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Through the gates of Lo’Alarai, the trees rose like towers. Asp had never in her life seen trees so big, nor as many elves, nor this kind of atmosphere. The city sprawled out before them, and though the treetops above were thick enough to choke out the light from the sun, crystals atop perfectly structured pillars lined the streets, and light emanated from them to illuminate the city. It was the cleanest place Asp had ever seen–no litter lay on the streets, no stray animals wandered, no beggars stood about. Beautiful houses were everywhere, and occasional larger buildings, which appeared to be apartment housing, dotted the cityscape. As they walked, they passed smaller structures where elves distributed food and clothing, some discussing details of housing problems. It seemed a perfect place; the people here looked happy and at peace. Asp thought of the clamor and squalor of the Ronan’el military camp where her adventure had begun. This is unsettling. Everything is perfect. It’s too perfect. Am I being overly suspicious? This just seems . . . off. Life isn’t like this. Life is messy. How did they do this?
But she saw no answers. Every street they passed seemed neater than the last, every neighborhood more picturesque, every elven citizen more refined and relaxed than she associated with cities. Beside her, her companions likewise marveled at the city, and she couldn’t tell if they too were unsure of how it had come to be. She remembered being hustled off the street as a child for begging, sleeping wherever she could find a quiet place, scrounging for morsels of food with desperation. Am I envious? Is it that I wish I grew up in a place like this? Or is my gut right–is something about this place weird? She reminded herself of their mission and scanned the area around them for clues as to how to begin their work.
“I’d like to visit the temple of Godtide Sasharaan if I can,” said Sash quietly, a touch of reverence in their voice, though Asp couldn’t tell if it was for the thought of the temple or for the city around it.
“You know where it is?” asked Kast, absentmindedly touching the talisman around his neck.
“Just past the market, if I recall correctly,” replied Sash. “Follow me.”
Sash took the lead and cut down a street branching off from the one they were on. It took them to a large, bustling marketplace. It’s like the huge market in Strey, Asp thought. Only tidy, and less chaotic, and a lot less varied. It’s elves as far as the eye can see. I wonder if they’re all selling the same kinds of things. A part of her wanted to investigate, but Sash went around the market and down another branching street. They passed a few small buildings which looked to be temples to lesser deities and stopped before a larger building with a stream that trickled up to it.
“This is it,” whispered Sash. They took several more steps off the main road and inside the eerily quiet temple.
Inside, they found a domed building with a mural of a sweeping tide out on the ocean. The stream they’d seen outside wound through the building, and at its center was a pool with crystal clear water. Beside the pool was an elf who looked not unlike Sash–lightly armored, serious, reverent. The elf stepped forward when he saw them enter, his eyes lighting up at the sight of Sash. He spoke in elven, which Asp did not understand. Sash replied in elven, and the temple guardian offered a fraction of a bow to Sash. The two elves traded conversation for a few minutes. Larkin piped up, also in elven, which seemed to surprise the temple’s guardian. Asp caught the names “Larkin” and “Sasharaan,” but the rest was just noise to her. Being in Afira and not speaking elven is going to be a problem, isn’t it? A growing discomfort brewed in Asp, and she looked to her associates. Steel-Eyes seemed not to care about being counted out of the conversation, and Kast simply listened. Eventually, Sash said something further, gesturing to the party, and the guardian of the temple nodded.
“Greetings, travelers,” he said in the common tongue. “I am Haemir Dalar, protector of the Temple of Godtide Sasharaan. Your associate Sasharaan tells me you are with them. Who are you?”
Asp began to answer, but Sash spoke first.
“This is Steel-Eyes, inventor of renown,” explained Sash.
Steel-Eyes grunted, and Haemir did not move.
“This is Lady Penelope, diplomat of Thistlewade,” said Sash, a touch of discomfort in their voice.
Asp offered a deep bow to Haemir, who nodded.
Sash finally gestured to Kast. “And this is Kastark, emissary of our mission.”
Kast nodded to Haemir, who hesitantly nodded back to the hooded man.
Sash glanced at their companions and spoke to Haemir in the common tongue, which caused the temple protector to flinch. “May I step into the waters?”
Haemir nodded. “You may, Sasharaan.”
Sash gingerly stepped into the pool, ripples flowing from their calf as they did so.
“Oh cool!” cried Larkin. “Pool time!” She too began to step into the pool.
“No! shouted Haemir. “It is not for you!”
But Larkin’s foot was already in the pool. And as she too entered the pool, the sound of ocean waves resounded through the temple. Suddenly, Sash seemed taller. Moment by moment, they rose up, and before their eyes, the assembled travelers and Haemir watched as Sash levitated above the surface of the pool.
“What’s this?” muttered Haemir in disbelief.
“Whoa,” breathed Larkin.
Sash hung in the air for what seemed like forever. The sound of crashing waves intensified and fell as they do at sea. Haemir dropped to his knees, praying in elven. Sash seemed at once at peace as they always seemed to be but also delighted, exhilarated by this surprise as though it were a confirmation of sorts. And then, slowly, Sash began to descend. When their feet reentered the pool, no ripples came from their contact with the water. Asp suspected from the looks on Sash’s and Larkin’s faces that something had transpired only they knew about, but neither spoke a word about it. They stepped out of the pool, and Haemir rose. He and Sash exchanged a few words in elven, and both nodded.
“Let’s go,” said Sash quietly, a warmth in their voice that Asp had not yet heard. Sash led the way out of the temple, and their associates followed behind in silence.
