“Lord Dumdrun’s,” she informed him coolly, and the slave helped her into one of several carriages waiting at the junction, each attached to a rope that headed off into a different part of the jungle. The slave gave the drivehands a prod, they flapped to life, and the carriage sailed off into the gradually darkening shadows, carrying its passenger down deeper into the city of Equilan. The carriages were for the convenience of the wealthy, who paid a subscription to the city fathers for their use. Those who couldn’t afford to subscribe to the carriage system made do with the swinging bridges spanning the jungle. These bridges led from house to house, shop to shop, house to shop, and back again. They had been constructed at the time the early elven settlers founded Equilan, connecting those few houses and businesses that had been built in the trees for defense purposes. As the city grew, so did the bridge system, without any particular order or thought, keeping the houses connected with their neighbors and the heart of the city.
Equilan had flourished and so had its people. Thousands of elves lived in the city and there were nearly as many bridges. Making one’s way on foot was extraordinarily confusing, even for those who had lived there all their lives. No one who was any one in elven society walked the bridges, except for possibly a daring foray during darktime. The bridges were, however, an excellent defense against the elves’ human neighbors, who had looked—in days long gone by—on the elven treeholdings with covetous eyes. As time passed, and Equilan grew wealthier and more secure, her human neighbors to the norinth decided it would be wiser to leave the elves alone and fight each other. Thillia was divided into five kingdoms, each one an enemy of the other four, and the elves lived well by supplying weapons to all sides of the conflict. The elven royal families and those of the middle class who had risen to wealth and power moved higher into the trees. Lenthan Quindiniar’s home was located on the highest “hill”[14] in Equilan—a mark of status among his fellow middle class but not among the royalty, who built their homes on the shores of Lake Enthial. No matter that Lenthan could buy and sell most of the homes on the lakeshore, he would never be allowed to live there.
To be honest, Lenthan didn’t want to. He was quite content living where he was, with a fine view of the stars and a clear place amid the jungle’s vegetation for the launching of his rockets.
Aleatha, however, had made up her mind to dwell by the lake. Nobility would be purchased with her charm and her body and her share of her father’s money when he died. But just which duke or earl or baron or prince Aleatha was going to buy hadn’t been decided yet. They were all such bores. The task before Aleatha was to shop around, find one less boring than the rest.
The carriage gently set down Aleatha in Lord Durndrun’s ornate receiving house. A human slave started to hand her out, but a young lord, arriving at the same time, beat him to the honor. The young lord was married; Aleatha favored him with a sweet, charming smile anyway. The young lord was fascinated and walked off with Aleatha, leaving his wife to be handed down by the slave. Running through the annotated list of elven royalty she kept in her head, Aleatha recognized the young lord as a near cousin to the queen, with the fourth finest house on the lake. She permitted him to present her to her host and hostess, asked him to give her a tour of the house (she’d been there many times previous), and was blushingly enthusiastic about a more intimate tour of the lush and shadowy garden.
Lord Durndrun’s house, as were all others on Lake Enthial, was constructed on the top edge of a large moss bowl. The houses of the nobility of elven society stood scattered around the “rim” of the bowl. The dwelling of Her Majesty, the queen, was located at the very farthest end, away from the crowded city of her subjects. The other homes were all built facing the palace, as if they were continually paying homage.
In the center of the bowl was the lake, supported on a thick bed of moss, cradled in the arms of gigantic trees. Most lakes in the area were, because of their moss beds, a clear, crystalline green color. Due to a rare species of fish that swam in the lake (a gift to Her Majesty from the father of Lenthan Quindiniar) the water of Lake Enthial was a vibrant, stunning blue and was considered one of the wonders of Equilan.
The view was wasted on Aleatha, who had seen it all before and whose primary goal was to make it her own. She had been introduced to Lord Daidlus before, but had not noticed until now that he was witty and intelligent and moderately handsome. Seated next to the admiring young man on a teakwood bench, Aleatha was just about to tell him her story of the slave when, as in her reverie, a cheerful voice interrupted her.
“Oh, there you are, Thea. I heard you’d come. Is that you, Daidlus? Did you know your wife’s searching for you? She doesn’t look pleased, either.” Lord Daidlus did not look pleased himself. He glowered at Paithan, who returned the glare with the innocent and slightly anxious expression of one whose only desire is to help a friend.
Aleatha was tempted to hang on to the lord and get rid of Paithan, but she reflected that there was a certain merit in allowing the pot to simmer before bringing it to a boil. Besides, she needed to talk to her brother.
“I’m ashamed of myself, My Lord,” Aleatha said, flushing prettily. “I’m keeping you from your family. It was thoughtless and selfish of me, but I was so enjoying your company…”
Paithan, crossing his arms, leaned back against the garden wall and watched with interest. Lord Daidlus protested that he could stay with her forever.
“No, no, My Lord,” Aleatha said with an air of noble self-sacrifice. “Go to your wife. I insist.”
Aleatha extended her hand to be politely kissed. The young lord did so with rather more ardor than society would have considered proper.
“But I do so want to hear the end of your story,” said the besotted Daidlus.
“You shall. My Lord,” answered Aleatha, with downcast eyelashes through which glinted sparkles of blue-purple. “You shall.”
The young lord tore himself away. Paithan sat down on the bench beside his sister, and Aleatha took off her hat and fanned herself with the brim.
“Sorry, Thea. Did I interrupt something?”
“Yes, but it was all for the best. Things were moving too fast.”
“He’s quite happily married, you know. Got three little ones.”
Aleatha shrugged. The matter didn’t interest her.
“Divorce would be a tremendous scandal,” Paithan continued, sniffing at a flower he’d stuck in the buttonhole of his long, white linen lawn suit. Loosely made, the coat flowed over white linen pants, gathered at the ankles.
“Father’s money would hush it up.”
“The queen would have to grant it.”
“Father’s money would buy it.”
“Callie’d be furious.”
“No, she wouldn’t. She’d be too happy I was finally respectably married. Don’t worry about me, Brother, dear. You have worries of your own. Callie was looking for you this afternoon.”
“Was she?” Paithan asked, trying to appear unconcerned.
“Yes, and the expression on her face could have launched one of Father’s infernal devices.”
“Worse luck. Been talking to the guvnor, had she?”
“Yes, I think so. I didn’t say much. I didn’t want to get her started. I’d be there still. Something about a human priest? I—What in Orn’s name was that?”
“Thunder.” Paithan glanced up into the thick vegetation through which it was impossible to see the sky. “Storm must be coming. Drat. That means they’ll cancel the boating.”