinch at the contact. There was a chill in the air that didn't belong to the season, one that mirrored the chill in his heart. Despite himself; he glanced around uneasily. This was his home, the only home he had ever known. He had spent his entire life here. He knew all of its roads and trails, most of its families, and many of its secrets. There was nowhere he could go that he would not feel he was in familiar territory.

Yet tonight Arborlon seemed a strange and unwelcoming place; he, an intruder who did not belong and might even be at risk.

He trudged on, hunching his shoulders, glancing left and right into the shadows, searching for things that he knew were not there, but that his instincts warned him might appear anyway.

When he reached his home, lights shone from within and Simralin was back on the porch steps, waiting. She was not alone. Angel Perez and the tatterdemalion, Ailie, were waiting with her.

He brushed his windblown hair from his eyes, gathered himself for what he already knew lay ahead, and marched up to his sister. "Kind of late for visitors, Sim," he said.

"Later than you think," she answered, stony–faced. "But they have something to say that you need to hear. Come up and sit down."

He did as she asked, settling himself in one of the old high–backed wicker chairs facing across the porch to where the Knight and the tat–terdemalion sat. He remembered how the latter had looked at him with such intensity several hours earlier, the way she had seemed to recognize him even though they had never met. Now, as Angel re–peated everything that had taken place in the Council chambers, he was reminded of it. Ailie had known that the Ellcrys had spoken with him, that he had been asked to provide her help. Otherwise, she could not have used his name before the King as she had.

While Angel spoke, mostly repeating what he already knew from eavesdropping behind the Council chamber walls, he studied her. He had heard of Knights of the Word from Simralin, knew what they did and how important it was. He had formed images of them in his mind, their physical characteristics, the strength of presence they would exude. Yet Angel was not that much older than he was, baby–faced and not very big at all. She was more girl than woman, more child than grown. She held the black staff of her order, carved end–to–end with runes, in a loose, casual fashion, yet he could not mistake the posses–siveness of her grip. He found her odd, a human who seemed less so than she ought to, a Knight of the Word who seemed too young to be anything of the sort.

When Angel was finished, she asked Kirisin if he would tell them in turn what he knew. He did so, even though he had doubts about reveal–ing that he had been hiding on the other side of the walls with Erisha and old Culph when they were brought before the King and the High Council. It wasn't that he didn't want the Knight of the Word to know; he was concerned that revealing their presence to anyone might in some way put his two friends in danger. It was an irrational fear, but he couldn't pretend that it wasn't there.

Nevertheless, he told the others everything, including what had transpired when the Ellcrys had spoken to him in the gardens. He told them how he had gone to the King in opposition to the advice of the other Chosen, how the King had lied to him, how he had subsequently confronted Erisha about what she was hiding, and how the two of them had made a pact to join forces. He told them how old Culph had discovered him with Erisha in the archives and decided to help, as well. He gave a brief description of how the three of them had searched the grave sites at Ashenell to find the marker for Pancea Rolt Cruer, where they believed from the entries in her scribe's journal that the blue Elf–stones might be hidden.

"We found nothing," he concluded, "even after searching for the better part of an entire afternoon. But we intend to go back for another look the day after tomorrow. Maybe we will have better luck."

"So you cannot leave Arborlon and the Cintra without the Ellcrys?" Angel asked.

"If we leave, we are abandoning her to her fate. She has no defenses against humans or demons and their weapons. She would be destroyed in the conflagration you have come to warn us about."

"In which case, the demons trapped within the Forbidding, the ones from the old world of Faerie, would be set free?"

"If the Forbidding fails, that would happen."

"They would join with those demons already at work destroying what remains of our world?"

He nodded. "We can't leave her. We have to find the Elfstones that can save her."

Angel shook her head. "I don't understand why there is any debate about this. I don't see why your King isn't already out hunting for the Elfstones, doing everything he can to find them. It doesn't matter whether he knows where they can be found; he should be doing some–thing. What possible reason could he have for not wanting to act on what you have told him, let alone what we are asking?"

