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Daisy sat in her room, quietly sewing. For the last several days, she had spent most of her time simply sitting and trying to adjust. It had been hard to accept that over a decade had gone by while she and her friends were in the In-Between. They had each dealt with it differently. Larkin was quiet at first, but she regained her chipper spirits fairly quickly. She spent much of her time visiting the others and trying to ensure that they were okay. Sash was unaffected, it seemed, but Daisy saw in their eyes a kind of uncertainty. They were a creature of habit, after all, and realizing something was entirely outside of their control shook them to some degree. Steel-Eyes carried on as if nothing had happened at all; he tended to new designs for magic items with Guy and Bird at his side like it was business as usual. Jarn seemed frustrated, but he channeled that frustration into work. He spent time cleaning the portal room and returning it to its former working glory. Kast hid away in his room for one day and one day alone before appearing outside again, just wandering Lo’Thalas. Daisy wanted to make sure he was actually okay, but she suspected the time alone did him good. And Daisy’s moods came and went in spells. Sometimes she lay in bed, crying, knowing that thousands or perhaps tens of thousands had died while they were gone. She spent an amount of time she resented wondering if they should have gone on without Kast, but she always realized that she didn’t regret her actions–only their consequences. At other times, she resolved to be practical. She would sit and sew, tailoring pink and white fabrics together into a robe-like gown, her version of the vestments that servants of Idunna wore. She prayed almost ceaselessly. When she was miserable, she performed the Chant to comfort herself. When she sewed, she kept at the Chant to occupy her mind. When she prayed, she alternated between requests of her goddess and the Chant, and more often than not, her room smelled of cherry blossoms.
There were other changes, too. When she and her friends had emerged from the portal, they had assumed that the alterations to their appearances were like the ones they had experienced in the In-Between–temporary markers of chaos that told of magic’s invocation. But as the days passed, the changes remained. Sash’s skin glittered in the low light of Lo’Thalas everywhere they went, and the people of the city were sometimes heard whispering about the glowing Protector of the Reef. Jarn’s eyes continued to glow, slick rainbows reflecting where once had been plain grey nothingness. Steel-Eyes grew more and more attuned to the weight and momentum of the armor he could not remove, and he soon moved as though the steel plates around him had always been a part of him. Larkin’s soft, furry ears never disappeared. When she spoke to people, her fox-like ears would shift and turn to face the source of sounds without her direction. Kast’s short hair waved above his head, and the palest of orange light would occasionally appear amongst it; the sparks above him danced an endless dance that he seemed unaware of.
Daisy didn’t notice her change until the second day back. When she thought back, she could vaguely recall pinpricks of light at the edge of her vision when they’d tumbled through the portal, but in the heat of the moment, she had been thinking of a thousand other things–escaping the Baron of Chaos’s troops, what would happen to Ronaan, whether the portal would work or close behind them, the safety of her friends, the safety of the prisoners, why exactly the portal room had gone dark, finding Leonarra and Haellica to speak to them–it all pushed the small points of light she glimpsed from her mind. If she had registered them, the changes to her friends’ appearances, which seemed of course to be more temporary chaos, would have made her put it out of her mind given the circumstances. But the second day back, she began to notice that small lights floated around her head. She asked Larkin to describe them.
“It’s like tiny stars orbiting you,” she had said. “Maybe a dozen of them.”
As the days passed, and the group recovered, Daisy grew accustomed to the stars. By the end of the fourth day, she didn’t really notice them at all. But other people noticed them. They would follow the stars with their eyes when speaking to Daisy. At first, Daisy was frustrated. Her greatest strength was talking, and people seemed more interested in watching the orbit of the tiny stars than in listening. But slowly, Daisy realized that the stars had an almost hypnotic effect. As people would watch them, what Daisy said sank in to a level that she had only aspired to before. And so, each in their own way, the adventurers were marked permanently by their time in the In-Between, each of them somehow otherworldly and more exaggerated forms of their former selves.
The other big change was more mundane. Her friends struggled at first with Daisy’s name change. “Penelope,” they would begin, and Daisy would smile gently. They would stop themselves and chuckle. “Daisy, I mean,” they would say. By the time that the group was gearing back up to resume normal lives, or at least, the closest they could get to normal lives at the moment, Daisy’s new name came easily. A little glow in Daisy’s heart grew bigger each time they got it right. It was a confirmation from her friends that she really had changed, that she really was the servant of Idunna she meant to be.
Around the fourth day back, the group began to fully move on. Jarn researched tirelessly in the portal room and royal library. He said he had new ideas about how to fortify the portals, protect against incursions, and expand the reach of his magic. Larkin traveled to the poorest parts of town and helped with whatever she could, be it repairing homes, cooking at public kitchens, or playing with lonely children. The people in these neighborhoods spoke highly of “that hornkin with the fox ears,” and before long, Larkin was surrounded by people delighted to share in her energy and kindness. Sash learned that a group of cave fish had obtained some debilitating disease and worked day and night to cure them of it. The time they spent in the water brought life back to both the fish and Sash, and after a while, the cave fish were healthier than ever. Kast sat at taverns, telling stories of heroism and the gods, and the elves gathered around him adored him for his stories and his grace, and they began to cycle through taverns each day, trying to find him to hear more tales. Steel-Eyes, content that his engineering work for himself was complete, borrowed Daisy’s staff and tinkered with it for a few days. When he returned it, it was reinforced with strips of metal, and he demonstrated that pushing a button at the top would turn Daisy invisible for a time. He then attended the university and taught a guest lecture about magically infusing things with power, and though his oration was unremarkable, he was thanked for his cleverness and knowledge.
Daisy, once she was emotionally recovered and her gown complete, returned to Leonarra and Haellica. She thanked them for welcoming her and her friends to the city in the first place, for their help with the portal and the treaty, and for hosting them during their recovery.
Haellica smiled. “What will you do now, Daisy?”
Daisy shrugged. “I’d like to help.”
Haellica looked at her warmly. “Why don’t you follow me, then?”
The Queen of the Sundered Elves guided Daisy through the city to a far reach at the edge of town. She approached a sad building in shambles. An elven word over the door marked the building, and Daisy asked what it meant.
“Orphanage,” translated Haellica. “Come in.”
They headed inside. Children ranging from infant age to early adolescence shook off miserable, frightened faces and flocked to Haellica. All of them were sundered elves. She knelt in the middle of them.
“This is Daisy,” she said sweetly. “Daisy is an outsider. Just like you. She’s here to help.”
The children looked to Daisy nervously. She smiled at them. “Hi,” she said. “It’s true. I’m here to help.”
Some of the children tottered towards Daisy, who fought a swirl of emotions. She knew that had things been different, she really would not have been that different from them. They wore the same scared expressions she had as a child, wore the same tattered rags she had worn, bore the same look of being underfed she had at their age. She fought back tears and turned to Haellica. “What can I do?”
Haellica smiled. “This way.” She swept down a hallway and into a large room. Children lay in ramshackle cots, covered in blankets with holes. She stood at the center of the room. “They are sick. They need a healer.”
Daisy bit her lip to keep from crying. Some of the children were coughing, some were too feverish to see that they’d been joined by Haellica and Daisy, some sat up in their beds, scratching at sores. She turned to Haellica. “Who's worst off?”
Haellica knelt next to an unconscious girl of perhaps three years. “She’s a good place to start.”
Daisy nodded and stood over the girl. She placed her hands on the girl’s chest and forehead. She began to chant.
“Idunna, love, spring, rebirth
Give us life to fill this earth
Send us peace where once was strife
Bless our hearts and bring us life
Idunna, luck, fertility
We thank you for prosperity
Allow us faith and help us cope
Fill our souls with zeal and hope”
Pink and white light shot from Daisy’s hands. The light absorbed into the girl’s body. A faint dark grey cloud rose from the child’s tiny mouth. The girl blinked her eyes open and looked up at Daisy.
