The Elves of Cintra

CHAPTER NINE

ERISHA DRAGGED KIRISIN along at such a rapid pace that he found himself practically running to keep up with her. He had never seen her so determined, and he knew better than to question her until he had some idea of where they were going. They were coming up on the Belloruus family home, which sat back from the High Council buildings at a distance of perhaps a hundred yards. The windows of the home were dark and the grounds empty of every–thing but shadows. It appeared that this was Erisha's destination.

A member of the Home Guard materialized out of thin air, took note of who they were, nodded to Erisha in polite acknowledgment, and then vanished again.

"What are you doing?" Kirisin demanded. "You let that guard see me! He'll tell your father I was here!

"I'll tell him myself," she snapped. "Stop worrying, Kirisin. I don't have to answer to my father for everything?"

Kirisin made no response. This was a different Erisha than from even as little as forty–eight hours ago, no longer tentative and afraid, no longer caught up in the ritual of being her father's obedient daughter. Instead she had developed a strength and determination that suggested there wasn't anything she wouldn't do to assert her independence. It was a complete turnaround, and he wasn't sure what to make of it.

She led him to the same side door she had brought him through the night before when they were searching the Elven histories for mention of the Elfstones. Without pausing, she yanked it open and pulled him after her.

"Did you find him?" a voice demanded angrily.

It came from somewhere back in the darkness, and Kirisin jumped and was ready to bolt until he recognized the voice as Culph's.

"He was trying to get into the Council chambers with help from his sister," Erisha answered. She continued pulling Kirisin forward. "Hurry up! We haven't much time."

They picked their way through the house without using lights, Kirisin following his cousin blindly. He could just make out Culph's bent shape as the old man led the way through the gloom, a spectral figure muttering to himself

"Culph was there when Maurin Ortish came to tell my father of the arrival of the Knight and the tatterdemalion," Erisha whispered. "He overheard everything, including their reason for coming to Arbor–lon. So he took a chance and tried to persuade my father that it was time to tell the members of the High Council about the Ellcrys. He kept what he knew about you to himself, but made a strong argument about me. My father refused to listen. So Culph found me. He said we wouldn't be allowed into the Council chambers, but there was another way.

"Another way?" Kirisin peered at her through the darkness. "What way is that?"

"An underground tunnel connects the house to the chambers," Culph answered from out of the darkness. "It's been there for centuries. Mostly it was used as a way to allow the Kings and Queens to enter the chambers without being seen." He chuckled drily. "But it gives those of us who know about it a way in, too."

"The tunnel ends at a concealed door that opens into the chambers through a section of the wall," Erisha picked up. "But just before you go through, there is a small viewing area that allows anyone using the tun–nel a way to peek into the chambers first to see who is there. It looks out from right behind and to one side of the dais on which the King sits and around which the High Council gathers. If we can get to it without being caught, we can overhear everything that's said."

They continued on through the darkness to the meeting rooms at the back of the house and entered a small chamber off the entry that ended at a windowless alcove. Culph, still leading, stepped into the shelter of blank walls so deeply recessed they were barely visible in a faint wash of torchlight that seeped through a pair of narrow windows from the outside. He fumbled about for a moment, and Kirisin heard a catch release. Then the rear section of the alcove wall swung open, and Culph stepped through into the darkness beyond. He beckoned them to follow, closing the hidden door behind them.

A moment later, the old man had a smokeless torch lit, and they were descending a set of narrow steps into an even deeper gloom. At the bottom of the stairs, they found the tunnel and moved into it, the torch providing sufficient light to guide the way. The passageway wound on through the darkness, a rough–hewn corridor shored up by wooden beams and finished with plank flooring raised off the earth.

The walls and ceiling were mostly dirt and roots. The tunnel looked as if it had been there a long time, but someone had kept the roots cut back and the spiderwebs swept away. When Kirisin touched the earthen walls, he found them hard and dry and smooth. The air was close and stale, but breathable. Even so, it reminded him of the crypts at Ashenell, and he was anxious to get clear.

