Elvenborn (25 page)

Nevertheless, since she had been forced to quit the place, she had been determined that at the first chance she would get in here and find them again. Since the Young Lords got here, she had been using her visits to find each and every one of those precious volumes and take them back to the Tower, a few at a time. Whatever was in them had led to the death of one Erven-lord; she suspected that what he had gone seeking had some¬how killed him. Which implied that the secrets to be found in those books could be very, very dangerous indeed.

None of the Young Lords cared what she did in there. So as she worked on the task of keeping the library cleaned and pre¬served, and she ferreted out those precious few books so that one day, perhaps, she could present them to Kyrtian, they were completely oblivious to the value of what she was taking out right underneath their very noses.

I shall have to do some research of my own, I'm afraid, she reflected. A dangerous secret was exactly what she was looking for, after all; there were a few old half-remembered stories of things that had been abandoned right after the Crossing, and techniques that had been forgotten in the haste to find and build a secure haven.

For her part, at the moment, she would be happy to find some way to communicate with her nephew other than by teleson or messenger.

She had just been informed this morning of a very disturbing rumor—as yet unconfirmed, but she had been hoping to hear something either to confirm or deny it at today's meeting. One of her servants took periodic and very risky ventures into the lands still held by the Old Lords, coming back just after dawn with the situation as viewed from the Enemy's vantage—and he had told her that there was a report that Kyrtian had taken com¬mand of the Old Lords' army.

If that was true—

If that is true, then the other side has made a desperate gam¬ble, and all unknowing has hit upon the one thing that will probably give them victory. And the thing is, these young fools will be dead certain that putting Kyrtian in command of the En¬emy is going to be the one thing that will ensure the Old Lords' defeat. Young idiots.

If only she could speak to him, and persuade him that she was one of the rebels, surely he would think twice about his current allegiance!

I don't dare use a teleson—those are too easily monitored. And none of my humans have the human type of magic that lets them talk mind-to-mind with each other. And I won't send one of my people where he might be captured or conscripted into the army. It is a terrible position to be in.

She was going to have to start studying these old tomes her¬self.

After all, it was a far better idea than sitting with her hands folded, waiting for disaster to overtake all of them.

Besides, she decided firmly, shoving another ancient volume into the saddlebag for her guard to take with him. I will never sit by with folded hands while things fall to pieces.

—not even if someone ties me into the chair and binds my hands together!

14

In the heart of the Citadel, the home of the halfblooded Wiz¬ards, Lorryn ignored the drone of voices around the table and took just a moment to marvel at his surroundings. It seems so strange, even now, to finally be myself. No illusions, no care¬fully hiding what I am— In spite of everything, all the hard¬ships, all the danger, even the silly aggravations, Lorryn was not sorry to be here, among Halfbloods like himself, at last.

This most spacious of caverns in their new home that the Wizards used as a meeting-hall was a pleasant place in which to find oneself—so long as no one was meeting in it. A peculiarity of the caverns allowed a wonderful flow of fresh air through here, so long as certain openings that served as doors and win¬dows were left open to catch the summer breezes. Last winter things had gotten a little stale in this room, and with such a high ceiling it tended to be dank and chill.

Unfortunately for his sheer pleasure, there was a meeting go¬ing on, and Lorryn was glad that he had ample experience in keeping a pleasant expression plastered on his face while he himself was not feeling in the least pleasant. He had a headache like a tight band around his head, and he had inserted his tongue a trifle between his teeth to keep from grinding them and making the headache worse.

How is it that Caellach Gwain has managed to find the pre¬cise nasal whine best calculated to set my nerves on edge ? he asked himself, as he nodded affably at the elder Wizard. He ac¬tually couldn't make out more than half of what the man said, thanks to the weird acoustics in the place, but then he didn't have to listen to Caellach to know what he was going to say. The man is like a teleson stuck on endless repetition of the last thing it sent.