“Who are you?” she asked.
Daisy smiled, and a tear rolled down her cheek. “I’m Daisy. I came to help.”
“Thank you,” said the little girl. “I’m Hirellen. I’m very sick.”
“Do you feel okay?” asked Daisy.
Hirellen thought for a second and smiled. “Yeah. I feel a lot better.”
Haellica smiled at Daisy. “I’ll leave you to it.” She walked to the door and paused. “Thank you.”
Daisy shook her head, more happy tears coming. “Thank you.”
For days, Daisy spent every minute she had at the orphanage. She would heal the sick children until her energy was gone, and then she would play with them. They played simple games, the ones Daisy had made up as a little girl to occupy herself. She made little bets with the sick children, bets they were sure to win, and would give them caps. “You’re gonna spend that on something fun when you’re better,” she would say, and the children would smile.
After a few days in the orphanage, Daisy invited Larkin to join her. The two of them expended every ounce of energy they had. They played silly games together with the children, and Larkin told strange and groan-worthy jokes. Wayseras heard that Daisy and Larkin were at the orphanage and came to visit; he’d become a talented mage and had helped with a wide variety of public works in the city, and no matter how much he insisted, Daisy refused to accept his repayment of his tuition. Instead, she asked him to help play with the children, which he happily did. He was a busy man these days, and his skills were in high demand, but he spent as much time as he could playing games with Daisy, Larkin, and the children, and Daisy could see in his eyes that he felt for them as she did.
When a week had passed since they arrived, the sick bay at the orphanage was empty, and Daisy used what her father, a carpenter, had taught her to build more beds for the now-healthy children. Haellica came in the evening that day. She invited Daisy and Larkin to the empty sick bay and presented them with gifts.
“A token of my appreciation,” said Haellica. “You’ve done these children a great service.”
Daisy opened hers. They were small metallic dangling earrings. Small golden stars hung from the hooks–they looked like the ones that orbited her head. Larkin cried out in joy at her gift, adornments for her horns that looked like full moons atop the points of the horns, faint gossamer spiderwebs hanging from the moons.
“Thank you,” said Daisy. “They’re beautiful. You didn’t have to–”
“You deserve more than this,” interrupted Haellica. “Please accept this small gesture.”
Daisy nodded, smiling. She replaced the simple steel studs she had worn for years with the fine earrings, and she helped Larkin to fit the moons onto her horns.
“You seem better,” said Haellica. “What’s next for you?”
Daisy turned to Larkin and smiled. Larkin nodded. Daisy turned back to Haellica. “We see the mission through to the end. More lives have been lost than we wished, but giving up now will mean still more lives will be lost.”
Haellica nodded. “When will you leave?”
“We’ll have to talk to the rest of the group,” said Daisy, “but I think tomorrow.”
“We will make preparations,” said Haellica. She smiled and left the orphanage.
“You ready?” asked Larkin.
Daisy smiled. “Ready as I’ll ever be. I meant what I said. We need to get back to work.”
Larkin nodded. “I’ll go get ready.” She hurried from the orphanage and down the road toward the palace.
Daisy walked back to the room where the children’s beds stood. She was swarmed. She laughed and allowed them to run around her and hug her.
“Daisy!” cried some of the children. “We want to play!”
Daisy chuckled. “One more game. Then I have to go.”
“No!” wailed the children. “Don’t go!”
Daisy smiled sadly. “I don’t want to leave you. But just like I helped you, I need to go help other people, too.”
“Are they sick?” asked Hirellen.
“Not sick,” replied Daisy. “But they still need help.”
The children began to chant. “Game! Game! Game! Game!”
Daisy laughed. “Okay. How about one round of ‘who’s got the crown?’”
The children gasped. “You mean, ‘who’s got the cap?’”
Daisy smiled mischievously. “Normally, yes. But today, because I have to say goodbye for now, it’s ‘who’s got the crown?’”
The children looked in wonder at each other. They ran and stood by the foot of each of their beds.
Daisy approached one, a boy of nine named Direlan. She put out two fists, a crown in each. “If you can guess which one has the crown, it’s yours.”
Direlan’s eyes widened as he scrutinized her hands. He lifted each hand gingerly, attempting to gauge their weight. He bit his lip. “This one,” he said, tapping her left hand.
She turned it over to reveal the crown inside. Direlan whooped and hollered, grabbing the crown excitedly.
“Lucky!” shouted another child.
“You’ll get your turn, Loredil,” teased Daisy. “Be patient.”
She performed the game with every child in the orphanage, the game fixed so that everyone won. To disguise her subterfuge, she pretended to play mind games with them, asking if they were sure and wincing when they picked the “right” hand. When every child had a crown–more money than they had ever possessed at once–she went to the door of the orphanage.
“I’m not the boss of you, but I recommend you save those,” she said. “Have a good start when you’re outta here. Be good, now.”
“Bye, Daisy!” cried the children. A few of them quietly cried.
Daisy smiled at the door. “I’ll be back some day, I promise. For now, you can make me proud by being good. Not that I’m not already proud of you.” She stuck her tongue out at them. In unison, every children stuck their tongue out back at her.
“Love you!” she called.
“Love you!” shouted the children together.
Daisy turned and walked out of the orphanage, letting the tears fall. She knew she would miss them, and she vowed to make good on her promise to return one day. But duty called. She returned to the palace and found her friends. She explained the plan to resume the mission and asked what she could do to help them get ready. Sash, Steel-Eyes, and Kast each agreed that it was time and promised to be ready to depart in the morning.
Daisy returned to her quarters. The stars circling her head danced in her peripheral vision, a now-comforting sight. She prayed until she was exhausted and climbed into bed. The last thing she remembered thinking before dropping off to sleep was that perhaps there was more hope in her situation than she gave credit to, and she dreamed of presenting a fully signed treaty to Norasynia.
—
They marched for days. The landscape blew past them–the mountains receding, the snow lessening, the forests thickening. They camped outside of Lo’Anagroth and passed through the city, seeing that Wayseras’s old farmhouse had burned to the ground. They didn’t pause to investigate why; Daisy simply uttered a blessing over the ashes of the house, and they hurried away when the horrible innkeeper came to hassle them. They turned at the intersection between Lo’Enthias and Lo’Alarai toward the forested capital–as much as they wanted to visit the small town where the solstice festival had given them respite before the clash with the vampires, they had work to do. They went down the road to Lo’Alarai, camped overnight a day’s march from the capital, and tried not to let their nerves get the better of them. When they spoke, it was of surface level chatter that never delved into the details of the mission. Daisy began to suspect that although they didn’t show it as much as she did, the pain of being delayed more than a decade in completing their plan affected all of them deeply. Daisy and Larkin spent hours trading silly jokes and little stories of their lives before the mission. Daisy learned that Larkin had been through a great deal more than she had ever let on, and she also learned that her own past felt far behind her. Perhaps, in some way, the passage of time in the mundane world had had an effect on her even if she couldn’t feel it. When they reached the outskirts of Lo’Alarai, they were both determined and in high spirits, if a touch uncertain of what waited for them there.
They walked through the gates and gazed up at the treetops. It was hard to gauge how far away they were. To Daisy, they seemed miles above them, but she doubted an entire forest of trees could grow that tall, even with tending and magic.
“There must be a way up,” said Sash, staring up at the canopy.
“You think they have a really big ladder or something?” asked Larkin.
“We should ask someone,” suggested Daisy. “Maybe a guard knows. They should know, right?”
Steel-Eyes grunted. He glanced around and spotted a uniformed elf at a corner, shuffling towards him. “How get up there,” said Steel-Eyes, pointing to the treetops above.