Outside the temple, Kast caught up to Sash. “What was all that?”
Sash smiled. “I don’t know.”
“Can we visit the temple of Sariel now?” asked Larkin, her voice thick with excitement.
“I don’t see why not,” replied Sash.
“I’m going to check out the saloons,” said Kast. “I could use a relaxed moment.”
“Saloons sound good,” said Steel-Eyes. “Steel-Eyes will come.”
Larkin turned to Asp. “What about you? Temple of Sariel, or saloons?”
Asp paused, trying to set aside what she had just seen, but found she could not. Something stirred in her, a curiosity she couldn’t place. “I’ll come to the temple,” she said. Not a drink with regular people? Why did I say that? What’s going on with me?
“We’ll meet you back at the temple,” said Kast. “I don’t think we’ll be at the saloons for too long.”
Kast struck out along the road they had come in on, Steel-Eyes and Guy trailing behind. Sash and Larkin exchanged a look and turned to follow the road further.
“What happened in the pool?” asked Asp as they walked.
“I don’t know,” Sash said again. “Something I’ve not experienced before.”
“They floated!” cried Larkin.
“Yeah, I saw,” replied Asp. “But why?”
“I don’t know,” repeated Sash, chuckling. “But I feel that it was a good thing.”
Asp shrugged to herself. Magic still freaks me out after Melwi. Good gracious, Sash floated. I could see the space between their feet and the water. Why? What is that?
A bit down the road, Sash paused in front of a grand building. Curved spires rose from the corners of it, and huge windows glinted in the light of the nearby crystal-topped pillars. A large, rounded door set into the front of the building was closed, but Sash and Larkin mounted the earthen steps up to it and pulled on the handle. The door swung open, and they stepped inside. Asp swallowed hard and hurried in behind them.
Inside was a beautiful, spacious room stretching out to the edges of the building. In the center of the room was a large altar carved into a living tree. Standing besides the altar was a tall elven woman clad in ornate ceremonial armor with a delicately-curved longbow in her hand as though it were a staff. She nodded to the temple’s visitors, inviting them in. Sash and Larkin approached reverently, and Asp stepped cautiously up behind them.
The woman guarding the temple looked Larkin and Asp up and down and spoke to them in the common tongue, a relief to Asp. “What brings you to the Temple of Sariel on this fine day?”
“I have something I wanna give Sariel,” said Larkin, reaching into her pack. The guard raised an eyebrow, clearly wondering what this young hornkin might have to offer the goddess she had pledged her life to, but said nothing. Larkin withdrew an old, tattered book, its binding thick and in relatively good condition compared to the cover. Unfamiliar runes covered the book’s face. “It’s a journal,” explained Larkin. “It’s ancient.”
“It looks to be,” replied the guard. “What manner of journal is it?”
“One that Sariel would like,” said Larkin. “At least, I hope so.”
The guard nodded solemnly and gestured to the altar. “You may present it.”
Larkin placed the ragged book on the altar, and dazzling silver light beamed out of it. The book lifted into the air, and when it was at eye level, it disappeared. But the light only intensified. It flashed blindingly for a moment, and then diminished, though it remained bright and dizzying. In the book’s place appeared a longbow, its arc graceful. It was made of willowy wood, covered in patches of moss and silver designs that Asp recognized as elven without knowing what they meant. The bow floated through the air to Larkin and hovered before her. Larkin reached out and grasped the bow, causing one more flash of silver light, and the room suddenly felt darker despite the abundance of light pouring in through the windows.
“My dearest goddess Sariel,” gasped the guard.
“What a pretty bow!” said Larkin.
“It is a blessing from Sariel,” uttered the guard. “Truly, your gift has pleased her.”
What the fuck is happening? thought Asp. We go into two temples and Larkin makes crazy shit happen in both. She’s shocked two people dedicated to serving their gods by just doing simple things. Who is this kid?
“Do I get to keep it?” asked Larkin.
“If she has presented it to you,” said the guard, seemingly in shock, “then she wants you to have it.”
“Neat!” chirped Larkin.
Sash smiled kindly at Larkin, who beamed at her new bow.
Asp tried to formulate words for the situation and eventually gave up. The hornkin went to the altar and prayed in a low voice with the elven language. Minutes slipped by, and Asp stood uneasily at Sash’s side, neither they nor the guard speaking, looks of reverence on their faces. Asp had a hard time gauging how much time passed, still dazed by the last hour’s events. Eventually, a thought crossed her mind that surprised her.
Belief gives them power. I don’t really have that belief. I believe in me and my ability to get things done. Getting a little lift or a magic bow is nice, but does depending on some god actually give you something real? She stewed for a while, trying to decide if she was feeling envious, vulnerable, or something else entirely. Before she could come to a decision, Kast, Steel-Eyes and Guy entered the temple from the door behind her. They stayed respectfully silent as Larkin finished her prayers, which took just a few minutes more. The hornkin rose from the altar and smiled. Wordlessly, the group headed back outside and into the city.
“How’d it go?” asked Kast.
“I got a new bow!” said Larkin proudly, holding the bow aloft.
Kast chuckled. “Of course you did.”
“Lunch time,” Steel-Eyes suggested.
“Sounds like a plan,” replied Larkin.
The group set off to find food, and Asp felt a knot in her throat. Am I the only one who thinks this is crazy?