The tunnel ended at a second set of steps leading up. Culph turned and put a finger to his lips in warning. They climbed the stairs silently, and as they neared the top a sliver of light became visible in the dis–tance. Culph extinguished the smokeless torch, and they ascended the last several steps in darkness and crept forward toward the light. The outlines of a door grew faintly visible; to one side, cut horizontally in the wall, was a narrow slit.

When they reached the slit, they could just see through to where the members of the High Council were seated in chairs at the foot of a dais. The King sat atop the dais, the back and right side of his tall frame just visible. Simralin stood at the foot of the dais, facing the King and the Council. Maurin Ortish had positioned himself off to one side, dark face impassive. Angel Perez and Ailie were waiting back near the cham–ber entry in the company of a pair of Home Guards.

The King was speaking.

"THERE IS NO PRECEDENT for what you have done, Simralin,” Arissen Belloruus was saying. "You know that outsiders–and humans, in particular–are not allowed inside our home city. Never allowed inside. You know why this is so: our survival depends to a very great extent on being able to maintain the secrecy of our existence. If there are no ex–ceptions, there is no risk."

He paused for effect, and then made an expansive gesture toward Angel and Ailie. "But we have never had a Knight of the Word or a tat–terdemalion seek admission. Faerie creatures and others who serve the Word are rumored to share our concerns for the well–being of the land and her creatures. They do not come to us as enemies; they come as friends. Bringing them here, in this instance, must have seemed to you to be the right thing to do. Circumstances sometimes force us to make exceptions to the rules. I am inclined to think that this is the case here. Your decision is judged a reasonable one, Simralin, and your actions ap–propriate."

He paused, waiting for her response, his gaze steady.

"Thank you, High Lord," she acknowledged.

He nodded. "You are dismissed, Simralin. Wait outside."

Angel, who was watching closely, realized at once from the flicker of surprise that crossed the Tracker's smooth face that this was not what she was expecting. Having been invited in at the beginning of things, she was expecting to be allowed to remain until the end. But this Elven King, this Arissen Belloruus, was used to controlling things, to making sure that those around him were never entirely certain of where they stood. She had seen it in the faces of the Council members when she had entered the room–in their furtive glances and their unmistakable deference. This was a strong king–as he would be quick to remind those who came before him. Dismissing Simralin so abruptly was an obvious example.

The Tracker bowed without a word and went out through the Council chamber doors. She did not look back.

The King turned his attention to Angel and Ailie. "Come," he di–rected, gesturing for them to rise and approach.

Angel, with Ailie beside her, walked forward. She had bathed and changed into clean clothes, her own so badly soiled and torn that the Elves had simply thrown them away. She found she liked the Elven clothing, which was soft and loose fitting and gave her a freedom of movement that she found reassuring. Her wounds, cleaned and bound with bandages and treated with Elven medicines, did not hurt as much as before. She felt oddly new, standing there; she felt a kind of physical reemergence.

She took a deep breath as she faced the King and the members of the Council. She was still trying hard not to stare–at their Elven ears and brows and narrow–featured faces. She was trying hard to pretend that they were simply humans of a different sort. But she could not ig–nore what Ailie had told her of their history, a history that could be traced back to a time before humans even existed and in which magic and mythical creatures were real and alive.

Nor could she forget Ailie's warning to her earlier this evening about what she could expect would happen.

Remember that you will appear less strange to them than they do to you, the tatterdemalion had told her while they were still alone. They have studied you in your world while you have been shut out of theirs. They dislike and mistrust humans. They believe that humans stole their world from them and then ruined it. Your status as a Knight of the Word will not make them forget entirely the nature of your origins. They will use your un–certainty about them against you. They will try to keep you on the defen–sive. Be aware of their intentions.

She was, but she was also uncertain about how to deal with them. At least she could understand their language. Ailie had told her that she would be able to do so because of the magic bequeathed to her by the Word through her staff, and so far the tatterdemalion had been right.

"You may present yourselves to the members of the High Council," the King ordered.