The guard sneered at him, his long black hair hanging close around his face. “Well, the elves up there got up there by flying. Why don’t you grow some wings and fly?”
Daisy shook her head and approached the guard. “I understand why you’d say that,” she said gently. “It is kind of a silly question. But we have business up there, and Lord Farboriel knows we’re coming. We obviously need help to get up there.”
The guard chuckled, but his eyes narrowed at the mention of Farboriel. “I agree. You do need help.”
Daisy smiled sweetly. “Think about the position you’re in, sir. Farboriel is expecting us, and if he found out you’d deliberately delayed us, that could be pretty bad.” She glanced upwards. “On the other hand, if you help us reach the canopy, you’d be helping official emissaries who have already spoken with Lord Arokosiel, Lady Norasynia, and Lady Leonarra. Don’t you want to get in good with Lord Farboriel? Don’t you want to be the one who sped along official business he’s been waiting for?”
The guard scowled at first, but his look softened. His shoulders slumped. “There’s an elevator over by the temple of Sariel. It’ll get you up there.” He chewed his lip. “You can tell them Irandil helped you.”
Daisy nodded with a smile. “Irandil,” she said, scribbling in her notepad. “Thank you for your help. You’ve been instrumental in our mission.” She allowed her grin to turn a bit sour.
“Why wouldn’t you help Steel-Eyes?” asked Larkin. “Racist against dwarves?”
“What did Steel-Eyes do to you,” muttered the dwarf.
Irandil held up his hands. “It’s not like that. If some random outsider comes up to you and asks a dumb question, do you jump through hoops to help them?”
“I would,” said Larkin.
Steel-Eyes grunted. “She would.”
Larkin scowled at the man. “Jerk.”
Irandil shook his head and looked to Daisy. “You’ll tell Lord Farboriel I helped you, right?”
Daisy smiled. “I’ll tell him everything you said–grow wings, you wanted to look good for him, and you wouldn’t help someone who needed help. It’s only your own words.”
Irandil sighed helplessly and walked away.
“Are you really gonna tell Farboriel about that guy?” asked Larkin.
Daisy chuckled and showed Larkin her notepad. It read, “blah blah huge asshole.” Larkin guffawed, slapping her thigh.
“Let’s go,” said Daisy. “We have more important things to do than worry about guards with ego problems.”
Sash led them to the temple of Sariel through busy streets. In a way, the journey was unnerving. They had been here what felt like two weeks ago, so it was in a sense no surprise that it looked exactly the same. And yet, Daisy had been acutely aware of the loss of ten years every moment since they’d returned to the mundane world. It seemed odd that it was as though they actually had been gone for only a few weeks. How did the capital remain untouched after ten years of war? Is it going that badly for the Ronan’el? Are there any of them left?
Sash approached a small booth with cables extending upward, a pair of guards chatting in front of it. One, an animated young elven man with a goatee, was excitedly chattering while the other, a stocky elven woman with her mid-length blond hair in a loose ponytail, listened intently.
“The problem with trout is that they’re too much work to get the meat,” said the young man. “They’re a struggle to get the right bait for, and then there’s all those scales, and the meat burns so fast if you’re not paying attention.”
“They’re more work, sure,” replied the woman, “but they’re more delicious than tuna. Tuna’s basic. Everyone eats tuna all the time. Tuna’s not a challenge. If you want a good meal, though, trout is worth it.”
“Salmon,” said the young man. “Salmon’s better than both. Harder to catch, but way, way better than trout. Trout is garbage compared to salmon. I’d kick my nephew for a good salmon right now.”
Sash smiled slightly and cut in. “Have you considered sea bass?”
The guards turned to Sash, curious. “Sea bass?” repeated the young man.
Sash nodded. “A good sea bass is richer than trout or tuna, and it has a better base flavor than salmon. All the elves at the seaside where I live swear by sea bass.”
“Interesting,” said the young man. “I haven’t seen a lot of sea bass come into Lo’Alarai.”
“Can we please get on the elevator?” asked Daisy.
“There’s a fee,” replied the elven woman. “Three helms each.”
“Elevator makes one trip,” argued Steel-Eyes. “Why pay per person?”
“That’s the rule,” said the young man, scratching at his goatee. “We didn’t make the rule. We just enforce it.”
“Fifteen helms,” said Daisy, producing the necessary coins and holding them out.
“Where do you get sea bass when you’re inland?” the young man asked Sash, ignoring Daisy. “Does it keep well?”
“It’s best fresh,” said Sash. “And it tastes better if you catch it yourself.”
“The fee,” said Daisy, jangling the helms in her hand.
“Everything’s better if you work for it,” agreed the female guard. “I caught a rabbit a few days ago, and I’m no chef, but I tell you what–it was better than a lot of meals I’ve had in restaurants.”
“You’ve been to some bad restaurants, then,” countered the young man. “Tell you what, when this shift is over, I’m gonna find some sea bass at one of the good seafood joints around here.”
Daisy contained her frustration and smiled. “Have you tried eel? Very flavorful, interesting texture.” The guards looked at her, considering. “Oh, and the fee.” She reached out her hand to give them the coins.
“Can’t say I’ve had eel,” said the young man. “I always figured something as ugly as an eel can’t taste all that good.”
“You’d taste terrible, then,” said his fellow guard.
“Have you ever seen a whaleguppy?” asked Larkin.
The guards stared back at her. “A what?” asked the young man.
Larkin nodded. “A whaleguppy. It’s like a guppy, but the size of a whale.”
“That’s . . . terrifying,” said the elven woman.
“Almost as terrifying as not getting up to the canopy when we have official business,” added Daisy. She stepped forward, grabbed the young man’s hand, and forced the helms into it. “Maybe we can talk more fish on the way up?”
“Oh, uh, sure,” said the young man. He backed into the elevator and held the door for the group, who crowded inside. “Can you eat a whaleguppy?”
Larkin laughed. “Usually, the whaleguppy eats you.”
The young man shuddered. “Yikes. I don’t want to talk about fish anymore.”
He closed the door and pulled a lever. The elevator began to rise. It moved more quickly than Daisy had imagined, zipping them upwards into the treetops. Despite its speed, the journey still took a few minutes, which the guards filled by discussing the best vegetables to pair with fish dishes. Daisy tried to focus on the canopy out the glass window as they rose; she was not sure how much more of the conversation she could bear. Eventually, the elevator slowed to a stop, and the guard swung the door open.
“The canopy,” said the elven woman. “Home of the winged elves. Be careful–it’s a long way down.”
The group stepped out onto a platform built into the side of a tree. Beyond the platform, swaying wooden bridges passed between treetops. Winged elves mostly ignored these bridges and flew between the treetop platforms where their buildings lay. Daisy peered over the edge and was instantly height-sick. From the ground, the canopy had looked to be a mile above them; up here, the ground looked several miles below them. She darted backwards onto safer ground.
“Oooh,” said Larkin as the guards closed the doors and began to descend. She looked down at the ground and giggled. “We’re so far up!”
“Don’t say that,” moaned Daisy. “I hate heights.”
“It’s a bad place for that,” said Kast, smiling as he joined Larkin in looking downward. “Wow. Lo’Alarai looks so small from up here.”
“Ugh,” groaned Daisy. “Seriously?”
“Imagine how much it hurts to fall from up here,” muttered Steel-Eyes. “All your bones crack. Your organs splatter. Steel-Eyes bets your skin rips open.”
Daisy sighed and focused on the platform. “Having fun?”
“That looks like the palace,” said Sash, pointing to a large, ornate building at the center of the treetops.
“Let’s go then,” said Daisy. She stepped carefully from the platform onto a bridge that led nearer to the palace.