—
Larkin skipped down the road, her new bow in her hand, and Sash walked just behind her, still content from their time at their temple. Steel-Eyes and Guy marched along behind them, with Kast and Asp at the rear.
“You all were in there for a while,” said Kast. “You all good?”
“We were?” asked Asp. “It seemed like we were in the temple for maybe five minutes.”
Kast laughed. “Steel-Eyes and I were gone for over an hour.”
“An hour?” repeated Asp. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure,” said Kast. “Look at the sun.”
Asp glanced up at the sky. It was hard to judge at first with the thick canopy of trees towering above them, but a moment’s study confirmed what Kast said–it had been at least an hour.
“Were the saloons good, at least?” she asked.
“Good enough,” replied Kast. “Once you get past the weird looks, it’s just a nice drink with Steel-Eyes. So, you know, a quiet one.”
Asp chuckled. “You mean he doesn’t get wild after a tankard of ale?”
Kast laughed again. “I mean, he was dancing on the bartop with Guy. A nice waltz, I think. I’m no dancer.”
Dancer, thought Asp. I miss that guy. I hope he’s doing okay. He always knew how to lighten a situation up. Awful jokes, but they did what he meant them to do. I don’t think I ever appreciated how kind his heart was. Is. Was? Fuck, I just mean he cared that you felt decently. He could read you when you were sad and goof around until you weren’t. I wonder whatever happened to them all. I hope–
“You okay?” asked Kast in a worried tone. “You got real quiet there all of a sudden.”
“I’m fine,” said Asp. “Just thinking about someone I used to know. I’m fine.”
Kast looked at her uncertainly, but nodded. “Okay. If you say so.”
“Oh, a nice fish place,” said Sash, pointing to a small restaurant to the left, and an old human man with a long ponytail dawdled past it on a cane, the first non-elf they'd seen beyond themselves. They cut a beeline towards the restaurant, Steel-Eyes following behind.
“I don’t eat meat,” said Larkin queasily.
“No?” asked Kast. “Hmm. There’s plenty of vegetarian elves; there must be a place we can go.”
Larkin shook her head. “I don’t wanna ruin Sash’s time. I bet they love fish what with the archipelago and all.”
“How about this?” said Asp. “Kast, you go get fish with them, and let them know that Larkin and I are gonna find some veggies or bread or something.”
Larkin’s eyes lit up. “Yeah, maybe a veggie samwich!”
Kast smiled and nodded. “I’ll let them know. Enjoy your lunch.” He headed to the fish restaurant, and Asp and Larkin wheeled and began to survey the area for something that agreed with Larkin.
“Ooh, there!” cried Larkin, pointing to a small baker’s stall. She hurried towards it, Asp doing her best to keep up with the hornkin’s long strides.
The baker, a severe-looking elven man in his winter years, frowned as they approached. Undeterred, Larkin spoke to him cheerfully.
“What’s your best bread?” she asked.
The baker scowled. “My bread is for refined elven palettes.”
Larkin frowned and sighed.
“What about refined foreign palettes?” asked Asp, hoping to salvage the situation. “Surely your wares are so delicious as to be pleasing to any tongue.”
“I don’t serve strange people,” he insisted. “A slightkin? A hornkin? You’re not welcome here.”
“Here like your stall?” asked Larkin. “Or here like Lo’Alarai?”
“Either,” spat the baker. “Both.”
Larkin looked very sad indeed, and Asp placed a hand on hers. “C’mon, Larkin, I’m sure that there are other bakers who are smart enough to want to take our money.”
“Yeah!” cried Larkin, already being led away. “Be smart enough to take our money!”
They wandered down the street, eyes open for another candidate for lunch. Half a block away, Asp spotted another baker’s stall, this one larger, and its purveyor smiling. “How about there?”
Larkin nodded and hurried up to the stall, Asp again struggling to keep up.
“Hi!” said Larkin. “Are you smart enough to take our money?”
The baker laughed. “I like to think so. What will you have?”
“What do you recommend for someone with a slightkin palette?” asked Asp. “I like hearty breads, especially with nuts and veggies in them.”
The baker thought for a moment, then grabbed a small, round loaf of bread. “This one is fairly dense, and it has spinach and diced onion in it. Elves treat it as a meal on the go.”
“Ooooooh, that sounds good,” gasped Larkin. “I’ll take one.”
“Me too, please,” said Asp. “How much is it?”
“Four caps,” replied the baker, extending his hand. Asp counted six copper-dipped coins into the outstretched hand. “Thank you much,” he said. “So, what brings you to Lo’Alarai?”
“Secret mission,” said Larkin between ravenous bites.
“Secret mission?” asked the baker. “Sounds mysterious.”
“This is delightful,” said Asp after swallowing some of the bread. “The onion is a nice touch.”
“Thanks!” said the baker. “I’m Helin. And you are?”
“I’m Larkin,” said the hornkin before taking an enormous bite of her loaf.
“Lady Penelope Jasmine,” answered Asp, curtsying.
“Oh, a Lady?” said Helin. “From Eunax, I take it?”
“Yes indeed,” said Asp proudly. “I hail from Thistlewade, the de facto capital of the slightkin provinces.”
“And your secret mission brings you all the way from there?” inquired Helin.
Asp studied him. He seemed more curious than ill-intentioned. “Something like that,” she said after using a bite of the bread to buy herself time to calculate an answer. “I’m something of a freelance diplomat, floating from place to place to help where I can.”
