At last, breathless, they had to stop. Eliathanis coughed nervously, made a few abortive movements, then got to his feet and moved to the Dark Elf’s side.
“I seem to be forever begging your pardon,” he told Naitachal, “but ... I must do it yet again.” The White Elf shook his head. “I’m a warrior, not a magician, but that’s no real excuse. Even so, 1 should have recognized liathama safainias when I saw it.”
Naitachal glanced at the bewildered Kevin. “That doesn’t translate very well into your human tongue. It means ... mmm ... ‘explosion of pent-up Power’ is as close as I can get, with the implication that the explosion wasn’t the magician’s fault.”
“Exactly!” Eliathanis cut in. “Naitachal, we’ve fought enough foes together—and each other as well—for me to know something of who and what you are.”
“A Dark Elf,” Naitachal said drily. “A necromancer.”
“Bah, forget that!” The White Elf waved a dismissive hand. “You had no choice in either.” He paused, and Kevin could see his fair skin reddening even in the dim light. “Prejudice isn’t a logical thing,” Eliathanis began anew, “but it’s damnably difficult to forget—As I’ve been proving so far.”
“We are as we are.”
“Don’t mock me. This is difficult enough to say as it is. Naitachal, I... well ... look you, I admit I’ve had things fairly easy all my life. I was raised with love and Light. I never had a moment’s doubt about who I was or about the career I chose—But you—1 can only guess at the struggle you had to be you, to be your own free soul.”
“What are you trying to say?”
“Ah ... I don’t know. Maybe that the you you’re creating is a being of whom you should be proud. Maybe that no matter what my people think of yours, or yours of mine, I know you, Naitachal, are not, you cannot be, my enemy. Agreed?”
The Dark Elf’s teeth flashed in a sudden smile. “Agreed.”
“Great,” came Lydia’s wry voice from the darkness. “Now can we all kiss and make up, and get some sleep?”
That created such a silly picture in Kevin’s mind that he started to chuckle. The bardling was still chuckling as he settled down for the night, but mixed in with the humor was sheer relief.
Peace at last, he thought, and added a silent Thank-you to whatever Spirit of Music might be listening—
By the second day of peaceful riding through peaceful fields and forest, climbing ever higher into the mountains, with nothing to be seen but countryside, Kevin felt his tight nerves beginning to unwind. He started to relax in the saddle, enjoying the quiet beauty of the scene around him, almost daring to hope:
Maybe Carlotta really hadn’t had anything to do with the necromancer’s attack. Maybe she wasn’t after them after all.
The rest of the party were obviously feeling just as relaxed as he. Naitachal and Tich’ki were busily murmuring together as they rode; from what scraps the bardling could make out, they were trying to figure out a way to combine fairy magic with the Dark Elf’s own to trace the missing Charina and enjoying the challenge. Lydia and Eliathanis were trading war stories, arguing good-naturedly over the comparative merits of sword and bow. Kevin smiled, and let his mind wander over various bits of music, puzzling out how he would transcribe this piece for lute or add counterpoint to that piece. It would be nice to show off some new musical skills once they were back in the casde.
All at once the inanity of his thoughts hit him like a blow. Kevin sat bolt upright. What in the name of all the Powers did everyone think they were doing?
“This is ridiculous!”
“Kevin?”
“Look at us! We’re all acting as though we’d been out for a—a pleasant little ride in the country, without a care in the world!”
“Well, yes,” Lydia admitted. “But—”
“But we know Carlotta is alive. We know she had something to do with Charina’s disappearance. What do you think we’re going to find when we get back to Count Volmar, eh? Look you, all of you, we’re talking about a sorceress who thought nothing of trying to murder her own brother! She’s not going to stick at getting rid of nothings like us!”
“Nothings!” Tich’ki said indignantly.
Kevin ignored her, glaring at the others. “Think about it. For all we know, Carlotta’s already figured out where we’re going. Ha, for all we know, she already has agents in place in the castle!”
“Oh, you’re not saying the count’s in her employ!” Lydia protested. “He paid us to go on our hunt, for Powers’ sake!”
“I’m not saying anything. Except that we don’t know what we’re going to be facing. So let’s not be so—so—”
“So fat and lazy,” Lydia drawled. She straightened in the saddle, adjusting the angle other quiver. “You have a point, kid. Much as I hate to admit it, you do have a point.”
Tich’ki came fluttering down to land, panting, on Lydia’s saddle. “All right, I scouted ahead as best I could.”
“And ...?”
She shrugged. “And all I could see was a perfectly normal casde full of perfectly ordinary humans. From what I could overhear, no one seemed to be talking about anything interesting.”
“But you can’t be sure,” Kevin prodded—
“No, I can’t be sure!” Tich’ki snapped. “I’m a fairy, not one of your heavy, earthbound breed! I don’t know how you think!”
Kevin sighed. “Never mind—Just sic and get your strength back.” He looked at the others. “I guess all we can do is go on.”
They rode up the steep road to the castle in renewed tension, all of them wondering just how accurate Tich’ki’s report might be. Could a fairy’s judgment be trusted? Was this to be a refuge—or a trap?
“You’re on your own,” Tich’ki told them. “Once in that castle was enough. I’m not going to risk being trampled underfoot by some hulking human. See you later!”
She took wing, darting off without another word.
“Eh well, here we are,” Lydia said, staring up at the watchtowers guarding the main gates.
Here they were, indeed. Kevin licked suddenly dry lips and called out their names to the tower guards. There was a brief pause, during which he had far too much time to wonder if they’d have time to get away if someone threw spears down at them. Or boiling oil. The gates creaked open ....
And a storm of shouting castle folk came rushing out to meet them—For one panicky moment, the bardling fumbled for his sword, sure he and his party were under attack. But before he could do anything to defend himself, Kevin made out some individual shouts amid the sea of noise:
“They’re here!”
“They made it!”
“Oh, you brave, brave heroes!”
Kevin glanced at the rest of his party, seeing on their faces the same shocked disbelief he felt. “Uh, yes,” the bardling began warily. “We’re here, all right. But why are you—”
The rest of his question was drowned out in a storm of cheers. Eager hands reached out to grab his mule’s bridle and lead it through the entryway into the crowded outer bailey.
“If it will please you to dismount, my lords, lady?”
No, it doesn’t please me, Kevin thought. This is all just too weird.