“Oh, Good God,” Edmund said from the open doorway. “I wondered what that racket was.”
“Mundi!” Bast yelled and ran across the room to swarm up the smith. She wrapped both legs around his waist and planted a kiss on him that would have scorched most men to the floor.
“Father! I’m not clothed!” Rachel snapped.
“I’ve seen it. Hell, I cleaned it as a baby,” Edmund answered in a muffled tone. “Bast,” he added, unwrapping the elf from his body and lowering her to the floor, “where in the hell did you come from? I thought you were in Elfheim.”
“And on that we need to be talking, Edmund Talbot,” Bast said with a tone of sadness. “We’ve much talking to do. But as I was tellin’ yer daughter, when I got in last night she was in one bed, Daneh, as I now take it, was in another and you looked all done in. Badly in need of a bit of snugglin’, but all done in. So I slept in the forge.”
“You didn’t have to do that,” Edmund said.
“Eh, Carb’s good company,” the elf said with an eloquent shrug of her shoulders. “He knows some right good dirty jokes.”
“Yes, he does,” Edmund said, shaking his head. “And you’re too old for them. Rachel, for God’s sake, get some clothes on and then join us in the kitchen.”
“I will if you’ll get out of my room!” Rachel snapped.
“Well, maybe later,” Bast said, glancing at her again. “I’ve been known to care for the fairer sex as well…” she added with a wink.
She left Rachel sputtering.
When Rachel entered the kitchen she was surprised to see both Bast and Edmund looking sad and somber. She’d gotten over her surprise at the awakening and was looking forward to talking to the wood elf who had been the first person since the Fall who seemed actively cheerful.
“What’s wrong now?” she asked, scooping up a bowl of cornmeal mush, loading it with sorghum syrup and sitting down.
“Elfheim is closed,” Edmund said, seriously. “Closed from both sides, apparently.”
“The Lady does not want to be involved in your human war,” Bast said with another elegant shrug. “So She has closed Elfheim. All of the openings are shut.”
“But it’s not just a ‘human’ war,” Rachel said. “Paul is against all the Changed as well!”
She looked at Edmund’s wince and Bast’s amused expression and shook her head. “What did I say?”
“Elves are not Changed,” Bast said. “We were before Change. We are ourselves. Not human, not half-human. Humanlike, but not human. We are Elves.”
“Paul won’t care,” Rachel pointed out.
“Ah, agreed,” Bast said. “But the Lady makes the decisions for Elfheim and all the Race. And Her decision is to sit this one out as we sat out the AI wars and the Final War. In all of those, individual elves chose sides. It was from the group that fought in the AI wars, on both sides, that the wood elves arose. But the Lady stays neutral.”
“Not if Paul wins,” Rachel said. “If he wins he’ll destroy the elves.”
“Maybe,” Edmund said. “And then again, maybe not. The Lady has power in her own right. A lot of power. I wouldn’t want to go up against her. Is it just you on the outside?”
“No, Gothoriel and others are in exile. I don’t know where Gothoriel is now, but he said that he would come here anon.”
“And you?”
“I think for a while I will guest with you humans,” Bast said with a smile. “The woods are lovely in spring, but after a while hunting for the pot day in and day out begins to pall.”
“It’s not all beer and skittles here, Bast,” Edmund warned. “We’re all working as hard as we can.”
“Oh, I’m sure I’ll find a place to fill some need,” the elf said. “There are so many opportunities!” she added with a wink and a wiggle that would have been banned in most ages.
“Minx,” Edmund said, standing up. “I’ve got another meeting to attend in just a few minutes so I had better go get cleaned up. I guess you two can keep yourselves entertained for the day. God help me.”
“Oh, I’m sure that Rachel won’t let me get in much trouble,” Bast said with a wink. “Go scrape a razor on your face, you look like a yeti.”
“They’re just legends,” Rachel said.
“Tell that to the one I was married to for a while,” Bast snorted.
“You were married to a yeti?” Rachel snorted. “Even if they were real, I mean why?”
“You ever seen their hands?” Bast said with a laugh. “Now think lower!”
“Argh, I stepped right into that.”
“You know you like it,” Bast chuckled.
“As the master said to his slave,” Rachel retorted then slapped her hand over her mouth. “I can’t believe I said that.”
“Neither can I!” Bast said with a glower. “You beat me to it!”
“Bast, there’s something important I have to tell you,” Rachel said.
“It’s okay, I don’t really go both ways,” Bast replied. “Often.”
“No, not that,” Rachel said exasperatedly. “I’m serious. On the way here my mother… we ran into some men.”
Bast leaned forward and stared into Rachel’s eyes. “She had a bad time with them?”
“Yes,” Rachel replied, thankful that she didn’t have to say the words.
“Where?” Bast asked.
“On a trail. South of the Via Appalia.”
“Hai. Take me to the place. They will not make same mistake twice. I’ll use hot irons, they’ll even be able to walk after a few days. If they survive the shock.”
“It’s a long way from here…” Rachel said.
“Not so far, I’d make it in one day,” Bast replied.
“And they’d be gone from there…”
“Am I not Bast? The greatest tracker in all of Norau, perhaps all of Elfdom?” Bast said.
“I don’t know, are you?” Rachel replied with a slight chuckle. “Bast, the point is, we also know who they are. It was Dionys McCanoc and his merry men.”
“Ach! That one! Him I’d kill just for the fun of it!”
“But the point is that going back to where it happened wouldn’t help.”
“No, you’re right,” Bast said, frowning. “He would not linger. So I must find him further afield.”
“What? Why?” Rachel said.
“He hurt your mother,” Bast said as if that settled it. “You are my friend. And he hurt the lover of my best human friend, Edmund Talbot. For that, I shall mount his balls on my trophy wall!” She paused and frowned. “If I can ever get back to my apartment in Elfheim.”
“Apartment?”
“Close enough for human words,” Bast said. “More of a closet, really, but with a very fine view of the next tree and if you lean way over,” she added, suiting actions to words, “you can see a stream. A small one. More of a run-off creek, really. Intermittent anyway. Elfheim is… rather crowded. We’re immortal. Even with not having babies very often, hardly at all, really, it’s gotten… crowded.”
“I’m surprised more of you don’t live in the World,” Rachel said, wide-eyed. Her image of the elves had never included them living shoulder to shoulder.
“Me too,” Bast admitted. “But in Elfheim, most of them live in the Dream of the Woods, rather than in the real woods. In some ways, the Dream is better, more intense, than the reality. But I like to touch the woods, to see the trees grow, to watch the petal open in reality, even if it is less… beautiful than Dream.”