“Not much to do in Lo’Alarai,” replied Helin. “We don’t have many problems here to speak of.”
“So I’ve noticed,” said Asp, and at the same time, Larkin added, “Except for racism.”
Helin cocked his head to the side. “Racism?”
“The baker down the way wouldn’t serve us because we’re not elves,” explained Asp.
Helin nodded. “You mean Rilen, I imagine,” he said, pointing back to the angry baker who’d refused them service. “Don’t worry about him. He’s an old man, set in old ways. The whole city isn’t full of people like him.”
“With all due respect,” said Asp, “I’ve seen a fair amount of Afira, and as many elves seem to be angry at everyone else for reasons they won’t explain.”
Helin shrugged. “I suppose you’re not wrong. I mean, I imagine it’s like this everywhere, though.”
“I’ve been all over the world,” said Asp. “On business, I mean. There’s prejudice out there–you’re right–but it’s different here. There’s a certain air of condescension unique to Afira.”
“Huh,” said Helin. “You learn something every day. Still, Lo’Alarai is a good place to live. No one’s without a home. Education is free and widely available. So are clothes and food. No one suffers here.”
“No elf suffers here,” corrected Asp.
Helin chuckled. “Fair enough. So, secret mission–will you tell me anything?”
“It’s a secret for a reason,” said Larkin, finishing the last of her bread. “Sorry.”
“Had to try,” said Helin. “I imagine–hey, they look important.” He was turned away from Asp and Larkin, looking behind them.
They turned and saw Steel-Eyes, Guy, and Kast following behind Sash, whose face was still one of bliss.
“Penelope, Larkin,” said Sash in a stately manner.
“Hey, Sash!” cried Larkin. “We got some great bread!”
“Why, thank you,” said Helin.
“You all ready to go?” asked Kast.
Asp took another bite of bread and stowed the remainder of the loaf in her bag. “Ready,” she said through her last mouthful.
“Helin!” boomed a rich elven voice. A pair of guards strolled up to the baker’s stall and stepped before the group. “Two loaves of the fine wheat, please.”
Helin reached down and began to wrap up two long loaves of brown bread. The guards eyed the group suspiciously.
“What are you lot doing about?” asked one of the guards, a thin mustache on his lip.
“Yeah, what business do you have here in our fair city?” asked the other, his long hair parted down the middle.
“We’re just travelers,” said Asp. “We’re no trouble.”
“We’ll decide that,” said the guard with the mustache.
“We’re not doing anything,” protested Larkin.
“So you’re loitering?” asked the elf with the long hair.
“Helin, we just bought lunch, right?” asked Asp, looking for backup.
“It’s true,” said Helin meekly. “They bought two loaves.”
“On your way, then,” ordered the mustachioed guard.
Asp held back a scowl and began to walk away. The old human man with long hair she had seen outside the restaurant hobbled past her on his cane. She turned to watch him, expecting the guards to hassle him too. But instead, the guards paid for their bread and turned to leave, except the human swiftly stuck out his cane, tripping both guards in one motion. The guards stumbled and caught themselves and turned to see who had tripped them. They saw the old man, and they changed their scowls to neutral expressions.
“Nothing better to do than toy with innocent people?” prodded the human man. “Two grown men old enough to know better, and you waste your time on these poor folk? Don’t you have a city to protect?”
Without a word, the guards hurried off, and the old human man turned to them. “I believe you should come with me,” he said softly, his tone a radical shift from the lashing he’d just given the guards.
“Why,” said Steel-Eyes.
The old man blinked a few times and chuckled. “Because I can help you.”
“Who are you?” asked Kast.
The old man smiled. “Me? I’m a tired old man in a city that won’t let me call it home.”
“I believe he means, ‘what’s your name?’” corrected Asp. “It seems you have us at a disadvantage.”
The old man smiled wider. “I’m Melleon. Now let’s go.”
—
Melleon hobbled through town with surprising speed for a man his age, the group following behind him. Asp wanted to turn to her companions and discuss the situation, but between keeping up and remaining courteous, she chose to remain silent. Melleon led them into a fine residential district and up to a massive tree with a door and windows on it. He unlocked the door and slipped inside, the group pressing in after him.
Inside was a grand home, spacious and elegant. Fine tapestries covered the walls, ornate furniture filled the rooms, and the outer walls of the house emitted the faint odor of living wood. Melleon went to an area that looked to serve as a living room, luxurious couches and armchairs settled around a beautiful wooden table with intricate carvings. It was too much to take in all at once–Asp had never been in a home so exquisite in all her years, and the mystery of how Melleon had known how to find them pressed at the back of her mind.
Melleon seated himself in a wide, cushioned armchair, holding his wooden cane at its side, and gestured to the other seats around the room. “Come now,” he said. “I believe we have little time to waste, though I expect you to tell me that yourselves.”
Asp and Larkin sat at opposite ends of a sofa, Steel-Eyes and Guy on another, and Kast and Sash took up armchairs. Melleon raised his eyebrows expectantly.
“Well?” he asked.
“How did you know we’d be coming?” asked Kast.
“Unimportant,” replied Melleon. “Boring, actually. Tell me your business.”
Asp looked between her comrades, who each looked uncertainly back at her. She breathed deeply and began.