She had given their names already to both Simralin and Maurin Or–tish, so Arissen Belloruus could have presented them himself But he was after something more. He wanted them to understand clearly that he expected them to do what they were told. He wanted to make cer–tain that they understood he would not tolerate any form of resistance to his commands.

He was testing them as he tested everyone.

Fair enough, she decided. She would do whatever was needed.

"I am Angel Perez," she replied, straightening slightly, her dark eyes locking on the King's. "I am a Knight of the Word. My companion is a tatterdemalion. She is called Ailie."

The King leaned back comfortably in his chair, not inviting them to sit. "We have allowed you to come into our city despite the rules that forbid it," he declared. "You know this from hearing my comments to Simralin. We have allowed this because of who you are and because we are led to believe that your coming to Arborlon is of great importance. Now is the time for you to reassure us that this is so."

The King was a big, strong man with handsome features and a smooth, commanding voice. He used that voice and size both to intim–idate and to reassure. Angel had seen how effective he could be when he had dressed down Simralin. He would attempt to do the same thing with her. But she was a child of the streets and a survivor of far worse than anything the King had encountered. She would be stronger than he was.

"We have been sent to you by the Word," she said, addressing her remarks not to the King, but to the Council. "That is our first and most important reassurance."

"The Word did not speak to us of this," the King declared quickly. "The Word does not speak to us at all," added another man. He was stooped and hawk–faced, and he did not smile.

"Perhaps not directly and not in the way you would expect," Angel replied. "Nevertheless, the Word watches over you and cares for you. That is why we have been sent as messengers. The Elves are in great danger. The world outside the Cintra is changing. The demons and their followers are winning the war against the human race and seek to destroy it. Worse, they would destroy the world itself It is necessary for you to protect yourselves if you are to survive. To do this, you must leave the Cintra and go to a safer place, one where the destruction else–where will not impact the future of your race."

"Leave the Cintra?" the Council member who had spoken before interjected in disbelief "On the basis of what you are telling us and nothing more? That is ridiculous!"

"Enough, Basselin!" Arissen Belloruus cut off anything else the man might have wanted to say. He turned back to Angel. "You will under–stand, lady Knight of the Word, if we are hesitant to believe this. Hu–mans are the ones who have destroyed the world, acting foolishly and recklessly at every opportunity. Demons have prodded such actions, but humans have carried them out. We have stayed safe by staying where we are. Now you tell us we are to leave? Are you going to tell us where it is we are expected to go?"

"We do not know that," Angel answered.

Arissen Belloruus looked at her as he might look at a difficult child. "Very well. You have delivered your message and fulfilled your purpose in coming to us. We will discuss the matter and make our decision. You are free to go."

Angel shook her head. "There is more. In order for you to leave the Cintra, you will need the use of an Elfstone called a Loden. We are sent to help you find that Elfstone."

There was stunned silence. No one seemed willing to say anything, even the King, whose expression suggested that he was deciding if he wanted this discussion to go further. "We have no Loden Elfstone," he said finally. Then, as if realizing he was simply reaffirming what Angel had already said, he added, "No Elfstones of any kind. They have all been lost for centuries. There is no way of knowing what happened to them."

"Perhaps there is," Ailie said suddenly, her small voice surprisingly strong in the large chamber. "Perhaps one among you already knows a way."

She might be guessing or she might know something that she had not told Angel. But the look on the King's face, at once dark and angry and startled, was a clear indication that one or the other was true.

He knew more than he was giving away to anyone in this room, and now everyone realized it.

"Historically," said another of the Council members, an older man who spoke not to the King, but to Angel, "the Loden Elfstone was meant to protect the Ellcrys in time of danger. The legend, as recorded in my own family's journals, says the Loden possesses magic that will allow it to encapsulate the tree and keep it safe while it is being moved."

Now everyone was looking at the King. "Old tales of an older time," Arissen Belloruus declared dismissively. "We cannot rely on such tales, Ordanna Frae. You, of all people, should know that."

