“Have you a private room?” I asked the innkeeper of The Star and the Ram.
“This way, my lady, my lord,” the man said, and ushered us into a private chamber behind the inn common room.
When we were seated, I eyed Lord Ystevan expectantly. I was definitely ready for something to drink. But the he-elf just sat there, looking at me with much the same expectant look I was giving him. I chewed my lip in frustration.
“Ah, can I get you anything, my lord?” prompted the innkeeper, after a few more moments of silence.
Lord Ystevan started slightly. “Ah…yes, of course. Tisane, please. Dandelion, if you have it.” He looked inquiringly at me and I nodded my agreement with this choice. He belatedly took out his purse, and I was relieved to see him tip the man enough to justify the use of the private room.
“Sorry,” he said distractedly, when the innkeeper was gone. “Amongst the Elfin it is always the she-elves who initiate hospitality, as you kn... Uh, well, sometimes I forget the human ways.”
I stared at him, fascinated by this snippet of information and eager to learn more...though his slip of the tongue suggested I knew already. Or had. Before...before he stole my memories. I couldn’t help frowning at him as I thought about it.
Yes, no wonder he was so wary. He was waiting for my fury to break against him. And the more I remembered, and the more I thought about what he’d done, the greater the anger that welled inside me. But...my father’s healing was more important. I couldn’t rage at him, no matter whether he deserved it or not.
Still, I found it hard to begin again. “What did you mean about dragons and creation?” I asked at last.
He was silent for a moment, clearly trying to link my question with what he’d said, and when, then his eyes cleared. “Oh, that’s a long story,” he said quietly. “I’d better not start on it now.” Something about the way he spoke made me suspect he’d told me it before.
I turned my mind to what I could remember, hoping more would come back to me. Surely I must have asked about my father very soon? Yes...I had...hadn’t I?
The following morning, Haliath brought me a large breakfast, in bed. I wasn’t entirely sure what everything was, but it was very tasty. There was an egg of some kind, various cooked roots, equally indeterminable, a piece of venison, and mushrooms, of which I could recognize the family but not the type on my plate.
Slightly embarrassed to be waited on in such a way, I tried to get up afterwards, but Haliath insisted on tucking me back in, ‘at least for the forenoon,’ as she put it. Having secured my acquiescence, she glided out, bearing my empty plate, and Ystevan took her place in the doorway and knocked on the doorframe.
“Uh. Come in,” I said, slightly flustered at this courteous behavior since the door was open—in so much as there was a door; it seemed to be a thick curtain—and it was his home. He entered, tall as I had suspected, and graceful as he came and perched on the edge of the bed.
He was dressed rather differently today. Instead of the fine attire of the day before, he wore plain clothes in browns and greens, with a pair of stout undyed boots. It reminded me of the sort of thing worn by gamekeepers and huntsmen. He still wore a sleeveless over-robe, buttoned at the front, but it was only knee length, and it was green. But he seemed exactly the same, it was just the clothes that were different. No sign of Eraldis, though.
“Good morning, Serapia,” he greeted me.
I felt pleased he remembered my name, for all it was not a hard one. “Good morning, Ystevan.”
He smiled as if he too, was pleased I had remembered his name, which was a hard one. Although, mine was perhaps as hard to him as his was to me.
“I trust you are well rested and further recovered?” he inquired.
I nodded, uncertain how I could introduce my reason for being there into the conversation.
“When you said you were kin to us,” he asked me, “did you mean Torr Elkyn specifically?”
“Torr Elkyn is...here?” He nodded, so I said, “Yes. We call this area Elfindale, and it belongs to my father. I mean,” I stumbled, blushing suddenly, “I'm sure he doesn’t claim right here, but generally, in human terms, he is the Duke, you see,” I managed, feeling that I was tying myself in knots, trying not to give offence.
Ystevan just smiled, looking more amused than anything, but he looked slightly surprised as well. “Your father is a Duke?”
“Yes,” I said, chin rising, “I am Lady Serapia Ravena, and he is Alban Serapion Ravena, the Duke of Elfindale. It was his great great grandfather who married the elfin lady.”
“Hmm, I wondered. It was before my time, but the match is still remembered here. You are certainly our kin.”
“Was the lady a relation of yours?”