Kirisin looked down at his feet and scuffed at the porch floor–boards. "Erisha and I have asked ourselves that question repeatedly. We still don't have an answer. Not even Culph understands."

"The King is not himself these days," Simralin said quietly. "You said so yourself, Little K. Everyone sees that he has changed, and no one can explain the reason for it."

"Well, we have to find a way to persuade him to do the right thing,"

Kirisin insisted. "It doesn't matter if he's himself or not, he's the King. Personal problems can't be allowed to get in the way of a King's duties. His foremost obligation is to protect his people and his city. He can't do that if he lets anything happen to the Ellcrys."

They were all silent for a moment, pondering the King's behavior. Then Angel said, "There is another problem you need to know about." "Angel," Ailie said in warning.

Angel nodded. "I know. We take a risk in telling anyone. But we need allies to find out who it is, Ailie."

The tatterdemalion sat back against the side of the house, her pres–ence wraithlike and fluid in the moonlight. She seemed more a child than either Kirisin or Angel, small and delicate and gauzy. "Tell them, then," she said.

"There was a demon in the Council chambers tonight," Angel said. She glanced from brother to sister and back again. "Ailie sensed its pres–ence, even though I could not. The Elves have been compromised."

Simralin leaned forward. "Are you sure, Ailie?"

The tatterdemalion nodded. "I am. Its stench was so strong that it permeated not only the Council chambers, but also the anteroom out–side where we waited on the King."

"Who is it?" Kirisin asked.

Ailie shook her head. "I cannot be sure. I would know if I were alone with it, but in a room full of people, I cannot separate it out. The demon wears a disguise. It is a changeling in the true sense, able to take on any appearance. Most demons possess changeling aspects, but only a few can actually transform completely. This is one."

Again, they were silent for a moment. "Could it be the King?" Kirisin asked finally. "I know none of us wants to think it, but is it pos–sible?"

Angel nodded. "It is. And that would be very bad. We need the King to help us if we are to succeed in our efforts to persuade the Elves to leave the Cintra."

"But couldn't it just as easily be Basselin?" Simralin offered. "You said he went out of his way to insist that the other ministers shouldn't listen to anything any of you had to say. He called Kirisin a boy, and he said humans weren't to be trusted. He was insistent about it. And as first minister, he has the King's ear. A demon would be clever enough to persuade the King to do nothing."

Kirisin shook his head stubbornly. "But it's the King who has been acting strangely, who hasn't seemed himself If he were a demon, that would explain it. He's been the strongest voice against doing anything. He tried to keep Erisha from talking, and then he tried to stop me, as well. He has done everything he can to keep us from getting involved in helping the Ellcrys. A demon would do that."

"Perhaps." Ailie's frail form rippled against the wall, a liquid white ghost. "But above all, a demon would do whatever was necessary to hide its identity and shift suspicion to someone else. The King seems too obvious a choice."

"Only to us," said Kirisin. "Only because we know what we are looking for. No one else knows about a demon presence." He shook his head. "Are you sure about the demon? Is it possible that you were mis–taken? A demon living among us just doesn't seem possible. How long would it have been here? Why would it have come in the first place?"

Angel rocked back in her chair. "A demon might not have come here originally for the purpose of destroying the Ellcrys. It might have come just to spy on the Elves. It could have killed whomever it changed itself into and taken that person's place, then waited to see what damage it could do. It could have been living among you for years, maybe even decades. Demons are crafty and insidious. This one might be trying to destroy the Ellcrys, but it might have another, more complex plan, too."

Another plan, Kirisin repeated silently. What other plan? What could a demon do that would be worse than destroying the Ellcrys and setting free the creatures imprisoned within the Forbidding? He couldn't come up with anything, the prospect too frightening to bring into clear focus.

"What do we do?" he asked the others.

Simralin shifted forward from where she was sitting, her smooth features coming into the light. "Put Ailie alone with Arissen Belloruus first and then with Basselin to see if either is the demon."

"That would be very dangerous," Angel objected. "Even if I was there, she would be at risk.