“Most of us were in a caravan heading to the Ronan’el side of Afira. We unknowingly crossed the treaty line. That began the war again. We were taken prisoner by the Ronan’el. We offered to serve their interests and try to end the war. With the Ronan’el tribunal, we drafted a treaty–a treaty to call a permanent end to the conflict. Our job then became to travel the elven provinces, gathering signatures from the Lords and Ladies to call off hostilities. We sailed to Lo’Torrin, where we met with Lord Arokosiel, who signed the treaty. We still must obtain the agreement of Lady Leonarra, Lord Farboriel, Lady Eerith, and Lady Norasynia. We came by foot from Lo’Torrin to speak to Lady Norasynia, to tell her of our mission in the hopes that her agreement would sway the other leaders. I spoke to a protector of Lo’Torrin, a young man named Celeon”–Asp noticed the slightest of smiles from Melleon–“before we left, and he said to seek you out. He said you know Lady Norasynia and might be able to give us an introduction. Is this true?”
Melleon smiled and leaned back in his chair. “An odd tale. A simple mistake resulting in war. A desperate offer, I imagine for your own hides, to end the war. An epic adventure to convince the most stubborn lot of rulers in the world. And hoping that an eccentric old man, as they call me, will be the key that unlocks the hardest of doors.” He leaned forward again. “Putting my neck on the line with Norasynia would be a big risk. Why should I help?”
“The war is unjust,” said Kast. “It never should have begun.”
“True,” said Melleon. “But why should that be my problem?”
“It was a mistake,” reasoned Larkin. “We didn’t mean to. You have to try to fix mistakes.”
“Ah, but it was your mistake,” countered Melleon. “What stake do I have?”
“You can help,” said Steel-Eyes. “You are in a position to help.”
Melleon chuckled. “Norasynia is also in a position to help. Why not go directly to her?”
“We only get one chance,” replied Sash. “You can improve our odds.”
“So I should go out of my way to help your gamble?” said Melleon. “That’s not the most enticing offer.”
Asp sighed heavily, and everyone looked to her, Melleon smiling slightly. There was something about his look that was off. He’s playing a game. Fine. He wants a game? Let’s play. “You agree you could help us with Lady Norasynia?”
Melleon nodded.
“And you agree the war should be ended?” she continued.
Melleon nodded again, a growing look of curiosity on his face.
“So then you agree you should do something,” she concluded.
“How’s that, little one?” he asked.
She smiled politely. “You think the war must end. How can it be ended? This treaty. How do we enact the treaty? The signatures. How do we get the signatures? We convince the leaders to agree. How do we get them to agree? By cleverness, perhaps. Certainly not by force. By diplomacy? It’s really all we have. How do we use diplomacy to get the signatures? Well, we have Lord Arokosiel’s. That’s a foot in the door. We get Lady Norasynia’s? That’s something else entirely. From what we understand, we might be able to get Lady Leonarra on our side. Maybe, if we’re careful and lucky. Can we get Lord Farboriel or Lady Eerith without Lady Norasynia? Basically impossible. How do we get Lady Norasynia? Charm? I’m charming, Melleon, but I’m not that charming, not to mention not an elf. Luck? No one is that lucky. With an advantage? Maybe. You’re the only advantage we can leverage. Do you agree with this much?”
Melleon smiled and nodded, rubbing his chin.
Asp took one more deep breath. “It’s as simple as this: practically speaking, if you help us, we might be able to end the war. If you don’t? We can’t. We stand no chance. We’re just a pack of weirdos–a pushy slightkin, an innocent hornkin, a reclusive elf, an eccentric dwarf, and Kast, who’s got his own situation to contend with. We simply can’t convince Lady Norasynia to help us. But if you introduce us–if you help us with this small thing–we stand a chance. We need you. If we don’t have your help, we’re up the river without a thing to cling to. And you know what that means?”
Melleon shrugged. “What?”
“It means you chose to not end the war,” she said quietly. “You, all by yourself, decided to sit in your fancy tree house and not do anything. All that blood, and it’s on your hands.”
Melleon nodded. “So I see. It sounds like a heavy responsibility I carry for your mistake.”
Asp shook her head. “We didn’t know what we were doing. No one sat and explained things to us like I just did for you. You now have the burden of knowing. You choose not to help us, and it’s on you.”
“So it is,” said Melleon. He thought for a moment, then tapped his cane twice on the floor, smiling strangely. “There’s one thing you don’t understand–to help you would not be a small thing–but I hear what you’re saying. And I will help you.”
“Thank the gods,” said Kast.
“Yay!” cried Larkin. “Thank you!”
“So how do we do it,” said Steel-Eyes.
“Do what, precisely?” asked Melleon.
“Talk to Norasynia,” replied Steel-Eyes.
Melleon crossed the room and took up a quill from a wooden desk. He scratched a few words onto a piece of parchment and went to the front door and opened it. At the door, he waved and shouted a short phrase in elven. The sounds of approaching footsteps came to the door, their owner out of sight. Melleon gave the unseen person the note and whispered something too quietly for the group to hear. The footsteps receded, and Melleon turned and closed the door before hobbling back to his chair.
“Respectfully,” he said as he settled into the armchair.
“Well, yes,” said Asp, “but what will she want to hear?”
“I’d recommend avoiding the part where you lot accidentally started the war again yourselves,” he said casually. “I don’t think she’d enjoy that.”
“Do you mean to help us, or toy with us?” asked Kast, his voice more relaxed than Asp felt.
Melleon smiled. “Why don’t you tell me what you have in mind? I’ll give you some pointers.”
