The first line had been horribly mangled in translation. “Lovers” had been mistranslated to an Elvish word that meant members of the same household and “marry our fortunes” to “face a common enemy.”
Oilcan laughed, shaking his head at the discrepancy between the two. “Get in.” He’d take her out to the enclaves and make sure the Stone Clan wouldn’t try to kill him for taking her home. “We’ll see what we can work out.”
The closest thing that the Stone Clan had to an embassy was Ginger Wine’s enclave out at the Rim. While the gates to the enclaves on either side stood open, the heavy doors to Ginger Wine’s were shut and barred. He rapped on the door, and the spyhole opened to reveal a pair of Wind Clan blue eyes.
“Forgiveness,” said a male voice that went with the blue eyes. “We are not able to take customers.”
“May I speak with someone from the Stone Clan?”
A slight shake of the head indicated that he couldn’t. “The Stone Clan domana are not here. They are out with Wolf Who Rules Wind ze domou ani.”
The door guard was one of Ginger Wine’s staff, since the title he used for Windwolf was the ultraformal “our lord.”
“Anyone would do,” Oilcan assured him. “Someone from their household? I merely have a question on propriety.”
“Earth Son’s sekasha are here,” the door guard said hesitantly, as if he wasn’t sure he should be telling Oilcan the information. “They — they would be well-versed on propriety.”
“May I speak with one of them?”
“Nagarou!” The male gasped. He obviously knew who Oilcan was. For some reason, the Wind Clan elves had adopted his relationship to Tinker as his nickname. He was never sure if he should be flattered or offended. Did they call him that because they couldn’t remember his name, or because they’d adopted their domi’s cousin as their own? “They are sekasha! And they are Stone Clan.” The male glanced at Merry behind Oilcan and then whispered in English, “The Stone Clan are arrogant and conceited, and they eat and eat and eat as if they’re hollow. Everyone is frightened. We’re tripping over each other in our fear. It might be too dangerous for you to speak with their sekasha.”
Recent history made clear how deadly the sekasha could be. “Do you really think they would hurt me?”
The door guard obviously wanted to say “Yes,” but elves have a thing about telling the truth. Finally he admitted, “I do not know, but if they wanted to, they could. It is their right.”
As holy warriors, sekasha had the divine right to do whatever they wished to whomever they wanted. They were considered above the law. From what he understood, though, the very nature that made them above the law also meant that they didn’t run amuck, randomly killing people — only people that deserved it. For his own sanity’s sake, he had accepted their role as judge and executor.
“It will be all right,” he said. “I have a few simple questions and then I will go.”
The door guard considered him for a minute and then unbarred the door. “Please, nagarou, be careful.”
Merry refused to face the sekasha, even though the warrior was of her own clan. She cowered in the front garden, too afraid to go deeper into the enclave. Oilcan couldn’t understand why the lower-caste elves were so terrified by the higher caste they claimed to be perfection embodied. He knew from personal experience that anyone could become a killer. Wasn’t it better that the sekasha were so righteous that their violence was controlled and not random?
The door guard summoned Ginger Wine, the elegant, red-haired owner of the enclave. She also tried to convince Oilcan that talking with the Stone Clan sekasha would be unwise.
“Everyone is on edge here,” Ginger Wine murmured in English. None of the Stone Clan must be fluent in the human language. “It’s as if suddenly we all have two left feet.”
“I will be careful,” Oilcan promised.
The female elf sighed and nodded. “I’ll take you to Earth Son’s First.”
Ginger Wine led Oilcan through the sprawling public dining rooms of the front building to the inner courtyard. Apple trees heavy with ripening fruit filled the square acre protected on all four sides by the enclave’s other buildings. It was an area that normally no human would ever see.
From the kitchens to the right of them, there was a crash as if dozens of metal pots had been dropped, and High Elvish quickly devolved into shouted Low Elvish.
Ginger Wine sighed and bowed an apology. “Forgiveness, I must attend to that. Thorne Scratch on Stone is over there.”
Oilcan wandered through the acre of apple trees until he found the female sekasha.
Thorne Scratch was undeniably Stone Clan, with the brown hair and dusty skin that marked the clan. Her wyvern armor was iridescent black, shimmering like an oil slick in the dappled sun as she moved through her sword practice. Tattooed down her arms were the spells that triggered her protective shields, done in stone black.
“Forgiveness.” Oilcan bowed slightly.
Her eyes flicked to him, checking his position, and then her focus returned to her practice. “Well?” She had a smoky rasp to her voice like Janice Joplin. “What is it?”
“A young female of the Stone Clan arrived today by train. She came with letter of introduction for domana Earth Son, but he is dead.”
“I know,” she snapped. “I killed him.”
“Condolences on your loss.”
She whirled, and her sword’s point was suddenly at his throat, a strangely small prick of pain considering the danger it posed. “Do you mock me?”
“No.” And seeing the doubt in her eyes, he held out his own hard-won truth. “My father killed my mother in a drunken rage. Afterward, he was so grief-stricken by what he had done that he tried to kill himself. I imagine you must regret what happened — even if you thought it was necessary.”
Tears glittered in her eyes, and she turned away from him. “That is not the same,” she growled after a moment. “Your mother’s death is tragic. Earth Son’s death was inevitable.”
“It doesn’t lessen your pain.”
She glanced at him, and surprise flowed across her face. “You — you’re human?”
“Yes.”
She sheathed her sword. “I thought you were one of Jewel Tear’s household. You have the Stone Clan coloring. What are you doing here?”
“A young female of the Stone Clan arrived—”
“Yes, yes, you said that. Your point being?”
“The city is not safe for a child to be wandering around alone.”
“Child?”
“She is very young.”
“A double?”
Oilcan nodded. It meant that the elf only needed two numbers to represent their age, not three or four. It was the Elvish equivalent to “teenager.” Since majority came at a hundred, Merry was definitely a double.
“Gods save us from idiots,” Thorne Scratch growled in her raspy voice. He wondered what she’d sound like if she sang something slow and tragic. “What is a double doing traveling alone to this oni-infested hellhole?”
He could only spread his hands in ignorance. “I wish no harm to come to her, so I’ve taken her into my protection.”
“You?”
“Is there someone else that will? Would Jewel Tear take her?”
Thorne Scratch looked away, fighting to keep anger off her face. “Jewel Tear could not, even if she wanted to. She came here destitute. She has pushed herself to her limit, and perhaps beyond it, taking in Earth Son’s household. She is trusting beyond reason that the clan will compensate her for Earth Son’s failure. Jewel Tear cannot do anything for your double.”