Demons are very powerful."

"But Simralin is right," Ailie said suddenly. "We have to know."

"What I think we have to do is find those Elfstones," Kirisin de–clared. "I kept thinking we would find them today. I still don't know why we didn't. I think we are missing something, but I don't know what it is."

No one said anything for a moment, then Simralin asked, "Who is it you are looking for again?"

"Pancea Rolt Cruer. She was Queen after her husband died, cen–turies ago. There are Cruers in Ashenell, but there is no marker for her." Kirisin hesitated. "What are you thinking, Sim?"

His sister shrugged. "Well, you said she was a Cruer. But that was her married name. Maybe she wasn't buried under her married name. What was her family name before she married?"

Kirisin blinked. "I don't know. It never occurred to me. We could have been looking for her under the wrong name this whole time." He straightened, excited. "I'll tell Erisha tomorrow. She can ask Culph, and he can look for her birth name in the histories. Once we have that, we can search Ashenell again."

"I don't think you should go back there alone," Angel said quickly. "Ailie isn't mistaken about the demon. It's there, among the Elves, and now it knows about you. If it finds out what you are doing, it won't be safe for you or anyone who tries to help you. If you go back, I should go with you."

She stood abruptly, walked over to where he sat, and knelt beside him. "Kirisin. Listen carefully to me. You are in great danger. The demons are ruthless, and they will kill a boy like you without thinking twice. Madre de Dios. Tell me. Have the Elves really lost all their magic? Do you have none of it left? Not even you, who are a Chosen of the Ellcrys? You have no way to protect yourself? No magic to call upon?"

"It was all lost centuries ago," Kirisin answered. "The Elves have the ability to hide and not be found. We have healing skills. We have the means to care for the land and the things that live and grow on her, but not much else." He shook his head. "I wish we did."

Simralin rose and touched Angel on the shoulder. "We can't do any–thing more tonight. I have to take you back before someone finds that you are missing. We don't want to have them thinking you are doing anything but awaiting the King's pleasure."

They clustered together on the porch for a moment in the pale moonlight, and the Elves and the Knight clasped hands.

"I'm glad you've come," Kirisin said impulsively.

Angel's face was dark with misgiving. "Just be careful, Kirisin. Step lightly."

THE WOLFISH BEAST that had been Delloreen and was now some–thing almost wholly different slouched along the fringes of the Elven city, following the scent of the prey it sought. It no longer cared whom it hunted or even why. It barely remembered its purpose in doing so. All that mattered to it now was satisfying its need. All that mattered was finding and destroying the thing it hunted.

It had tracked her all the way here, a long and arduous hunt during which it had lost the scent any number of times. But it had persevered, searching and searching some more until the scent was recovered and the tracking begun anew. It had eaten and drunk what it could find along the way so as not to lose its strength, but had not slept. Sleep was a luxury for which it had no use. Nothing could be allowed to slow it down.

Now it was arrived at this city, this habitat of creatures it instinc–tively knew to be prey. It could kill them all at its leisure; they would provide it with days and weeks and even months of enjoyment. But first it must find the one it had hunted for so long, the one it must kill before it could rest easy. There was no reasoning involved in its assess–ment; it was acting on instinct and hunger. It was acting on a mix of feral and demon needs.

It was closing on its prey, the scent growing fresher, and then sud–denly it encountered a new and different scent, one that was both un–expected and immediately recognizable. The scent was of another demon, another of its own kind. That it should surface here, in this place so deep in the wilderness and far removed from the human pop–ulation, surprised it. Thrilled by its discovery and anxious to learn why another demon would be here, it began to track this new scent. It could not explain its lure, but neither could it resist. Forgotten momentarily was its need to hunt the prey it had tracked with such single–minded diligence. All that mattered now was this new obsession.

It padded through the trees, another of night's shadows, staying off the paths and trails, keeping clear of the creatures that lived there. It must not draw attention to itself, it knew. Secrecy was necessary. Even fighting through the fog of its diminished reasoning, it knew that much. Hunting was mostly reactive; your instincts told you what was needed.