“Penelope’s a diplomat,” said Larkin with contained laughter. “What do you think, Penelope?”
Asp closed her eyes and chuckled bitterly. “Well, she’s in charge of all elven provinces in a way, right?”
“This is true,” said Melleon. “All the other leaders swear fealty to her.”
“Which is why we wanted to get her agreement as leverage,” said Asp. “Anyway, if we appeal to the fact that this is good for all elves, that could be useful. ‘Think of how many citizens across the elven empire you would save.’ That kind of thing.”
“An elf who dies in the aim of spreading elvenkind dies the best kind of death,” replied Melleon. “Norasynia wants to control all of Afira herself. Getting her to agree to give up that dream will be a challenge you don’t seem to realize you have on your plate.”
“What was on the note,” Steel-Eyes half-asked.
Melleon smiled. “I sent for Norasynia. She should be on the way now.”
Asp and Larkin gasped. Sash sat up, surprised. Steel-Eyes’s face turned sour, and Kast set his jaw.
“So we need to plan fast?” asked Asp.
“I’d recommend it,” replied Melleon.
“Okay, broad strokes,” said Asp. “We offer her a place in history as the benevolent leader who ended the greatest conflict in history.”
“What else,” said Steel-Eyes.
“I dunno,” said Asp, eyes wide. “We start there and play it by ear.”
Steel-Eyes shook his head. “No. We need plan.”
“Does it seem like we have time for a plan?” asked Asp.
“You said this is the most important thing we can do,” reasoned Steel-Eyes. “Making things up is not a good idea.”
“I can do this,” said Asp. “Come on. Don’t you trust me?”
Steel-Eyes stared back at her. “Not really, no.”
Asp sighed. You admit that you lie, and then no one ever believes you again. It happened with Candace, it happened with Mom, it happens with everybody. “Are you gonna sell her on peace, then?”
“If Steel-Eyes has to,” said the dwarf simply.
“Well, given that I actually want to succeed at this, and I think you do too, I think you’ll agree that you might not quite have diplomacy down, Steel-Eyes,” said Asp. “I think Norasynia might listen more to someone with complete sentences down.”
Steel-Eyes stood, his eyes strained. “This is not game, Penelope. This is thousands of lives. Tens of thousands. We do this right.”
“I’ll do it right!” cried Asp. “Just let me do my thing, and I swear–”
There was a knock at the door. Everyone froze. Melleon got up and crossed the room, opening the door.
“Ah, Lady Norasynia!” he said casually. “How pleasant you could come. Please, step inside.”
A hooded and cloaked figure stepped inside. Melleon closed the door behind them, and the figure removed their hood. Asp recognized Norasynia from their encounter on the road, and the elven leader’s voice once again rang through her hand: “Manners, dear.”
“Please, this way,” said Melleon, guiding Norasynia through the house, past the group, and out the backdoor into a large garden. “My guests will join us in just a moment.”
“Okay,” said Asp. “We’ve learned they don’t like outsiders, so Sash, you’re gonna have to do the talking. Tell her about our mission, use what you know about elven society, appeal to her with what she would actually want.”
“I’m doing the talking?” asked Sash, clearly a bit alarmed but containing it well.
“You’re our best chance,” said Asp. “You up to it?”
Sash breathed deeply. “I suppose I have to be.”
Asp looked to her companions. “Any last notes before we go out to talk to her?”
“Steel-Eyes does not like this,” said the dwarf.
“I don’t either,” retorted Asp. “But it’s the hand we got dealt.”
“We can do this,” said Kast. “We have to.”
“Good luck, everybody,” said Larkin, standing.
The rest of the group joined her on their feet and walked out to the garden.
—
Sash led the way out into the garden. Melleon and Norasynia stood beside a tall oak tree within the walls of the garden, speaking quietly. Melleon noticed the group approaching and said in a louder voice, “Ah, here they are! I believe introductions are in order.”
Norasynia looked the group over sourly and waited.
“Greetings, Lady Norasynia,” said Sash with their deepest bow. “I am Sasharaan of the archipelago, protector of Godtide Sasharaan’s reef.” Norasynia nodded, a faint smile on her lips. Sash continued: “This is Larkin, protector of innocents.” Larkin bowed in a mimic of Sash’s motion. “Lady Penelope, diplomat of Thistlewade.” Asp offered her most stately curtsy. “Steel-Eyes, inventor of great renown.” Steel-Eyes nodded. “And Kastark Fayedd, emissary of our journey.” Kast half-bowed, but he kept his eyes on Norasynia.
“I’ve heard of you, Sasharaan,” said Norasynia. “And I thank you for your service.” She turned to the others. “The rest of you, I have not heard of. Why am I called upon to hear from you?”
Sash stood silently. Asp made eye contact with them and subtly pointed at them, at which point Sash began to speak again. “They are my associates in a mission of great importance. As you know, the war has begun again with the Ronan’el. We were at the treaty line when hostilities sparked, and we felt it our duty to end the war before more innocent soldiers died. Even just that first clash cost the elven army over a hundred troops. This is unnecessary. Their lives were lost over a misunderstanding. We spoke to the Ronan’el and obtained an agreement from their leaders to agree to a treaty which would end the war. We believe this would serve the elven empire.” Every so often, Sash glanced to Asp, and she noticed after a while that they did so when borrowing things they had heard her say in the past. “We bring you this treaty now, complete with the signature of Lord Arokosiel of Lo’Torrin, with the hopes that you would sign it as well.”