They made their way slowly across the bridges to neighboring treetops–in part because there were only thin and flimsy railings alongside some of the bridges and no supports at all on others, and in part because Daisy insisted on the most deliberate pace possible to sooth her vertigo. When they reached the platform directly adjacent to the palace, Steel-Eyes stopped. “Shop,” he said, pointing to a building on the treetop they had walked onto.
“Canopy Menagerie,” read a finely-painted sign over the door. Through the window was a variety of knickknacks tended by two identical newtkin men. The shop was crowded with items, particularly taxidermied animals that Daisy did not recognize. Steel-Eyes headed inside, and the rest of the group followed.
The twin newtkin men were speaking in the newtkin tongue, but their tone was unmistakable–they were arguing. Steel-Eyes walked to the counter and began to speak to them in newtkin. They stopped arguing and traded words with Steel-Eyes for a while, then turned to the group.
“Welcome,” said one of the newtkin. “I’m Wyler. My brother and I tend this shop. We’ve got everything under the treetops!”
“It is quite the array,” agreed Sash.
“Can my brother Wyatt offer you some topsoil tea?” asked Wyler.
“Never heard of it,” said Steel-Eyes.
Wyatt grinned. “It’s very good.”
“Sure,” said Kast. “I’ll have some tea.”
Sash shrugged. “Me too.”
“Steel-Eyes will try your tea,” said the dwarf.
“None for me, thanks,” said Larkin. “I don’t do anything that has that kind of energy.”
“Does it help with nerves?” asked Daisy.
“It might,” replied Wyatt.
“Okay then,” said Daisy. “I’ll take some.”
“While it steeps,” said Wyatt, pouring hot water over what did in fact appear to be dirt, “why don’t you have a look around?”
The group split up and began to inspect the multitude of offerings in the shop. Daisy browsed a few places in the menagerie that held cookware, clothing, and children’s toys before spotting something that made her heart swell. She recognized it from the book in the library of the Summer City; it was a holy symbol of Idunna, a simple metal disc with the outline of a doe filled in with white. Wyatt joined her with a steaming cup of tea. He handed it to her as she took the holy symbol.
“You a fan of Idunna?” He looked at her gown and chuckled. “I suppose you are.”
Daisy smiled. “I’m a new servant of hers. I didn’t have a holy symbol yet. This is perfect.”
Wyatt grinned. “You from Eunax originally?”
She nodded. “Born and raised in Thistlewade.”
“Oh sure, Thistlewade. Visited on business once. Nice city. So how’d you end up a disciple of a human goddess?”
Daisy laughed. “I’ve been just about everywhere at this point. I spent some time in Despair and got ministered to by a few Northreach clerics. It didn’t take at the time, but the Idunna stuff stuck with me. A little while ago, I remembered when I was in a time of need. She’s helped me a lot.” She smiled as she recalled her prayer in the kitchen outside Lo’Enthias, but then her eyes widened when she realized that had not been a little while ago at all. “I guess not a little while. More like ten years.”
“And that feels like a little while?” asked Wyatt.
“Long story,” she said. “Not worth going into. So how does a newtkin end up selling Northreach holy symbols in the treetops of Lo’Alarai?”
Wyatt chuckled. “I’ve been all over, too. As a merchant, your job isn’t to collect what interests you. It’s to collect what will interest other people. I figured someone would want this at some point, and look at that–I was right.”
Daisy nodded and sipped her tea. It was surprisingly delicious. It tasted of hazelnut and dark coffee. “The tea is great,” she said. “And I’m glad you picked this holy symbol up. I’m gonna help a lot of people with this if I can.”
Wyatt shook his head. “Don’t become one of those mindless servants who helps people blindly. I know a lot of religious folk who give up their lives in the name of some abstract ‘good.’ When you get down to it, if no one is hurting anyone else, there’s no point in getting worked up. I figure it’s people making up for bad decisions they’ve already committed to.”
Daisy frowned. “There are people hurting other people all the time.”
Wyatt shrugged. “If you go looking for them, maybe. But there’s other people who want to help out there, too. Don’t sacrifice your own life hunting down people to help.”
Daisy sipped her tea and decided not to respond. “Thanks for the tea, Wyatt. I’ll take the holy symbol.”
Wyatt returned to the counter and checked the paper tag on the leather strap on the holy symbol. “Three crowns,” he said.
Daisy nodded and passed the three gold-pointed coins to him. “Thanks,” she said. She drank a bit more tea and left the cup on the counter before heading outside.
She leaned against the shop’s outer wall and tried to think through what Wyatt had said. So what if it’s making up for past mistakes? It’s still a good action. And don’t go looking for people who need help? What the fuck. I’ve needed help, and I sure as shit didn’t walk around asking for it. Looking for people who need help is how people get help. Damn. That guy has a screw loose. She slipped the holy symbol around her neck and felt its weight against her breastbone. She smiled. Thank you for helping me find this, Idunna. I love you.
She felt warm and calm and smelled cherry blossoms. Her friends emerged from the shop, chattering about things they had seen. Steel-Eyes and Larking excitedly spoke about enchanting that Wyler had done for them; Sash told Kast about seeing a recreation of a now-extinct fish, and Kast said Wyatt had told him that a festival would begin on the forest floor soon.
“Ready for Farboriel?” asked Daisy.
They nodded their assent and faced the treetop palace. They crossed the final bridge and hoped for the best.
—
They arrived at the doors to the canopy palace. A pair of ornately-armored guards stood before them.
“State your business,” demanded one, a slim man with a pale face.
“We have matters to discuss with Lord Farboriel,” said Daisy matter-of-factly.
“He’s not expecting visitors,” replied the guard.
Daisy breathed deeply. “We have come with the express support of Lady Norasynia. She has asked us to speak to Lord Farboriel concerning an issue that affects all of Afira.”
The guards looked at one another. The slim man cocked an eyebrow, and the other, a rosy-cheeked woman in her middle years, shrugged. The elven man turned back to them. “Fine. But be quick. Lord Farboriel is busy today.” The guards opened the doors and allowed the group inside.
The doors closed behind them. Daisy turned to Sash. “Farboriel hates anyone who isn’t an elf. He especially doesn't like me after our encounter on the road. You’re going to have to do most of the talking. Remind him that we have the tentative approval of Norasynia. And be stubborn. We’re not leaving here with a no.”
Sash nodded. “I’m not a stubborn type, but I’ll do my best.”
“We’ll back you up,” said Daisy. “But it all means more coming from you. And if all else fails, tell him he could be a hero. We’ve been told that the winged elves would suffer most in this war. He could be the savior of his people by rescuing them from eternal fighting.”
Sash inhaled slowly and exhaled heavily. “Let’s do this.”
The group pushed down the hall and ignored the smaller rooms off to the side. They arrived at a pair of double doors at the end of, and Sash knocked four times. Nothing happened. Sash was preparing to knock again when one door swung open. Farboriel poked his head out.
“What?” he demanded.
Sash puffed out their chest. “We have come to speak to you on official business. Lady Norasynia has attended to this matter and requests your attention.”
Farboriel narrowed his eyes, but stood back. “Come in, then. And don’t waste my time. I have many urgent matters to attend to today.”
The group filed in. Against the back wall was a wooden throne which appeared to be attached to the treetop they were in. Before him was a grand desk of dark wood, an array of documents and maps laid out upon it. The room was lined with suits of ceremonial armor and trophies, a number of Ronan’el weapons among them. Farboriel sat at his throne, and his great wings flexed behind him.
“Well,” spat Farboriel. “On with it.”
Sash bowed, and Daisy joined them, but the others simply stood facing Farboriel.