"What I know," said the other, turning slightly toward him, "is that the tales have more than one source. We should not dismiss out of hand the possibility that they reveal an important truth. Much of our lore comes to us in the form of old stories and legends written down in pri–vate letters. These are not necessarily the writer's invention alone."

"Nevertheless, it would be foolish and reckless to act on what these messengers tell us without further proof," interjected Basselin, leaning forward suddenly in his seat. "We have no way of testing the truth of their stories. They may believe what they are saying, but they may also be hiding something from us."

There was a muttering of agreement from a few of the other Coun–cil members, and the King pointed suddenly at Angel. "You say you are here to help us find the Loden Elfstone. How do you propose to do that? Do you know something of its location? Does the Word give you insights that we lack?"

Angel hesitated, and it was Ailie who answered. "The insights you require are to be found among your own people, High Lord. They are to be found among the Chosen."

Arissen Belloruus flushed a dark red, and for a moment Angel thought that Ailie had gone too far. Again, this was nothing the tatter–demalion had spoken about to her before, so she wasn't sure why her words were so disturbing to the King, but clearly they were.

"The young boy you sent away," Ailie continued. "Kirisin. He knows."

Now the Council members were all turning toward the King, their muttered questions and exclamations tumbling over one another as they sought to make sense of what they were hearing. It wasn't the tat–terdemalion's words that caused this response, Angel realized. The words, while startling, would not of themselves provoke. It was instead something in the way they were spoken, something in Ailie's voice, that had broken through the wall of reticence that held the High Council in thrall to the King and set them free to question him.

"Be silent!" Arissen Belloruus roared suddenly, leaping to his feet. The members of the Council went still, and the King came forward a few steps on the dais toward Angel and Ailie, a menacing look on his strong features. "Kirisin Belloruus, the son of my cousin and his wife, the brother of Simralin, is a well–loved boy, a friend of my daughter, and a Chosen in service to the Ellcrys. He has indeed spoken to me of this, something I chose not to bring before the Council."

He paused for effect. "And for good reason. He believes he knows something, but he cannot offer any proof to support his belief He came to me with a story similar to the one you tell, messengers of the Word. He told me that the Ellcrys had asked him to find the Loden Elf–stone and to place the tree within it. An old magic, apparently. Magic long since lost to us. But no one else heard this admonition. More to the point, the Ellcrys does not speak to anyone except in the time of her choosing. Kirisin could not explain why she had done so now. He was certain he had heard correctly, but he had nothing to offer in the way of proof I did not believe him, nor did any of the other Chosen."

His jaw tightened. "But I am King, and I know my duty. I told him that acting on his word alone, without other proof, was insufficient to persuade the High Council to his cause. I told him I would research the matter. Culph, who has served as our historian for years, was dis–patched in an effort to find in the Elven histories the answers to the questions Kirisin posed. He found nothing. There was barely any men–tion of the Elfstones. All that is magic, all the talismans that were once so vital to our people, belong to the past. We know this. No one who has lived in the last two thousand years has seen an Elfstone. Or if they have, they have kept it to themselves because there is nothing of con–sequence written about any of it. What we have are private journals of the sort kept by our minister of public works." He nodded toward Ordanna Frae. "Some of those entries are an accurate recording and some are not. Some are simply wishful thinking. What helps us determine which is which is whether or not there is confirmation of these entries anywhere in our official histories."

Again he paused. "In this case, there is none."

"My Lord," Basselin interrupted quickly. "May I speak?"

The King nodded. "You may, First Minister."

"I think we have heard quite enough," said the hawk–faced man. "Enough of speculation and wild imaginings. This business of a danger to the Ellcrys and the Elven nation appears to be based entirely on two sources—a boy barely old enough to know his place in our community and this human and her companion. The boy … well, he is just a boy. The young woman and her child companion are unknown to us. There is no hard evidence to confirm what any of them are telling us. We are being asked to change our entire way of life–to move from the Cintra, to uproot the Ellcrys, and to do who knows what else. Mostly on the word of this young woman. On the word of a human. A human, my lord. When humans have been the cause of so much misery and de–struction, I find it difficult to suddenly decide that perhaps this time they have something valuable to offer. I am skeptical of everything I have heard. I am opposed to acting on it."