Norasynia looked amused. “An interesting offer, Sasharaan. What seems curious to me is that you think it will please me to sign it. My aim is not to spare our soldiers. They enlisted with the knowledge that their lives would be spent to increase the glory of the elves. Their deaths are part and parcel of the way of things. They do not regret their sacrifice any more than I do. What you fail to understand is that Afira is our birthright. We were the first beings on this earth. Afira is ours. Taking it back from the Ronan’el is what we are meant to do. Ending the war would be a violation of our destiny.”
“But Lady Norasynia,” said Kast. “If that is your destiny, why do the gods not support it?”
She glowered at Kast. “What makes you think they do not?”
“I was born because of the gods’ will to oppose the war,” said Kast matter-of-factly.
Norasynia narrowed her eyes at him. “And who precisely are you?”
“I am Kastark Fayedd,” he replied.
She obviously hated his answer, glaring at him with contempt. She seemed about to speak further, but Steel-Eyes spoke first.
“Kast is half-elf, half-Ronan’el,” he explained.
“He is what?” asked Norasynia, stupefied by the notion.
Kast lowered his hood. The multi-colored scales on his pale skin shone in the light, his tusks granting him an even more defiant look than he showed. He stood up to his full height, his large frame imposing and impressive.
“I am Kastark Fayedd, born of the In-Between. I am an elf like you, but I am also Ronan’el like those who raised me. I was told as a child by the gods that I was born to accomplish something huge, something that would fulfill my destiny to achieve peace. This is that peace.”
Norasynia’s face said something she did not say out loud–she was repulsed by the idea of an elf with Ronan’el blood. But something else lingered on her face, a certain curiosity and regard, as though what Kast was also communicated something larger, a force she could not have known about and didn’t know what to do with.
“This changes little,” she said after a moment. “You may say that the gods ordained you to end this war, but I know our people. What we deserve is not a peace achieved through capitulation. We deserve the peace of conquest. When the entire world belongs to elvenkind, we shall have a lasting, meaningful peace.”
“You want to kill everyone,” said Steel-Eyes.
“If I must,” said Norasynia.
“What of diplomacy?” asked Asp. “Cannot the cleverness and wit of the elves also achieve domination? Why not get the concession of the other peoples to rule them benevolently?”
“Diplomacy?” asked Norasynia. “We know we have cleverness and wit. There is no need to prove it.”
“But hurting people is wrong,” reasoned Larkin. “What use is being the only people left if you’re all . . .” She paused, afraid of the word she meant to use, then said it anyway. “Evil?”
“Evil?” repeated Norasynia. “The Ronan’el are evil. They took our land, fought with us for centuries upon centuries, spreading their wicked ways where once was elven purity. You mean to end evil, look no further than the Ronan’el.”
“The Ronan’el are not evil,” said Kast tiredly. “They are a decent people. They raised me with kindness, with purpose. I suspect they gave me more than the elves would have.”
Norasynia seemed to have something to say to Kast, but chose not to. Eventually, she said, “I’m sorry you’ve journeyed here for nothing, but I will not sign your misguided treaty.”
“Lady Norasynia,” said Sash quietly. “Godtide Sasharaan would not endorse this war. The other of our gods, Sariel in particular, would not endorse this war. Please, listen to their wisdom.”
Norasynia considered this a moment, then smiled viciously. “You make a good point, Sasharaan.” She turned to Asp. “You want diplomacy, Lady Jasmine? I have an idea for a compromise. I will not sign your treaty. However,” she added, pausing, “I will pledge my support under the condition that you can get the rest of the leaders to sign. Lady Leonarra, Lord Farboriel, Lady Eerith–you get them all to sign, and I will sign. Will that be enough to satisfy you?”
The group looked back and forth amongst themselves, each wearing mixed expressions, some more disappointed, others more hopeful.
“I think that’s a lovely compromise, Lady Norasynia,” said Asp after a moment. “We thank you for your wisdom and generosity.”
Norasynia wore a courtly grin. “Good,” she said. “Now I’m sure you have plenty to discuss. Please grant me one more moment talking with Melleon.”
“Yes, Lady Norasynia,” said Sash with another deep bow.
The group turned to depart, and as she went to return to the house, Asp saw Melleon smile sadly. Norasynia began to speak quietly to Melleon once again, her voice too low to be heard. The party trooped into the house and retook their positions around the table.
What’s got him down? Asp wondered. Was he hoping for a complete agreement? I mean, I wish she had just signed, but what she said can help us. She looked around at the beautiful home that belonged to Melleon. What a strange guy. And what good fortune he agreed to help. That could have gone better, but it could have gone a lot worse.
She looked up to her comrades, wearied by the fact that she hadn’t caught a break in days, and settled in to discuss this new turn of events.
—
“She wouldn’t sign,” said Larkin sadly.
“She didn’t say no,” replied Sash.
“She doesn’t intend to say yes,” argued Kast.
Asp raised a finger. “She said she would sign if we got the others. That means when we go to them, we can say, ‘Lady Norasynia said she would sign if you did.’ That means something.”
“What does it mean,” said Steel-Eyes. “Sounds like it means nothing.”
“It’s not nothing,” countered Asp. “We say she’d sign if they do, that’s pressure on them to sign.”
Kast raised an eyebrow and nodded. Sash and Larkin looked puzzled. “Pressure how,” said Steel-Eyes.