“At the beginning of the war,” began Sash, “we obtained a treaty from the six clan leaders of the Ronan’el. This treaty proposed an end to the war. All of them supported this notion. We traveled across Afira, speaking to the other elven leaders about this proposal. We obtained signatures from Lord Arokosiel and Lady Leonarra. We also spoke with Lady Norasynia early in our mission. She told us that she would sign the treaty if the other leaders did as well. If you were to sign, we would need only to speak to Lady Eerith in order to complete the treaty and obtain Lady Norasynia’s full approval. We are here to ask you to sign the treaty and bring about peace.”
Farboriel scowled. “You believe I will sign this trash? I am not surprised Lord Arokosiel signed it. He is not a bold leader. He does not represent the glory of the elven empire. He is barely an elf. His support means nothing to me.”
Sash nodded. “But he is the leader of the river elves. His signature represents an important part of what this treaty aims to accomplish. Not to mention, Lady Leonarra has signed too.”
Farboriel chuckled. “Lady Leonarra lives high in the mountains, and she and the mountain elves have scarcely been a part of the elven empire for a long, long time. Her approval means as little as Lord Arokosiel’s to me.”
Sash swallowed hard and went on. “Lady Norasynia has said that she will sign if you and Lady Eerith do. You could align yourself with her by signing.”
Farboriel narrowed his eyes at Sash. “This is true, in a way. But Lady Norasynia did not sign it outright. Technically, since her name is not on the treaty, not signing aligns myself with her.”
“Killing all the Ronan’el is bad,” said Steel-Eyes, his hands shaking. “It is murder. It is cruel. It is inhumane.”
“Yes,” agreed Sash. “The war effort would be one thing if it were an act of self-defense. But it is not. The fighting has gone on for more than ten years. We cannot seek to destroy the Ronan’el. We can share Afira with them as we have for centuries.”
Farboriel glared at them. “Not self-defense? Are you fools? Do you not know of the atrocities that the Ronan’el have committed against us? Even before the war’s most recent chapter, the Ronan’el killed innocent elves all across this land. They have slain, mutilated, and befouled our people wherever they could. Signing this treaty would be like exonerating a mass murderer and waiting for them to strike again. You cannot be serious. The Ronan’el deserve this war and more.”
Larkin stepped forward. “You could be a hero.” She stared back at Farboriel just as acidically as he stared at them. “You know for a fact that the winged elves have fought harder than anyone. You know that your people have died for this war. And ten years later, you’re still fighting and dying.” Larkin pointed out a window at winged elves in the distance. “You’re telling your own people you’d rather have them dead than be at peace. You could be a hero! You could sign this treaty. You could help end this war. You could save the lives of your own people. So many lives! Don’t you want to be a good ruler?”
Farboriel glared at Larkin in silence for well over a minute. Daisy considered speaking, but she decided to wait until he responded. There was something in the look on his face that said he might be reconsidering, but it was hard to read him. He seemed to be furious, ashamed, and up to something all at once. Daisy held her breath and waited for him to speak.
Finally, he did. He grinned strangely. “Fine. I will be the hero of my people. I will sign your little treaty. And you can go to bargain with Lady Eerith.” He chuckled. “When the dust settles, history will show that I chose to spare my people. Whether you succeed with Lady Eerith or not, I made the choice that saves the lives of my kin and subjects. Give me the treaty.”
Daisy cocked an eyebrow. This is odd. The hero argument worked. It just . . . worked. He’s really that shallow. He won’t choose to save his people, but he wants the reputation that he did. But that look–he’s got something up his sleeve. Maybe he’s not going to sign with his real name. She pulled out the treaty and handed it to Farboriel.
He took the parchment and inspected it. Six Ronan’el clan leaders, Arokosiel, and Leonarra’s signatures graced the bottom half. Farboriel grabbed a quill from his desk and scratched onto it before inking a stamp and pressing it against the paper. He handed it back to Daisy. She studied it. In clear calligraphy was his title and name with the seal of the winged elves next to it. She looked up at him.
“Thank you,” she said.
He smiled wickedly. “Now go,” he said. “I have pressing business.”
Daisy turned and trooped out of his throne room, the others behind her. They left the palace and headed back along the bridge the way they had come.
“He signed,” muttered Daisy.
“It worked!” chirped Larkin. “Your plan worked! The hero thing did it!”
“Only Eerith now,” grunted Steel-Eyes.
“Does it seem weird to anyone else?” asked Daisy. “That the hero thing worked?”
“He seemed really opposed to it before Larkin said that,” acknowledged Kast. “But he signed.”
“I was surprised too,” admitted Sash. “But it’s a real signature, right?”
“Signature and seal,” said Daisy. “It’s legit.”
“Let’s celebrate!” cried Larkin.
Daisy shook her head. “It seems off, though. That look he gave us.”
“What can he do now?” asked Kast. “It’s not like he can take it back.”
“You’re just imagining a problem,” said Larkin. “It seemed weird, but there’s nothing that he can do to us now.”
Daisy shrugged. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m just worrying about nothing.”
Kast looked over the edge of the platform they were walking along. “The festival is starting. Wanna go check it out?”
“Yes,” said Sash, looking very stressed after speaking with Farboriel. “Let’s relax for just a bit.”
“Why not,” muttered Steel-Eyes.
“Sure,” said Daisy. “Okay.”
“Festival!” cheered Larkin.
They trooped towards the elevator, but Daisy’s mind was still on Farboriel.
Why was he smiling?
—
The elven guards stood at the elevator, chatting.
“The best folk songs use the lute,” said the young man. “The lute is just more classic than other instruments. It’s basically the song of the elven people.”
“Oh, but the flute is more true to the elven songs of old,” countered the elven woman. “Have you heard the old songs? They’re essentially flute solos from start to finish.”
“The flute is an accompaniment,” argued the young man. “The real star is the lute.”
Daisy approached with fifteen helms in her palm. “Melody is nothing without rhythm,” she said. “The lute and the flute are nice, but you gotta give credit to the drum.”
The young man nodded appreciatively, taking the coins. “That’s a fair point. I mean, drums are the backbone of almost any song.”
“My cousin plays the drum,” said the elven woman, opening the door. “She’s not bad, either.”
The group rode the elevator down to the forest floor, the guards chattering all the way down about the interplay of various instruments as they descended.
They left the elevator behind, the guards discussing the finer points of the harp, and headed toward the festival at the heart of the city. As they drew close, they saw a festival that put Lo’Enthias’s to shame. Booths stretched as far as the eye could see, games and parades and food of all sorts in every direction.
“Meet back in the Temple of Autumn in two hours?” asked Sash.
“Can it be three?” asked Larkin.
Sash chuckled. “Any opposed to three?”
No one said anything.
Sash smiled. “See you there in three hours, then.”
The group split up, heading off into the deeper reaches of the festival, the shouts, the smiles, the activities. Daisy eyed them as they sought out games and vendors. I don’t feel like celebrating. Farboriel still has me worried. And I’d feel better if I did something to help someone. She headed the opposite direction, toward the outskirts of the city.
She walked the streets of Lo’Alarai quietly apart from the tapping of her staff on every other step. She saw fewer people than there had been the last time they were here–she imagined that the festival had drawn most of the city’s population to its center. She found very little of note. Many shops were closed, and the further she got from the festival, the quieter it became. She reached the outer ring of Lo’Alarai and hiked around, seeing essentially no one. Maybe I head back towards the festival so I have a chance of seeing someone. She turned right at an intersection, back towards the city center.
She passed a few closed businesses and tried to clear her mind. Farboriel might have wanted to align himself with Norasynia but not admit it. Maybe he just has too much ego to admit that he’s a hollow sycophant who’ll do anything to get in good with her, so he pretended to resist until we gave him a feasible reason. Maybe he did what he wanted to do, and we just gave him a reason to do it he could save face with. Maybe–
“Oh gods,” moaned a voice down an alleyway she was passing. They sounded like they were in acute physical pain. She stopped and hurried down the alley. In its middle was an elf lying face-down, their green cloak muddied and bloodied, a wide-brimmed hat lying off to the side. Daisy ran to their side and placed her hands on the elf’s back, reciting the Chant of Idunna. Pink and white light sprang into their back. They stirred and rolled over. Daisy looked down at him, and her eyes grew wide.