This was supposed to be a meeting about the progress made in setting up the sheep and cattle farm below the Citadel, but Caellach had taken it over as usual. He was intent only on recreating as much of the old comfort of the first Citadel in their new home as he could manage, and he had taken the op¬portunity of a brief allusion to the old Citadel to air his usual grievance.

Which is, of course, that the Wizards are not treated like El-venlords of the High Council. Old fool. Hasn't he figured out yet that when one group lords it over another, the underlings are going to want to strike back?

The old man's litany of complaints was as familiar to Lorryn as the texture of the wooden table he stared at as he controlled his temper and his expression. The beginning, middle, and end of Caellach's troubles were seated in his own greed. He wanted

all the effort of the younger Wizards and the humans to go into making him as cossetted as he had been before the second Half-blood War. He didn't care that they had to be self-sufficient now, and couldn't steal magically from the Elvenlords any¬more. He didn't trouble himself to think that it was far more important to see to the raising of sheep, goats and cattle, the cultivation of fields, than to scrub an old wizard's floor on a daily basis.

And he absolutely hated that the majority of the Halfbloods, voting down Caellach and his cronies, had made treaties of al¬liance with the Iron People and with the Trader clans, giving them the status of full equals and honored partners. These were fullblooded humans who had the status of full equals and hon¬ored partners. Though he did not dare come out and say so di¬rectly, this attitude incensed Caellach and his ilk, for to their minds, the halfblooded Wizards were clearly superior in every way to mere humans, and thus, should be treated as such.

And we should all be running and fetching for them, tending to their comfort, giving them of ourselves and the first fruits of our labors, so as to reward them for the fatiguing effort of their magics on our behalf. Lorryn, who was not only halfblooded himself, but had been brought up as an Elvenlord with all of the attendant privileges, found Caellach's attitude just as insulting and absurd as any of the highly independent Iron People or Trader clan folk did. There was nothing inherently superior about a wizard. Yes, they had magics, but so did the humans. And since they had been settled here in the new Citadel, the older wizards had not exerted themselves once for the common good—except, rarely, to teach some of the children how to use their powers.

Rather than listening to Caellach's words, Lorryn listened to the tone behind the words. He'd discovered he possessed an in¬teresting knack for ferreting out the emotions and motives be¬hind what people said, provided that they weren't as skilled at covering themselves as he was. He heard injured self-esteem and affront—that was expected—but he also heard fear, and that was interesting. He had not anticipated that.

I should have, though, he thought, raising his eyes and study-

ing Caellach's expression as the man shifted his eyes away from Lorryn's direct gaze. Caellach was looking a bit unkempt, now that there was no one to wait on him. His clothing, the usual long robe affected by most of the older Wizards, was a bit stained and frayed about the hem. His grey hair was brushed, but no longer hung about his shoulders in a kind of thick man¬tle—instead, it was held back untidily in a tail, and it seemed to Lorryn that it had gotten a bit thin at the temples. People do tend to react to new things either with interest or fear, and re¬ally, I think Caellach Gwain is too hidebound to react with in¬terest to anything new.

Lorryn already knew that Caellach was afraid of the dragons; that was abundantly clear to anyone with half an eye. The old Wizard wouldn't set foot outside when there were dragons about in their natural form, and as for the ones shifted into half-blood or human shape—well. If they took seats on one side of the table, it was a safe bet that Caellach would place himself as far from them as physically possible while still remaining at the table.

His dislike of the Traders and the Iron People was a little more complicated, and harder to understand. Lorryn let a few of the old wizard's actual words—laden with anger and appre¬hension—sift in past his own thoughts. What in the world had the old man's trews in a wad?

"—and how dare they demand payment in advance, much less at all, for—"

Ah. That was enough to get the key. Lorryn had the tail of the tree-snake now. Caellach wasn't incensed that he was expected to pay in advance for the goods that the Traders brought here— he was angry that he was expected to pay at all. Possibly be¬cause Caellach's only available coin was, quite frankly, debased. He wasn't the most powerful Wizard anymore, he wasn't the most skilled, and his greed had led him to expend most of his energies on his own comforts, leaving him with lit¬tle that he could use to barter for things he wanted.