He sat back again, his features flushed and angry. "We should all be opposed," he added, his eyes fixed on Angel.

The King nodded. "I am inclined to agree with my first minister," he said quietly.

"So you will do nothing?" Angel pressed.

The King glared at her, and then turned around, walked back to his chair, and sat down. He gestured at her in exasperation. "My first minis–ter makes a cogent point. Am I to accept without evidence of any sort that you speak the truth? That you are not yourselves deceived in some way? That the danger you describe actually exists? I did not accept it when Kirisin told me. Now that you have come to Arborlon, I grant that there is fresh reason to wonder if he might be right. But what are we to do about it? We still have no means of finding the Loden Elfstone."

"Perhaps a further search of your histories is needed," Angel offered. "Perhaps speaking with Kirisin again will help. What cannot be disputed is that the danger confronting the Elven people will not be avoided by ignoring that it exists. Something must be done, High Lord."

"It is not necessary, lady Knight of the Word, that you tell me my duty as King of the Elven people. I know it far better than you do. I will do what is needed, when it is needed."

He stared at her to make certain she understood, then added, "I will arrange for a further, more extensive search of the Elven histories and any other journals or papers that are in my possession. If any members of my Council are in a position to help, perhaps through a search of their own records, they are welcome to do so. We will reconvene in two days to examine what we have uncovered."

"High Lord," Angel said quickly. "I would like to speak with Kirisin myself If we compare what we know, perhaps between us we will un–earth something useful."

The King hesitated, his eyes reflecting his disapproval, and then he shrugged as if it didn't matter. "Very well. I will arrange it."

Some of the arrogance that had been so apparent earlier was gone, and the King seemed both troubled and uncertain. Angel understood something about the need to establish ground rules if you were a leader. She understood what it did to you, how it fostered both arro–gance and abrasiveness if you were not careful. She did not condemn him for his attitude; she merely wanted to understand what was driving it, and she believed it was something more than his position as King of the Elves.

"I am grateful, High Lord," she told him, and meant it.

He nodded. "I am granting you a latitude I would normally deny. But I want this matter resolved. If Kirisin can help, then I want you to find out how. Do whatever you feel you must."

He rose and gestured to the members of the High Council. "Enough discussion for tonight. This session is adjourned."

AS ANGEL AND AILIE followed Maurin Ortish out of the chambers and into the hallway beyond, Angel heard the King ask the members of the Council to stay for a few moments more to review what they had just heard. Angel understood immediately what that meant. The King would wait until they were safely out of earshot, and then declare pri–vately what he felt the Council really needed to do. It rankled her that he would do this when there was so much at stake. But Ailie had warned her that the Elves mistrusted all humans, and no matter her ex–alted title as a Knight of the Word, she was first and foremost a human. If the Elves believed that she was a detriment to their safety, no matter how much she might argue otherwise, they would probably try to find a way to remove her from the picture.

What she wondered was whether they were capable of doing her harm when she had done nothing to provoke it.

"Did you hear? They intend to work behind our backs," she whis–pered to Ailie as they stepped outside the Council buildings and into the cool night air. Ortish had gone on ahead, beckoning to Simralin, who stood waiting in the shadows to take them back to their quarters.

"It is much worse than you think," the tatterdemalion whispered back. Her eyes were depthless black pools as she bent closer to Angel, and her voice dropped farther still. "The Elves are already compro–mised."

Angel stopped where she was. "What do you mean?"

"There was a demon in the Council chambers."

"You saw it? I sensed nothing?"

Ailie shook her head. "I did not see it, but I smelled its stench. It wears an Elven disguise, so I cannot tell which of them it is. Apparently it is talented and clever enough to hide its presence from a Knight of the Word, but it cannot hide from a Faerie creature."

The tatterdemalion shivered suddenly, as if the admission chilled her to the bone. "It was there. It was one of them."