“Jehosaphat?” she asked. “You okay?”
Jehosaphat wiped some dirt from his face. “I’m okay, Asp. How are you?” He shook his head, trying to remove the daze he was in. He narrowed his eyes. “Wait–did you just heal me?”
Daisy smiled and laughed lightly. “It’s Daisy now. And yeah, I’m a healer these days.”
Jehosaphat let out a low laugh of disbelief. “You learned to heal just to play a character?”
Daisy shook her head and helped him to his feet. “Not a character. I don’t do cons anymore. I’m a real healer.”
Jehosaphat chuckled, cleaning his spectacles. “Well I’ll be tarred and feathered. Never would’ve seen that coming.”
Daisy grabbed his hat and handed it back to him. “I didn’t see it coming, either. Just kinda crept up on me.”
Jehosaphat knelt and lifted a cane that had laid beside him on the ground. It was bent, fractured and splintered, and quite filthy. “Good for you, I suppose. Nothing wrong with honest work.” He narrowed his eyes. “Did they get me good in the head, or are there little stars floating around you?”
“Uh, yeah. Long story,” Daisy said sweetly. She held out a hand to the cane. “May I?”
Jehosaphat chuckled and handed her the cane, leaning against a wall in the alleyway. She quickly prayed that the cane would be repaired, and dancing gold points of light like those that orbited her head spun around the cane. The sparks of light sank into the cane, and the wood mended, the splinters reformed, dirt fell away.
“You still in pain?” she asked as she handed the cane back.
“My ribs,” he moaned. “I think I might have broke a few.”
She placed a hand on his thigh and uttered the Chant again. More flashes of pink and white danced around his torso. He breathed in deeply and exhaled slowly.
“Much better,” he said. “Thank you.”
“Not a problem,” said Daisy. “Happy to help. So what happened?”
Jehosaphat shook his head. “Basic mugging. Nothing special. Wrong place, wrong time.”
“That’s a shame,” said Daisy. “Can I walk you to where you’re going? Make sure you get there okay?”
He laughed. “So you really are a little do-gooder now.”
“I do my best,” she replied. “So can I?”
Jehosaphat nodded. “I wouldn’t mind it if you got me back to my apartment, actually. I worry that the muggers might want a round two.”
Daisy held a hand out towards where the alleyway met the street. “Lead the way.”
Jehosaphat walked along, using his cane for support. “So, what’s the life of a healer like?”
Daisy smiled. “It’s interesting, that’s for sure. I dunno about you, but when I used to pull a con, I would have this little voice in the back of my head saying, ‘Why did you do that? Why did you hurt that person?’”
Jehosaphat nodded. “It was there when I was young, but I got used to it. It’s grown quieter over the years.”
“That’s the thing,” continued Daisy. “I kinda got used to it. It got quieter. But it didn’t go away.”
“I don’t know if it ever goes away,” said Jehosaphat. “Unless you’re someone like Oslo.”
Daisy shuddered at the name. “That’s what I mean, though. I got to Lo’Alarai late this morning. My friends and I came from Lo’Thalas. And I spent almost a week in Lo’Thalas before we left healing sick kids at an orphanage. And that voice was gone. It did go away. Ever since I stopped pulling jobs, I don’t hear it anymore.”
“I imagine that’s nice,” said Jehosaphat. “A little less weight to carry.”
“It’s not just less weight, though. When I help someone, I don’t just not feel bad. I actually feel good instead.”
Jehosaphat raised his eyebrows. “Good for you.”
“I didn’t know it was possible,” said Daisy. “I had been pulling jobs since I was four or five. As long as I can remember. I thought that that little voice was just always there. I didn’t know that there was a way to feel good.”
Jehosaphat stopped walking, his cane planted on the ground. “I’m not going to follow your example, Asp.” He sighed. “I mean, Daisy. You can’t convince me to stop doing what I’ve always done.”
Daisy shook her head, her eyes displaying a small amount of hurt. “That’s not what I’m saying, Jehosaphat. I’m not playing a game. I don’t play games anymore. I’m just genuinely telling you what’s new, just like you asked. And I’m being honest.”
Jehosaphat scrutinized her face. He licked his lips and shrugged. “Sorry. When I knew you before, this would have been a game. It’s hard to accept that you’ve just . . . changed so much.”
Daisy laughed. “It’s hard for me to accept too. I know it’s been ten years for you, but . . . I’ve been up to some strange stuff. To me, it’s only been a couple of weeks since I saw you on that bench and we talked about the gang.”
“Who you haven’t asked about this time,” remarked Jehosaphat.
Daisy smiled. “Anything to tell me?”
“We’ve all moved on. Some of us are working again in other places. Some of us have found more honest work. Not like you, but more honest than what we were doing.”
“What about you?” asked Daisy. “What’s going on in your life?”
Jehosaphat smiled. “Life is simpler now. I play cards. I’m a good enough bluffer to make pretty consistent income, and the threat of getting caught is a lot lower. Not to mention, the penalty for cheating is lighter and harder to enforce.”
“That’s good,” said Daisy. “I’m glad you found something that works. What about the rest of your life? Anything good you get to enjoy?”
Jehosaphat chuckled. “My granddaughter. She lives here in the city. I get to see her about as much as I want.”
Daisy’s mouth hung open. “Granddaughter? You never even mentioned having kids!”
Jehosaphat smiled proudly. “A long time ago, I had a son. His mom and I split when he was young. I didn’t really see him until he was grown. But when I came to Afira, I found him. He lives here. He’s a baker.” He shot Daisy a meaningful glance. “A real baker. Not a criminal. He’s pretty good, too. The neighborhood where his shop is gives him regular business. And about six years ago, he met a young woman. She’s smart, kind, decent. Keeps him on track. He’s intensely practical, and she’s got an imagination on her–keeps him reaching, inspired. They had a little girl about three years ago. Virella. She looks just like her mom, but she’s got her dad’s eyes. Piercing blue eyes, look right to your soul. When she was born, I told my son I wanted to be in her life, do for her what I didn’t do for him. He was reluctant at first. Said he didn’t want me to be around for a while and then get thrown in jail, have her lose me like he lost me. So I stopped with the cons. Picked up gambling. He doesn’t know I cheat from time to time, and I intend to keep it that way. I plan to stick around. I want Virella to have a stable family, a grandfather who's there. I get to babysit her a few times a week. She’s trouble. Very mischievous when she wants to be. Kinda reminds me of you, actually.”
Daisy smiled. “That’s sweet. It means a lot. What do you do with her?”
Jehosaphat’s eyes grew distant, but not in pain–in joy. “We play games. She likes to make up stories. We pretend that she’s a little elven princess, and I’m her stalwart servant. Mostly her adventures involve obtaining sweets and picking out toys. I’m happy to spoil her.”
Daisy grinned. “I’m so happy for you, Jehosaphat. You deserve all the good she brings you.”
“Well, I dunno about all that, but it’s nice to have. She’s . . . she’s a sweet kid. Sometimes I wonder what I could have had if I’d made things work with my son’s mom. But I try not to dwell on that. Instead, I just do the best I can with Virella.”
“I’m proud of you,” said Daisy. “I know it’s hard to change.”
“It sure ain’t easy,” replied Jehosaphat. “But it seems to be worth it.” He pointed to the door of an apartment building as they drew even with it. “This is me.”
Daisy glanced into the building. It was nice–well-constructed, clean, spacious rooms. Way nicer than what we had in Strey. She looked to Jehosaphat, trying to discern whether he would invite her in.