“No, not of mine. She was of Clan Elendal. I am of Clan Valunis,” he added, with a smile. “Tell me, now that we have been more fully introduced,” he looked at me with a sharp, but friendly gaze, “why did you come here?”
I returned his gaze firmly. “I was looking for you. For the Elfin of Elfindale, that is.”
He nodded without any sign of surprise. “I thought as much.”
I couldn’t help remembering his sister’s words the previous day. “Is that why you let me wake up here? Instead of at the inn? Though I don’t see the point of putting me there. I would have had to come straight back up here.”
Ystevan laughed very softly. His gold-green eyes gleamed. “You would have woken up at the inn and you would have remembered nothing.”
The hair rose slightly on the back of my neck. I believed that he could do it.
“You still could, of course,” he added lightly. “But although you are human not elfin-kind, your age requires that we ensure your safety as well as your silence. And since you are our kin, we have twice the reason to take good care of you.”
That made me feel rather warm inside—though I couldn’t help wondering just how old—or rather, how young—he took me for. Despite my growing womanly attributes, I was still skinny and under-sized after those years in the gutter. In light of what he’d just said, I didn’t feel in any hurry to correct him. “Thank you,” I said softly.
“You’re welcome. But may I ask why you have sought us out? You have come a long way, have you not; for I believe the Duke lives in London?”
I nodded. “Yes, I’ve come a long way.” My heartbeat accelerated as the time came for me to make my appeal as persuasively as possible. “Well,” I said after a deep breath, “I'm here because of my father. He’s...he’s very ill.”
Ystevan regarded me closely. “That should not be a problem,” he said simply. “He counts as a neighbor of this fort, and he is kin to us. But what is the nature of his illness?”
I could feel his gaze upon me. “It’s...it’s sort of a wasting disease.”
“A wasting disease?” said Ystevan, “no problem, but a ‘sort of’ wasting disease? You’d better be more specific.”
I wanted to squirm under his eyes, but resisted. “Its cause is...somewhat unusual,” I admitted, still shrinking from naming the evil.
Ystevan’s eyes hardened somewhat with irritation. “You are not being entirely truthful, little one. There is something important that you are not saying. I cannot possibly say whether or not you are like to find help here if you do not trust me with all the details. The Queen will hardly wish to allow one of her guardians to travel all the way to London only to find that this concealed factor makes any action on their part impossible. There are things that cannot be healed, even by elfin skills. They are not many, but they exist. Perhaps your hesitation stems from your fear that he is afflicted with one of these diseases, but all the same, you must share with me all you know of it.”
I could not hold his gaze while I told him, and lowered my eyes to the blankets. I started right back at the beginning of the tale, seeking to offer some explanation in advance. When I first mentioned sorcery, I thought I heard Ystevan draw in a sharp breath, but I did not dare look up, simply continuing with as much control as I could manage to the sorry end.
“So you see, soon he will die, and I will lose him. And I can’t! And I know you elfin can heal him,” I finished. The dream had not been coincidence. I wasn’t even sure if there was such a thing.
There was a long silence, until eventually I risked a peep at his face. It was closed, and his eyes had gone hard and dark and almost angry. When time dragged on and on, and still he didn’t say anything, I finally ventured a timid, “Well?”
“There can only be one answer to a request such as yours,” the he-elf declared, his voice like iron. “And that is No.”
My stomach knotted at this, but I wasn’t prepared to accept it. “But he’s not a bad man,” I returned urgently. “He was foolish, many years ago, but he has been truly penitent for such a long time...”
Ystevan cut me off by taking my hand. “Little one, you are bound to be partial, but there is no such thing as a good sorcerer. They are all damned and the sooner they are in hell the better.”
I yanked my hand away and waved it angrily in the air. “He is not damned! And he’s not actually a sorcerer. Please don’t be so quick to jump to conclusions! I've tried to explain, but you’re not listening, are you? Let me try again...”
I would have launched into another account of the matter, but he captured my hand again.
“Peace, little one. At any account, there is no point going on at me, it is not my decision. Since you have come so far, you may as well go before the Queen and make your request. The answer will be No, please don’t hope for anything else for you will be disappointed. But I suppose if you do ask, it will make you feel better about it.”
I regarded him with a mixture of mutiny and relief. Perhaps the elfin Queen would be more sympathetic.
The he-elf patted my hand reassuringly. “You will still be made welcome here. Your father’s evil is not yours.”
