"Flatterer," Ailea said. "You'll find yourself an elven woman to marry with no problem, with that silver tongue."
A blushing Tanis suddenly redoubled his efforts with the trap. He disarmed it carefully and began to dismantle it for inspection. "Whoever set this trap knew what he was doing, Flint. It's a sophisticated design, and the aim was perfect. What luck that the mechanism jammed on the second dagger; that's why it tossed only one of them at you at first. Then the tension released the second mechanism after a few moments."
Tanis had avoided looking at the old midwife as he spoke. "And what if I find a human woman, Eld Ailea?" he added at last, his voice carefully matter-of-fact.
A shadow passed over Ailea's catlike face as she drew the covers around Flint's bearded chin one more time. "It will bring you little but pain, in the end, Tanthalas," she said. "Humans are frail, and even if you find one to love, it's terrible watching them grow old while you remain young. It takes a strong love to survive that." She sounded weary.
He looked up from the trap. Round hazel eyes met almond-shaped hazel eyes, and a spark passed between the two part-elves.
"Try to remember that, Tanthalas," Ailea said sadly. Tanis swallowed. "I'll try."
"Hey!" Flint crabbed from the cot. "Isn't it time for my ale?"
Eld Ailea threw off her gloom and laughed then, and patted the dwarf on his hale shoulder. "You're good for me, Master Fireforge." With renewed energy, she moved briskly to the table, where Tanis had deposited the paper of herbs. "There's a bucket of ale in the spring," Flint suggested helpfully.
After some thought, Eld Ailea announced that ale might help the dwarf sleep-and, especially, keep him quiet. So she retrieved the near-empty container from the spring and poured the last splash into a mug. When she opened the packet of herbs, a look of consternation crossed her sharp features, then disappeared under her usual pleasant expression. "Flint, did Miral make you a drink of these leaves?" she asked casually. "Yes," Flint said. "With water. It tasted awful. I'm sure the potion will be much better with ale." He grinned engagingly over his white bandage. "Lots of ale."
Eld Ailea stood for a moment, perusing the packet, then refolded it and slipped it into a pocket of the gray cloak she'd thrown over the bench when she arrived. From another pocket, unnoticed by Flint and Tanis, she drew out a small cloth bag, gathered with a leather thong, and measured a teaspoonful of the powder within. Then, while Tanis searched the rest of the shop for more traps, Ailea added the powder to the ale and gave the beverage to the dwarf. He drained it in a gulp.
Whatever it was, it didn't agree with him. Flint fell into a deep sleep, but awoke a short time later to vomit into the empty ale bucket, which Ailea had left by the bed. Then the dwarf's head fell back, and he slept again, his black and gray beard rising and falling with his deep breaths.
Tanis joined Ailea at Flint's bedside. The tiny elf was looking down at the dwarf with a half-smile that did little to mask her exhaustion.
"Is he going to be all right?" Tanis whispered.
"He'll be fine," she said. "My herbs will put him right again. At least, they work for nursing mothers…" She caught Tanis's startled look and patted his arm. "I'm just jesting, Tanthalas. Flint will be fine."
"Do you want me to walk you home?" Tanis asked. "I'll spend the night with him. I can give him Miral's tea, if you leave it here."
Eld Ailea's head came up then, and her eyes probed Tanis's. "It's best not to leave him alone at all right now," she said. "I'll stay here. We can take turns watching him."
Chapter 23
He was back in the dream. The rough hands clenched Miral and, just as the tylor's armored jaws jabbed into the crevice, powerful arms hauled him through the back of the crack in the stone.
"Truly thou hast gotten thyself in a royal fix, little elf," a deep voice said above the toddler's head.
Miral, eyes wet with tears, lifted his head and peered up through the gloom of the cave; this portion seemed to be lit less well than the tunnels he'd come through. He gulped back a sob and tried to focus on his rescuer.
It was a man, the youngster saw, but what a man! Bands of muscle rippled across a corded, barrel-shaped chest. The man's shoulders were huge, brushed with white hair that curled from his head and chin. When the man looked down at him, Miral looked deep into violet eyes that shone with kindness.
"Methinks thou art too young to be wandering about without thy dam, youngling," the man said.
At that moment, Miral became aware of hoofbeats clop-ping against the damp stone of the tunnels. The man came to a fork in the tunnel and turned to the right without stopping. But how had he signaled his intention to his horse? the little boy wondered. Miral looked down.
The man was a horse! Or the horse was a man; Miral couldn't decide. He looked up again, a delighted smile lighting his face.
"You're a centaur!" Miral cried.
"Of course," the creature replied, cradling the youngster in strong arms.
The centaur must have been seven feet tall from hooves to the top of his aristocratic head. He moved gracefully on the wet rocks, long tail flowing behind. Around the shoulders of the horse portion of the centaur, the creature wore a leather purse. Miral slipped little hands down to investigate the purse, but the creature held him higher, out of reach.
"Thou art a curious one," the centaur murmured in a bass voice. "No doubt 'tis why thou art so deep in the caverns."
"Someone called me," Miral explained, wanting this creature, above all, to like him. "From the tunnel."
The centaur's pale purple eyes widened and his gait slowed somewhat, then speeded again. "Thou heard the Voice? Truly thou hast magic in thy soul, young elf. Tis not all who hear the Graygem call." He took another turn, and another. Soon the toddler had no idea where he'd been or where he was now.
The creature continued to speak soothingly to the child. "Thou art warm, child. Thy dam should give thee a posset for thy fever. I will take thee home directly."
Miral, rocked by the steady pace of the gentle centaur, was growing sleepy. "Why are you here?" he asked drowsily.
"Ah, the Graygem hath great treasure indeed," the centaur said. "And, in truth, the beastly rock hath done me grave ill in the past and I'm sworn to vengeance. And that, little elf, be all thou need know."
The centaur picked up his gait, and soon the toddler dozed in the creature's arms. He awakened periodically, once when fresh air fanned through his hair and he realized he was moving through the moonless night, somewhere outside the caverns, and once while the centaur moved nearly silently through the tiled Qualinost streets.
Finally, they arrived at the palace. Miral roused enough to note their passage around the back of the structure, through the gates into the garden-Why didn't the guards look up? he wondered-and from there into the courtyard. Large hands laid him down on soft moss and covered him with a cloth.
"Go to sleep, little elf," the centaur murmured. 'Thou wilt not remember this experience in the morn."
With a last pat on the toddler's shoulder, the centaur wheeled in the courtyard and, silently, was gone.
Chapter 24
Next few Days, Tanis and Eld Ailea took turns staying with the dwarf in the shop. Flint told them a score of times not to bother with him.
"You've got too much to be worrying about to be concerning yourself with a lame dwarf!" Flint would grumble, but the effect of the words seemed lost upon his caretakers. Solostaran visited once and seemed reassured by Flint's cantankerousness. Miral stopped by twice to check on the dwarf.