“It was good seeing you again,” he said. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”
She smiled back at him. “Maybe. Take care. And spoil Virella for me.”
He chuckled. “I spoil her plenty for myself.” He nodded. “Thanks for the help. You take care.” He headed inside, the door closing behind him.
Daisy grinned. Seems like the old man’s found something good. I’m happy for him. She turned and headed toward the city’s center.
She passed through the festival. People swarmed around her, shouting, smiling, talking excitedly. She went past games of all sorts and exotic foods, and everything became a blur around her. She let it wash over her. It had been a long time since she had been surrounded by joy that didn't come from the absence of pain. She took turns at random and didn’t pay too close of attention to anything. At a corner, she heard a familiar voice.
“Hey, you’re desert elves, right?” asked Larkin.
Daisy turned. Larkin was speaking to two elven soldiers in front of a pastry booth.
“We are,” said one of the soldiers, a fierce-looking woman with braided brown hair. “Just came from the frontlines to the north. What of it?”
“What’s Lady Eerith like?” asked Larkin.
Daisy maneuvered to join Larkin. She stood at the hornkin’s side and waved politely to the desert elves.
“She’s only the greatest warrior in the world,” replied the other soldier, a grizzled elven man with scars on his face and arms. “She’s ferocious. She’s young–has plenty of potential to keep getting better. Unlike some of the more lenient leaders, she knows when to get angry. She doesn’t let impermissible things just pass. She’s only been in charge for twelve short years, and she’s brought incredible honor to our empire.”
“Wow,” said Larkin. “It sounds like she’s a great leader.”
“The best,” said the woman with braids. “There’s never been a fighter like her.”
“My dad was a great fighter, too,” said Larkin. “He ruled like a powerful man. He didn’t let things go.” Larkin’s eyes went downcast, her voice quieter. “He was the kind of person who didn’t care if he offended you. He even threw his daughter down a well. Because she was so naughty, I mean. And then his daughter got out of the well, and she killed him. Because she was naughty, of course.”
“You killed your dad?” asked the scarred elven man.
“No!” cried Larkin. “Not me. His daughter.”
The scarred man raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you his daughter, though?”
Larkin blushed. “I mean– Wait, what I meant to say was–”
“She meant to say we’re about to get some dinner,” interrupted Daisy. “Right, Larkin?”
Larkin nodded quickly. “Yes, I meant we were going to get dinner.”
The desert elves shared a skeptical look and shrugged.
“C’mon, Larkin,” said Daisy. “Let’s find you something good to eat.”
Larkin followed Daisy away. “Thanks, Daisy.”
“No problem. Let’s find a nice place to sit down and get something to eat.”
Larkin pointed at a small restaurant a block away from the festival. “How about there?”
“Looks perfect to me,” replied Daisy. They went inside, took seats, and ordered a platter of grilled vegetables and breads.
“You okay?” asked Daisy.
“Me? I’m fine.”
Daisy smiled. “I mean about your dad.”
Larkin shrugged, her face nervous. “I’m fine.”
“I only ask because you mention your dad a lot, and you usually try to make it sound like it wasn’t you who killed him, and–”
“I didn’t kill my dad,” interrupted Larkin, her eyes shifty.
“Larkin,” said Daisy gently. “It’s okay. It sounds like he treated you really badly. I used to think I had a nasty mother, but she never threw me down a well as punishment. You’re allowed to have done what you did.”
Larkin stared back anxiously. “I didn’t, though. It’s just a story.”
Daisy nodded. “Listen, I am an expert at telling stories. And in my experience, there’s usually at least some truth in stories. If you killed your dad because he hurt you again and again and he was as bad as you said, you’re allowed to protect yourself.”
Larkin sighed. “But isn’t it bad? I mean, if I don’t miss him, doesn’t that make me a bad person?”
Daisy smiled sadly. “I don’t miss my mom, and she wasn’t as bad as him. If someone hurts you, even if they’re your family, you’re not required to love or miss them. You’re allowed to take care of yourself. You can let yourself not miss your dad. You don’t owe him that, especially since he didn’t give you what he owed you.”
Larkin raised an eyebrow. “What he owed me?”
Daisy nodded. “He owed you love. He owed you accepting who you are. You’re a good person. You’re kind. You help people. You’re full of affection and humor and strength. If he couldn’t see that, you don’t owe him respect or love or missing him. If he saw it and didn’t care, that’s even worse, and if you had to kill him to make your own life, that’s okay. I would bet the place you came from is better off since you did.”
Larkin stared back numbly. “You mean, I’m not bad?”
Daisy laughed. “I have met a million bad people in my life, Larkin. For a long, long time, I was one of them. And I can tell you this for sure: you’re not bad. You’re a good person. And it’s okay. If you’re still hurting, that’s fine, but you don’t owe him anything. What you do owe is this–you owe yourself happiness. You owe yourself love. You owe yourself the chance to start over. So if you want to, and if you’re ready, you can let it go. You can choose to be whoever you want, because I know you’re going to be a good person while you do it. And that’s all there is to it.”
Larkin wiped away a tear and smiled. “I’m gonna do that.”
“Good,” said Daisy. “And can I give you a little piece of advice?”
Larkin nodded.
“Maybe don’t tell people that story unless you’re comfortable owning it. It’s okay if you want to tell people that you killed your dad because he was a monster. And it’s okay to not say anything at all. People don’t get uncomfortable when you tell that story because they’re judging your actions. They’re uncomfortable because you’re not being direct. From a former liar to a hopelessly honest person, don’t mask the truth. You can keep it to yourself, or you can own it, but telling people–and yourself–that it was someone else? That makes it harder. So do what you think is right, but I think that you should tell it like it is. The whole truth. Because the whole truth tells people that you did something that was right, and fair, and understandable, and deserved.”
Larkin smiled. “Daisy, you’re very wise. How’d you get so wise?”
Daisy laughed. “Lots and lots and lots of mistakes.”
The restaurant’s waiter brought the platter of food, and Daisy and Larkin ate every scrap. They shared silly stories and laughed together and attracted lots of curious attention about the hornkin and slightkin who seemed to be having a raucous time together. Daisy realized as they paid the bill that Larkin was, in fact, her best friend in the world. Larkin was a good person who she trusted and cared about and wanted to be around. It had been a long time since she’d felt like she had a real friend, and she smiled in wonder at the fact that they had been thrust together by fate so unceremoniously. A chance encounter fighting undead creatures in the woods at night off a road that she traveled without fully knowing why? She thanked Idunna for the blessing and smiled gratefully as she and Larkin made their way to the Temple of Autumn.
There, they rejoined with their other friends. Sash spoke contentedly of marching in a parade with other protectors of elven temples and landmarks and of the shellfish medley they’d purchased from a seafood vendor. Steel-Eyes described a delicious venison steak he had found and presented a magical hat for Larkin, its appearance not entirely unlike the one Daisy had worn as Delia. Kast patted his belly and listed a dozen different foods he had eaten. Larkin chattered about the meal with Daisy and a sugary drink she’d obtained before they’d met up. Daisy didn’t mention meeting Jehosaphat, not because she meant to hide it but because she figured that Jehosaphat would appreciate not being spoken about and because the prospect of talking about her past as a con artist made her uncomfortable. They shared these stories as they sought out an inn, and they found a quiet one at the edge of town. They checked in and headed to their rooms. Tired from their journey to the city, the excitement with Farboriel, and the energy of the festival, Daisy fell asleep shortly after her nightly prayers. And in the morning when she woke, the fears that something was off about Farboriel’s agreement had faded. The day brought hope. She felt refreshed. When they headed off to the frontlines after a quick breakfast, her mind was only on one thing: getting Eerith’s signature and ending the war once and for all.