It was nice to hear that, I had to admit. I’d been a little afraid his manner would change towards me once I had told all. I shot him a look. “I know London’s a long way away,” I pointed out. “And no doubt what I'm asking isn’t even easy. But he is a good man. And any elfin who saved him, it would be worth their while.”
He fixed me with a sharp look.
“I brought some jewels with me,” I said frankly, “but they’re gone with my horse. But I've got many, many more back home, and the elfin who saved my father could take their pick.”
He frowned, his expression rather indeterminable. “Don’t be so quick with your bribes. You should not be so willing to give your jewels away. They don’t like it.”
I was confused. “Sorry? Who doesn’t like it?”
“The safyrs,” he replied, then seemed to notice my bewildered look. “The jewels. Or that is to say, the jewel-spirits, the safyrs.”
I stared at him. “The jewels don’t like being given away,” I repeated, astonished.
“Indeed not. Jewels like to stay in one family, passed down the generations with respect and veneration, if not love. Being bartered like common coin upsets their safyr. Or angers them, depending on their disposition. If they get really, really angry, and they’re powerful by nature...well, I'm sure you’ve heard of plenty of ‘cursed’ jewels. They’re not really cursed, of course, just angry.”
I found this a little hard to take in. Elfin, yes, dragonets, yes, jewels? Why not, really? Then I realized that if the Elfin would not want to take jewels, I didn’t have much to offer them. Unless I converted the jewels to money.
“Well, I have money too,” I said after a moment, but it seemed that I did not fool him.
“My, you’re single-minded. But we are not that enamored of gold, you know. We have enough already. So do not sell your poor jewels. I'm sure they’ve never done anything to deserve it.”
“But you sound as though you like jewels,” I persisted. “There might be some that wouldn’t mind belonging to you. I've got some very nice ones.”
Ystevan laughed at this and unfastened the buttons of his sleeveless robe with a few flicks of his long fingers and folded it back. “You seem to think I am short of jewels.”
I gasped and stared, fascinated. He wore a wide collar around his neck, lying flat around his chest. It was made of a sort of metal mesh, flexible like chain mail, and it was set literally all over with jewels. If this was not amazing enough, a broad belt of a similar construction was fastened around his trim waist. He pushed up his sleeves to show wide wristbands studded with semi-precious stones. He was a walking safe!
“I am not short of jewels,” he said rather ironically, “and my jewels are my friends. I certainly would not part with them.”
He brushed a fingertip over one of the jewels on the collar, and something wild and whirling spun up from it and shot around the chamber before disappearing back into the jewel.
I couldn’t help starting back. “What...what’s that?”
“A safyr. A rather excitable one though. Let’s see,” he mused, looking down at his jewels, “why don’t you come and say hello to Serapia.”
He touched another jewel with his fingertip, and a little shape flew up and landed on his finger. He held it out for my inspection. This one was shaped like a bird, but wispy and insubstantial looking, like mist. It was as blue as the sapphire out of which it had come, and it puffed out its chest, cocked its head on one side, and trilled a proud but soundless song. Could Ystevan hear it? After a few more moments, it leapt up and flew back into its jewel.
“So...” I said after a moment, “how come my safyr have never come out to say hello?” Even as I said it, something fell into place. The hematite had never come out, but it had often said hello, after a fashion.
Ystevan was laughing. “You are human,” he said simply. “Safyr require elfin power to manifest themselves. They love to manifest, though, so if they do get displaced from their family their next preference is to end up in elfin hands. Preferably in the hands of an elfin powerful enough to let them manifest frequently.”
Still reeling from all this, I somehow didn’t quite feel like pulling out Siridean’s dagger to show him. “So...you’re actually a very wealthy elfin?” I ventured, somewhat chagrined. Wealthier than I was, that was for sure! I’d seen no servants since waking up in his home, and had assumed...
“Each clan has their own ancestral jewels,” he explained, smiling. “They are distributed among the clan for keeping according to the power of each elfin in the clan. Obviously I, ah, have quite a few of Clan Valunis’s.”
“Why do you cover them? And come to it, why do you wear all of them all the time?”