Asp smiled. “You’re right–it’s not a win. But if we tell the other leaders Norasynia said yes if they agree, the implication is that they should agree. She didn’t say no. She trusted them to make the decision, and she’s given more of a yes than a no. If they want to be aligned with her, there’s pressure on them to say yes. If they say no, they’re splitting from her. But if they say yes, then she says yes, and that’s what we need.”
Kast nodded again. “Penelope is right. The other leaders will want to agree with her. It’s true that if they say no, she’s also saying no, but that means rocking Norasynia’s boat. She’s committed to a yes, even if only conditionally. We can use this to our advantage.”
“Agree to disagree,” said Steel-Eyes.
Sash shrugged. “They will want to look good in her eyes. It’s not a guarantee, I don’t suppose, but it’s help.”
“Why would she do that?” asked Larkin. “Why not just say yes if she wanted to say yes?”
Kast smiled slightly. “She could never give a straight yes. It would make her look weak. If she hands it off to the other leaders, she’s putting it on them to say no. I’ll bet she’s guessing Farboriel and Eerith will never agree. But we can tell them she agrees to it if they do, and we turn their certain no’s into possible yes’s.”
“So who do we go to first?” asked Asp. “I mean, Leonarra is the obvious choice. She’s the most likely to say yes. In which case, we go to either Farboriel or Eerith with the support of Arokosiel and Leonarra, plus the tentative agreement from Norasynia. That’s two and a half yes’s. If we’re lucky, one of them will go along with it assuming the other won’t, so they can look good to Norasynia but still assume the war continues.”
“No,” said Steel-Eyes. “If we go to Eerith first, we get worst one out of the way. If she says no, the whole mission is failure. Why go around getting signatures if she says no anyway?”
Sash nodded. “He has a point. If we go to Lady Leonarra and Lord Farboriel and all goes well, and then we go to Lady Eerith and she refuses, the Ronan’el will have spent all that time waiting for an answer we might have had sooner.”
“But the other signatures count for something,” reasoned Asp. “We go to Eerith with everyone else’s names, and she basically has to agree or risk being the only dissenter. We need to give ourselves the best chance possible, not risk it all right away.”
“You like risks,” said Steel-Eyes. “Besides, the risk is worth it.”
“We’re not in a position to take risks,” replied Kast. “This is not a simple mission. You heard Norasynia–the fate of the Ronan’el could hang in the balance. We need to be cautious.”
“We could do things for the leaders,” said Asp. “If we ingratiate ourselves a bit, they may be more inclined to help.”
“What kind of favor would get them to sign,” Steel-Eyes half-asked.
“Whatever they ask for,” said Asp. “Larkin, you’ve been quiet,” she added, looking for support. “What do you think?”
Larkin frowned. “I dunno. What do we really know about these leaders anyway?”
Kast sighed. “Not enough, I’d say. We need to learn more. But what we know is, Leonarra is in the mountains. She’s reclusive, fairly reasonable to outsiders, cautious. Farboriel is . . . well, he’s aggressive. He demands loyalty and service. He doesn’t like to be disagreed with. Eerith is even more aggressive. She’s new to leadership, at least by elven standards. She wants to prove herself. She wants to use her massive army. Like we’ve said, Leonarra is the safest bet, and Eerith is probably the biggest gamble. The real question is, what strategy do we adopt?”
Larkin’s face soured. “So we don’t know very much.”
“How are we to learn more,” intoned Steel-Eyes.
“We could travel to their lands and investigate,” proposed Sash.
Kast shrugged. “It’s not a bad idea. But that would be weeks and weeks of travel before having to travel again to get back to them to ask them to sign.”
“How could we learn more without having to go to everybody first?” asked Larkin.
They sat silently for a moment, the stalemate exhausting everyone. After a moment, Asp smiled.
“Celeon said Melleon would know about the courts. I’ll go ask him,” she said.
“Isn’t he with Lady Norasynia?” asked Sash.
Asp grinned mischievously. “I’ll just see if they’re done talking, and if they are, I’ll ask him.”
Kast smiled and shook his head. “You have no fear, do you?”
Asp laughed. “I fear messing this up, and I fear waiting too long. I’ll just take a peek to see if they’re done.” She stood and crossed the room to the back door, opening it quietly and stepping outside.
She scanned the garden, but neither Norasynia nor Melleon was anywhere in sight. Asp began to search the ground, looking for some sign of where they may have gone without alerting the group. We were focused on the conversation, but not so focused they could have slipped past us. Where’d they go? After hunting for a moment, she found a pair of footprints that led from where they had stood off to the garden wall. The tracks ended there. Asp leapt and grabbed the top of the wall and clambered over. A few dirty footprints led away from the garden and along the path off to her right. She hurried that way, scanning the path before her for more dirty footprints, but she couldn’t find any. She raised her eyes and focused on the road ahead. If Melleon and Norasynia went this way, they must have hurried–I don’t see them anywhere. She continued down the road, passing an old elven man with a wide-brimmed hat pulled down over his face as she went. Suddenly, the man spoke in a familiar voice.
“Asp?”
She turned. The man looked up, the brim of his hat rising to reveal a face she recognized well but hadn’t seen in a long time. He held knitting needles in his hands, the beginning of some project hanging from them. He had long ago been her first mark in Strey, a man she later came to trust. He looked at her in muted surprise, and she stared back in full shock. After a moment of stunned silence, she finally managed to speak.
“Jehosaphat?”
You can read the next chapter here!
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