“The chorus for one of the plays,” our Elvish companions inform us.
The irate screaming gets louder.
“The directors of the plays are often given to excesses of emotion.”
Passing through another clearing we distinctly hear choral singing, again from a group rehearsing for the festival, and in the distance we catch sight of some jugglers practising. The whole atmosphere becomes more festive. I wonder again if I might solve the case quickly and thereby have some time in which to enjoy myself. Along with Osath the cook, I’m quite looking forward to the juggling competition. Whatever happens, I don’t have that long in which to investigate. Elith is due to be tried immediately after the festival, which begins in seven days’ time and lasts for three.
Vas-ar-Methet is riding some way in front of us. Several hours into the journey he sends a message back to me that we are close to his brother’s abode. The messenger is to take Makri and me there while the procession rides on. The deputation is to receive the full hospitality of Lord Kalith. We aren’t.
“Would it be any use telling you not to make a nuisance of yourself?” asks Cicerius as we prepare to go our separate ways.
“You’ll hardly notice we’re here,” I promise.
“Whatever you do,” says Cicerius sternly, “don’t meddle with anything that is calanith.”
“Cheer up, Cicerius,” says Makri, appearing beside us. “I’m an expert in Elvish taboos. In fact, I am an Elvish taboo. I’ll keep Thraxas out of trouble.”
Makri sits well on her horse. When she arrived in Turai she was already a good rider. Makri is good at most things. It’s annoying. Since leaving the ship her spirits have improved.
“I’m as happy as an Elf in a tree,” she says, laughing, and then looks thoughtful. “Although I have noticed that the Elves up in the trees don’t actually look all that happy. Good choral singing though.”
Our guide leads us down a narrow path. For an Elf he seems remarkably dour. My efforts at conversation come to nothing. Apart from learning that his name is Coris-ar-Mithan and he’s a cousin of my friend Vas, I learn nothing at all from him.
We don’t have to endure each other’s company for long. Coris brings us swiftly to another small clearing where three other Elves, two of them elderly, are waiting for us. Coris greets them briefly, bows formally to us and rides off.
“Greeting, friends of Vas-ar-Methet. Welcome to our home.”
They introduce themselves to us as Vas’s brother, mother, and sister.
“You must be tired after the long journey. We have prepared food and your rooms are waiting. Please follow us.”
They head for a tree. Lying flush with the trunk is a ladder that goes upwards for a long way. I look at it doubtfully and turn to Makri.
“How do you like heights?”
“I’m not wild about them.”
“Me neither.”
We grit our teeth and start to climb. We climb a long way. I try not to look down. As a man who can have difficulty mounting the outside steps to my office, I don’t find it the most convenient place for a home. I’m relieved when we reach the top and step on to a platform. The Elvish house stretches over the highest branches of the tree, and over to the next tree. We’re on the very outskirts of the large central township of the Elves, and from here to the centre of the island houses are strung over most of the forest, increasing in density as they approach the centre. From here it should be possible to walk all the way to the centre of the island without once touching the ground.
Once we step inside we find a comfortable and welcoming dwelling place. The rooms, though simply constructed, are brightly lit, decorated in warm colours with tapestries and rugs. There are pitchers of water and we are invited to wash and make ourselves comfortable before our meal.
“Nice house,” says Makri after they’ve left us.
I agree. “Pity it isn’t on the ground. I’d have a hard time making it up that ladder every day.”
It is now late in the afternoon. After eating I’m planning on heading out quickly to investigate.
“I’m going to see Elith. Time to question the suspect and get things moving. I figure if I can clear her name quickly I might be able to get a bit of rest before heading back to Turai. I need a rest, I’ve been working way too hard recently.”
Vas has arranged that his brother will take me to the place where Elith is held and I’m keen to set off as soon as I can. Camith, slightly younger and less distinguished than the healer, is pleased to find I’m eager to get started.
“No one in our family believes that Elith is guilty of this terrible crime.”
Leaving Makri to look around, I accompany Camith on the long journey through the walkways over the trees towards the centre of Avula, where Elith is incarcerated. He tells me that she is held in a rarely used prison building at the rear of Lord Kalith’s Tree Palace.
“Have you considered a jail break?”
Camith seems shocked by the suggestion. “No. We are presuming that her name will be cleared.”
“Don’t presume. After all, she might be guilty. I’m planning on knocking a few heads together to find out the truth. But it never hurts to have a back-up plan.”
The wooden walkways lead us past more houses. Elves stare as I pass. I’d imagine it’s a long time since they’ve seen anyone with my impressive figure. They’re a thin race, the Elves. Even in old age they rarely seem to settle into comfortable obesity. I ask Camith if there are any taverns on Avula. He tells me that there is nothing that would actually qualify as a tavern, but they do brew their own beer and gather in glades to drink it, which doesn’t sound too bad. I tell him that I have now run out of beer, and instruct him that I must have some as soon as possible.
We pass over a large clearing, the largest open space I’ve seen since we reached the island.
“The tournament field,” explains my guide. “It is often in use—Lord Kalith likes to keep his Elves well prepared. It is here that the plays will be staged. There will also be a tournament, for the younger Elves. Will you be staying for the whole festival?”
“I’m not sure. Depends how the investigating goes.”
“A curious way to make a living,” ventures Camith.
“Not in Turai it isn’t. Where I live you can’t turn round without bumping into something that needs investigating.”
“Are you paid well for the service?”
“No,” I reply, truthfully. “But I make up for it at the chariot races.”
Camith laughs. I like him, he’s affable like his brother. He’s heard about my triumph over Lord Kalith at the niarit board and has the good grace to tell me that the Avulans cannot remember when their ruler was last defeated at the game, which pleases me immensely.
The evening is cool and pleasant. Walking through the tree tops isn’t so bad when I get used to it and the journey takes less time than I anticipated. Camith comes to a halt, pointing out to me a large wooden construction visible a short way ahead.
“The Tree Palace,” he informs me.
To one side there is a tree so large and impressive that it has to be the Hesuni Tree. It seems healthy enough, with plenty of golden foliage. Beside it are two pools of still water, one large and one small. We walk over a narrow suspended bridge towards the Palace, but when we’re almost there a commotion breaks out and several Elves appear at the doorway, talking together in an agitated manner. When they see us they run up and start speaking to Camith accusingly. He looks confused, and turns to me to explain, but I need no explanation. Elith-ir-Methet has vanished from her prison.
“Escaped?”
The Elvish guards nod. They recognise Camith and they find it very suspicious that her uncle just happens to be strolling by at this very moment, but before they can pursue it further a great wailing breaks out from the direction of the Hesuni Tree. Camith and the other Elves are taken aback and peer over the walkway in an attempt to find out what is happening. Sensing that his niece may be in trouble Camith starts to run in the direction of the Palace. I follow him as best I can, though I have difficulty keeping up. All around Elves are shouting, torches are being lit and the general uproar grows ever more furious. Close to the Tree Palace Camith spots an Elf he recognises on a walkway some way below us and leans over to shout at him, trying to find out what is happening.