It was approaching a house, one that was set well back into the woods, half buried in the forest earth, when it became aware of the other demon. The newcomer approached unhurriedly, not bothering to hide its presence, its footfalls confident and determined. Delloreen stopped and waited, dark muzzle lifted to catch the other's scent.

"My, my, aren't you a beautiful thing," a voice soothed, a disembod–ied presence in the darkness.

The demon stepped into the light and gazed with passionate inter–est into Delloreen's yellow eyes, a smile lighting its face. Its hands clasped in unmistakable joy. "I have seen so few others in my time here," it whispered. "But you–you are beyond my most ardent expec–tations? Look at you, pretty thing? Such grace and power?" The voice trailed off. "What's this? You have shape–changed recently, haven't you? There are still traces of your human form, bits and pieces showing through the new skin you wear so well. But only traces, and not much of those. Your human self is almost gone, dispatched for the weakness and the burden it is. Yes. Better to be what you are than what I am, trapped in something so loathsome."

Delloreen would have purred had she been able, but settled for a contented growl. This other demon had awakened something in her, a need she had not even known was there, a longing. It was why she had sought it out, she realized. This demon was a missing part of her; find–ing it made her feel unexplainably complete.

"Sweet thing," it whispered to her and held out its hand.

She surprised herself by nuzzling it. She surprised herself further by finding pleasure in its touch.

"Where have you come from?" The hand withdrew, not presuming to linger, leaving Delloreen unexpectedly bereft. "You track the Knight of the Word and the tatterdemalion, don't you? What did they do that would cause you to hunt them so assiduously? You have come a long way. I can tell. You have chased them. Have you done battle with the Knight?"

Delloreen whined, a low, rough sound.

"Oh, more than once, it seems. Before you were what you are now, and not so magnificent. Your change is too recent for it to be more than a few days old. But now you are so much more powerful than you were, and when you find the Knight of the Word this time …"

The voice trailed off, the intended finish unmistakable. Delloreen could picture it in her mind, could see the rending of her prey's flesh, could feel it tearing in her jaws. She could hear the sound of breaking bones and horrified screams.

"But for now," said the other, breaking into her thoughts, "you must come with me. If you are seen, they will hunt you down and destroy you. They could not do so separately, but in force they are too many. I should know. I have been hiding for years—a recognizable presence among them, yet so much more than they know–and I have learned to be careful."

The demon put its hand on the top of her head, a soft and gentle touch that lingered and was gone too quickly. "We will hide and wait for the right time. It will not be long, pretty one. The Knight of the Word and her Faerie companion present a danger that we must elimi–nate. My plans for the Elves and their precious tree and all the rest that they think so important are falling into place as I intended they should. Those who would expose us will be our unwitting accomplices. We will see the end of them all before another cycle of the moon."

Delloreen growled softly, indicating her pleasure and her wishes. "Yes, you may kill the Knight. You may kill them all when I am done with them. The killing belongs to you; it is your province and your right. Their lives are yours to take. But not now. Not yet. We must let them fulfill their uses first."

The night breezes blew across Delloreen's scaly hide, and she felt herself ripple in response. She could be patient for this one. She was a hunter, and all hunters understood patience. If this one asked for hers, she would give it.

She could not understand the lure this demon held for her, could not grasp why it made her feel so anxious to do what was asked. There was power here that she could not fathom. It transcended that wielded by the old man she had left behind, the one whose name she no longer remembered and whose face had become an unrecognizable blur. Physical power was hers to employ, but this other power held a strange allure. She longed to be in its presence, to bask in its glow.

"Come now," the other demon whispered. "We will sleep. You have come far, and you are tired. Rest will make you even stronger, even more formidable. I have a place where you will be safe, where we can be together." It touched her again, more boldly this time. "I have much to share with you, pretty thing. I have waited for you a long time."

Delloreen could not understand what it meant, but she was suffi–ciently seduced that she didn't care. This was one of her own, a demon spawn, a creature of the Void.

She went willingly.