—
They had marched all morning before they reached an elven encampment just before noon. The camp was deeply entrenched–fortifications, simple buildings, and basic smithies stretched for a few miles. The elves that patrolled the area wore the trademark armor of the desert elves–a deep tan set of light metal plates with visored helmets and simple insignias over their hearts. As soon as they drew near enough to the camp to make out these details, they were surrounded by troops. At least twenty soldiers surged around them and began asking questions.
“Who are you? Identify yourselves.”
“What are you doing here? State your purpose.”
“Why have you come?”
Daisy bowed slightly and tried to answer. “We are emissaries. We have spoken to the Ronan’el leadership and all the elven leaders but Lady Eerith. We have come to speak to her about a treaty.”
The soldiers looked quizzically among themselves. Their apparent leader, a tall and broad elven man with muttonchops shrugged. “We will take you to Lady Eerith.”
The troops marched in formation around the adventurers. The nearly two dozen soldiers in identical armor were a stark contrast to the group. The party wore a motley array of armor and magic items, none of them of the same background or equipment. Daisy noted that she seemed to have shocked the soldiers–they did not seem to have expected a tiny slightkin servant of Idunna to have addressed them, not to mention the strangeness of a slightkin dressed in the garb of a human goddess. But they escorted them through the camp all the same.
They passed by barracks and smithies, were led around bunkers that had been dug into the earth. Daisy realized with surprise that she recognized the rough area where they stood–it was not far from the border that they had crossed, beginning the war again in the first place. But if her judgment was right, the frontlines had pressed further north than the original treaty line, further into Ronan’el territory. She shuddered to think of what might have happened to the warfront in the decade they had been gone, but had little sense of how to determine that information without irritating the soldiers. She tried to focus on the task at hand–speaking to Eerith.
The leader of the troops led them to a large tent and held up a hand. He ducked inside. Daisy heard the faint sound of conversation inside. The soldier was speaking to a woman inside, and she realized it was almost certainly Eerith. The soldier stepped back outside and held the tent flap.
“Lady Eerith will see you now,” he said.
The group padded inside. They saw a fine bed in one corner, a chest of soldier’s clothes beside it. On the other wall of the tent was a case with a few sets of armor of varying ornateness and heaviness. Along the far wall was a large table, a massive map pinned across it, and small colored flags seemed to indicate where regiments of troops lay. Behind it stood a terrifying elven woman in armor like the soldiers’, but with extra panels and designs that made her look insectoid. She looked up and sneered at them.
“What?” she demanded.
Daisy, Sash, and Kast bowed. Larkin fidgeted with her new hat, and Steel-Eyes grunted.
“We are emissaries,” explained Daisy. “A long time ago now, we spoke with the leaders of the Ronan’el. They drafted a treaty to end this war. We traveled Afira, speaking to the other elven leaders. Lord Arokosiel signed first. We spoke with Lady Norasynia, and she agreed to sign under the condition that the other leaders did so first. We went to Lady Leonarra in the mountains and obtained her signature as well. Our ally, Kast,” she said, gesturing respectfully to him, “was taken from us along the way, and we had to travel to the In-Between to rescue him. That journey cost us ten years. But we returned, and yesterday, we obtained the signature of Lord Farboriel. We have come now to you. If you sign this treaty, we can return to Lady Norasynia, and she will sign. When that happens, the treaty will go into effect, and the war will end. You and your people will be freed from fighting an endless struggle. You can restore peace and prosperity to the elven empire. Please sign this treaty so that we can bring about this good.”
Eerith had listened, amused. But when Daisy stopped speaking, she seemed completely bewildered. She began to laugh, at first bitterly, then more wildly. She laughed for more than a minute, then made herself calm down. She looked at Daisy pityingly.
“There must be some mistake,” she said.
Daisy shook her head. “No mistake. It’s true. I can show you the treaty. Everyone but you has signed.”
Eerith laughed again, harder this time. Shaking, she shook her head. “I’m afraid you don’t understand. This mission you are on is a fool’s errand.”
Steel-Eyes grunted angrily. “Just because you are soldier does not mean war must continue,” he said. “You can sign.”
Eerith looked utterly entertained. “This is a joke, right? You can’t mean what you’re saying.”
Daisy shook her head. “We’re completely serious. We’ve been working on this for a long time now. Please, read the treaty, and you’ll see–”
“Stop,” said Eerith, raising a hand. “You say you’ve been at this a long time, and your journey to the In-Between cost you a decade. Right?”
“Yes,” said Kast. “We discovered when we returned that a great deal of time had passed, but to us, it was only a few days, if that.”
Eerith smiled wickedly. “Let me show you something. I believe it will help you to understand why I am reticent to sign your little treaty.”
Sash approached the map on the table. “What is it?”
Eerith laughed again and shook her head. “No, not here. Follow me.”
She led the group out of the tent. She turned to the left and headed further into the camp. They passed a few more tents and another barracks, then turned right. In the distance, there was a mass of soldiers gathered around.
“What are they doing over there?” asked Larkin.
Eerith guffawed and turned her head as she continued down the path. “Just wait. You’ll understand completely in a moment.”
They walked further towards the group of soldiers. As they drew nearer, Daisy could hear the troops shouting and cheering with such ferocity that it was impossible to make out any individual words. Something gripped Daisy–she felt her heart rising in her throat, and it became harder and harder to breathe.
What could have changed that would make Eerith act this way? Why is she laughing so much?
They drew closer to the center of the camp. They had entered a block of cells. Elves and mostly Ronan’el were held individually in the cells, and they either glared at Eerith or looked away as she passed them. They walked on, and Daisy tried to imagine what these imprisoned soldiers would feel when they were freed.
They reached the mass of troops. The soldiers were gathered not in a great mass as it had appeared from a distance, but around something. Eerith reached the outer ring of the soldiers and pushed a few aside to move toward the center of the ring. The soldiers slowly parted bit by bit, each surprised and embarrassed to make Eerith move them aside. Finally, a mass of shouting and wild troops surrounding them, Eerith reached the center.
At its core, there were two cells made from thick tree branches. The bars of the cells were thick, and it was hard to see exactly who was inside. One seemed to be a Ronan’el with blue scales, and the other was a slim elf with long black hair and civilian’s clothes.
Eerith stood between the cells and smiled at the group. “You’re just in time for the fight,” she said. “And I believe that this will explain everything.” She turned to two soldiers at the circle’s edge. “Open the cells!”
The soldiers hurried to the cells and used keys to open padlocks around the bars at the corner of the cages. They swung the doors open. Neither prisoner moved. The soldiers went around to the backs of the cells and drew swords, prodding the prisoners outside. The prisoners stumbled out, trying to avoid being hurt.
Daisy’s mouth fell open. At one edge of the circle, the blue prisoner was a familiar sight. His blue scales glittered in the sunlight, and curled horns rose from his forehead. He had purple tattoos up and down his chest and arms. His expression was one of fury and resentment.
Brokk!
But before she could register this fully, she recognized the elf as well. He bore bruises all over his body, signs of being savaged by his captors. He wore a blue robe, and the last time she had seen him, he had had a comforting, gentle smile. He looked around the circle, bewildered and resigned.
Arokosiel!
Daisy’s mind began to spin. Arokosiel is a prisoner? That must mean his signature isn’t valid anymore. Fuck–that’s why Farboriel agreed to sign! He knew that his signing meant nothing if Arokosiel’s is gone. Who’s in charge of the river elves now? How can we get their signature?
Eerith raised her hands high above her head, and the crowd fell silent. “Gentlemen!” she cried. “We have a little fight on our hands today. In one corner, a Ronan’el-hornkin monster! In the other, the disgraced ruler of Lo’Torrin! In a moment, they will fight to the death!”
You can read the next chapter here!
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