"And as for those—barbarians—"

Third leg to the stool; he was incensed that the Iron People showed him no deference at all—and didn't need his magic.

Though why Caellach should think that a mob of ill-regulated cave-dwelling refugees should consider themselves more civi¬lized than a well-regulated nomadic people was beyond Lor-ryn's imagination. But prejudice has nothing to do with logic. Perhaps it was because the Iron People were completely unim¬pressed by the Wizards. They didn't need Wizards to defend themselves from the Elvenlords; they had their iron ornaments and a powerful warrior class. Not to put too fine a point on it, they had actually held two Elvenlords as enslaved prisoners for the purposes of their own amusement. The most that Caellach Gwain had ever managed was to escape relatively unscathed from them.

That had been a near thing, too. Caellach and his cronies ei¬ther did not realize, or would not admit, that it wasn't the El-venbane's fault entirely that the old Citadel and its dwellers had been discovered. The Wizards had been dancing on the edge of a knife for a very long time, what with their pilferings from the Elvenlords and all. So far as the Elves were concerned, there was only one kind of good halfblood—a dead one. Halfbloods weren't even supposed to exist, and most of the Elvenlords were utterly devoted to making certain that they didn't. Lashana's actions had only triggered the avalanche of Elven retribution, not caused it.

And if it hadn't been for her quick thinking, and her draconic friends, the wizards wouldn't have survived it.

What was more, they weren't out of the woods yet. As long as the halfblooded wizards lived, the Elvenlords would try to eliminated them, treaty or no treaty. If Caellach Gwain and his circle thought any differently, they were deluding themselves.

Not that there was anything new in the notion of Caellach Gwain deluding himself....

Finally, Caellach ran out of things to say, and sat down. Lor-ryn had very quickly figured out that allowing the old Wizard to rant and whine, while unpleasant to listen to, generally had the salubrious effect of making him silent for the rest of any meet¬ing of which he was a part. "Thank you, Caellach; your experi¬ence is, as always, apparent to all of us," he said, graciously. Caellach began to preen. "Your observations are continuously

fascinating." He ignored the grimace that one of the younger halfbloods made at him from behind the shelter of one hand, and the spasms that crossed several other faces in an effort to keep from bursting out into laughter. "Now—I'd like to put the matter of the proposed upper pasture for the goats to a vote. All in favor?"

Even Caellach raised his hand, seduced, no doubt, into think¬ing that the goats would look after themselves, and not require shepherds, now that they had some of the huge cattle-dogs raised by the Iron People at their disposal. Lorryn made certain that there were no dissenters, and nodded. "Good. We're all agreed. Halfden, would you see about finding some volunteers for the job and getting them to me to be interviewed?" He needed humans for this task, preferably children with the abil¬ity to speak mind-to-mind, so that they could call for help if they saw anything, or if there was something out there that nei¬ther they nor the dogs could handle.

More of the servants that Caellach Gwain thinks are his per¬sonal property.

Halfden, one of the older ex-slaves, nodded, and Lorryn called the meeting to a close.

But like it or not, he wasn't quite done with Caellach—at least so far as Caellach was concerned.

"I really need to talk with you about the quality of my quar¬ters, Lorryn," the wizard said, grabbing him by the elbow before he could make his escape. Lorryn leveled a blank gaze at him.

"My good sir," he said, with the kind of polite tone in which a specious warmth and charm were mixed with utter calm, "if you think you are being slighted, I invite you to come and in¬spect my quarters—or Shana's for that matter. I think you will find that they are by no means superior to yours. In fact, given that neither of us chose our rooms until everyone else had got¬ten their pick, you'll find them far inferior to yours."

"Yes, but—" Caellach protested-—although weakly, since he had been in the little nook of a cave that Lorryn used, and knew that it was scarcely larger than the closet in his own suite of linked cavelets.