His lip twitched at this miniature barrage of questions. “I cover them so they don’t gleam and make me visible for miles,” he replied dryly, “and also so they are protected from scratches and other damage. And I do not wear them for the fun of it. Safyr require an elfin’s power to manifest, but they also bring power to their keeper; that is why they are distributed according to an elfin’s strength. There’s no point anyone having more than they can use, and equally, it is a shame for a weaker elfin to lose the extra power jewels will bring them. Fort guardians are expected to wear all their jewels, so they can always be at maximum strength to deal with anything that may arise.”
“Do you wear them in bed?” I asked, rather incredulous.
“No, little one,” he said gently, “I just put them on the table by it.”
“Oh.”
I would probably have found some more questions to ask, but there was another tap on the doorframe, and Alvidra stood there, fixing Ystevan with a look.
“Mother says are we to have any food today or nay, little brother?” she said rather cuttingly.
Ystevan cocked his head on one side as if considering something unseen and far away. “Alas, yes, it is a bit late,” he said, unruffled. “I had best be off.” He stood and looked down at me. “My mother will look after you,” he assured me, “but I am a bad he-elf, and have chatted half the morning away.”
He strode off and was gone through the doorway. Alvidra followed him hastily, as though I might be able to bite clean across the room...
The arrival of the pot boy with our tisanes jerked my mind back to the little private room, but at least I’d remembered something. I’d asked Lord Ystevan and he’d said no. But I’d been going to ask the Queen...
What had the Queen said? I tried to make the memory unroll further, by sheer force of will, but it remained blank. A stubborn absence. I would have to ask Lord Ystevan again anyway, all unknowing... Blast him for taking my memories!
I picked up my cup and sipped, glancing at the memory-thief. Raven had just popped out from under his hair, where she’d hidden from the boy, and was climbing across his chest, but the he-elf had clearly been sitting there in silence, the whole time I’d been thinking...or rather, remembering. Because we’d had this conversation already? How many conversations had we had?
Curiously, I poked his chest with a finger. Yes, he was wearing his jewels. Their hardness was unmistakable, hidden though they were beneath his outer layers.
His watching eyes noted my little investigation. Ticking it off from some list in his head? Things the human knows... A sudden wave of something more like pain than anger closed my throat, tight. For some reason it hurt to think that he had done this to me, it really hurt! I just had to say something, or I was going to...to cry.
“So...so if you’re a fort guardian,” I demanded, “and the protection of the fort is your absolute priority, what are you doing here in London?”
“I am hunting a rogue elfin,” Lord Ystevan said, his voice suddenly as cold as midwinter ice. “A dark elfin. And that is all we are going to say about that.”
Raven squeaked and ran inside my dress. I drank the rest of my tisane in silence. His tone had quelled any possible questions I might have had about dark elfin.
I had to ask him about my father, but it was so hard, not knowing all that had been said between us before.
“Will you tell me about the dragons and creation?” I asked at last, as lightly as possible, hoping to ease the tension.
He gave me a somewhat disquieted look. “No, there is not much po.... Well, I think it best if I do not. I have promised not to bespell you and cannot do so effectively, besides, but I think it best if we go our separate ways again.”
I stared at him furiously. “What about my father?”
“What about your father?” he said coolly.
“He’s dying!”
“By his own hand, if rather slowly,” said the he-elf imperturbably.
“You heartless beast!” I exclaimed, stung. How could he be so friendly one moment, and so remote and feelingless the next?
“Ser...Lady Serapia, since I have no fear that you would ever use anything you know of my people to harm us—your own kin—this renewed acquaintance causes me no real concern. However, I think that must be that. As for the rest, I did my duty, and I pray you can one day forgive me for it.” He took up his stick, raised it in salute and headed for the door.
“Lord Ystevan, please!” I cried. “How can I contact you?”
He paused to look back at me with a much softer expression, and his eyes were very sad. “It is best that you do not,” he said quietly and slipped through the door.
I knew better than to hesitate by now and bolted to the doorway as though the room was on fire, but when I reached it, he was already gone. I ran out to the street and looked around, but not entirely to my surprise, he was nowhere in sight.
I went back into the inn and sat down again in the private room with my head in my hands, dizzy with the events of the last few hours. On the one hand, Lord Ystevan had never once said that my father couldn’t be healed, only that he wouldn’t do it. But on the other hand, after going to extraordinary lengths to find the he-elf, he’d slipped through my fingers yet again.
~+~